|
INDONESIA
October 17 - November , 2010
Indonesia has 300 different ethnic groups and 580 languages and dialects. It has the largest Muslim population in the world. It is not governed by Shariah law and is not an Islamic state which basically means that every island follows a different set of rules governing this religion. Christianity was forced on them by the Dutch in the 17th century and there is a large Buddhist and Hindu population.
It has the largest coastline in the world and covers an area larger than the USA. In area it is the 4th largest country in the world and is the 5th most populous country on Mother Earth at 190M souls. There is a huge environmental problem with the burning of the rainforest to plant palm trees ( for cosmetic uses ). It is the 3rd largest emitter of greenhouse gases. If this is not enough it is a known fact that you will be charged ‘harbour fees’ of which you do not receive a receipt. It is a common practice among the locals and you can barter the fees. Natibou, our Swedish boat, has read an article stating Indonesia as the most corrupt nation on earth. This statement will create some of the most bizarre behavior I have ever witnessed…and have been a participant.
KUPANG
October 17 - 19, 2010
Our first stop is the island of East Nusa Tenggara which is on the far edge of the “Spice Islands” chain of the Moluccas. Most yachts prefer to enter the country at Bali but you miss a lot of what Indonesia has to offer unless you want to travel backwards. Kupang has been chosen because it is the only other entry point for Customs into Indonesia.
It was in the first light of the morning when we found the sandy beach. We will be anchoring off-shore and using our dinghies to go to the downtown area. The tides are confused and running in all directions gathering up all sorts of man-made refuse. There are many young handsome men that are eager to help us ashore. For 3,000rhp ( $.30 ) they will watch your dinghy, remember your name, and provide any services that you may wish. Laundry, garbage, and fuel needs are all met with a huge, white-toothy grin and a friendly handshake. Everyone speaks English ( sorta ).
Tom’s Marina Restaurant is now the Kupang Marina Restaurant and Bar. I stopped by on my way to explore the seaside and the bartender stared at me. “ Do I remember you from 2 years ago and you lost your purse at the native dancing on the quay?” ….Darn….found out again. Hugs all around and I feel like I am home again. Everything was flooding my memory including the frantic driving by the bemco ( mini-bus ) drivers and the streets are full of scooters driving in all directions at once and remind me of a swarm of mosquitoes.
Several Rally boats have arrived ahead of us and they have set up a scooter tour with two ladies from the last time I was in town. They’re English continues to improve and they took 14 of us to the Night Market for a dinner on the street where I tried an avocado juice cocktail for the first time. It was delicious but all I could think about was the fat and calories. The ladies wanted to know if I was the one, two years ago, who was trying to tie a sarong in 9 different ways when my body is much larger than the skimpy piece of fabric the local girls can wrap around themselves several times…Darn.
 |
So I indentured myself onto the scooter tour and we were off for lots of adventure. At first we were impressed with the uniformed police escort the girls had arranged along with three scooters with 5 off-duty policemen to join us. It didn’t take long to discover that this is strictly a safety measure. To make a turn the cop would get off his bike and start blowing his whistle. There is no way we could of maneuvered the turn without help. Even one way roads have lots of vehicles going in every direction. There are few lights because they probably wouldn’t obey the signals anyways. Lucy Alice got a flat tire on a pitted, washed out road as we were heading to the waterfall. No worries…two guys got off the scooter and gave it to Lucy Alice and they dealt with the disabled scooter. This is looking good.
The waterfall was so refreshing after months of salt water.
We all took turns having cool, refreshing water beat down on our hot, over heated bodies and I was as close to Nirvana as I have ever been in my life. The fact that we had to
maneuver over two bridges that would have never passed USA lawyer standards made the journey that much more rewarding. Lunch was at a place that I would have never stopped at and they didn’t
put the pork on the BBQ till we arrived. There was no menu and a limited supply of warm sodas. When we were ready to leave I felt a little funny but no worries. Then
disaster struck. I somehow, with all my years of riding scooters, dumped it on the roadway and tore up the right side of my body ( don’t tell Mom ). Actually I told everyone not to tell Gilly as she thinks they are murdercycles. To her credit she very discreetly did not say anything and gave me some excellent salve and bandages.
