I have just realized that we are only a few degrees shy of the equator a few days after the equinox. No wonder we have felt like we are on the BROIL setting the last few days. Whew! It's gotten hot!
At this moment, we are anchored of the north end of the island of Belitung, yet ANOTHER spot being promoted by the Indonesian government and organizers. Our anchorage lat/long (for any Rally participants who might be looking for it) is: 02*33.389'S; 107*40.678E. The waypoint provided by the rally had a typo in it and, 10k offshore, gave no clue to the actual anchorage location!
It looks gorgeous. There is a long white sand beach (rare in this part of the world) and a whole bunch of little rock islands reminiscent of the Baths of the BVI to the west which Greg and Michael are currently exploring for a possible afternoon dive. Perhaps even better, there are several cell towers and a fast data connection! And best of all, there is a string of beach palapa-style restaurants where we aim to let somebody else cook our "tea" (i.e. dinner) this evening.
Two weeks from today, "they say" the President of Indonesia will be coming here for the final party before the fleet crosses into Malaysia. We're told he wants to mingle with the cruisers and learn what we think about the country and what is needed. I think that is a hopeful paraphrase. I think they will be lucky if there are any boats left in the country to hunt for the place.
We won't be here. The plan is a middle of the night departure tonight for another multi-day sail north. Sigh. I do miss the leisurely approach.
Friday, September 30, 2011
September 28, 2011 - Free Dive
In Bali, the rally sailors were given yet another full-color glossy brochure for a stopover to which the government wanted to lure us, this time for Karimunjawa, the aforementioned island archipelago. In expensive glossy blues (and typically random Indonesian English), the brochure depicts a refuge of sandy beaches and great diving.
We should really know better by now that these brochure do not reflect reality, at least not reality for cruising boats.
The diving in Karimunjawa, according to Lonely Planet, a far more reliable resource, is handled exclusively by the Kura Kura Resort, which turns out to be on its own island of Menyawaken. Using our state of the art resources, we looked up Kura Kura on the Internet and saw a nice areal view of the reef-fringed island and its little manmade harbor. I was suspicious of the scale.
Greg called the resort on the telephone (wonderfully convenient gadget!) to inquire about diving with them and of availability of a mooring or place in their harbor. Our dream was a wonderful afternoon scuba dive, capped by a meal at the resort's restaurant and a night at the dock. They said call back after 1pm because the seas was too rough to enter.
So we used the morning to clean the boat, forming a bucket brigade to sluice off the worst of the dirt. (Don and I were amazed that the boat didn't have a salt water wash down system...until we realized that with fresh water heads, there is no inlet for salt!) Greg and Don also took the opportunity afforded by the calm water to go up the mast and cut out the bit of chafed halyard.
As 1pm approached we raised the anchor and motored out to Menyawaken. The resort looked charming through the trees, but the alleged harbor appeared even more minute than we'd feared! No hope for a boat Ivory Street size to enter let alone turn around. At best, a possibility for her dinghy!
I expected we'd just motor onward, but, not to be daunted, Greg shut the engines down and let the boat drift on the slight swell, then launched the dinghy and loaded up gear for himself, Michael and me. Leaving Don and Chrissie in charge of the big boat, the three of us ran over to one of the dive buoys off the resort island. Man, it felt like shades of my old charter days...although it is a bigger dinghy!
It is always nice to get in the water, and, in Michael's opinion, the dive, his sixth, was quiet enjoyable. From the adult viewpoint, however, it was a pretty mediocre dive. Viz was poor, fish were few, and everything was monochromatic beige. The coral seemed healthy enough...in between chutes of damage (Whether the damage was natural or from dynamite fishing, I couldn't tell you.), and there were a few soft corals struggling to be pink and purple in the beige. In other words, much ado for not much.
Apparently, while we were underwater, the resort's dive boat whizzed by Ivory Street with one diver and a crew of three. Perhaps had we tried calling them again, we might have arranged a pickup and run to a better site? Perhaps. On the other hand, at least this dive cost us nothing but time and effort!
Gear and dinghy stowed away, divers rinsed and dried, we turned our bows toward the next stop, the island of Belitung, about 280 miles away. There was not a whiff of wind, not unusual for afternoons, but I can't say it wasn't nice to motor gently over the placid sea.
