In 2015, The Straits Times photojournalist Desmond Lim documented people who searched for naturally fallen durians in the forested land along Old Punggol Road. Among those identified were Lim Cheng Meng, then 51, and Peh Eng Choon, then 53. The pickers described strong local fruit preferences, time spent searching and an informal courtesy rule: do not push into a tree another person is already watching.

Some waited up to eight hours for a durian to fall. The story is evidence of an informal pastime on the older, leafy Punggol Road landscape, not a permit allowing fruit collection today. A 2018 Straits Times retrospective revisited the account as public plans emerged to preserve mature greenery and turn part of Old Punggol Road into a heritage route. NParks opened the trail’s first 400-metre stretch in August 2025 while retaining mature trees and the terrain.

This article explains what was recorded, why the activity mattered, what tree conservation does and does not prove, and how modern park rules differ from an older informal gathering scene. It keeps local memories separate from the present-day legality of picking fruit, and it offers a careful history of a surprisingly distinctive part of Punggol life.

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What happened in 2015 · The people · The eight-hour wait · 2018 versus 2025 · Present-day access

Contents of the full guide

• 1. The core facts: a 2015 scene and later preservation
• 2. The people behind the story: Lim Cheng Meng and Peh Eng Choon
• 3. Why people waited for a fruit rather than buying one
• 4. The eight-hour wait: what patience looked like
• 5. An informal etiquette: leaving room for other pickers
• 6. Taste claims versus objective agricultural evidence
• 7. Why Old Punggol Road supported unusual trees and memories
• 8. What the 2018 heritage-trail announcement actually said
• 9. The 2025 opening and the question of which trees survived
• 10. Conservation of mature greenery and the idea of living heritage
• 11. Safety and permission: 2015 reportage is not a 2026 instruction
• 12. The social history of a place with few permanent landmarks
• 13. How photojournalism creates a return path to ordinary history
• 14. A field-study method that respects today’s public space
• 15. What the 2015 story cannot tell us
• 16. Frequently asked questions about the durian hunters
• 17. Sources and the link to Punggol’s wider history

1. The core facts: a 2015 scene and later preservation

The central historical record is a 2015 Straits Times photo-feature by Desmond Lim, titled ‘Durian hunters’. It followed people searching the forested area along Old Punggol Road for naturally fallen durians. The account named participants, described clothing and tools, and recorded how a successful search could involve prolonged waiting. This is firsthand journalistic observation from that period.

The second important document is a Straits Times feature dated 27 August 2018 that looked back at unusual aspects of the old road as plans for its conversion into a heritage trail were announced. It recalled the durian hunters and reported that mature greenery would be retained, while noting uncertainty about exactly how many durian trees would survive. This is a different claim from a promise to maintain an organised public durian-picking site.

The third dated record comes from NParks, which announced the opening of the first 400-metre stretch of Punggol Heritage Trail on 23 August 2025. The announcement emphasised preservation of the old road’s undulating topography, existing greenery, native coastal vegetation and an interpretive public landscape. It did not announce a durian-harvesting programme.

Those three records form the story’s chronology: a photographed pastime in 2015, debate about retaining the old road in 2018, and a public heritage route opening in 2025. They should not be merged into a claim that a trail designated in 2025 was identical to the informal search area of 2015.

A research timeline can use three columns: recorded activity, proposed land-use change and completed public access. It should contain a separate field for what remains uncertain, particularly tree-by-tree survival and current permission to take fruit. The method preserves a vivid memory without turning it into an inaccurate travel tip.

2. The people behind the story: Lim Cheng Meng and Peh Eng Choon

Desmond Lim’s reporting identifies Lim Cheng Meng as a 51-year-old man who regularly searched the Punggol trees. The article describes him moving through vegetation, smelling for ripe fruit and uncovering a durian from beneath leaves. The episode is concrete because it concerns a named person and a particular activity, rather than an unnamed claim that ‘locals love durians’.

Peh Eng Choon, then 53 and working as a renovation contractor, offered another perspective. He described returning to the area over several years and expressed a strong preference for its durians. His opinion is part of the historical source, but it does not establish that Punggol fruit was objectively superior in taste to fruit from every Malaysian orchard.