It has been two days and we still haven’t seen a customs agent. This makes Skipper John nervous because there have been problems in the past with the Indonesian Rally. Several boats had been confiscated with major problems of paperwork and mega time spent getting them reinstated to their owners. Several days after our arrival the locals hosted a dinner. The mayor of Kupang gave a long speech about how we were welcomed and Richard of Rally Control gave a speech on how we needed to work together to fix the Customs problem. Oh Boy Richard! The mayor was insulted as you need to never complain about the whole bribe thingy or they can’t save face ( ? ). The next day they decided to charge us with a luxury tax and you would have put up a deposit of 10% of the value of your boat. Seems they are afraid that we may gyp the government out of the tax if we tried to sell our boat in their country. Once this is paid we would not get our money back till we signed out of the country in Nongsa Point. Since Nongsa Point is 2,000 miles from Kupang, and since Indonesia changes its tune on a whim, who knows when we would get our money back…if ever.
Later that day a coast guard boat with a big gun on the bow anchored in the same bay with all of us. It took several days and a call to the governor but Customs still would not come and clear us into the country. There was a meeting and the consensus was that if we left before 7 am the following morning and headed to Bali we could check into Customs there. Now we know why most people just go directly to Bali and skip the eastern islands. Supposedly, we could not go to shore anywhere along the route. The meeting started at 7:30pm, John was back on SofN by 8pm and we were underway at 8:15. If the coast guard boat wanted to track us down no amount of water would stop them from overtaking us.
Soon as we were in clear water John started up the water maker and….nothing. He tried several new filters but determined we needed a new pump. He ordered it over the internet and we will pick it up in Bali. W may be traveling the express route with no stops but ithaving no fresh water does not help us for the three days it will take to get to Bali. We have no showers and have to hang it over the back side of the boat to pee.
Gilly is quite the trooper and takes it all in stride.
Many of the boats are ignoring the officials and are going to stop in Komodo or Rinca anyways to see the dragons. I would be a shame to miss the many interesting places to see just because we are illegal aliens.
Spirit of Nina is going straight to Bali and John is checking into a hotel for 3 days and nurse his wounds ( figuratively speaking ).
BALI
October 24 - November 5 , 2010
I just can’t understand why I cannot remember this place.
We are rounding buoys, zigzagging our way through the sand bars, and avoiding massive amounts of organic and inorganic garbage in the water. The water’s edge is full of red tiled roofs and parasail’s glide overhead. We finally run around the tip of Benoa ( ben-WA ) and I still don’t recognize the harbour or the marina. The tiny marina is supposedly ready for us but has no place to moor. The mooring buoys are full, the dock quay is full, and there is no place to drop a hook. No worries as a larger boat that will be in the King’s Cup ( Thailand’s King is a sail racing fan ) is leaving and we take its place. Peter Pan has beat us to the harbour and we hear the story about how he missed the last buoy and ran aground. As the waters continued to recede he listed a full 45 degrees! I was horrified at the thought but he said he was too embarrassed to think about it. Even warning all the other boats about his unscheduled landing Talissimo also ran aground and had to wait for two tides before they were lifted off the sandbar.
 |
This shot is taken about 50ft from our boat. During low tide there would be fishermen up to their armpits in the water and a boat would come by and pick up their catch.
Richard has made an unscheduled stop in Bali to help us clear this ongoing snafu about Customs. Checking in to quarantine, immigration, and port captain takes two days and 100’s of stamps on sheets and sheets of paperwork. Customs have heard about what happened in Kupang and they are miffed. They are not coming any time soon.
