Cambodia’s southern coastal town of Sihanoukville has more to offer than beaches and sunshine… Part 1.
A little more than 15 km from Sihanoukville there is an understated park that is home to a unique ecosystem; one worth leaving the beach to see.
Located in the Prey Nop District, Ream National Park (Ream) is made up of 210 square kilometers of some of the richest coastal and terrestrial life on the planet.
It was the mangroves that initially drew me to the park; I’ve always been fascinated by the unlikely. Mangroves forests (or swamps) grow near Ocean inlets where salt and fresh water mix.
The tree’s ability to dominate surviving on a mix of salt and fresh water is a relatively rarity among plants and animals. In the northern countries, the temperature limits what grows, in Ocean coastlines only organisms hardy enough to withstand the salinity concentrations thrive.
With their long, tubular, straw-like roots visible above the waterline, mangroves are the most recognizable part of any estuaries (where tidal waters meet a river system); a symbol of the necessary adaptations of local life.
About 60 square kilometers of Ream National Park is coastline –a mix of rocky shores and dense shrubs and mangroves.
Like their freshwater counterpart, salt-water marshes like those in Ream are nutrient traps; both land runoff and incoming tides provide plentiful organic material that the estuary converts.
The nutrient-rich environment acts as a nursery for a variety of fish and bird species. More than 175 species of bird have been documented in Ream. Multiple species of storks, pelicans and eagles call Ream home. With their yellow heads and colourfully-horned beaks Great Hornbill’s are a particularity sunny sight among the mangroves.
Estuaries like those in Southeast Cambodia are critical to fish development. Globally, about 75 per cent of commercial fish species use estuaries as hatching grounds for their juveniles.
Despite the small number of species capable of survival in semi-salt water environments, estuaries play a surprisingly significant role in the health of the greater hydrological system.
Along with creating a rich habitat for species to rear young, mangrove swamps and estuaries also help filter out pollutants before they reach the ocean.
Mangrove forests are quietly abuzz with new life. Fish and other amphibians flop around the water’s edge, while birds wait out the mid-day heat calling from shaded perches.
Insect life also thrives, but not unmanageably so; I found the sand flies and mosquitoes to be little more than a slight annoyance. Despite teaming with new life, the slow moving water and thick vegetation of the estuary has a calming effect.
Mangrove swamps are found throughout Southeast Asia — Thailand, Malaysia and Vietnam all have coast lines conducive to their growth. Coastlines also draw people. Business interests, migrating population and locals are all in competition with the natural environment for waterfront space.
Traveling by water, the signs of Ream’s internal struggle are less visible. Garbage — the blight of many natural sights in Southeast Asia — occasionally snaps you out of the calming trance the river system creates. The 13-year-old recycling fanatic inside me couldn’t help scooping up water bottles as they passed the boat or fishing plastic packaging from sea grass when possible; a sad reminder that the value of an estuary is not only intrinsic.
Growing along the embankment into a thick wall of green, the mangroves seem take little notice of the encroaching human influence. Trash is pulled down by their tangled roots and slowly pushed under the murky river water while the current moves along, taking me with it.
Looking to experience the natural beauty of Southeast Asia yourself? Journeys Within can help plan nature-based itineraries throughout the region.