The men did not necessarily have identical motivations. The reporting associates the search with taste, excitement, exercise and the appeal of finding fruit without buying it. One person could value the thrill while another emphasised flavour. An article should preserve these differences instead of compressing all participants into a stereotypical ‘durian hunter’.

The names also remind us that heritage is not only the history of famous residents or government programmes. Ordinary leisure practices can leave a record when a photographer notices them. A person waiting under trees may seem a small subject beside a new MRT station, but the activity reveals how people used land that was neither a modern mall nor an official tourist attraction.

A respectful account avoids inventing the subjects’ later lives. Their ages and occupations were recorded in 2015; nothing in this source establishes where they live today, whether they still gather fruit or their views of the heritage trail after completion. Their story belongs to the documented date unless newer interviews add evidence.

3. Why people waited for a fruit rather than buying one

The original report describes a pattern in which pickers returned during durian seasons and hoped to find fruit dropped from mature trees. Their choice was not driven solely by market price. Desmond Lim’s account notes that imported durian prices were low during a bumper season, yet enthusiasts still preferred searching along Old Punggol Road.

The reasons are understandable at a human level. Searching involves anticipation, knowledge of a place and uncertainty. A fruit purchased from a stall gives the customer a more predictable transaction; a found fruit offers a story about effort and chance. The 2015 participants themselves described interest in the search beyond the number of durians collected.

This should not be turned into an economic claim that the activity was cost-free. Time, transport, clothing, food and effort all have value. Waiting hours for a single fruit would hardly be efficient if the objective were only to minimise the price per kilogram. Its meaning was partly recreational and social.

The original feature describes participants bringing protective clothing and practical supplies. Such details show how an apparently simple pastime required preparation. Yet the account should not be used as a checklist for entering today’s wooded or restricted areas. Modern public access and land-use conditions are different.

A useful History and Economics exercise asks students to compare a market purchase with a highly uncertain search. Identify explicit costs, time costs and non-financial satisfaction. The answer can explain why some people chose a long wait without imagining that every participant was poor or that they earned money selling the fruits.

4. The eight-hour wait: what patience looked like

One striking fact from the 2015 feature is that some pickers waited as long as eight hours for a durian to fall. This was a reported maximum for certain outings, not the average waiting time of every visitor. The difference matters because sensational figures can easily become fake statistics when repeated without their qualifier.

The long wait illustrates a particular relationship to place. Someone who returns to a tree has to observe it, judge whether fruit may fall and decide whether to remain or move. The surroundings, weather and company become part of the experience. Such waiting may feel satisfying to a person motivated by anticipation but wasteful to someone interested only in immediate consumption.

A durian falling from height is a genuine hazard. A historical description of waiting under trees should not become advice to stand in danger zones or compete for falling fruit. The purpose here is to record what some people did in 2015 and how they described it, not to instruct readers to imitate an unsafe activity.

The figure also allows a simple lesson in sample bias. A photographer following enthusiasts may encounter people who tolerate unusually long waits. That does not tell us how many Punggol residents participated overall, how often a search succeeded or how many hours a typical person spent. Without a systematic survey, those figures remain unknown.

In an article about place identity, patience itself becomes a theme. A modern town can be measured in faster train journeys and convenient services, while a former informal pastime revolved around waiting for a seasonal event. That contrast is historically interesting without pretending that one style of life is always better.

5. An informal etiquette: leaving room for other pickers

Peh Eng Choon described an unwritten rule among the people he met. If a picker arrived and someone else was already waiting at a tree, the newcomer should look elsewhere or wait in turn. This is a reported social practice, not a formal law conferring property rights in a tree or fruit.

The rule matters because it suggests that informal groups can develop standards of fairness even when they lack tickets, queues or official staff. A familiar place may produce shared expectations among repeat visitors. Those norms can reduce conflict, although the source does not establish whether every encounter went smoothly.

A historian should not confuse an unwritten courtesy with a right to enter land or take produce. Property boundaries, park regulations and safety restrictions still matter. The record describes what some pickers said they did in 2015; it does not validate harvesting in a public park in 2026.

The reported etiquette also invites comparison with other Punggol activities. Anglers, cyclists, birdwatchers and community gardeners may negotiate use of shared space differently. Rules can be written on signs, enforced by institutions or maintained informally among participants. Each arrangement has strengths and limitations.

