ALIESHA     

 Part 2—The Voyage Home

Chapter 10 Idling through Indonesia (2)

From western Flores we turned  north and sailed towards Macassar in Sulewesi, some 300 miles away (also called Ujung Padang.  See Map).  This had never been in the original plans but at the Rally briefing in Darwin we had been intrigued by a presentation from Horst Liebner, a colourful German expatriate who extolled the wonders of that city and the delights that awaited those of us bold enough to make the detour.  Two things in particular had caught our imagination.  One was the chance to see traditional Indonesian craft of all sorts and sizes being built on the beach as they have been for hundreds of years.  The other was the chance to see, even to take part in the annual race of the Sandeqs.

So what is a Sandeq? The short answer is a dug-out canoe with double outriggers, supporting an enormous sail and capable of speeds of around 25 knots in a decent breeze.   Originally a long-distance fishing and trading craft, these boats are now custom-built for the prestigious annual race down the coastline of South Sulewesi.  All fifty or so are sponsored by banks and Government Departments but the crews are fishermen who will have taken a month off work for the fun, the prestige and the prize money to be won.

Independence Day

An thirty hour sail from Labuan Bajo on Flores brought us to the island of Selayar where we had planned no more than an overnight stop.  However, on arrival we gathered that the next day was Independence Day and so decided to stay and see the fun.   Long before we got ashore there were the sounds of military bands and parades.   To reach the area where it was all happening ( the football pitch) we had to pass through a series of pavilions where the local ladies, all in formal Muslim dress, were preparing a feast.  We were one of only two western couples there and were instantly surrounded by a crowd of curious children and the occasional adult who wanted to welcome us and practise their English.

Boatbuilding on the beach

On the next day to Tana Beru, a bay on the southern shores of Sulewesi and one of the major boatbuilding centres of the area.   Picture a shallow bay about two miles across.  Lying at anchor near the sandy beach are many traditional craft, most called Pinisiques,  a trading vessel typically 30-40 metres long and with a high prow and curved sheerline.  Originally powered by sails, most now have diesel engines but, thrifty sailors that they are, still spread sails when the wind will help them along their way.

Scattered along the beach itself are the shipyards, maybe fifty of them, and in each yard is the part-completed hull of a new boat.  Some must have been 50 metres long, others just workboats and maybe 10 metres overall.  First the keel is laid, then the planking is added, and then the frames or ribs (In Europe we put the planks onto the frames).  There were few signs of modern tools except for electric drills and the occasional electric plane. Some fastenings were galvanised steel bolts but many others were ironwood pegs. 

We were taken over one Pinisique which was nearly finished, 36 metres long and destined to work as a coastal trader.  The builder explained that the local custom was to quote one price to provide the hull, decked and with the accommodation all constructed but the whole lot supplied unpainted and with no machinery.  Then the captain would see what he was getting and he would engage a team to do the painting and to install the engine etc.  Finally the accommodation and galley would be fitted out to whatever standard was required.  So how much would this 36 metre ship cost, unpainted, we asked?  The answer was about 60,000 pounds, or about half the cost of ALIESHA! 

Macassar

The sail to Macassar was a rough one.  Soon after dawn the wind started to build and we were flying along at seven knots by 0900, travelling even faster over the ground with the help of a favourable current.  We were in company with our old friends on AZIMUT and with Bengt and Louise on TINTO 3, a 55 foot Amel ketch and considerably faster than ourselves.  This proved useful as we needed an anchorage for the night and TINTO 3 was able to reconnoitre and reject a couple of bays before finding a safe haven for us all just before darkness fell.

By contrast, the  final miles to Macassar were sailed in a gentle breeze, warm sunshine and a sparkling sea.  Dozens of little sailing canoes were out fishing and passed us with cheerfulwaves as they headed for home.  Even though their sails were mostly made from discarded sheeets of plastic they showed a fine turn of speed and made us curious to see what a Sandeq could do.

Macassar is a major port and the capital of South Sulewesi.  Its docks extend over about three miles of waterfront and all manner and sizes of ships came and went day and night. There were tankers, bulk carriers, general cargo ships, container ships.  There were frigates and patrol boats from the Indonesian Navy.  There were also scores of Pinisiques, still trading in a variety of cargoes and with their own port.  It was bustling, noisy, extremely dirty quite foreign and rather exciting.

As this was a Rally stop the Naval Base had offered its facilities and it was there that we first went.  However, the climb up the sea wall at low tide proved too much for Pam and for Ursula on AZIMUT and a considerable challenge for the men as well, so we sailed out to the open anchorage opposite the town and rejoined TINTO 3.  While leaving the quay I misjudged the clearance needed for our wind generator and broke two of the blades on a wooden post on the dockside, a costly error and one which would take until Singapore to rectify.