And I also can't say I was disappointed that the wind never came up last night or this morning. Ivory Street's rocketing speeds are exciting, but they are tiring! Instead, everybody has taken the opportunity to sleep well in their off-watch time. Because the distance is far enough we can't make it in one overnight, there is less pressure to push hard. This means we are proceeding at a more civilized pace, one in which there is a hope of catching a fish, should any be left in this sea. Also, this morning, Greg and Don put up the spinnaker, what the IS crew calls "flying the strawberry." I am hopeful that come the heat of the day, the strawberry will provide lots of shade!
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Sunset over Java Sea
Thursday, September 29, 2011
27-28 September 2011- Passage to Karimunjawa
I've lost a few calendar days somewhere?! It always feels that way after a multi-day passage, but I really can't seem to find them!
We were up early and underway from that first anchorage after a good night's sleep. We motored out through a narrow cut between the ends of two islands, with wharfs and villages on each side. The crews of boats -- from freighters and ferries to small oddly-shaped punts -- called out as we passed and waved "Hallo!" or "Assalaamualaikum" ("peace be on you" -- the standard Muslim greeting, and these islands are reportedly traditionally Muslim.) Most vessels of whatever size were heavily loaded with big blue bags which we guess to contain rice.
On the far side of the cut was a shallow bay, whipped to a brown frenzy by the strengthening morning breeze, stretched across which was a formidable line of bamboo fishing structures that we would have to get through. It's a strange feeling motoring through this motionless unattended "fleet" of spectral structures
It seems in this part of the world, wind builds in the mornings then dies off in the afternoons. Hence, Ivory Street starts the day sailing hard and ends it motorsailing hard. Her mainsail is 95 square meters, the genoa is 74, plus she has both a genoa (74 sq. meters) and a screecher -- a larger, lighter headsail -- that is about the same area as the main. Like most skippers, Greg has a motoring "rule" -- a threshold of speed-made-good below which the engine comes on. Or in the case of catamarans, one engine comes on. Also like most skippers, that threshold is always pegged a little too high, so that to get where they're going in the time planned, odds are there will most often be a little motor assist.
During the daytime, the vessel traffic on the Java Sea is relatively modest. There are the odd (in all senses of the word) local boats that pop up from the sea either to protect their nets or drift lines (marked Mexican style with a jerry rigged buoy of lashed timbers with a black flag!) or to intersect your course just for a closer look. These are easy to see and avoid, if their flagged nets are not! There are also, of course, big ships -- freighters and cruise ships, but they all appear on the plotter as we do on theirs via AIS, the automated radio-based position information service which is a damned handy development since our day.
At night, however, the sea seems to become a congested highway, filled with vessels of all types undertaking all kinds of unidentifiable endeavors, mostly to do with fishing, we suppose, on top of the same ships trafficking during the daytime. The radar screen is filled with blips, large and small, and they display a whole range of lighting schemes.
Through all this, Ivory Street hurtles along at her warp speed of 8-10 knots. It is not the most relaxing of sailing, and it will only get worse as we get closer to Singapore.
From Bali to Singapore is 1000 miles, more or less. Our deadline to get there ASAP is pegged to getting 12-year-old Michael back to Mooloolaba for his fourth semester of eighth grade (he attended semesters one and two and missed number three), most particularly, in time to sign up for team sports. So we are moving more quickly than the typical leisure cruiser. Our hope of time to stop at Kumai to partake of the orangutan experience fizzled with the visa delay in Bali.
However, at the moment. after two nights at sea, we are stopped for an overnight in the quiet anchorage at Karimunjawa, the main island of a group of 26 in a small archipelago off Java where we are hoping to get a dive in this afternoon. After the dive, if it happens, it will be back to sea for another two nights!
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
28 September 2011- Passage to Karimunjawa
I've lost a few calendar days somewhere?! It always feels that way after a multi-day passage, but I really can't seem to find them!
We were up early and underway from that first anchorage after a good night's sleep. We motored out through a narrow cut between the ends of two islands, with wharfs and villages on each side. The crews of boats from freighters and ferries to small oddly-shaped punts called out as we passed and waved "Hallo!" or "assalaamualaikum" (peace be on you -- which is the standard Muslim greeting, and these islands being very traditionally Muslim.) Most vessels of whatever size were heavily loaded with big blue bags which we guess to contain rice.
