My damp and mildewy duck could make (out) neither head nor tail of this smartly striped nemertean sliding through the rubble around Pulau Jong. There seemed to be no end to the sinuous strains of unsegmented worm that probed the crevices for prey across phyla. Waiting for the tell-tale end of the creature was not an option, as the morning was alas too short for more than a cursory glance at this button of an island ringed by a reef flat of soft corals and tough slugs.
While seasoned waders explored the tip of the cigar, the darkening dawn encouraged most to hug the seawall of crumbling stone. Straggly shrubs cling to a mound left isolated when the ice of a cooler age thawed and trickled into the Sunda Shelf. Land hermits in homes of all persuasians littered the high shore with the audible rustle of dead shells on coarse sand. With the clouds refusing to run and the wind merrily tickling the waves that crept up with the tide, there was no choice but to flee before the fell weather and leave the treasures of this junk to the kites and terns that rode the breeze and dived to double-dip for breakfast from the shallow seabed.
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