John is beside himself and says he is taking Gilly for a Birthday holiday in Ubud ( oooo-BooD ). Off they go leaving me in charge of the boat. The next day several boats arrive and I offer unlimited air-conditioning, ice cubes, and orange juice for a 6pm happy hour. All 4 boats join me and we have a wonderful time. Most have seen dragons and all have gone to shore at some islands along the way. The following day the office tells me they have the water-maker part and the customs charge will be $140.00US if I want it now or $40.00US if I wait till we check out of Indonesia…?...That doesn’t make sense as we will have to backtrack from Nongsa Point which is 800 miles away to come full circle to get the part. I’m going to wait for the skipper to figure out that mess.
OK, but I’ll be charged storage fees. Grrrrrrrr
I am having a great time all by myself when guess who shows up? Customs! Sorry boys but the skipper is not here and he has all the paperwork so you’ll just have to come back later. “No” he says he is inspecting the boat now. He has on a uniform so my catholic guilt kicks in and I cannot refuse a person in a position of power. He has two people with him and they all pile into the cabin. He immediately turns to me and ask where the booze cabinet is located. Strange - but OK. They murmur in Indonesian and the other agent turns to me and asks “how many crew on board”. Not sure of what he wants I say
“ Skipper, First Mate, and ( pointing to me ) Crew “ At which points he takes out the unopened bottle of Cointreau, points to it and says
“ one crew – one bottle “ I have this look of stupidity on my face and he says “ understand? “ I say “NO”. He says more slowly and pointing at me
“one crew so one bottle for me…understand” I was with Gilly and John in Australia when they were arguing about paying $80US for a bottle of Christmas cheer and there was no way these dudes were walking off the boat with that bottle. I excused myself and called Richard on the VHF and asked him if he could come and explain to me what Customs was asking. They immediately went to the salon table, sat down, and opened a file folder with a different boat’s name on the front. Richard entered, shook hands, said some encouraging words of friendship and the Custom thugs left.
Very soon after that Richard was informed that all the boats in the Rally would have an engine inspection, with a fee to check the VIN number through their system ( I guess this is to make sure we didn’t steal someone else’s engine ), and be required to have pictures of the inside and outside of our boats…in triplicate. Of course, I got teased by all the other boats for my breech of etiquette with a foreign dignitary.
John had called Richard to tell him he was having such a great holiday that they would be gone another day. Upon snagging me in the café and being informed of John’s decision the office is so upset because I am not spending $140US to get this $12US part out of customs…so arrest me! That will come later when I was informed that the boat needed to be moved because a larger boat was coming in and they had our spot.
Me!
Move the boat!
No way!
Arrest me, but I am not moving the boat.
Yes, you are… and within the next 2 hours.
Once again Richard to the rescue and we got Hans from Natibou, which is another catamaran, to help skipper the boat out to raft up with a much smaller boat on the mooring buoys.
AAAhhh but the story doesn’t end there as when John shows up he insist that we move back to the dock so Gilly doesn’t have to dinghy through the filthy water to the boat. Part of the problem is that there is a dredging derrick that has been taking 4 days to dredge the marina. Negotiating heavily, John gets the office to agree to allow us to move to the shore where, in low tide, we will probably be touching the bottom of the slimy sludge bay.
So Gilly and John have had their fun so now it is my turn.
I hire a cabbie and have two crewmembers from Moon Shadow ; a boat from the last rally that has joined us to continue on to the Med. Jim is a Scotsman and so he gets us a sweet deal with the cabbie and we start off for adventure. We said what we want to do but the cabbie has an agenda and wants to take us to Batik, woodworking, painting, weaving, and stone carving. It is a known fact that the Balinese are great artist. I have done all of the above on the first visit I made to Bali but the boys want to go to
batik to get a sarong for all the temples ( a must for visiting ) and I am interested in the
woodworking. We pass through the village of Mas, the furniture building/carving section of the island,
and I would just be in heaven if you could figure out a way to get the
heavily carved doors, tables, and beams home. Everything is done in the yard bordering the street and I am drooling over the beauty of the artwork.
