Plantation

As we discussed in a previous post, Diego Garcia's original inhabitants were here until the late 1960's. From the mid-1800's up until then, they (with a French initiative) ran a peaceful and successful coconut industry on the island, exporting as many as four million coconuts per year. Yesterday, with the permission of the British Representative on the island, we were lent the key to the gates of the dirt road that leads to the abandoned remains of what used to be a thriving plantation community of 1,100 Chagosians.

The paved road ends about 19 miles outside of town, and from there it's another three gates and 11 miles of bumpy trails. We went in one of our field project's pickup trucks, and were also accompanied by our friend Carlos, the one who works as a linguist here, who was able to show us what he knew about the plantation. If the atoll were a clock, the plantation would be at about three. We traveled counter-clockwise from the eleven o'clock position to get there. We were hoping to make it all 37 miles to the other tip of the island too, but the trail became impassable about 4 miles from the end.

The road

On the way there we passed the feral donkeys and massive coconut crabs, and at times the atoll was so narrow that you could easily see both the lagoon on your left and the ocean on your right.

 

Entering the plantation

The plantation was utterly mystifying. Almost all that remains is concrete, and all is silent and overgrown. It was made especially haunting by the fact that we were the only ones there; I've toured other ruins before, but they were overrun with tourists just as eager as me to try to understand a forgotten culture. The jungle and whispering breeze breathed in on us as we walked through building after mossy building, many now entirely canopied.

Capra drying house

Anonymous jungle residence

Another

Plantation manager's house

Inside

Coconut/palm processing facility of some kind

"Gaol"

Plane crash from WWII

The old pier and loading dock

It would be hard to describe the sort of sobering fascination this experience gave us. I could've spent hours strolling through the lost columns and walls, imagining an era. It's possible to camp out there as well, although we were regrettably short on time left on the island. It would be a truly incredible experience I think, to lay among the palms and pillars and look up at a piercing deck of stars and the soupy stripe of the Milky Way, completely unadulterated by light pollution.

Also during our time on this side of the island we checked out the military's R&R site, which utilized another old plantation cabana-type building farther north as shelter and had a pavilion, barbecue pit, and (submerged) volleyball court for groups to take time off from the other side of the island to enjoy. We also stopped at Turtle Cove before reaching all the gates, which is an area at the southern terminus of the island where the ebb and flow of tides in the lagoon leads to veritable rivers of seawater moving inland and back, much like the Bay of Fundy. From the little wooden platform there we saw sea turtles, crabs, and all kinds of fish. Adam had put his sandals behind the truck when we parked, and then when we returned thirty minutes later the incoming high tide had washed them "upriver".

Platform at Turtle Cove

Our faithful steed newly encompassed by water when we returned, Carlos laughing, and Adam somewhere behind the cameraman searching for his flip-flops

Carlos told us that all over the island the effects of the rising sea-level are being noticed. There are no more deep expanses of beach to use, just thin strips along each side. The volleyball court at the R&R site was partially underwater. The dirt trail we were on near the plantation was practically below sea level at some points, kept from complete flooding only by narrow banks of dense growth. And Turtle Cove continues to ebb farther and farther inland, around palm trees, old signs, the road.

Volleyball posts at the R&R site

The island will suffer one of two fates. Either the sea level will continue to rise at such a pace that eventually it will be too much to combat, and the island will succumb to the new climate man has created... or, the sea level will remain manageable, the American military will choose not to renew its contract on the island, and it will likely become commercialized. After having really gotten to know the island and its history, especially after yesterday's experience at the plantation, I think that either would be a truly sad fate.

For now, we will sit, watch, and absorb the island's beauty in the here and now. Departure in two days. We may never return, but if and when we do, Diego Garcia will not be the same.

- Gavin