On the far side of the cut was a shallow bay, whipped to a brown frenzy by the strengthening breeze, stretched across which was a formidable line of bamboo fishing structures that we would have to get through. It's a strange feeling motoring through this motionless unattended "fleet" of spectral structures
It seems in this part of the world, wind builds in the mornings then die off in the afternoons. Hence, Ivory Street starts the day sailing hard and ends it motorsailing hard. Her mainsail is 94 square meters, plus she has both a genoa and a screecher -- a larger, lighter headsail. Like most skippers, Greg has a motoring "rule" -- a threshold of speed-made-good below which the engine comes on. Or in the case of catamarans, one engine comes on. Also like most skippers, that threshold is always pegged a little too high, so that to get where they're going in the time planned, odds are there will most often be a little motor assist.
During the daytime, the vessel traffic on the Java Sea is relatively modest. There are the odd (in all senses of the word) local boats that pop up from the sea either to protect their nets or drift lines (marked Mexican style with a jerry rigged buoy of lashed timbers with a black flag!) or to intersect your course just for a closer look. These are easy to see and avoid, if their flagged nets are not! There is also, of course, big ships -- freighters and cruise ships, but they all appear on the plotter as we do on theirs via AIS, the automated radio-based position information service which is a damned handy development since our day.
At night, however, the sea seems to become a congested highway, filled with vessels of all types undertaking all kinds of unidentifiable endeavors, mostly to do with fishing, we suppose on top of the same ships trafficking during the daytime. The radar screen is filled with blips, large and small, and they display a whole range of lighting schemes.
Through all this, Ivory Street hurtles along at her warp speed of 8-10 knots. It is not the most relaxing of sailing, and it will only get worse as we get closer to Singapore.
From Bali to Singapore is 1000 miles, more or less. Our deadline to get there ASAP is pegged to getting 12-year-old Michael back to Mooloolaba for his fourth semester of eighth grade (he attended semesters one and two and missed number three) most particularly in time to sign up for team sports. So we are moving more quickly than the typical leisure cruiser. Our hope of time to stop at Kumai to partake of the orangutan experience fizzled with the visa delay in Bali.
However, at the moment. after two nights at sea, we are stopped for an overnight in the quiet anchorage at Karimunjawa, the main island of a group of 26 in a small archipelago off Java where we are hoping to get a dive in this afternoon. After the dive, if it happens, it will be back to sea for another two nights!
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Sunday, September 25, 2011
To Sea Aboard Ivory Street
We departed Bali this morning for a lively day trip across to an anchorage in the lee of Java aboard our new ride, the 57' luxury catamaran Ivory Street.
It turned into quite an evening last night, not our usual pre passage scenario. We went ashore mid-afternoon to the local sports bar for the NZ-France Match in World Cup Rugby (our hosts -- Greg, Chrissie and 12-year-old Michael -- are Kiwi!) which was well attended by much of the fleet.
It turned into quite an evening last night, not our usual pre passage scenario. We went ashore mid-afternoon to the local sports bar for the NZ-France Match in World Cup Rugby (our hosts -- Greg, Chrissie and 12-year-old Michael -- are Kiwi!) which was well attended by much of the fleet.
In the course of the sporting revelry we made the acquaintance of the family on Silver Lining, a 104' custom sailing yacht that had just come in. Built in Thailand and only recently recently launched, the boat was designed and built by its owner, a Canadian restauranteur based in Hong Kong. Chris, Vicki, and their two kids joined us for dinner that ran late, and then invited us aboard for a nightcap. Despite our planned early morning departure, none of us wanted to pass up the invite!
Wow! What a boat! 5 crew (one of whom is the kids' tutor). Handsome modern interior with all the trimmings, furniture and accents also designed by the owner, including a teak bathtub! We had the soup to nuts tour and the kids played Xbox on wthe giant screen. We didn't get home til 12:30...
...Which made the early departure especially painful. Lovina, quiet for one day after the farewell ceremonies for the rally, was all a hubbub at daybreak with music and loudspeakers for a bicycle race! And the dolphin- watching outriggers were motoring past our portholes as we tried to squeeze our eyes shut. Ivory Street Has large ports so I envisioned the tourists peaking in at our tangled sheets!