For students, ask why people follow a courtesy rule when no authority is visibly present. Reasons might include reciprocity, reputation, conflict avoidance and a sense that others have equal interests. Those are general social mechanisms, not documented private thoughts of the named durian pickers. The distinction between observation and interpretation keeps the analysis honest.

6. Taste claims versus objective agricultural evidence

One participant in the 2015 report strongly preferred the flavour of Old Punggol Road durians to fruit imported from Malaysia. Another part of the feature conveyed the enthusiasts’ conviction that locally fallen durians were special. These are authentic expressions of personal taste. They are not the results of a controlled tasting experiment.

Taste can vary with cultivar, ripeness, handling and individual preference. The article does not identify a scientifically verified variety for every tree or provide a laboratory comparison with Malaysian orchards. Therefore a claim that Punggol durians were universally ‘the best’ would misrepresent the source.

The label organic was also used by an enthusiast in the story. In everyday speech, people may mean that a tree grows in a forested setting rather than in a heavily managed plantation. Formal organic certification, however, is a separate matter. The 2015 report did not establish certification or prove the complete absence of environmental contamination.

This distinction is essential for a trustworthy article. A strong sentence says that Peh Eng Choon considered the fruit unusually delicious. A weak sentence says that all Old Punggol Road durians were objectively superior and certified organic. Only the first follows the available evidence.

For a Science or English exercise, students can list the observations required for a fair comparison: a defined fruit sample, blind tasting, ripeness controls and accurate identification. The exercise does not diminish the pleasure of a favourite taste. It shows how a vivid personal memory differs from a testable general claim.

7. Why Old Punggol Road supported unusual trees and memories

Old Punggol Road ran through a landscape shaped by earlier farms, villages and coastal vegetation. Its trees and uneven ground gave the area a visual character unlike a straight new-town boulevard. The 2015 durian hunters used that leafy setting as an informal gathering place. The feature reminds readers that greenery can have a lived social history, not only an ecological function.

The road itself developed long before the new town. Historical accounts describe its earlier alignment, numbered tracks and role connecting farms and seaside destinations. A durian tree along the route could be associated with former cultivation, a remnant of older planting or later growth. The consulted feature does not prove the origin of each individual tree.

Different trees contribute different kinds of value. Mature canopy provides shade and habitat; fruit-bearing trees can be part of local memory; native coastal species help ecological restoration. A responsible article should not imply that every preserved tree on the later Heritage Trail was a durian tree.

The distinction between original vegetation and new planting is equally important. Conservation may retain existing mature trees while additional species are introduced to improve ecological resilience. A visitor looking at greenery in 2026 cannot automatically infer that all of it stood in the same form in 2015.

This is a useful landscape-history lesson: the life of a road is partly recorded in its trees, not just in traffic counts and buildings. A documented informal practice adds another layer, provided the article remains careful about exactly which trees and locations were observed.

8. What the 2018 heritage-trail announcement actually said

On 27 August 2018, The Straits Times reported plans to pedestrianise an old stretch of Punggol Road and highlighted the area’s history. Its retrospective included the 2015 durian hunters, wildlife stories, a former zoo and old bus stops. The central planning message concerned turning an old transport route into a pedestrian heritage connection.

The story said HDB would retain leafy trees but noted uncertainty about how many durian trees would remain. This is a particularly important evidence boundary. Preserving greenery is not the same as guaranteeing a particular fruiting-tree population, a public harvesting right or permanent continuity of every informal activity.

At the planning stage, descriptions of length and features were provisional. Later NParks records give the 1.3-kilometre overall trail concept and distinguish phases of completion. A historical article should preserve the date and scope of each announcement rather than merge all lengths into an impossible exact figure.

The 2018 moment was significant because it gave older road uses a place in the official conversation about redevelopment. Rather than simply removing a former road, planners aimed to keep some of its terrain and character. The durian story was one example of the activities remembered along that route.

A good research note would place the 2018 article in a column headed ‘proposal and retrospective’. The eventual 2025 opening belongs in a different column. Projects change as designs and access arrangements develop. Historical accuracy requires tracking decisions from announcement to implementation, not treating every future-tense promise as a completed fact.