We have lunch overlooking one of the two active volcanoes on Bali. Both of them have erupted in the early 1970’s and you can still see the lava trail cascading down the side of the cone. The mountains are much cooler and this is where you can find
Great produce piled up in pyramids
And the monkeys waiting for handouts on the side of the road.
It is hard to go on a tour without a temple visit. According to Hindu philosophy when you take some land and build a structure you should also
build a structure to house the sprits that you have displaced and give homage to them every day. Homage is usually in the form of a gift and prayer. The gift being anything of meaning to you in a small basket you make yourself. We had dinner in an A&W so David and I could remember our spent youth and hang out with a root beer. The homage gift had 3 french-fries laid across the top of several flowers.
I wanted to visit the Elephant Cave Temple and it was quite the treat. Built before the 11th century it was filled in with silt from earlier volcano eruptions. It wasn’t until the middle 19th century that some Dutch archeologist found
the cave and dated the artifacts. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that some Brits discovered the fountain pools with the healing waters.
Supposedly if you wash your face three times in the water it would revitalize your skin and make you younger looking.
In the 11th century the Hindu’s shared the temple with the Buddhist. I guess the Buddhist forgot to pay their rent and the open-air walks fell into disrepair. The relief wall overlooking the gorgeous chasm fell into the river when the volcano erupted in 1972.
Our guide for the temple was very knowledgeable about the Hindu philosophy ( I don’t consider it a religion ) and so we discussed other subjects. One being why I hadn’t seen any graveyards and another somehow ended up being a discussion of the merits of children. I joked about the fact kids don’t wear helmets when they are riding on the scooters and so must be dispensable. Without any humour whatsoever our guide told us that generally a man’s family will not allow him to marry till they find out if the woman is fertile ( pregnant ).
Another thingy I learned about the Hindu philosophy is the balance between good and evil. Most of their statues
are wrapped in a black and white cloth ( the parasol means that a spirit lives there ) which is often replaced with every festive occasion. Most of their statues depict the battle between good and evil.
I guess you meditate on who is good and who is evil. On this statue the large character may look evil but you should see the expressions on the monkey’s faces.
We piled back into the minibus and our driver suggested we stop for coffee and so we detoured to a coffee/spice/herb plantation. We walked through cultivated and well marked trails looking at all the cocoa/clove/fruit trees and shrubs. At the end was
a store/roasting plant/café. David bought incense and coffee, Jim bought scented oils and coffee and I bargained feverously for vanilla and turmeric. We sat down for a Balinese coffee ( I had a lemongrass tea as I love the smell of coffee just hate the taste ) and this is when David noticed the signboard over some critters in a cage. He started talking about a movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman called “Bucket List”. Jim and I listened intently, there was a pregnant pause and then I said
“Hey, we’re adventurous people we can’t leave without trying a cup!”
They made me go first and it was creamy and not bitter at all. We finished the cup between the 3 of us. Seems that processing this coffee bean has its first step
in being eaten by a civet ( nocturnal cat-like critter ) pooped out, scooped up, and processed further. Jim & David were so giddy that they both bought a bag to amuse their friends and have the camera ready when they told them what they were drinking.
Our last stop was for the Fire Dance Show at a small venue because we kept saying we didn‘t want to do anything touristy. The costumes were elegant, the dancing uniquely Balinese, and the
bare-footed dancing of the horse sweeping through the burning coconut husk was awe-inspiring.
We returned to the marina at 11pm and Richard was still there. He warned me about Skipper John having bartered the $ 1,750,000.00rph customs fee (including storage fees ) for the watermaker part down to something reasonable. I’m not quite sure why John is so upset when he has spent a lifetime dealing, bartering, and bribing Russian border agents in his business. Richard informs me that John has had quite the time with the harbour custom agents because he doesn’t want to spend another day next to a rusted derrick that is coughing up polluted sludge to throw up onto the shore. John wanted to check out of Bali but we still hadn’t even checked in yet. They can be quite stubborn but John can be quite persuasive.