It was not the perkiest crew that wrestled Ivory Street's anchor aboard (did I mention the windlass is broken!?) and it took us a while to grasp some of the quirks of the state of the art Ratheon nav system (oops part of the auto- pilot control isn't working!). We were not even ten miles offshore -- barely time to get down a cup or. Two of live-restoring coffee -- when wind abruptly came up. Up go the sails. Uh oh, there's a chafed area in the main halyard to worry about; we'll put in one reef. and so it went.
Please don't get the wrong picture. This is a gorgeous boat. She sails like a dream. And counters one of our frustrations with Quantum Leal about being engaged with the environment (At the helm seat you are in full air...and sun, and it is easy and nice to sit out on the cabin top with a bean bag chair.). But a) she's a boat and things do go wrong with boats, and b) she's a boat with some fancy systems, and stuff goes more wrong fancy systems sometimes (as per the list detailed by Chris on Silver Lining!). And c) Greg pretty much singlehands this vessel. He's a very capable guy, but there's only so much one person can fit in. The chief reason we were invited aboard was to help spell Greg at the helm on long passages. Of course, no soon did he go below to rest than the wind came up to flirt with his limit as we rocketed across the top of the bouncy Bali Strait. This boat goes literally 2x the speed Tackless did!
Glad this first day is not an overnight passage. And glad the conditions settled down after we cleared the strait. We wended our way into a protected spot in a mere two meters of water off a village (with lots of cell towers for Internet!), plopped down that anchor, and enjoyed a sundowner as the sun set blazing red in the haze over Java. And then the five or so mosques started their competing calls. Ah, well.
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Friday, September 23, 2011
September 22, 2011 -- Finale and Farewell from Lovina, Bali
Indonesians, and the Balinese in particular, love ceremonies. Ceremonies are the framework of their society. I'm reading an interesting book which provides an inside look at daily life called Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe, an Aussie who marries a Balinese and raises a family in Ubud, and she details the sequence of ceremonies and the preparation those ceremonies demand of the neighborhood organization throughout the year.
So it shouldn't surprise us that everywhere we stop a big deal is made of the fleet's being here, and it shouldn't surprise us that the Balinese do a particularly good job. Following the week's displays, tours and evening performances, we had last night the Farewell ceremony and dinner hosted by the Buleleng Regency.
The evening began with alternating performances on the stage by two Joged-style bamboo gamelan troupes, as the cruisers assembled and we all awaited the arrival of the regency officials. After these important people arrived and filled the front rows there followed some speeches. It was touching that the chief official, after his speech in Balinese, did his very best to do his own translation to English. Peter Benziger of Peregrina who has become the cruisers' de facto spokesman, then delivered a suitably flowery and gracious speech of thanks, and this time Raymond Lesmata, the Indonesian liaison for the Rally translated his comments back.
After the speeches came two Joged performances with the dancers seeking partners from the audience, just as they did in Ubud. The hit of the evening was an older cruiser from the catamaran Starfire who did a impressive job mirroring the dancers flirting moves.
From there we moved to a farewell buffet hosted by the Regency at the Sea Breeze Restaurant, a pleasant beach restaurant to the west of the dolphin monument. Lining the approach to the restaurant were individual styrofoam posters from each of the local sponsors welcoming the Sail Indonesia Rally to Lovina. Up close, we realized that each of these posters were carved styrofoam with raised and colored graphics, probably hand done, each unique to this event! Being as they were in Indonesian, this effort may well have been overlooked by the cruisers!
The buffet was the best yet, the tables needed to host the crews of the 74 boats in the anchorage plus all the invited officials and sponsors spilling over onto the beach. It was capped by an impressive fireworks display (including one series of Vegas-like fountains of sparks that we had never seen anywhere before) bursting right over our heads! Then this was followed by dancing and Karaoke, and no one was terribly surprised when our Starfire dancing star turned out to be pretty darn good at the microphone as well!
I do wish the organizers of the rally would give us a little more guidance on expected behaviors for such events. With the details of Balinese life fresh in my mind from reading Fragrant Rice, I realize that we Western cruisers are a rather self-centered lot, dressing too casually (some of us), overlooking details (like the personalized posters), taking orchestrated events too casually (forgoing a scheduled performance for another beer at the bar), or pushing to the head of the buffet line like cattle that haven't been fed in a week. And what does a culture where couples do not touch in public think of our style of whirling and twirling and slow dance embrace? Granted, they did provide the music!