9. The 2025 opening and the question of which trees survived

NParks announced the first 400-metre stretch of the Punggol Heritage Trail on 23 August 2025, between Punggol North Avenue and Campus Boulevard. The public route incorporated the area’s undulating terrain and retained existing greenery, including trees more than fifty years old. The announcement described a wider network of over one kilometre of meandering trails in the opened landscape.

Its ecological plan included native coastal tree and understorey species. The official text names trees such as Sea Almond and Common Pulai among existing vegetation, and additions intended to improve biodiversity. The emphasis is on a resilient and interpretable landscape rather than a catalogue of every former fruit tree.

The 2018 reporting had openly questioned how many durian trees would remain. The 2025 announcement does not answer that specific question with an audited inventory. It would therefore be wrong to tell readers that the same durian trees photographed in 2015 were all preserved, or that none survived. The source does not establish either extreme.

The new route also contains paths, public signs and other facilities with defined access. A person entering it is using a managed public landscape, not the same informal forested setting experienced by Desmond Lim’s interviewees. Some memories may remain associated with the ground, while the practical rules governing visitors have changed.

A student can compare before-and-after photographs only with proper captions and location verification. If the camera positions are uncertain, discuss the general transformation rather than claim a specific tree-by-tree match. A visual comparison should be evidence, not decoration.

10. Conservation of mature greenery and the idea of living heritage

Heritage often brings to mind a building, plaque or former resident’s story. Trees add a living dimension because they grow, age, die and sometimes remain through several transformations of the surrounding land. Mature canopy can preserve something of an older spatial atmosphere even when the original use of the road changes.

NParks emphasised conserving greenery that had been growing for at least half a century. That gives the trail ecological and historical value, but age alone does not establish the species or origin of every trunk. An inventory and mapping record would be needed to say a particular tree was a durian tree visited in 2015.

The 2015 report demonstrates another form of living heritage: people used vegetation as part of a seasonal social practice. A tree could be a meeting point and source of anticipation. Yet heritage significance does not automatically justify unrestricted access or collection. Preservation must balance memory, biodiversity and safety.

This creates a subtle distinction for planners. Keeping a mature tree can preserve shade and habitat even if the pastime once associated with it no longer takes place. Interpretive signage can tell the earlier story without encouraging behaviour that conflicts with modern park regulations.

For local history, the lesson is that continuity has degrees. A tree may remain while a road is pedestrianised; a name may survive while land use changes; a remembered custom may be documented even though it is no longer permitted. Writing these differences plainly is more accurate than calling everything ‘unchanged’ or ‘gone’.

11. Safety and permission: 2015 reportage is not a 2026 instruction

A common search intention is practical: can someone go to Old Punggol Road today and collect durians? This historical article cannot grant permission. Singapore’s Parks and Trees Regulations require approval for collecting or displacing trees, plants or parts of plants within public parks, and separate property and access rules may apply elsewhere. A dated account of people gathering fruit is not legal authority.

There are also physical risks. Falling durians can injure people, and wooded sites may contain uneven ground, limited visibility and hazards during storms. A reader should not turn the feature’s eight-hour wait into advice about staying beneath a fruiting tree. Modern safety guidance and posted site restrictions take precedence.

The distinction matters even if someone remembers collecting fruit there in childhood. A place can change in ownership, management, ecological purpose and access rules. Public memory should be preserved without implying that former customary behaviour remains permitted.

For someone who wants to experience Punggol’s heritage, the supported activity is to use open trails and interpretive signage according to current NParks information. Observing trees and learning the old story does not require collecting fruit. Families can read the 2015 reportage beforehand and compare how the experience of the area has changed.

A historical narrative is most useful when it answers its actual question: what was happening there in 2015? It should not become a loophole for extracting plants from a park or entering restricted land.

12. The social history of a place with few permanent landmarks

A forested roadside may not have a celebrated monument. That does not mean nobody attached meaning to it. The 2015 report names ordinary people who returned to particular trees and observed informal courtesy. It documents leisure and social relationships in a space that otherwise might appear blank on a tourist map.

The history of the road includes more formal changes: public transport, road improvements, planned housing and later pedestrianisation. The durian hunters provide a small counterpoint. They used the landscape according to seasonal cycles rather than fixed events advertised by an institution.

