Kumai to Belitung to Singapore


After three months and 12 ports at as many islands, the Rally is officially coming to its conclusion. Belitung is the last reception, the final Regents dinner. It is also the last time the Fleet congregate. Singapore will see them in various marinas then being on the Sail Malaysia Rally or voyaging to various Asian ports.

Sahula is "racing" to be there. The trip entails two nights sailing through the Java Sea and Karimata Strait. The Strait is a busy shipping channel. Skipper is solo so Richard and Gloria on "Aquarius" are standing 'watch" to ensure sleep is possible. Skipper managed two hours, a record aboard.

Tanya is doing her job as the wind is still to arrive. It's a hot, oily Java Sea.

After some 12 official "Regents" dinners the last one will be special. The dinners have been a highlight of the Rally. They follow a general format.

If the venue is a Sultan's palace or traditional meeting hall or place, then there is a traditional entrance ceremony. This is by male dancers often swirling swords which end in cutting a gate built of bamboo and palm fronds. The guests then file in to be welcomed personally by the Regent, Sultan or dignitary.

Then after being seated the dancers and a traditional orchestra provide entertainment. The dances can continue for an hour or so. The dancers, young ladies and males in elaborate, colourful, traditional dress of the region, are enthralling. It is a unique benefit of the Rally that so many dancers from so many regions have been enjoyed by the Fleet. Skipper has only missed one.

At some point the Regent and other dignitaries will arrive. The entertainment then continues until the Regent's speech of welcome. This can be a rather long, political affair usually in baharsi but often in English as well or by an interpreter. A nice characteristic of official speeches is to apologise for any mistakes. It's a "safety valve." A representative of the Fleet then responds. Skipper has made a number of response speeches.

Then the dancing may continue or the dinner commences or both. Dinner is from many different dishes; all delicious. At some point the dancers invite the guests to join in the dancing. It is usually to the great hilarity of the locals. If the dinner venue is open air then it's quickly surrounded by crowds of curious locals.

After the traditional dancing the music is western "pop" so the guests dance the night away. The locals join in. It's all great fun.

The dinner is funded by the local Regency government. It's seen as a tourism marketing exercise.

The Belitung Regency reception and dinner is a superb finale. A highlight of the receptions is the dancing. It would not be possible to experience so many traditional dances of peoples across Indonesia without the Rally receptions.

There is a ripple through the fleet. The Turkish solo sailor, Oskan is diagnosed with typhoid. A death sentence to the "westerners" but to the locals no more than a health problem among many. Fortunately, the medical centre and doctor are excellent. Three days on medication and recovery is almost complete. Sahula opts to escort Oskan on his yacht, "Kayitsiz III" to Singapore.

So skipper has three extra days to enjoy beautiful Belitung. The anchorage at Kelayang is almost idyllic: clear water, white sandy beaches lined with palms and tropical jungle. Days pass snorkeling, reading, painting and meals ashore.

It's goodbye to Raymond and Dewi, the founders and organisers of the Rally. Skipper looks forward to meeting again in Bali, their home island. We're the last yachts here so they can now celebrate another Rally passing and a job well done.

It's goodbye to the Indonesian people. Their ready smiles, honesty, assistance and the "hey mister" of beautiful happy children, leaves an indelible memory.

Skipper is left to ponder why Australia isn't Indonesia's closest friend.
All Indonesian children learn English in junior school. Surely, a reciprocal "learn Baharsi," would open Australian's hearts to the joys and peoples of Indonesia.

Politics and reality seem eons apart.

There is hope. It is no surprise that Sail Indonesia 2009 already has some 200 inquiries (of which only 120 can participate).

The IndoNet (held every morning on HF radio, to sign in and swap information between Rally yachts) reports yachts colliding with logs and fishing nets while Singapore bound, so Sahula opts for day sailing only. It is a case of the best laid plans.....

Sahula then motored to Gaspar Island, careful to have day's sails so Oskan could rest. The gods didn't agree: next day blew 30 knots, rain and steep shallow water seas. Sahula and Kayitsiz III returned to Belitung's calm waters. Kayitsiz III's motor and VHF radio needed repairs. The boat has no GPS (satellite positioning system), log or depth sounder. Oskan wishes to emulate Captain Cook even though he had the latter two. His re-entry, through reefs, to Belitung was an exercise in high risk. The gods were smiling.
.
Skipper is now illegal in port and probably will be illegal in Indonesian waters before Singapore. Sahula has four days to clear Indonesia.

The gods are scowling. Oskan's motor has again broken down delaying departure. Finally it's ready and we motor north, in calm conditions, into the nights inky blackness. We have two nights at sea before we anchor at Lingga Island. Lightening regularly lights the horizon.

Next morning, more black rain cells batter Sahula. Winds are 25-34 knots with steep seas. Kayitsiz III's disappears in the rain driven murk and fails to make radio contact.

Later, calm seas return. Nothing is heard or seen of Kayitsiz III.

Sahula has a second night motoring into the South China Sea. It's a major shipping route to the Pacific and Asia as well as littered with poorly lit, local fishing boats.

