“Miserable and pitiful,” muttered Mr Timothy Ng, as he watched a pile of fish thrash around at the bottom of his kelong’s net on the afternoon of Oct 17.
It was yet another poor catch, a problem that has persisted for years. “All three sections of the net, there’s nothing there to talk about,” the 76-year-old said in disappointment.
The 4kg or so of “trash fish” (below) – ones unfit for the table – would be given to a nearby fish farm to supplement fish feed, said Mr Ng, who bought the kelong and a floating fish farm beside it in 2004.
“In the past, several times a year, we would get one tonne of trash fish in the net,” he said.
“Those were exciting moments. Once, we got nearly two tonnes of a black dory, and we didn’t know what to do with it. Fortunately, somebody took it to Malaysia to be turned into fish food,” he said. At other times, several barrels of ikan bilis were hauled in, each barrel weighing about 50kg.
The kelong’s catches were previously used to supplement feed for cultured fish in Mr Ng’s floating fish farm, where he reared sea bass, red snappers and hybrid groupers.
But after running the farm and kelong located more than 100m off the western coast of Pulau Ubin for two decades, he decided to give up the fish farm in June.
Mr Ng said he lost about $2 million running the kelong and farm over the years, as it was tough to find buyers willing to pay a profitable price for his fish.
On Oct 19, the farm structure – made primarily of wood and shallow nets – was detached from the wooden bridge (above) that connected it to the kelong, and towed to Malaysia to be used by a farm there.
His lease on the kelong – a traditional offshore wooden platform built on stilts, typically used for fishing – runs until August 2025.
When the Singapore Heritage Society learnt that Mr Ng was thinking of giving up the kelong, it in March proposed to the authorities for it to be retained, possibly for educational and research purposes.
The society has been given until end-2024 to appoint a consultant to study the feasibility of keeping the kelong, which is among four licensed ones left in Singapore.
Mr Ng estimates that it will cost about $100,000 a year to maintain the kelong, including the wages of a worker who will man it full-time.
While the fate of the kelong is being decided, Mr Ng is keeping it running.
The licensed kelongs here – including Mr Ng’s – are located off the coasts of Pulau Ubin, Seletar and Lim Chu Kang. Their catches are small and kept for their own use, or sold to other fish farms or traders.
Mr Ng said some of his catch used to be taken to Senoko Fishery Port to be sold by wholesalers, but it has been about eight years since anything caught in his kelong was sold commercially.
Now, the caught fish are given away to supplement the feed of other fish farms, said Mr Ng, a former deputy commissioner at the Inland Revenue Authority of Singapore who retired in 2008 and does consulting work part-time.
Twice a day, about an hour before the tide is at its lowest, the kelong’s large net is raised to harvest fish it has trapped.
The net is mounted on a four-sided iron frame, which is raised and lowered into the water using a mechanical winch. It is strategically positioned to catch fish brought in by the changing tide.
“We don’t wait till it’s too late. When the water is totally still at the lowest tide, it’s likelier that the fish will swim away,” said Mr Ng.
“It’s when there’s still a current that they will stay around to fight it, and may get trapped when we raise the net.”
The net is first raised by a diesel-powered engine that acts as a winch, which is attached to a system of ropes and pulleys that take about 70sec to hoist the net out of the water.
After the engine is done, a wooden winch (above) is used to raise the net even higher.
The fish are then scooped out using a smaller net attached to a roughly 6m-long pole (below).
“Now it’s a bit disappointing. Very occasionally, we get a few white pomfret or squid and some prawns,” Mr Ng said.
Mr Ng postulated two explanations behind the dwindling catch.
Reclamation in the Changi area may have impacted the exchange of waters between the Johor Strait and the open sea, affecting the fish population.
Lights from industrial developments in Malaysia’s Pasir Gudang area just north-west across the strait may have drawn fish away from the kelong, which uses lights at night to attract fish into its trap.
“When we first started 20 years ago, this place was almost in pitch darkness. The kelong’s lights were the only source of light,” Mr Ng recalled.
“Since the development of Pasir Gudang over the years, lights there have been blazing through the night – so there’s competition. I believe the kelong’s lights have become less attractive to the fishes.”
Part of the kelong’s upkeep involves washing the net (below) using a petrol-powered pump that draws water from the sea.
Mr Ng said that the net, when dirty, becomes much heavier and more difficult to raise from the seabed.
Holes in the net must be mended (below) using nylon string and a needle made specifically to stitch nets together.
Other tasks include replacing electronic components (below), such as the floodlights used to attract fish at night.
Two full-time workers from Myanmar – Mr Mon Htaw, 41, and Mr Min Min Oo, 24 – used to man Mr Ng’s fish farm and kelong, where they also lived.
Life on the kelong includes everyday household chores such as cooking and laundry.
After the farm was towed away on Oct 19, only Mr Mon Htaw remained to run the kelong. But he has the kelong’s two resident dogs, Honey and Tiny, for company.
Pointing to his phone while he was on a video call on Oct 17, Mr Mon Htaw, who does not speak much English and communicates with Mr Ng in Malay, said with a grin: “My wife.”
As night fell on Oct 17, the tide rose with the Hunter’s Moon (below) – the brightest of 2024’s four supermoons.
Mr Ng said the odds of a bigger catch are higher during spring tides, which occur twice a lunar month during the full or new moons. This is when the gravitational pull of the Sun, along with the Moon’s gravitational pull on Earth, causes the oceans to bulge more than usual.
The tide was about 3.3m high at 11.05pm on Oct 17, with the waters almost touching the floorboards of the kelong.
Floodlights are used to draw marine life into the trap when it is dark.
Around 3.40am on Oct 18 – roughly 1½ hours before the lowest tide of 0.7m at 5.28am that morning – Mr Mon Htaw started the kelong’s engine, which raised the net.
There was hope that the morning’s yield would be much better than the afternoon before, as many fish and other types of seafood such as crabs and eels were seen swimming above the kelong’s net, enthralled by its bright lights.
The workers then began to scoop out the catch.
The morning’s haul was undoubtedly larger – all three sections of the net had a substantial pool of fish gathered at the bottom.
Mr Ng estimated that in all, about 100kg of seafood was brought in, including beltfish, some squid and prawns, crabs and two snappers. However, most of the catch was trash fish.
Mr Mon Htaw and Mr Min Min Oo expertly picked out the beltfish from the pile of silver-coloured fish poured out onto the kelong’s floorboards and put them into a basket. Crabs were tossed into a bucket filled with seawater. It was one of Mr Min Min Oo’s last days of work at the kelong.
What they picked out was kept for personal consumption, and the rest scooped into barrels to be sent to a fish farm.
Seafood destined for their plates was treated with extra care – Mr Mon Htaw descaled and gutted two snappers and tied down the pincers of the crabs with rubber bands (below) before chilling them.
Mr Ng said: “We can only reminisce. Unfortunately, the days of having a big catch are gone.”
Contemplating the kelong’s future, he suggested that it could be used for educational tours.
“Whatever is worth a try, we should give it a shot. If nothing works, all will have to be dismantled,” he said.