Next morning we hailed a passing water taxi and all went ashore.  The landing place was amazing, so many people jostling and pushing in a narrow alleyway, boats coming and going and disgorging fresh streams of people.  "You want a trishaw ride?" asked a wizened little man and we were ushered into his trishaw and whisked off into the busy streets of the city for a tour.  First (and only) stop was the old Dutch fort, now beautifully restored and housing quite an interesting museum.  Ali and his fellow drivers waited for us to emerge and were ready to take us on to further delights but it was beer o'clock and we needed refreshment!  The restaurant we had been recommended was on the top floor of a three story building.  On the ground floor was a CD shop.  On the second floor was a brothel!

Ali proved quite a find.  The next day he procured diesel for us at little more than the pump price, taking our jerry cans from the boat, getting them filled and then delivering the full ones to the boat out in the anchorage.  Mrs Ali, it turned out, would do the laundry for rather less than the local hotel charged.  He would take us to the supermarket, the Internet cafe.  Sadly his trishaw was the loser in a collision with a car and we saw much less of him from then on as he tried to get it repaired or replaced.

Still by then the Rally organisation had stumbled into life.  It turned out that the Government had loaned three minibuses and a number of students had volunteered to act as drivers and guides.  One afternoon we were taken to see the old port with the trading vessels and then on a tour of one of the main Mosques, a very interesting experience as our quide was a young Imam, quite fluent in English and willing to answer any question we cared to put to him about the Muslim faith.

The Sandeqs

The day the racing Sandeqs would arrive finally dawned.  With our friends we hired a water taxi for the afternoon and went out of the harbour to await them.  First a speck on the horizon,  then two or three , then dozens of triangular sails, speeding towards us in the afternoon sea breeze. As they drew level they made a wonderful sight.  The crew of maybe eight per vessel were helping their craft along by paddling or "ooching", rhythmically tugging at the hull or rig to help it go faster.  Some were standing out on the windward outrigger, holding ropes from the masthead like the trapezes on modern racing dinghies.  And they were fast, even in the light breeze of the afternoon.

That evening we were visited by four crewmen from one of the Sandeqs. "We have chosen your boat to be the one we exchange crew with for the next day's race", they told us.  "How many of your crew will you exchange?"   We explained that, with only the two of us, exchanging would be a bit of a problem. "But you can't have sailed your boat so far with only two people" they replied and refused to believe us.

So we raced ALIESHA wthout any Sandeq crew.  Only six modern yachts joined in the race which was a short affair of about seven miles, out of the harbour, around an offshore islet and back again.  We were in the thick of the fleet at the start and quite well placed when we all left the harbour.  Going upwind to the islet we found that the Sandeqs were a bit faster than ALIESHA and pointed about as close to the  wind.  When we rounded the islet we had maybe seven of them (and three modern boats) behind us.  But as we set off downwind for the finish these amazing craft showed their true potential.  By the time we had hoisted and set our spinnaker, they had all passed us, showing maybe double our speed as they romped away.  There was much good humour afterwards!  We didn't mind, it had been a wonderful experience. 

South to Lombok and Bali

The sail south was uneventful and we made our landfall on the island of Sumbawa near an islet called Moyo.  Here we had one of our few good snorkelling experiences in Indonesia, where so much of the coral has either died of overheated water of been blasted to bits by fishermen using dynamite.  Over to the north east side of Lombok and around the top of that island to Gili Air.  This is a resort island, but unspoiled.   There are no modern hotels, just a few local ones, plenty of backpacker accommodation and then restaurant after beachside restaurant serving local fare at incredibly cheap prices.  We relaxed, went swimming and, for Dick, diving and had a thoroughly lazy time for about a week.

Lombok is said to be like Bali was thirty years ago and so we motored the three miles or so to the nearest bay and took a tour with the local Mr Fixit, who also sold pearls, could procure diesel and drinking water, dispose of garbage and so on. We fed peanuts to the local monkeys, visited a pottery and a traditional weaver's place where we were dressed up, toured a Sasak village and the old Royal Summer Palace.  It was low key, unspoiled and delightful.  We learned that the Sasaks have no windows in their houses to afford the newly wed couple privacy from nosy neighbours.  When the first child is born the husband moves onto the verandah to sleep.  If the child is a boy, from one year old he sleeps with his father, but if she is a girl she sleeps with her mother.  'If you have lots of girl children" said our guide with a wry smile "it is quite difficult to make love to your wife any more".

Bali was a terrible disappointment.  The anchorage at Serangan in the south east near Denpassar, the capital, was pretty grotty, but so is Benoa Harbour, the only alternative.  Ashore there was a delightful team of local lads to help land the dinghy, but then we had to run the gauntlet of the local taxi mafia, who had cornered the market in our area, wanted double the usual fares to go anywhere and warned off any other drivers who came in looking for trade.  We took a tour using a guide recommended by a couple of our cruising riends but it was pretty touristic stuff, pottery, jewellery factory, art gallery, a very good woodcarvers, some quite interesting temples.  The undoubted highspot was the "Barong and Kris Dance" a kind of pantomime which lasted an  hour and which we thoroughly enjoyed.