LOVINA
We left in a whirlwind and traveled around to the NW side of Bali to the coastal town of Lovina. It is a lovely beach and we have two other Rally boats already there. Gilly heard Chisel on the VHF and they are just arriving at the marina at Benoa. Bob will be leaving Chisel for another gig at some point. We also heard that Gavin from Sol Maria didn’t want to have a driver/tour guide and he rented a car. His family didn’t get one mile down the road when the police stopped him for multiple infractions and told him he was off to jail.
“ Is there anything I can do officer?”
For 30,000rph ( $40.00US ) they could make it all go away. Remembering my Skipper John bartering at the toll booth at Benoa, Gavin said 15,000rph! To which the policeman said he was going to jail. I guess even in Indonesia you don’t barter with the police; you pay them what they ask you to pay.
We went to shore and immediately Gilly was surrounded by the beach brigade trying to sell her trinkets ( and they succeeded! ). I escaped for the town proper. I found a spa and had a pedicure and an ear waxing. For $5.00US the waxing included a scented facial massage. Generally, the candles cost that much in the USA and I don’t get the massage!
Paco from Naughty Buoy Too is quite the negotiator and we have a driver/minibus for 6 adults and two small kids for the following day. We endured the hawkers on the beach and set off for adventure at 8am.
Our first stop is Git Git Waterfall. We walked a concrete trail, single file and listened to the falls get closer and closer through the thick rainforest of the mountains. A motorbike passed us on the way up and I wondered why he was here on this trail. Paco and I followed a woman balancing a huge bundle on her head to see where she was going. Seems there are dirt paths all along the trail leading up to homes precipitously hugging the edge of the chasm.
After lunch we went to the Bali Botonical Gardens and I was in for a surprise. The map of the gardens had the usual orchid, begonia, fern gardens…and a tree paracourse! I thought it would be perfect for the little ones. To my amazement it is for adults. It was all the stuff I did as a kid.
They had rope bridges, rope swings, wooden platforms 30 ft. off the ground, and wires strung from tree to tree for traversing along the coloured courses. They varied in difficultly and we watched this 11 year old girl effortlessly swinging through the trees like a monkey. If I had on the proper shoes and, someone to dare me onwards, I would have maybe only been able to complete 3 of the 6 courses.
There was the screeching of brakes and we stopped at a roadside spot.
What amazed me was that none of the creatures were tethered to their post; they were free to leave at anytime. The fruit bats were more than happy to pose and spread their wings, the iguana ( I swear ) smiled for photos, and Gilly once again was a trooper and let a python coil around her shoulders.
I usually don’t like to sit in the front seat because I watch the road instead of looking past the road’s edge to see the life beyond. On our way back to the beach, John insisted I sit in the front seat because he couldn’t bear to fly down the mountain with the driver standing on the brake the whole way. John didn’t have to worry as the driver used a lower gear and the engine screamed, smoked, and ground its way down the torrential rains of the mountain to the hot, humid coastline.
Later I went to do some internetting and found out Bob was already off Chisel and trying to find a new ride. Paco ( Nauti Buoy Too ) is traveling alone till Singapore and he welcomed Bob to come join him. There was a flurry of conversation on my part trying to reach Bob. It involved satellite phones ( way too expensive ), trying to find local numbers for any Rally boat still at Benoa, and E-mailing him with Paco’s offer. Bob was on the phone the next day at 6am but Paco had already left for the next island. Laroobaa welcomed Bob aboard for the trip to the next island to join Paco.