Such local memories can be fragile because the people involved may not be in official histories. A photo essay can preserve faces, activities and observations, but it may also select an unusually colourful group rather than a representative sample. This is why a researcher should identify Desmond Lim’s report as an observed example, not a census of Punggol residents.

The same caution applies to nostalgia. Some people remember gathering fruit fondly; others may have considered the land inaccessible, unsafe or uninteresting. One participant’s enthusiasm cannot speak for every neighbour. Preserving difference makes the local record more trustworthy.

A well-designed history directory can connect this episode to the road’s broader story without erasing its individuality. The page owns the specific question of durian hunters in 2015, while companion articles explain public transport, old tracks, the Heritage Trail and ecological restoration.

13. How photojournalism creates a return path to ordinary history

Desmond Lim’s original feature uses observation, named interviews and photographs to convey what people were doing. These are forms of evidence that an official planning document might never include. They help answer practical questions about how enthusiasts waited, what they carried and why they found pleasure in the activity.

Photographs are still selective. A frame can show one person uncovering a fruit, but cannot establish a seasonal success rate or the geographical distribution of all durian trees. A caption needs the original date and location. Reusing a generic image of durians from elsewhere without disclosure would create a false visual record.

The later 2018 Straits Times article adds another layer by connecting the practice with the history of Old Punggol Road and a future heritage trail. This is a retrospective use of older reporting; it is not a second independent field expedition in 2015.

The 2025 NParks announcement supplies the official development milestone. The three documents together are more useful than any one alone, precisely because they answer different questions: what people did, what planners proposed and what later opened.

Students can keep a media provenance sheet containing author, original date, place, what is visible and what remains unknown. Such a sheet helps avoid the common error of attaching modern imagery to a past event merely because both are labelled Punggol.

14. A field-study method that respects today’s public space

A family can learn this history safely without collecting fruit. Begin with the 2015 Straits Times story and the 2018 heritage retrospective. Highlight the names of the participants, their stated motivations and the unresolved question about how many trees would be preserved. Then consult the current NParks page to identify accessible parts of the Heritage Trail.

During a public walk, observe terrain, canopy, signs and retained road features from authorised paths. Do not leave marked trails or enter closed works areas. Avoid treating the sight of any fruit tree as permission to collect from it. The historical activity can be discussed through observation rather than reenactment.

Children can keep a notebook with separate columns for old evidence and current observation. ‘Reported in 2015: visitors sometimes waited up to eight hours’ belongs in the first. ‘Observed today: a shaded trail with interpretive signage’ belongs in the second. The student should not assume both describe the same exact tree or metre of road.

An older student may research which plants are native coastal species and which are associated with past cultivation. Use official species information to avoid inaccurate identification. Ask what kinds of ecological change are expected when an old road becomes a managed green corridor.

Finish with a paragraph explaining continuity and change. A mature landscape can preserve part of Punggol’s atmosphere while public access, rules and land uses evolve. That is a deeper lesson than a simple instruction to find free durians.

15. What the 2015 story cannot tell us

The available records do not establish the total number of durian trees along Old Punggol Road in 2015. They do not give a certified variety for each tree, an exact count of participants, the proportion of unsuccessful searches or a tree-by-tree survival record after redevelopment.

They also do not show the present addresses or hobbies of Lim Cheng Meng and Peh Eng Choon. Quoted ages and occupations belong to the reporting period. A modern article should not infer the subjects’ current circumstances or attempt to locate them without consent.

Another unknown is how permission and property rights applied at the exact places photographed in 2015. The reportage records behaviour. A separate legal and land-boundary investigation would be needed to decide what was authorised at that time. Today’s public-park regulations should not be projected backwards without context.

The 2018 planning article noted uncertainty over fruit-tree preservation; the 2025 opening notice describes general greenery retention. Neither supplies the missing dedicated durian inventory. A writer who announces that ‘all the old durian trees were saved’ or ‘the last tree was removed’ would be going beyond the sources.

These limits are part of the value of the history. They encourage future researchers to look for dated aerial photographs, planting inventories, old road surveys and properly identified images. A vivid report can start an investigation without answering every question.

16. Frequently asked questions about the durian hunters

When was the activity documented? The key Straits Times photo-feature dates to 2015.

Who wrote the original feature? Photojournalist Desmond Lim.