Skipper finds sleep in 20 minute intervals set on an oven timer. Coastal solo sailing is not for the feint hearted. Radar (with an alarm) and GPS are essential to the stress level.

Sahula sails into Lingga Island anchorage late on the third day. A meal and the skipper sinks into much needed sleep.

Morning hails "Kayitsiz III" again in contact on VHF.

We cross the equator on an oily South China Sea. The second crossing for "Kayitsiz III." A first for Sahula. The second will be in the Pacific enroute to Patagonia, years and many adventures hence. We celebrate at Mesdnak Island.

Fishing boats speed past. A sailor could know the vessels location solely by knowing the traditional design of the local fishing boats. Boats here have a long prow quite unlike others seen.

Sahula is anchored off Batu Besar on Batam Island having passed through the Riau Strait separating Batam and Bintan Islands... Jet airliners fly overhead, factories line the shore, huge ships fill the Singapore Straits. It is a long way from Alor's picturesque fjord or from Lombata, Flores, Lombok, Bali, Kalimun Java, Kumai or Belitung... This is the new or future Indonesia, where industry flexes its strength providing for the teeming millions aspiring to western lifestyles.

Its test is whether the culture, the lifestyle balance, the smiles and family life of the "other" Indonesia can survive in the "new" or wants to?

Kayitsiz III and Sahula enjoy sundowners recounting the Rally's three marvelous months in the "other."

Tomorrow Sahula crosses the 12 nm of the Singapore Straits to Malaysia's Sabana Cove Marina. New adventures begin.
**********************************************************************

Karimun Java to Kumai River

Nothing before prepares the traveler for Java. Least of all, Karimun Java, a set of island jewels off its sister's coast. The harbour master is guardian of Sahula while skipper and 30 other sailors enjoy a four day tour of Java.

By fast ferry and then bus we arrive at Semarang. The contrast is immediate. Traffic teems upon the roads and does so all the way to Yogyakarta. We travel in continual urban sprawl along what must surely be the longest strip development on earth. Towns, cities or villages are unidentifiable. The rice fields peep through.

Javanese are on holiday. It is "idul fiftri", the end of Ramadan, time to visit family. Families are in cars and massed motorbikes. The bus is at crawling pace. Families of two children on their bike, perilously thread the traffic. Life is cheap on the highway.

80% of Indonesia's population of 220 million, live in Java, most are Moslem. Given the lithe (and elegant) stature of Indonesians to date the influence is clearly visible of MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried amongst other western contributions of economic prosperity. Supermarkets stock poor quality, over sweetened foods. A mark of family economic success seems to be obese children.

Allah is great - across the villages and cities, all night, the cacophony of reverence reaches out to the faithful. Skipper is a guest of a village family in Tembi. A hard mattress and pillow on the floor, toilet a two step, water a scoop. It is a life of the basics, yet entirely adequate blessed with heartfelt hospitality. Our hosts provide a lovely meal, then breakfast. Morning dawns across fogged paddies, Allah reverberates from the many mosques, our hosts tends his three fine fighting cocks and pidgeons. It is Java in the raw.

From everyday village life to the ancient (600-700 AD) Borobudur and Prambanan temples. World Heritage sites to an illustrious Hindu - Buddhist culture. Their intricate, massive construction did not appease the gods. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions forced their abandonment and their partial destruction till their rediscovery and rebuilding in the 1800 - 1900's. Rebuilding continues in 2006, due to an earthquake leveling the earlier (1980-1990's) rebuilding. Brick for brick, block for block these massive edifices have been and are, rebuilt and strengthened - a spectacular feat.

Their notoriety attracts the seething masses. Skipper and Thomas off the beaten track find a temple, remote and quiet. Its inner sanctum is reborn, resonating to an ancient Hindu chant beautifully done in a deep timbre by Thomas. It is a moment to remember.

The sailors are invited to dine at the Sultan of Solo's palace. Finery adorned (skipper in his batik shirt), a welcome by lady of the Royal family, entertainment by superb dancers, a palace tour and a beautiful dinner. The palace is a magnificent wooden structure, filled with furniture and artifacts. An elephant trunk, its ivory intricately carved in three dimensions, a present of another monarch.

A hotel, a traffic laden highway, a ferry and we return to beautiful Karimun Java. No one doubts their sailor lifestyle. We have seen the other side.

Sahula's new crew, Constantine, a young Bahasi speaking (8 years living in Java), German engineer, is aboard to Kalimantan. We overnight sail to arrive in the Kumai River and navigate to the anchorage in inky black. Next day the world of "Lord Jim," darkest green jungle borders the brown river. Kumai, 15 nm upstream is a busy mining and timber port. It's dominated by blank multi-story buildings which are revealed as home to small starlings. The bird's nests are sold on the Chinese market.

A day of contrasts. We receive a traditional welcome to the Dayak (ex head hunters) meeting house, then board fast traditional river "taxi" boats for a race set to the cheers of a river lined with waving locals. The race is on Kalimantan's "Venice", a waterway lined with stilt houses set out over the swift flowing waters.

