I recently came back from my latest filming trip to the island of Lombok in Indonesia. I’m working on a short film / documentary that should be finished, for the filming phase, by August of this year and as such I’ve had to return seasonally to a small village that plays host to one of the most barbaric of fish markets within the whole of Indonesia.

Tanjung Luar (highlighted in a previous journal entry, which you can read here) is a haunting place to be if you have a) a deep affinity with the enigmatic species of our Oceans such as sharks, manta rays and dolphins, and b) a weak disposition. And so I went armed with a stiff upper lip prepared for the worst. I was over prepared.

Zipping through the incredible and deserted country road that crisscross South East Lombok and with the haunting sounds of the early morning calls to prayer emanating from the numerous mosques in this predominantly Muslim Island, I tackled the one hour commute between Kuta Beach and Tanjung Luar. Being awake as night turns to day, witnessing the fight between the tones of Orange of an emerging sun and the cobalt of a receding night is in many ways intoxicating irrespective of the location. The early morning songbirds, the brisk air, the clarity of Mt. Rinjani, the highest peak on the island that is omnipresent from all vantage points.

Arriving at the Fish Market I was welcomed, at even 1Km distance, with the all too familiar stench of fish. Discarded corpses which had failed to attract a buyer from the previous day are simply trodden underfoot and baked each day under the intense Indonesian sun. I always wondered how many inches of fish I was walking on when strolling through the market. Who could ever fathom that one out?

Traditionally I would go to what I call the ‘Hen House’, the region of the market where all the women would gather and haggle over the sardines and Tuna that had been landed that night. This corner of the market is always good for a giggle as banter with the ladies was a given. Whether it was to marvel at the size of my western snout, which would incidentally put a Black Rhino to shame, or simply to extend a hand and utter the only English word they know, “Money”. A smile and pleading ignorance would be enough to leave them chuckling at the ‘Bule Gila’ (crazy tourist) in their midst.

And there were none. No larger animals. Normally by 7am the shark fishing boats would be disgorging their fare. Sharks and Mantas mainly but seeing as Manta’s had in February of 2014 received Indonesia-wide protection I was hoping I wouldn’t have to witness another death of such magnificence on the cold slabs of the butchers shed in this daunting place. On that day and for the remaining six days of my trip I didn’t see any big sharks. No Tigers, Great Hammerheads or Bull Sharks. A few Wobbegongs, dogfish and one Blacktip. I almost made it to the end of the trip without being too disheartened.

The last day kinda broke this run. Six Giant Manta Rays and two Thresher Sharks. With fishermen getting $200 for (all) the Mantas and $20(!) for the Thresher Shark it is the source of the biggest question I ask myself to which I have yet to find the answer to. Both of these species are supposed to be protected throughout Indonesia. It’s obvious that the fishermen don’t know or, and is more likely, they simply don’t care. There is no suggestion of a fisheries management plan in a land where most people survive on literally a few dollars a month. It could never be controlled and would almost certainly be exploited once a protected species showed any signs of population recovery.

I guess the starker warning of this lesson is simply why are there no sharks being landed, given the wide array of fishing practices in the region, some of them illegal. Why are no sharks being landed? Whilst it’s a good thing on one hand to think the sharks are getting wise to the fishermen, it’s also daunting to think that this could be a very real indicator of dwindling resources and local shark population collapse. The fishermen now seem to have to travel further and further afield, so much so that it’s becoming increasingly common to talk with fishermen in the village who have served time in Australian prisons for illegal fishing forays into foreign waters. But that, as they say, is another story.

Documenting this kind of activity certainly has a drain on the moral. As much as I am passionate about the conservation of the Oceans and the species I find so dear I’ve decided that this will be my last documentary of this nature for the foreseeable future. I will be looking to continue in imagining but more for positive and marketing / promotional goals in the future. If this is something that sounds intriguing to any operators out there my full offering is outlined here.