Though not common in the United States, many species are obscure enough that they don’t have an English common name. This Poropuntius normani is an example.
Snakeheads are predatory fishes found in the Asia-Pacific region, but this dwarf snakehead is the smallest snakehead on earth.
The volume of garbage in the waters of Malaysia was pretty depressing.
Luke Ovgard
Though not common in the United States, many species are obscure enough that they don’t have an English common name. This Poropuntius normani is an example.
Snakeheads are predatory fishes found in the Asia-Pacific region, but this dwarf snakehead is the smallest snakehead on earth.
The volume of garbage in the waters of Malaysia was pretty depressing.
Luke Ovgard
KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia — On paper, Malaysia looks like an incredible fishing destination. The former British colony is split in two, with territory on both the Malay Peninsula and the island of Borneo. It offers high freshwater diversity and sits squarely between the Pacific and Indian oceans, allowing for a stunning array of saltwater diversity.
That is, if you can find clean, accessible water.
Like many developing nations, Malaysia offers whispers, shadows and glimpses of the modern world that are often drowned out by the depressing realities of poverty, pollution, corruption and a lack of infrastructure. As recently as 10 years ago, Malaysia’s capital, Kuala Lumpur, boasted four of the 25 tallest buildings in the world. In light of China’s rapid urbanization, that number has fallen to two: the twin Petronas Towers. The Petronas Towers are named and financed by Malaysia’s nationalized oil company, Petronas, that keeps so many cars and so many more motorcycles on the roads thanks to cheap gas that came in around $1.75 USD per gallon while I was there this past summer.
Kuala Lumpur has ultramodern hotels, restaurants and tourist attractions, and it’s possible for a distracted tourist to forget they’re in a developing country — at least for a few moments. But just a few blocks over from these ultramodern buildings, visitors will find the countless piles of burning garbage, clapboard slums, hordes of feral dogs, abject poverty and subsistence agriculture and fishing indicative of what was historically termed Third World.
To a Westerner — especially one who spent the month prior in Singapore — Malaysia seemed downright dystopian. The insane traffic, poor air quality, staggering volume of garbage and Draconian treatment of women made me heartsick, but I tried my best to find the silver linings.
Water pollution in the urban Gombak River splitting downtown Kuala Lumpur was so bad that a team of bulldozers and cranes paired with dozens of men on foot worked around the clock to pull tons of garbage from the river every hour. Yes, tons. This was loaded into dump trucks and driven away, but the crews could not work fast enough to handle the downpours that flooded the streets, drove hundreds of motorcycles off the road and under overpasses, and washed all of the roadside trash into drains, ditches and ultimately the river on a daily basis.
This ongoing cleanup of the historic “River of Life” section of the Gombak that once boasted incredible fish, wildlife and plant diversity and holds deep spiritual significance for the predominately Muslim populace is making progress, albeit slowly. Today, this stretch of the Gombak is a brown swill of garbage, dead animals and a stench that will floor you on a hot day.
There are nearly 2,000 species of fish recorded in Malaysia’s fresh and salt waters, but I quickly realized I had little hope of finding them anywhere near a city that has become one of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in the world with nowhere near the infrastructure needed to handle its swelling numbers.
Sanitation is expected to be a concern in a massive city with more than eight million inhabitants, but sadly, it was just as bad in the small towns and cities I visited up and down the coast.
One coastal marina I visited at low tide was so blanketed with trash deposited by a falling tide that the muddy trash heap could have passed for a landfill had it not been dotted by boats.
Driving in Malaysia was an unending debacle, but that’s a story for another day. Let’s just say that with some effort, I found myself about an hour’s drive from my hotel on the outskirts of a small village desperately trying not to be swallowed by the jungle. Educated guesswork brought me to a small hospital (with armed guards at its gate) ringed by decaying apartment buildings that overlooked the Gombak River dozens of river miles upstream of the urban center’s pollution. The fast-flowing, cold water called out to me as I ambled through thick jungle vegetation under a small road bridge to access its slightly stained waters. The cold was a major relief as I plunged into the current on that warm summer night and dodged a collection of large spiders dangling menacingly from the bridge struts.
I’d failed to find worms to use as bait that first night, and the fish weren’t interested in my artificial worms, so I was forced to flip rocks and look for aquatic insect larvae. Some gray bugs that looked like mayfly nymphs failed to outrun my fingers, and I was able to use those, in turn, to catch a few cyprinids (minnows) that I would later identify as Poropuntius normani, a chunky minnow without a common name.
As I retraced my steps, my headlamp beam crossed what was clearly a small snakehead. It took a little work, but eventually it ate my bait, and I landed a dwarf snakehead and then immediately dropped it before I could get a picture.
When a massive fish-eating spider came across the water’s surface and uncomfortably close to my leg, I flinched so hard that my self-respect will never fully recover. Catching another snakehead moments later recaptured some of my dignity.
Climbing out of the overgrowth and onto the road, I returned to my rental car, a Spartan vehicle produced in Malaysia called a Proton Saga. It struggled to start, as usual, but this time, at least the battery wasn’t dead.
As my first night of the planned three-week stay in Malaysia came to a close, I really questioned whether the trip had been a good idea. I hoped it would get better, but as I envisioned 20 more days there, I developed a pit in my stomach that could only be described as malaise.
Sign up for every single CaughtOvgard column at www.patreon.com/CaughtOvgard. Read more for free at caughtovgard.com; Follow on Instagram and Fishbrain @lukeovgard; Contact luke.ovgard@gmail.com. Thank you for your continued support of local journalism.
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