A highlight is a visit to Yayorin Orangutan Indonesia, a non-government organization (NGO) that harnesses young Indonesians keen to save the orangutans' jungle habitat. Every minute a football field is lost to clearing. Yayorin encourages dialogue that seeks to encourage the villagers who own the jungle to refuse purchase offers from timber clearers (for timber and palm oil plantations) and consider their own and the forests future. They are having success albeit slowly.

In the evening the fleet are traditionally welcomed to the Sultan's Yellow Palace by sword swirling males and beautiful ladies all dancing to an amazing traditional band. The ladies (5, all sisters) and band are enthusiastic high school students. Later they again, over dinner, entertain in the presence of the Regent and Sultan. It is a night to remember. Skipper makes the speech of thanks and presents the Regent with a small Sail Indonesia token.

Skipper meets his ancestors. A tour operator has organized a traditional kiloton boat with three crew (captain, cook and guide) for a one night, two day, cruise into the Tan Jung Putting National Park - home to endangered orangutans. Skipper is with Richard, Barry (Lady in White) and Constantine. A guards come aboard to secure the yachts.

A klotok (motor clacking) makes few concessions to westerners. Its internal deckhead is stoop height. The loo is an open box on the stern. Sleeping is on the open deck on thin mattresses under mosquito nets. It is entirely adequate as is the food.

Down the Kumai, into the Sekonyer lined with palms and pandanus, its brown waters polluted by upriver illegal gold mining. We sight orangutan in the wild. Into a tributary coloured deep black-red by a rich "tea" of thick jungle tannin.

Camp Leakey, established in 1971 to rescue orangutans orphaned by hunters and timber getters, remains today a research centre and orangutan information centre and viewing site. They look bemused at the milling tourist's cameras recording their every move.

Orangutans "ape" (sic) the same life cycle as humans. They live to some seventy years, birth is after eight months, young are mother dependent for some eight years.

A BBC documentary records the Head of National Parks atop a pile of newly cut "national park" export logs. Clearing and mining continue today in the Park. Saving their habitat seems an almost impossible task.

The klotok is moored to the river forest. Above high in the canopy are proboscis (long nose) monkey families taking the evening air. Dinner's is to an audio visual of the living forest.

Morning's symphony over a misty canopy welcomes breakfast and jungle walk.

Life on Sahula has a different perspective; a sense that existence is out of balance with nature.

Sahula catches the river current into the Java Sea. It is three days to Belitung Island, the last Rally port before Singapore.

David
Sv Sahula

Sahula Passage Report No. 17

Bali

Wonderful Bali, so different. Its culture so pervasive, that it seems almost disconnected to its neighbours. The beat of Balinese Hinduism permeates every nook, field, home, industry, road or beach. A shrine - incense, frangipani, a donation is refreshed daily. Small industries provide intricate carvings in stone or wood evidenced in all buildings, temples and walls. Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu and an array of lesser gods, beam or frown down on passers by. Balinese Hinduism adds to its Indian roots, a
supreme god, Sanghyang Widi (interestingly not represented in visual form). Islam's robust Ramadan chants break the night air but rest in contextual irrelevancy. Other religions seem barren in comparison.

Skipper hires a scooter/motorbike to tour (with friends on other bikes) nearby Sringaraja, the old capital of Bali. The gods are reassuring. Survival heightens the sense, raises the stress level. A temple visit provides extra credit. Skipper thankfully pays the "fees" - for the ...., the temple head and a "little for me" - the temple guardian.

It is much needed preparation for two days scooter-ing to Ubud, southern Bali.

A delicious Regent's evening welcome dinner sets the scene.

Sunset over Lovina beach is alive with gods, dancing the dances - "mask" and "joged" in gold washed silk. Children scatter as the clown dancer in bug-eyed mask, approaches. Beautiful ladies in golden dress, crown and necklaces, move in utmost grace to gamlen and drums against a setting sky and sea. Skipper entertains the locals to a Joged dance
guided by a gold adorned, intricately colourful, Balinese beauty.

Every Balinese child learns traditional dancing and Balinese language from the earliest age. Every Friday is speak only Balinese day.

Skipper (with Thomas of "Nadha Brahma," German) hires two scooters for a two day odyssey. The intent is to see the Bali of daily village life. Roads are off the beaten track. Sometimes, wide, then two cement tracks, then one, then dirt to encouragement from amazed farmers in rice fields that it all leads somewhere.

Hindu festivals abound - a temple celebrates women, we are welcomed as the only males, inside a riot of colour, a temple adorned in gold, yellow, incense and food offerings. Another is being prepared for a celebration. How could the gods not be satisfied?

We are welcomed by the full spectrum of a community busily engaged in making large golden towers, sacrificial bulls, horses and masks all to be adorned in intricate colourful decorations.

Temples seem to outnumber houses until we observe there is a village temple for different gods and home temples for daily use, often of equal beauty. A village temple was in use by the women or for other special occasions.

We observe the skilful carvers of temples intricate "stone" carving using knives in mix of soft crushed volcanic black ash which later dries hard. The task so huge that their commission is a part, more is done by another small business.

Timber yards piled high with freshly logs, host wood carvers of statues or designs for the temples, local, tourist and export market. Each yard has a particular motif.