Who were named participants? Lim Cheng Meng, then 51, and Peh Eng Choon, then 53, appeared in the reporting.

Where were they searching? In forested areas along Old Punggol Road as described in the 2015 article.

How long did some wait? Up to eight hours for fruit to fall, according to the reportage.

Why did they go? Interviewees discussed taste, exercise and the excitement of searching.

Were the durians proven to be superior? No. The flavour comparisons were personal opinions.

Were the trees certified organic? The enthusiasts’ descriptions did not establish formal certification.

Was there an informal etiquette? A named participant described waiting or moving elsewhere if someone else was already at a tree.

Did the road become a Heritage Trail? NParks opened its first 400-metre section in August 2025 as part of a larger project.

Were all durian trees conserved? The consulted sources do not provide a complete verified inventory.

Is collecting durians permitted today? Do not assume so. Follow current land access and park regulations, and obtain necessary approval.

Can families walk the public trail? Consult NParks for current sections, access and any works restrictions.

What is the most important historical point? A documented 2015 seasonal pastime became part of the remembered social character of Old Punggol Road.

17. Sources and the link to Punggol’s wider history

The primary human-interest source is Desmond Lim’s 2015 Straits Times report ‘Durian hunters’. It names participants and records what they did and said. Its purpose was photojournalism, not a botanical inventory or legal assessment of fruit collection. Attribute taste claims and maximum waiting times to the article and its interviewees.

Jan Lee’s 27 August 2018 Straits Times retrospective explains how the activity resurfaced during discussion of the heritage-trail plan. The piece also makes clear that the precise number of durian trees to be retained was uncertain at that time. This distinction prevents a planning statement from being misread as a completed tree survey.

NParks’ 23 August 2025 opening announcement is the strongest source for actual public-trail progress, mature greenery retention and the project’s first open section. The current official park page is appropriate for access and visitor rules, not for proving a named 2015 participant’s personal preferences.

Singapore’s Parks and Trees Regulations provide the legal context for collecting or displacing plant material in public parks. They should be checked in their current form when a reader asks a present-day permission question, rather than using old reportage as authority.

The broader Punggol history hub links the old road, village tracks, waterfront recreation, farming and digital district development. The durian hunters offer a distinctive social-history chapter within that larger transformation. The finished result should preserve the people and source dates while respecting contemporary public space.

Quick reader questions

Are the named pickers current employees of NParks?

The source identifies private individuals interviewed in 2015, not park employees or official heritage guides.

Does keeping an old tree preserve the old activity?

Not necessarily. Public access and collection rules can change while vegetation survives.

Can I buy Punggol’s 2015 durians today?

The report does not identify a present-day licensed seller or continuing product.

Was eight hours the average waiting time?

No. It was a reported upper example for some enthusiasts.

Did the 2018 promise cover every durian tree?

No. The article explicitly noted uncertainty about the number that would remain.

Is finding fruit identical to gathering it lawfully?

No. Current land boundaries, posted rules and permissions determine whether collection is allowed.

What is a good school history method?

Compare the 2015 field report, 2018 proposal and 2025 opening as three distinct dates and kinds of evidence.

Can we recreate the hunt on the heritage trail?

A historical study is not a collection permit. Stay on authorised routes and do not take plants or fruit without the necessary approval.

Why does this matter to Punggol history?

It records ordinary people’s seasonal use of a leafy road before its transformation into a managed heritage landscape.

Why not just say the forest disappeared?

The 2025 NParks release documents retention of mature vegetation, so a total-disappearance claim would be inaccurate.

Dated references and further reading

• Straits Times: Durian hunters, photo-feature by Desmond Lim (2015)
• Straits Times: Old Punggol Road heritage trail and five histories (2018)
• NParks: First Punggol Heritage Trail section opened 23 August 2025
• NParks: Punggol Heritage Trail visitor information
• Singapore Statutes Online: Parks and Trees Regulations
• Punggol’s old road, village tracks and heritage trail
• History of Punggol’s March 1960 crocodile scare
• Complete Punggol history timeline and directory

Image note: the featured photo is an owned, modern Punggol park or tree-lined streetscape used to illustrate changing greenery. It is not an archival photograph of the named durian hunters or a verified view of the exact 2015 tree. This article gives no permission to collect fruit.