We left in a torrential downpour after lunch and headed out for the next island that is taking us closer to the orangutans at Kalimantan. The horizon has a constant line of fishing boats and night watches were filled with trying to look for
these bamboo platforms that would have a tuff of palm fronds sticking up from the water. It appears that these platforms are just drifting on the water. We have never seen any fishing boats tied up to them or anyone standing on them. The further out you go the more they look abandoned so they must just make more rafts to serve their purpose.
One night upon rising for my 3am night watch there is a slightly smashed scorpion sitting on the kitchen counter. John got nailed in the big toe and that was the end of the poor, scared, stowaway. I was wondering if it was on the kitchen counter because he wanted me to commiserate with him or to show off like a cat bringing a dead mouse into the house.
BAWEAN
November 5- 7, 2010
This island is isolated from the greater Indonesian country and appears to be heavily vegetated. Our scheduled time of arrival was going to be noon on the south side of the island. Paco satellite phoned us to say he was on the north side in a nice safe anchorage. There is still no wind so it was all motoring and took us an additional night. We arrived at 7am the next morning. There were these bamboo poles sticking up out of the water 8 or 9 feet high. We discussed how they could possibly sink the poles upright in the currents and concluded the locals must be great divers. Contemplating further we figured out the water must be very shallow and the poles must be channel markers even though there was nothing of significance on the charts. We were right to go around the long way to get to the anchorage. Even though Laroobaa and Talismano left 16 hours later than we from Lovina they arrived only hours after we did.
John is always looking for reasons to have a party so we invite everyone over for a tuna BBQ potluck. The rest of the day Bob, Paco, Guy, and I dinghy to shore and walked along the roadway. We were very surprised about the homes. They were beautifully maintained with lovely tile porches, stucco fences with stainless steel metalwork, and lots of flower/fruit trees in the yards. The streets were clean of debris, the people drove nice size motorbikes and the minaret was wailing away calling everyone to prayer ( Muslim ). We didn’t walk far when a guy on a motorbike stops us and says he is the Customs agent on the island. We all freeze and then he burst out laughing and says it is much different on his island than in Bali. We all breathed a sigh of relief. He told us all the homes have at least one family member working overseas to support the rest of the family. Most of these guys work on cargo ships. Actually, he is more of a Goodwill Ambassador and tells about the large lake in the middle of the island and how there are two water sources. One is ground water and one
 |
Is drinking water piped down from the lake. There is also a 7am produce market every day. He gets a serious look on his face and warns us that it is very dangerous to try and sail at night with all the reefs, rafts, and unlit fishing boats lurking about up to 10 miles offshore.
We bid adieu and find we still have enough time to dinghy around the corner to the center of the town. We landed on a dirty, plastic encrusted beach where lots of little boys are swimming naked. I don’t even want to get started about how I have to be modest and wear my sarong to my ankles. An old woman barked at me to not wear my jacket over my shoulders I had to put my arms in the sleeves. Walking down the street is such a contrast from the other bay. It is dirty, dusty, and deteriorating. We find
a furniture store with 3 chairs and an ordinate grandfather clock …and nothing else. Guy bought some supplies from the hardware store and I found some eggs that the proprietor guaranteed me were fresh that morning. “Are they cage-free?” Silly question!
We had a wonderful BBQ, Bob moved onto Nauti Buoy Too, and we left at 7 am the next morning for the trip to Kalimantan.
I’m going to blame the flow patterns of the Kumai River for the miles of silt filled water that would ebb and flow in all sorts of directions with no set pattern. The fishing boats have become more plentiful and I am forever on the lookout for a green over red light stick so I will make a wide berth of the nets. After 6 hours our charts are still telling us we have 19 hours to go before the river’s mouth for it seems as the wind dies and our speed drops we get no closer to our destination.
Finally at 10pm we decide to call it quits and anchor in the very long mouth of the river. The seas are so shallow – the waves so short – that I drop the anchor kneeling on the trampoline instead of trying to stand.
The night is a rocking cradle and I sleep like a baby. John and Gilly both hate it when I say this as they roll around like billiard balls on the break.