We are beset with the aromas. A reminder of the spice islands. Especially drying cloves being harvested from trees by pickers on long bamboo poles.

We pass tourism's ugly face a Lake Batur. Lines of restaurants hassling for the dollar. The caldera provides superb views over the volcanic lake and Mt Abang, a recently formed volcano, centered in the caldera.

The scooters are blessed (for a fee) with sprinkles on the drivers of holy water, and a bamboo creation on the bike.

We visit the ancient palace at Klung Kung and enter the creative region centered on Ubud. We look lost; "where shall we stay?"; immediately a local offers assistance and guides us to Ben's Home stay. Ben and his family, fowls and dogs live in a family town block. It is typical home. Beautiful temple and home buildings in a lovely walled garden. Guests rooms are modern, including a hot shower (skipper is in bliss) and breakfast ($15 per night). It is a short walk to Ubud's many attractions including
nearby rice terraces in verdant green countryside.

Every now and then, one finds a place, so uplifting, so enlightening, that all the senses converge - Ubud is the core of a land blessed with humans, religion, environment, art and culture, in a unique balance. Here artistic endeavour expresses itself through painting, carving, dance, music, voice and architecture, revealing the pulse of Hindu religious belief and daily life.. It's a living culture far from the maddening crowd in a crowded land.

Our hosts expected our return. Ubud in one day is impossible except to the culturally inert.

At night, a myriad of temple dances or at "wayang" - the shadow puppets. Wayang provides traditional village "movies." Hindu stories and drama are told with puppet illustration through a fire lit screen stretched tight by a banana trunk. Production is by a team of three puppeteers and a 5 piece gamalen and drum band.

Dancers perform in an old palace of lotus ponds. Beautifully illuminated surrounding enhance the dancers superb performance.

The city fathers and families have ensured the art of Ubud, its region and Indonesia, is found in some five museums to art and Balinese culture. "Museum" cannot describe these places. Beautiful buildings stand in peaceful gardens, in tandem with music and dance, housing Balinese arts best, expressed through local and foreign artists. It is a coming together of the visual, aural, and intellectual.

Antonio Blanco, a Spanish "fauve" and student of Dali, captures in his "museum," Balinese women in vibrant works of humour, joy and eroticism. Arie Smit, a German Indonesian "fauve," bridges the void between western and Balinese art in expressionist works of vibrant colours. Walter Spies, Rudolf Bonnet, Theo Mier, Paul Husner and a host of superb local artists express beautiful Bali in colour and the traditional intricacy of mythology and village life. Traditional art by local artists is, in Bali,
modern. A single work can take years to draft, more to paint. Oddly, traditional art dates from late 1800's, but most is early 1900's to date. The skipper is in seventh sensual heaven.

Ubud reveals the cultural core, the region feeds into it. In surrounding villages, communities busily paint, sculpt and carve for the market (local and export) or for their local temple ceremonies. Visits are welcomed by smiling, helpful artisans.

On the third day, the scooters left for Lovina, through mountains, steeped in tiered rice paddies. The irrigations engineering for these paddies beggars the imagination.

If daily devotions provide for the after life, it is wise to not return as a dog or a chicken. Their hapless life is one of feel-less starvation, cock fighting or just dinner. There is no RSCPA in Bali.

Skipper has mixed feelings; leaving Bali's magnetism is on basis "I shall return."

Sahula leaves at dawn for Krimon Java via Ras and Bawean islands requiring two solo night sails. The five volcanoes of Bali slowly recede to smokey blue.

A fishers small Hindu shrine, floating miles offshore, wind caught in its incense and yellow umbrella, gives the final farewell.

Night sailing is not for the faint hearted. The heavily built fishing platforms and bouys provide Russian roulette. A collision would damage a modern light yacht. Sahula's steel is comforting.

A challenge; arrival at Ras is in evenings pitch black. The comforting tones of Anne of "Hydrasail" and digital charts (most unwise) guide Sahula slowly to anchor.

Ras to Bawean finds an evening breeze. Mollie (spinnaker, MPS) drives Sahula to the morning anchorage. Close by a traditional fishing boat cheers on Sahula and Mollie. The sailors admiration is mutual. Their boat is painted in resplendent colours, a superb craft, almost indistinguishable from a Viking ship. The variety of Indonesian traditional boats is limited only by the builders imagination and the painters brush.

A giant oil platform service tug passes at speed heading to Broome. Skipper, hopefully, inquires, to a negative answer, if friend, Drew Thompson is master.

The morning finds anchorage at Bawean Island. Solace for a tired skipper. A day of rest for tomorrow its 24 hours overnight to the Krimon Java islands. Skipper will there take a four tour of Java and the World Heritage Borobudur temples. Did, skipper hear mention of a hot shower every night?

These are new adventures for a later report.

Best
David
Sv Sahula

Komodo to Bali

Recipe for a quiet Komodo dragon life - a-la Sahula - first, increase skipper's stress level (low base) - by frequently ensuring depth sounder leaps 50 m to 8 m in a second - add current turmoil - baste with a headwind - season with chagrin ie a local boat undeterred by "charted" reefs well over to port - improve flavour by not relying on MaxSea digital charts - resolve by using eyes and a prayer.

