Singapore Pulau — Ubin ((install))
Ah Huat points to a wild boar snuffling under a durian tree. "That's my neighbour," he laughs. While the elderly residents provide the soul, it is the volunteers and eco-tourists who provide the island’s modern purpose. Ubin is now Singapore’s most important biodiversity hotspot. The Chek Jawa Wetlands at the island’s eastern tip is the crown jewel. For decades, the government planned to reclaim Chek Jawa for military housing. But when a survey in 2001 revealed an astonishing diversity of marine life—carpets of sea squirts, rare seahorses, and the elusive dugong—a public outcry froze the plans.
For now, however, the island endures. As dusk falls, the shophouses in Ubin Village light up with kerosene lamps. A group of backpackers from Europe share a table of ikan bakar (grilled fish) and coconut water. A Chinese uncle plays a scratchy Hokkien ballad on a transistor radio. A hornbill—black and yellow, prehistoric-looking—perches on a power line, watching. singapore pulau ubin
"Singapore sacrificed its mangroves and reefs for development," says , a nature guide who has led walks here for eight years. "Chek Jawa is our apology letter to nature. And Ubin is the last chapter." The Ticking Clock The question every visitor eventually asks is: How long will this last? Ah Huat points to a wild boar snuffling under a durian tree
The Singapore government has repeatedly promised to "conserve" Ubin for as long as possible. Plans for a "Ubin Park" have been floated. But the island faces existential threats. The population is aging and shrinking. Storms are eroding the coastline. And the mainland is always hungry—for land, for housing, for memory. But when a survey in 2001 revealed an
— The ferry ride takes less than ten minutes, but it feels like a journey back half a century. As the sleek skyline of Marina Bay shrinks into a hazy mirage behind you, the air changes. The diesel fumes of the bumboats mix with the scent of salt and damp earth. Ahead, a green hulk rises from the strait: Pulau Ubin, Singapore’s forgotten island.
The quarrymen are gone now. The last mine shut in the 1990s. But their legacy remains in the island’s topography. Today, the flooded quarries—most famously Pekan Quarry and Ubin Quarry —are breathtakingly beautiful. Kettles of tea-green water sit inside sheer rock walls, framed by ferns and strangler figs. Dragonflies patrol the surface like tiny helicopters. If you stand still enough, you might spot a monitor lizard gliding into the depths. At its peak, Ubin housed over 2,000 people. Today, fewer than 40 remain. These are the orang pulau —island people—living in the last true kampong (village) in Singapore. There is no running sewage. Electricity only arrived in the 1990s, and many homes still rely on diesel generators or solar panels.
The last bumboat back to Changi Point departs at 7:00 PM. As the boat pulls away, you look back. The island is already dissolving into shadow, a green memory on the edge of the world’s most successful city-state.
Ah Huat points to a wild boar snuffling under a durian tree. "That's my neighbour," he laughs. While the elderly residents provide the soul, it is the volunteers and eco-tourists who provide the island’s modern purpose. Ubin is now Singapore’s most important biodiversity hotspot. The Chek Jawa Wetlands at the island’s eastern tip is the crown jewel. For decades, the government planned to reclaim Chek Jawa for military housing. But when a survey in 2001 revealed an astonishing diversity of marine life—carpets of sea squirts, rare seahorses, and the elusive dugong—a public outcry froze the plans.
For now, however, the island endures. As dusk falls, the shophouses in Ubin Village light up with kerosene lamps. A group of backpackers from Europe share a table of ikan bakar (grilled fish) and coconut water. A Chinese uncle plays a scratchy Hokkien ballad on a transistor radio. A hornbill—black and yellow, prehistoric-looking—perches on a power line, watching.
"Singapore sacrificed its mangroves and reefs for development," says , a nature guide who has led walks here for eight years. "Chek Jawa is our apology letter to nature. And Ubin is the last chapter." The Ticking Clock The question every visitor eventually asks is: How long will this last?
The Singapore government has repeatedly promised to "conserve" Ubin for as long as possible. Plans for a "Ubin Park" have been floated. But the island faces existential threats. The population is aging and shrinking. Storms are eroding the coastline. And the mainland is always hungry—for land, for housing, for memory.
— The ferry ride takes less than ten minutes, but it feels like a journey back half a century. As the sleek skyline of Marina Bay shrinks into a hazy mirage behind you, the air changes. The diesel fumes of the bumboats mix with the scent of salt and damp earth. Ahead, a green hulk rises from the strait: Pulau Ubin, Singapore’s forgotten island.
The quarrymen are gone now. The last mine shut in the 1990s. But their legacy remains in the island’s topography. Today, the flooded quarries—most famously Pekan Quarry and Ubin Quarry —are breathtakingly beautiful. Kettles of tea-green water sit inside sheer rock walls, framed by ferns and strangler figs. Dragonflies patrol the surface like tiny helicopters. If you stand still enough, you might spot a monitor lizard gliding into the depths. At its peak, Ubin housed over 2,000 people. Today, fewer than 40 remain. These are the orang pulau —island people—living in the last true kampong (village) in Singapore. There is no running sewage. Electricity only arrived in the 1990s, and many homes still rely on diesel generators or solar panels.
The last bumboat back to Changi Point departs at 7:00 PM. As the boat pulls away, you look back. The island is already dissolving into shadow, a green memory on the edge of the world’s most successful city-state.