As I type we are mostly moved off of Dedalus and onto Ivory Street. We should be underway to Kalimantan, but the Ivory Street passports have not come back yet with our visa extensions. It's Friday, and if they don't make it back today, can we imagine they'll be here before Monday? Unfortunately, the delay is likely to cancel plans to visit the orangutans in Kalimantan.... which ironically would mean we probably don't need the extensions in the first place!
PS! Got our passports....but New Zealand is playing in the World Cup Rugby tomorrow, so....??? Who knows?
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
September 19-22 -- Lovina, Mountain Sightseeing, and Rally Events
Lovina Beach is a name given to a string of villages that cater to the laid-back beach tourist who has been adventurous enough to leave trendy Kuta in the south of Bali and venture to the north shore. The nearest big city up here is Singaraja -- the second largest on the island -- and a handsome place it seems to be, based on a quick drive through. In the old days, it was Singarajah that was the seat of Dutch power here.
The Rally is actually centered on the village of Kalibukbuk identified by a iconic dolphin monument on the beach. Every morning as we ascend to our flybridge aerie for coffee we see the fleet of local boats loaded with tourists motoring BACK IN from the predawn dolphin watching excursion!
Sail Indonesia Events
The Sail Indonesia events started Monday with craft and culinary expos during the day at the top of the beach and a dance exhibition on a stage in the evening. We were among the first to check out the former -- yes, buying AND eating! -- but I'm embarrassed to say that by evening we couldn't face dressing again after our swim so listened to the gamelan orchestra from across the water. Sitting in the aerie at sunset, sipping wine, watching the scattered lights come on across the mountainside, and listening to the orchestra -- a pleasant tinkle at this distance -- was about as nice as it gets.
North Side Tour: Munduk, Waterfall, Twin Lakes, Singaraja
Tuesday morning (after running the engines on the three boats we are looking after!) we found ourselves a driver for a bit of a nosy (as the Kiwis say) around the north side of Bali. Hustled by a young man whose English was pretty good, we discovered he was a front man for drivers who don't speak much English! Our driver, Koko, was a very nice father of four, but our communications were limited to essentials. Even my Lonely Planet phrasebook couldn't much help with the kinds of questions I wanted to ask!
Our first destination was another coffee plantation in the Munduk region. Munduk is village, but also a steeply mountainous region centered on one of the watershed valleys north of Bali's central cluster of volcanos. Villages cluster on ridge tops or valley bottoms, their roofs tightly packed together in a sea of green. At lower elevations we passed multi-tier rice terrace cut into the hillside, and, finally, lucked into one community in the midst of harvesting. Most amusingly a clutch of dozens of baby ducks had been turned loose on a cleared area to gorge themselves on any remaining edibles.
The plantation our driver chose in truth was a clove plantation with coffee and all the other typical "panaculture" spice species -- three coffees, cocoa, cinnamon, vanilla, ginseng, turmeric, etc -- sharing the roughly terraced hillside. Like our previous coffee stop, this venue was more a garden showplace, with the larger plantation elsewhere! Still, we had an informative tour, by an attractive young lady this time, and got a more evocative photograph of what the Luwak coffee beans look like in civet cat poop! The ground seemed very very dry, but our guide said this year's clove crop was poor because they had had too much rain. After the tour we enjoyed a couple of Bali-style coffees -- one ginger, one mocha -- poured from quaint coconut-shell coffee pots into carved wooden coffee cups!
Next stop up the mountain was a hike in to a spectacular waterfall. Oddly, the pool at the bottom was three-quarters filled with gravel and silt and didn't seem to have enough room for the volume of water coming down let alone any swimming. On one side, a three-gate stone sluice channeled water into an aqueduct that snaked away through the forest to service some rice terrace below.
We stopped at a restaurant just up the road from the waterfall path for a quick lunch and the spectacularly cool and misty view north.
From there on our our sightseeing was mostly from the car as we climbed up to the ridge top to look down on two mountain lakes in an old caldera. Even here the rough land was thoroughly cultivated with the primary commercial crop being blue flowers, like a single-stalked hydrangea! At a roadside overlook, a man was proffering the chance to hold/touch an huge iguana, three fruit bats, and a huge python. We left just as he was draping the snake in several coils around a tourists' neck! Eeeecccch! Our route back brought us down through Singaraja .