Sahula is deep in Komodo land. A World Heritage area, Bio-Sphere Reserve and National Park, it is one of the few Indonesian marine protected areas. A jewel in the crown.

The entry port is Labaun Bajo. A picturesque town that in a western nation would be a major economic tourism hub. It is, but on Indonesian terms. Dive offices, restaurants and local hotels, mix with traditional stalls, shops, hooting bemo's and massed motorbikes. Further out, the tourist resort beach mixes poverty with deserted multi-storied concrete monoliths.

Tourists access to the islands (Komodo, Rinco and Padar) is not by a glitzy marine machine, but a traditional wooden "clacking" launch, owned by a local "sailor". The only "bell" is a new paint. The only "whistle" is a plastic chair. A tourist, with a spare two hours, eventually in "air conditioned" comfort, arrives at Rinca Island. An alternative is chartering a large converted wooden "Bugis." A magnificent "luxury" (a relative thing) traditional two masted sailing ship. At Rinca, the National Parks provide guides and charge entry fees to view the Komodo dragons and their environment.

Sahula visited them on Rinca Island. The "dragons" are very large lizards. They look prehistoric but apparently are of relatively recent origin. They become inert under the midday sun. So all activity is early. An amorous male, undeterred by gorking tourists leapt on a smaller female for one and half hours of seemingly loveless "action." Cameras went into overdrive. She went to sleep. A guided walk saw six Komodo "children" taking their share of a much depleted water buffalo carcass, while monkeys, pigs and horses "played nearby. The scenery is spectacular. Ancient volcanic hills surrounded by a deep blue sea, support palm studded grassy brown savanna. It is a scene unique in Indonesia.

Komodo marketing highlights snorkeling and diving. Sahula teamed with "Catala" (Garth and Janine, NZ) to snorkel off nearby islands. Again the marine environment evidenced anchor damaged and dead coral with few fish. That evening skipper enjoyed sundowners but not to the expected flights of expected large bats. Bats don't heed marketing.

Lehok Ginggo, deep in Komodo land. No villages or guides here. Skipper, dragon "hunting," walks (with Garth, "Catala") the valley behind the beach. None is sighted till investigating a nest bed, Skipper is one step from standing on a well camouflaged "Madam." Both are not sure who moved quickest. Skipper's stress level rose a notch. A bite is sufficient to ensure that the 30 odd, toxic bacteria in the Dragon's mouth, kill a buffalo.

Skipper is "Indonesian" brown - the equator sailor - sailing swimming, snorkeling Komodo reefs and bays - notwithstanding white "captains" shirt, bush hat, pink is impossible.

Pink Beach, Komodo Island, (from red coral chips washed ashore), Sahula, finally strikes snorkelers "gold." Offshore a wonderland of crystal clear, colourful fish and coral. Ginggo and Padar islands were poor cousins made up for by striking land and seascapes. Padar's steep peaks guard the circular bay of an ancient volcano.

Sahula follows the "Bugis" trail to Gili Dawa off northern Komodo Island. An orange orb, distant pink, purple, blue of Sumbawa Island's twin volcanoes, superb seascape, from yellow, brown bayside peaks after an evening climb. Tread carefully, this is Komoda Dragon country.

The grapevine fairly shudders with information from 116 Rally yachts. Some good, bad, some well meaning but misleading. Satonda Island is "good." It's at the end of Sahula's first all night sail in Indonesia.

Its circles - reef around and Island around a crater lake. Oddly the lake, a short walk from the seashore, is seawater despite being marginally higher with no entrance to the sea. The reef is good snorkeling. "Reef" is "good" (and rare) if mass fish are around autumn coloured but vibrant coral.

In the way of Indonesia, Satonda's anchorage is a port. The only sign of habitation is the mooring bouy and a jetty. There to receive Sahula is the Harbour Master, an elderly, pleasant fellow, adorned in full golden braided uniform, replete with forms and inevitable stamps. Under the trees, next to the monkeys, solomenly, 50,000 rupees ($5.00) "port fees" are passed upon an "A4" receipt and "port" form. The "Green book" bulges with forms of past ports.

Whale ho! Sahula first cetacaen.

Wind, wonderful wind - Sahula scuds along in a rare early morning 20-25 knots. A "Selat" wind, squeezed into the straits between Sumbawa and Lombok. Followed by, "wind where art thou," as it dies behind island and reverses direction into light breezes. Time to make another round of bread and muffins.

Another moonlight night sail to the Gili Islands off western Lombok.

It's tourist land, lines of hotels and resorts, glitzy streets to gather in the tourist rupee. They're "Bali bombed" into recession. A vibrant industry providing income for so many needy locals is struggling to be viable.

Sahula is in Teluk Kombal, the Lombok Island ferry port for the Gili islands. The Gili's are a tourists delight, no cars only horse drawn carts, surf and snorkeling on coral cays packed with tourism's accommodation and eateries. Anti-Sahula country so off to Kombal.