KALIMANTAN
November 8 – 10, 2010
Kalimantan is famous for the Tanjung Putting national park, the native home of the Orangutans, and the reason we have come to this very flat part of the country. It used to be called Borneo before it received its independence FROM Great Britian ( and soon after annexed to Indonesia ). To the more literary minded it is also Joseph Conrad country. The romanticism of Lord Jim, Tom Lingard, Almayer and Heist come alive as you wind your way up the river listening to the chugging of the diesel hand-hewn boats and the cawing of hundreds of very loud birds.
It is stifling and sticky hot with no breeze or wave action. The banks are covered with low growing palm fronds so thick you cannot see the shore. The river becomes narrower but we cannot stick to the center because of the many tanker / cargo ships that ply this causeway. The water is 10ft deep and the colour of white coffee. We will not be making any fresh water but are only planning on spending 2 days so it should not be a problem.
Hear we see the shipbuilding yards.
Upon reaching the town of Kumai we cruised up the waterfront looking for a much needed fuel station. There are thousands of wooden boat( dayaks ), fast ski boats, and visiting commercial crafts.
We cannot find out where they fuel up so we go to the jungle side of the river and anchor up. Before we get to the anchorage a 10ft ski boat is approaching us with a welcoming smile. He has a sheet of paper with the BlueWaterRally call list and wants to know if he can be of service.
Yes, how do we get fuel and how do we tour the orangutans?
In two hours we have talked to 3 guides who all have different pricing for fuel and tours. John is a great negotiator and we single out Danny. One of the guides, Adi, was talking to me and all of a sudden he is peering at me. “Did I take you and some guys on a day tour to the orangutans … let’s see…two years ago?”
Dang…found out again!
John has decided to take the one day trip because he is always in a hurry to leave ( must be something about being the skipper… can’t stop to smell the roses or listen to the birds ). He does decide he will put the dinghy into the water and go to shore to find an ATM and see what is the gas station price of fuel. We pick up Richard from Island Kia II and we are off for adventure.
The town of Kumai is very primitive and not much to see or do. No one will tell John where he can find Harry which is the guide that Gilly really wants to tour with. We do find out the nearest ATM is 10klm away and it will cost 10,000rph each way, per person, to go there. Richard and I have gone off exploring and “honk,honk” there is John in a bimco ( minivan ) with 6 other locals and off we go.
As the homes became more affluent the town grew all around us. We were dropped off in the middle somewhere and walked down the hardware street where there were dozens of stores overstocked with small generators. Seems all over Indonesia you find the part of town that has what you want and then you go into dozens of identical stores haggling over the price. No matter where you find a place to park someone will approach you and without saying a word you give him money.
So the store owners just park inside the store.
We found the plastic store that had everything from plastic dish strainers, teacups, containers, to – what we wanted - a fuel funnel and strainer. Later we walked up to the restaurant street, found a café for lunch, and met up with Richard for the return trip back to the boat in pouring rain.
I have decided not to go see the orangutans because I did that 2 years ago and spend the day cleaning out the freezer, washing the floors, and cooking dinner. When John and Gilly show up John is anxious to get going for our trip to Nongsa Point. He just can’t seem to relax but I’m OK with it because I prefer my night watch to sleeping straight through to morning.
John has decided to change the night watches so he can go first and get us out of the mouth of the river and beyond the tankers and fishing boats. I am to have the midnight to 3am watch so I settle down in my bunk to read a book and get some sleep.
