Cyrene Reef offers possibly the most spectacular sunrises of any location in Singapore. Landing on the patch reef is possible only during daylight hours so we typically depart just before first light. On the way the boat passes the container terminal and fuel bunkers that remain lit for a little while after the first shades of purple and red creep up from the horizon.
Before the sun reveals its face, the sky grabs an opportunity to
parade in hues that show up only when their source lies too low to resist the scattering of wavelengths blue. Loose congregations of clouds add to the multiplicity of tones as they reflect or diffuse the rays and gleam with golden linings. The sun is still beyond sight when we set foot on the sandy bar that runs gently into the water to permit a safe and soggy landing. As we fan out across the reef, the burning globe rises with audible speed, shattering the twilight in its ascent
over the city into the clouds.
In this
hour of soft gold, Cyrene's treasures lie flatfooted on ridges of sand and grassy mounds, enduring an unwelcome bout of exposure to the world above the waves. The massive sea stars with their circlet of knobs graze over the seagrasses, extruding their gut to engulf hapless plots of sessile bodies and detritus. On sandier substrates, their cousins gather to engage in armlocks of passion. But both species
wander at times into each other's home ground, perhaps in pursuit of fresh pastures or driven to distraction by biting puffers, whose fused teeth make short work of armoured plates and
spiny arms.
Even the long spines of sea urchins are said to discourage little the appetites of puffers and triggers, fishes with hides as tough as leather and the temperament of rusty nails. Not caring that we were photographers not predators, a small
Diadema aimed its spears in the general direction of our shadows, whilst pale feet of long tubes scrambled to shift the test in the opposite direction. Nearby, there was a little star with orange dabs on the ends of its arms, which also bear on their upper ridge an uneven row of whitish knobs. These tubercles and the slightly upturned tips of the arms suggest that this might be
Gymnanthenea laevis, an uncommon asteroid that was previously known only from northern Australia.
In stark contrast to the stiff demeanour of most classes in their phylum, the feather stars or crinoids assume the guise of flowers (and some are called sea lilies) with pinnuled petals that gather the living dust of the sea. More than once this scarlet crinoid (
Himerometra sp.) has been found on Cyrene, and in the waters around
nearby Pulau Hantu, indicating perhaps the resilience of this reef and its more fragile inhabitants if marine development is managed and mitigated.
Synaptic sea cucumbers are also fairly common on Cyrene, their snake-like bodies draped over the seagrass while a ring of feathery tentacles protrude to sweep the waters for planktonic prey. Removed from their bed, their sticky body collapses into a limp tube that appears useless for both support and movement.
Discovery and disappointment go hand-in-hand at Cyrene, for the tide turns with speed and the turbulent waters at its rim do not readily reveal their secrets. There is much rubble unexplored and
each visit rewards the visitor with familiar faces as well as surprises that lurk in shallow pools. Carpets burst with wriggling life, slugs hunt with dainty hoods, dragons blaze with solar energy and horses prance with invisible grace in a field of colours as transient and tenuous as the dawn that greeted their day.
Your most-original discription of Cyrene is truly worthy of its beauty and mystery. I love reading it as much as visiting Cyrene. : )
Posted by: Joseph Lai | 30 May 2008 at 04:02 PM