Kombal is swaying palms, beach and reef. Skipper takes 2 hours of motorbike therapy, to a mountain monkey sanctuary, through the green hills and jungle, rice paddies and village life. The gods are with us - the driver genuflects to the passing shrines.

Next day, the spectacular coast road to Sengigi. A sailor's delight - hundreds of multi-coloured traditional fishers outriggers fly triangular multi-coloured sails on an azure Selat Lombok (strait). Fishers by morning, then tenderers of copra palms, tapioca, rice, goats, cows and village children, mothers and elderly - an eternal survival cycle. The average income per-capita in Indonesia is $2300 - 2400.00. Many would exist on subsistence.

A pile of bamboo, cordage and plastic sail cloth, is all that would remain on a deconstructed fishers boat. Rigging is solid bamboo "wire."

A Sengigi lunch over Skipper's first newspaper since Darwin, The Jakarta Post (English written) reports on a mad world - "foreign" to local villagers.

Selat Lombok (strait) provides 30 knots of current whipped sea. Bali's lee provides a Tanya calm.

Bali under moonlight is a fairyland of lights set against a range of volcanoes. Sahula is entering deepest populated Indonesia. Bali, Java, Sumatra are home to the majority of Indonesia's 250 million.

Sahula is anchored, with the Fleet, at Lovina, northern Bali to a rising red orb. Fabled Bali finally found but first a sleeping skipper before tonights Regent's official dinner and welcome.

Best
David

Flores to Komodo

If cruising is doing maintenance in beautiful places then leaving Maumere and backtracking to Wodongs is eminently sensible. Sahula is here to meet "Galiano." Her skipper is an electronics expert. Cedric (Coursemaster self steering)

Dominated by a freshly "ashed" volcano, set in jungle, is a bay containing a "pure heaven" resort for 17 fortunate souls. At 75000 rupees ($7.50) per night including meals staying in delightful timber huts, "fortunate" gains a new meaning. It is voted the Rally's best restaurant.

The "maintenance" is successful. Cedric is well again. His malaise being caused by a malignant fuse. The restaurant is for celebration.

A fence away, villagers live in "happy" poverty. In villages, it seems the dead enjoy superior accommodation than the living. Large, elaborately tiled above ground Christian graves coexist in the yards of bamboo huts. Children play innocently around them. Life's full circle.

A quick visit in an impossibly crowded "bemo" to noisy, hectic, Maumere is enough to ensure it is time to sail again. Sahula has a week to the next Rally port, Labaun Bajo and Komodo Island.

The skipper meets Peter and Ullah (from Sweden) on "Lovina." Enjoyable company. Peter is doing a four day dive course at the resort. We will meet again at Komodo.

The idyll still requires its fill of "what is happening to Obana," "how is Rudd doing," "is Global Warming real?"

How do you spend a day at sea. The wind is various or light requiring frequent sail changes. It's Tanya who is the major player.

Between five minute "pop ups," bread and muffins are in the oven. The skippers second successful bake. Reefs, fishing nets, boats and bouys ensure navigation is a challenge. Patrick O'Brien's classic, "Master and Commander" fills the remaining small space. Ashore Flores parades its mountains and valleys, background to local fisher's villages. Triangular blue sailed fishing boats and sweeping prow, "bugis"cargo vessels ply by. The ruby orb sets to sundowners.

Sahula arrives late in Mausambi, Ende Regency. She rejoins the fleet. Many have already left. Finally there are two boats and three sailors. Skipper and friends are elevated to "royalty." It is Kalimutu Cultural Festival prize giving night. The locals are at fever pitch. A young white faced, goddess traditionally dressed in pink silk and weavings gracefully enwraps the skipper in her ekat, an invitation to join her in dance. Skipper, ekat displayed, takes the part of the wooing male. The Phillip
Glass mono-rhythm of drums and cymbals quickened, the villagers cheered - a night of memories.

So was the day. Kalimutu, the peak of three coloured volcanic lakes, is a much touted, star attraction. Two hours as pillion on Vinsen's motorbike, along a narrow, twisting, sometimes sealed road, waving to cheering school children, "hello mister," past a rural idyll of mountain clinging villages, terraced rice paddies; past clove, coffee, copra and cashew nut plantations, through busy Wednesday markets, found the cloudy coolness of jungle clad, Kalimutu National Park. Vinsen paid homage to the
legendary spirits of the departed and their continuing life in the lakes. The cloud lifted, the sun shone and closed over as we departed.

Sustainability is by default. Not for villagers a solar panel or electric car. A deconstructed village would leave a stone pile, bamboo, palm fronds and perhaps a plastic chair. Bamboo is mana. Poverty demands bamboo. It provides houses, furniture: beds, chairs, musical instruments, animal and bird pens, irrigation "pipes" and troughs. It's slotted, fitted, tied or nailed. Modern houses ape the west. Their high cost evidences "success?" Traditional or modern they co-exist in the same suburban maze.

Many homes are dark after dusk. The electricity connection fee is some two million rupees ($20.00).