A NEW EXPERIENCE FOR ME
I am awakened out of my dream by this bump in the side of the boat right at my feet and a loud chug-chugging right outside my window. Blurry-eyed I look out and all I can see is weather-beaten, blue hued wood. It takes me several minutes of wandering around aimlessly before I figure out we have run over a fishing net and the fishing boat is along our port side trying to ascertain what to do. John says the green over red lights were 300ft away and I make a mental note thanking myself that I always make sure there are at least 2 American football fields between me and those lights. In the fast current I am working lines and fenders trying to keep the sturdy wooden fishing boat from smacking the side of our tender fiberglass hull. John has put the tender in the water so he can move around to the bow and assess the netting wrapped around the anchor. No one on the fishing boat speaks English but you clearly know who is in charge ( the leading person in the above photo ). Gilly is agonizing over the muscular, small men who jump into the murky water between the two hulls and may be crushed like a coconut when the two boats bang together – which my job is not going to help as their heads are the same size as a fender . They are trying desperately to untangle the netting that is hopelessly wrapped around at least one prop ( catamarans have two props ).
2:30am and everyone has decided to call it a night except John who stays up all night washing down dirty fenders and who knows what else. I try and sleep but keep dreaming about custom agents shooting a gun into the floor of the boat. At first light the fishing boat is back and we again try and make some sense out of our predicament.
With a sharp knife in his mouth, John and several boys jump in the fast moving current and slice away the rest of the net wrapped around the prop. I am proud of John that the skipper would get in the muddy water with the fishermen to make sure the job is done right. The water is so murky that you cannot see with or without a swim mask to know if they have gotten all of it cut away. A price is decided for the ruined net, Gilly and I give them toys for the children, and they want a picture for their trophy wall. We take pictures ourselves,
the captains hug, and smiles all around as we part company. We are all amazed how the fishermen were never upset or yelling because we interrupted their source of living. They graciously accepted coffee and compensation with a bow and an English thank you.
The sun is well above the horizon and the Rally boats that had moored outside the river can see that we have been stranded all night. We give them the shortened version of the tale including the price for our folly. Instead of being a day ahead of several boats we are barely out in front. Why this matters is not for me to ponder - it’s a Skipper thingy.
For the next few days it is calm with no wind except for Gilly’s watch. She always gets the major amount of fishing boats jumping out in front of us. We all have become conscious of plastic bottles, food containers, and pieces of Styrofoam floating on the water everywhere and looking so much like netting floats. We may have no wind but the Java Sea is shallow and so the waves are short and choppy.
This makes for hanging out the laundry an experience in balance.
One nights rumour has it that there was a fireworks display of lightening that had all our computers stowed in the oven. The winds were 32knts and the seas choppy. I say rumour because I slept through the whole storm and when I came on a 3am there was a starry sky with sheet lightening off over the horizon…beautiful.
I am getting tired of the constant hum of the engines but, hey, there is no wind. I spent one day cleaning the lifelines, John fixed the pump for the generator so I could do my laundry ( it is heaven!! ) and Gilly is knitting for the orphanage ( It’s an English thing ). My watch, last night, was hell with having to wake John up three times in three hours to help me not create a disaster. Currently he is trying to separate two saucepans that Gilly inadvertently glued together when she was doing the dishes ( I cooked so someone else does the dishes ). The amount of times I say “Bittersweet” because I didn’t spill the ground coffee into the engine compartment or didn’t run into the fishing net or break the pail for the ice maker.
We have gone 800 miles in 8 days and not until we turned the corner into the final passage to Nongsa Point has there been any sunshine. We have motored the whole way and for the first time ever I am ready to set foot on terra firma. We have not seen this many huge container ships since Panama.
(there was no ZK photo, but it’s supposed to go here)
Each triangle represents minimum of 600ft of steel structure…we stay way to the left. Gilly loves to hypothize about what is going to happen when we try to check out of the country of Indonesia. Will there be trouble? Will we have to ransom our first born? Then we get an E-mail from Peter Pan and he WAS sent to jail for buying subsidized fuel in Bali. Our agent, whom we spent lots of money for his services, refused to acknowledge the conversation about obtaining the fuel or BWRally itself. It cost him 10,000,000rph ( $1,800USD ) to make it all go away. Peter Pan will meet us in Singapore and never go to Indonesia again.
|