Bali's problem is that since the bombings tourist numbers have fallen by about 70%.  As a result there are many pretty desperate hawkers and vendors who are far too aggressive in their efforts to get something, anything from the few tourists who are there.  This was typified by our stop to see the famous  terraced rice paddies.  As Pam snapped a picture a local dressed in peasant clothing appeared and demanded a fee for appearing in her picture! (He didn't get one)

So we sailed away after a very few days.  Stopping on the north coast at Lavina Beach restored some of our faith in Bali, as the scenery is very pretty and the level of aggression while preying on tourists is much much lower, but we still feel that Bali is oversold.

Borneo, smoke and orang utans

Another detour north, this time to Kumai in Kalimantan, the Indonesian part of Borneo.  Here the attraction was to visit a nature reserve where orang utans can be seen in their native habitat.

You will all have heard and read about the problems with smoke from forest fires in SE Asia and in particular in Sumatera and Kalimantan.  We ran into the  first signs of this problem about 50 miles south of the coast and lived with it for the next five weeks until we neared the top of the Malacca Straits.   Local farmers clear virgin forest by burning in order to plant palm oil trees which make a good cash crop.  Some of the land they clear has peat reserves and this can catch alight, compounding the problems.  The Indonesian Government has outlawed the practice but lacks the personnel and maybe the willpower to enforce the law.  The result is a pall of smoke covering hundreds of miles, blotting out the sun for days on end, reducing visibility to as little as two hundred yards and affecting health for millions.

So we came up the river to Kumai, maybe 15 miles from the sea, in moderately smoky conditions, anchored with six other boats and set about booking a trip into the jungle to see the orang utans.

We chose a two day, one night trip.  Our companions were Ursula and Eckhardt from AZIMUT and Amanda and Mark from BALVENIE, a Kiwi boat we had met through the Rally.  We had a motor launch with a crew of four, Skipper, guide, cook and deckhand.  It was similar to the one shown in the picture but a bit larger.  A local lad was provided to sleep in our cockpit to boat-sit while we were away.

The journey started at 0830 and we puttered along a tributary of the Kumai River until about 1400 when we almost reached the ranger Station where we were to see our fist apes. I say almost reached because we grounded firmly on a fallen tree which lay across the river and had to yell until one of the other launches came to rescue us.

Our first four orang utan were young males. Two in particular, brothers, staged a wrestling match across the patch for our benefit.  Then down the track came a female carrying a baby.  "Watch her, she is bad-tempered" said our guide, adding "Run!" as she charged us and scattered us.  Re-grouped, he prodded at her with a branch to get her to shift her position.  Effortlessly she took the branch and tossed it aside, but then she relented and ambled away allowing us to walk on the half mile or so the the feeding station.

Here the rangers offer milk and bananas twice a day to those apes who care to come.  We saw about six, arriving through the canopy high above our heads, some with babies on their backs, moving from tree to tree with grace and great precision.   Then came Big Tom, the alpha male of the pack. The male orang utan is about 50% larger than the female and has a massive head.  You don't argue with an alpha male

Big Tom consumed the remaining bananas and looked for his milk.  Not seeing any on the feeding platform he came among the audience, who wisely scattered, seized one of the ranger's rucksacks and withdrew from it a gallon of milk in a heavy plastic container.  This he opened with his teeth and drained in seconds.  To get at the remains he ripped the container to shreds and licked out the last drops.

Sex was next on the agenda.  Discarding the milk container he grabbed a nearby female (orang utan) and enjoyed her for a few minutes, grunting deeply and with feeling.  The audience were spellbound.  It was soon over and we wondered what would Big Tom do next?   He put aside his mate, scratched and slowly ascended a nearby tree, then gently swung across to another and then to another until he passed from our sight.  All in all, it had been quite a performance.

We passed the night on our boat in the middle of the jungle, screened by an all-over mosquito net.  A troupe of long tailed monkeys watched over us and kept us amused until darkness fell.  At 0400 is was really cold and we huddled together for warmth.  Next morning the fog or smoke was really bad at first and we felt our way downstream for our second encounter with the orang utan.

Here the dominant male was not a patch on Big Tom in any department, indeed he seemed scared that Big Tom would arrive at any moment and drive him off.  Still the mothers and their babies were fun to watch and we enjoyed the visit.  Back in Kumai that afternoon we all agreed that this trip had been one of the high spots of Indonesia and indeed of the whole voyage.

Up to Singapore

It is about 600 miles to Singapore and we didn't hang about.  The smoke was our constant companion, hiding the sun most days and making it difficult to spot ships which were becoming more and more common.  Our fridge, repaired in Labuan Bajo, was not working again and Dick had lost a crown and needed a dentist.  So we pushed on, not taking part in the " Equator Party"  which attracted many fellow Rally boats.  However Dick did cause some consternation on the morning SSB radio network by reporting that ALIESHA had been "boarded" by five men and one woman as we crossed the Equator the previous night.  He said that we had been asked to stand up and explain where we were from and where we were going.  The group then asked for money and alcohol before leaving.  " Did they wear uniforms?" asked the Net Controller." No" replied Dick," but the leader had a beard, wore a sort of crown on his head and carried a funny spear with three points"  "Could that have need King Neptune?" asked the net Controller and Dick agreed it probably had, but not all the audience appreciated the joke and subsequently we came in for some flak .