Villagers are invariably spotless. Whereas, towns or cities expose their rubbish in the streets and gutters. It apparently depends on the headman's directive, presumably a more diffuse power in larger places. The result is the seas suffer. Sailing coastal Indonesia is through a constant stream of small goods wrapping. Turtles are rarely seen. The trailing plastic lure ensnares plastic.

Margaret (Aqua Magic - English) spends three days in the local hospital. Royalty could not receive more. On her departure the hospital staff and doctors lined the doorway. It is the Indonesian way.

A waterfront house was burnt down. The Fleet collects 800,000 rupees for the devastated family. The fleet also supports five university students in Kupang. Some good comes from the Rally.

Engrossed in a beautiful day, a glance shows a depth of 8 meters where the skipper expects infinity. Tanya is in full reverse. The coral smiles up. Charts are ancient. Later in Monkey Bay, Sahula caresses a coral bombie. The navigator's guard can never rest unless miles offshore (perhaps).

Monkey Bay is calm and protected, it's a welcome respite from last night rolling. Monkeys chat ashore. Young youths paddle over to receive, excitedly, their gift each of a biro and to practice their English lessons. Indonesian children are well mannered, effervescent, enjoyable, ever present, company. However, where canoe fleets swamp the yachts, it is tiresome respond to the repeated conversation inevitably requiring a "gift."

Sundowners aboard Sahula with Thomas, Klaus and Ziggy (Nahda Brahma - Germany) and Brian and Anne (Hydrasail - Australia).

Another day in this lovely place to paint. Skipper works at a Indonesian modernist pastel and a small water colour. The water colour is of Galiano, whose skipper, Brian, was so generous with his time in repairing the self steering. A delightful day.

Mollie (MPS spinnaker) has been feeling ignored; not today. The rare full days sailing.

A constant reminder of the failings of digital charts is the persistent collisions with reefs by a fleet yacht. Her skipper relies on them. Lady luck shines elsewhere than this boat. It has so far, lost its propeller, suffered a diesel tank leak into the bilge, hit two reefs and had two major bouts of illness aboard.

Lovely Bodo, clear water, golden beach, no villagers - time out. Lovely BBQ fire on beach, with three other crews, to watch the sun dip.

Now rejoined the fleet at Labaun Bajo, west Flores. It's the entry to the Komodo dragon World Heritage islands. A day here to stock food, fuel and water, have laundry done and prepare for a week amongst the dragons.

A CALL for CREW

Sahula would like a crew from Bali to Singapore. Applications are invited. Email the skipper on djhaigh@gmail.com Departure from Bali on 25th Sept or from Karimun Java on 6th October. Passage is via Karimun Java, Kalimantan (Borneo), Belitung and Batam. Arrival in Singapore late October or early November.



Alor to Lembata to Flores

Anchors aweigh to the calls to Allah on a beautiful, calm, misty Alor fjord. Early morning fishers in fragile canoes wave farewell. A fair wind and current sends the fleet past Pantar Island to Lombata. The skipper feels an affinity.

Sahula with all sail, surfs the swells, then it is calm under the lee of nascent Kadang volcano. In fading light there is only time to follow the fleet to anchor in Bularin Bay over coral bombies ensuring a noisy night of dragging chain.

Sahula again surfs the morning swells. Village canoes greet the morning. Theirs is the precarious fishers life, from villages clinging to the skirts of the brooding, sulphur steaming cone of Lewotolo volcano.

A reminder that this is the land of fire. The chart denotes "gas" or underwater volcanoes that may create oxygenated water that would deny a vessel buoyancy.

A brisk sail into Lewoleba, "capital" of Lombata island to anchor amongst the fleet. The fleet has grown to include the Roti and Lombata bound group direct from Kupang.

The locals are a "water" people. Shore side houses extend precariously over the shallow bay on a forest of spindly timbers. A low tide the children reclaim their soccer "field."

In Darwin, Indonesia's traditional wooden boats are museum exhibits. Here they support the fishers daily bread. They line the shore. Children in dugout canoes, larger craft, home to fisher families; speedy, long narrow colourful "day" craft; of large elegant trading ships with impossibly sky bound, curving bowsprits and blue, yellow, red sailed canoes, form a continual fleet. Motors (1 cylinder, no muffler) clacking, they seem to only have full speed.

The skipper, a passenger with three lively youths in a passing canoe, can rebut their seeming instability.

A traditional shipyard (a beach at low tide) in Kalabahi, crafted boats and repairs using mainly hand tools to cut and pin with wood plugs and steel nails. Timber strakes are caulked with bark. Aluminum dinghies or outboards are not seen in any port.

A visit to the wharf provides a tour of three large traditional trading vessels. The conditions are basic in the extreme. Inter-island commerce relies entirely on these craft.

Indonesian marine society is a living Darwinian "museum."

Another wonderful welcome. In the morning, we are ushered through a symbolic thatched gate by traditional warriors offering food and kava. Then after dances, we're invited to board various trucks and motorbikes for a tour led by warriors mounted on six small but tough horses. For 2 hours our parade is welcomed by massed school children and locals on a tour throughout the city and environs. The spontaneity is touching.

Well meaning but inappropriate, is the dance by the infant children of a catholic school. Guided by nuns they came dressed in silken costumes of a USA drum marching team and in tight teenage colourful tops and shorts. Their "western" dance serves to highlight the grace and beauty of traditional culture.

The Vice-Regents evening dinner reception displays the local dances of warriors, beautiful graceful children and women. The skipper and others are invited to join in the traditional dances. One involved footwork between swift moving bamboo poles, inelegant but...the skipper ankles survived; others were games involving a bow and arrow; a version of touch, all to great local delight and applause. Another wonderful evening.

Differences between the island cultures are becoming clearer. Nothing evidences it more than the weaving. Alor work is colourful, Lombata darker, all is the result of long hours by village women. Their price seems woefully inadequate.

Three hours bounced over mountains, in a bus-cum-truck, had us in Lemalera whaling village. Brave villagers hunt whales, in a traditional version of "Moby Dick," from wooden long boats with an iron tipped bamboo harpoon. They're exempt from the Whaling Convention because some 25 whales a year is not considered a threat. A three hour "bounce" back to attend another evening of marvelous cultural events and dancing. Three hours rest and....

It's called Ipu Lewatolo. Its cone, at 4754 feet, seethes steam and sulphur. It's tantalising, a challenge and close. Two Germans, Tomas and Klaus, and skipper, were "bemo'd" away at 0400, were on its slopes at 0530. Gonnar, the guide (not a name for inspiration!) rapidly moved through the jungle, grasses and treeless summit rocks. The summit cone bulged with yellow steaming sulphur fissures and ash. The "old" summit edges, with white ashed, dry lakes below, provided an awesome moonscape and beyond, superb island vistas.

It was not all go, Domin, from a village high up, offered to provide refreshments. We found him up a tall palm trunk, slashing coconuts down to provide sweet juice. He promised similar on our return. Later, a banana tree sign said, "This coconut for Mr. David and his friends - From Domin." Generosity knows no bounds.

The fleet enjoyed to short day to Kroko Island. An off lying small sand cay, crystal clear water, and fleet drinks to the sunset and the moonrise. Ipu Lewatolo bade fair well, the orbed moon rising precisely behind its summit. Life is good.

Indonesia's living nature seems solely people. It is their sounds that fill the air, not that of wildlife. There are no large flights of seabirds. The seas are mysteriously quiet. Underwater diving reveals few fish. On land as well, the lack of wildlife; birds, animals and even insects, means a surreal silence. Perhaps the land and seas have none of life's sustaining nutrients. In the dry season the islands are impossibly dry. More likely it is the huge imbalance in favour of human needs. Every bay is a myriad of fishing floats and nets. Fishing using explosives ensures devastated reefs.

The dry season also ensures few mosquitoes. Sahula is fully gauzed and fastidious use of repellant at dusk and dawn, reduces the odds of malaria.

Sahula's crew is ill from some lapse in dealing in local food and water. Fortunately, there are three fleet doctors. Soon she is well. Similar illness is afflicting many in the fleet. There is one reported case of malaria.

The doctors also assist locals seeking help. Generally the locals seem fit and healthy. They are a small, slim, people, free of obesity. Their diet of rice, vegetables, meat and fish is repeated in numerous forms.

In Rally ports Sahula's crew dine ashore. Meals average around three dollars or less.

Sahula is finding bays using "101 Anchorages in Indonesia" and reports of past voyages. It is an aspect of fleet sailing that Sahula is never alone. The advantage is reports on, exposure, reefs and deep water conditions.

All anchorages intrude on some village life. Some inhabitants, youths in log canoes, ask for "gifts;" others trade tropical fruits and vegetables for T shirts, pencils or exercise books. Crews are sensitive to the material poverty. Their charity would seem almost pointless were it not for the flashing smiles. Well mannered, generous people are order of the day. Security is not an issue.

Maumere is the administrative centre of Sikka regency. The official welcome is marvelous. The program is similar but the content quite different. We are welcomed outside by the Regent, local headman and dancing women. The skipper, as fleet representative, is presented with a local Ikat (weaved scarf) by the Regent. Traditional dances are noticeably livelier than previous welcomes. We are told that traditional dances are evolving to include more modern choreography. The skipper and fleet are soon whirling deverishes. Then, a unique touch, a modern play is acted, to great local and fleet amusement. It is clear the male has been unfaithful and reluctantly regrets his transgression. A marvelous meal, beautifully presented, more dancing sees the night out.

Next day is a boat race and evenings include cultural events. The setting sun, through palms, background to a beach "bbq" at the Sea World Resort, ends another day.

Lorraine (crew) flies out to Australia. Sahula is quiet. It has been three lovely months. Sahula is now "1 POB "(one person on board) till at least Bali. She may return in Phuket, Thailand.

It is said that "cruising is doing maintenance in beautiful places." The truth rings as Sahula's automatic electronic self steering refuses to work. It is the only major repair so far. The skipper finds new skills. The fleet rally to assist. The system is useful as the skippers extra crew especially when using Tanya (the motor).

Another day before leaving for Mausambi, Ende regency, a full day's sail.

********************************************************