Welcoming Ceremonies
The evening event on the beach was the official welcoming ceremony for Sail Indonesia, complete with relatively brief speeches by the local government officials. The program was a surprising mix of traditional music and dance and more modern interpretations. This included a Balinese rock band which mixed electric guitars with gamelan, Balinese drums, cymbals and flute. It was terrific!
Surprising to see some more modern-style dances performed, and even more surprising to find I preferred the traditional ones! Having seen these dances several times now, we are beginning to have a feel for what we are seeing. The first two very traditional dances were definitely our favorite, particularly a dance by three women in gold symbolizing a battle (I believe.)
The troupes performing were drawn from a number of villages in the regency. There was an attempt to merge several dances into an interpretive suite about man needing to return to "God, Nature and Society" to save the world from all the negative trends of the day, the final piece of which performed to a female singer singing in a sort of nightclub style, in Balinese English. This came across a little too overt for my taste! Were we Westerners being lectured?
The rest of the week has been more of same: evening dance events; some meetings by rally organizers regarding our visa extensions, boat export, and cruising plans for Malaysia; and, of course, socializing with other cruisers. We have put some elbow grease into making Dedalus look good for George & Melinda's return tomorrow; we sure have enjoyed the chance to treat this big boat as our own.
This morning we moved our packed bags over to Ivory Street, another handsome vessel. We sure are cruising on the cream of the crop. The original plan has been to depart Lovina tomorrow aboard Ivory Street, but there is some suspense about whether our passport extension will be back yet today. None of us are too keen about moving on with a promise of passports down the road!
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Monday, September 19, 2011
Basketwork
Sail Indonesia Event at Lovina
Early Departure
Saturday, September 17, 2011
September 17-18 2011 -- Yacht Sitting
On the morning of the 17th, George, Melinda and George's brother Stan took off on their own week-long exploration of Bali and the two captains were left in charge. This morning our cruising friends on Sabbatical III and Wind Pony also took off for a few days leaving us with their keys. For the next couple of days, we will be busy running engines and generators to keep batteries topped up and fridges chilled. All the space we left between Dedalus and other boats has been filled in!! Let's just pray that no big weather system comes through to test anchors and elbow room!
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
September 16, 2011 -- mv Dedalus and the Voyage Back to Bali's Lovina Beach
I'm sure you are wondering why we went to the effort and expense to backtrack to Gili Aer when we could just have easily rendezvoused with Dedalus by taxi in Lovina Beach? Well, we just felt that if we were going to be responsible for this big boat for a whole week, we wanted to see how the engines and windlass worked -- just in case.
And I suppose we were curious about how this very different catamaran would feel underway.
The strait between Lombok (and the Gilis) and Bali is a major dividing line in this part of the world. Originally it was noticed by the English naturalist in Alfred Russell Wallace based on the very different animal life to be found to either side, Asian to the West, Australian to the East. His observations shared with Charles Darwin played a part in Darwin's developing theories.
What Wallace noted has been shown to be based on the islands' tectonic foundations, with I believe (sorry, don't have a reference here to check and my Internet is out!), a plate boundary plunging to great depths in this strait. More to the point for navigators, strong currents race predominantly northward during the southeast monsoon season that we are in now, so that crossing the strait can be quite lively depending on the tide.
Quite a few of the rally boats left at the same time we did, just before sunrise. At first the ride was very smooth as our big Cummins 450 Turbo diesels overtook the sailing fleet. Within 20 minutes, however, Dedalus was leaping and bucking around as the current hit us broadside! My goodness! Drawers jumped from their tracks and as we were thrown violently left and right, Don and I were thinking we had made a major miscalculation.
However, a slight course adjustment to the north put the seas on the quarter and the ride settled right down. We crossed the Strait on the backs of the engines smooth hum and arrived mid afternoon. (For you engineering types, the we ran these big engines at only 1100 rpms with fuel flow at 2.4 gph which, making 8 knots, generally averages 1mpg. With a 4000 gallon fuel capacity, that gives Dedalus a very big cruising range...not to mention a horrific fuel bill!) I must admit to feeling a pleasant nostalgia for my years on the dive ships in response to the engines' steady hum.
Dedalus is a very unusual vessel. It was designed by George's brother-in-law, whose wife put the kibosh on any cruising plan. So George ended up taking the plans and having the boat built in Chili. It may be 60' long, but it is only 24' wide (whereas Quantum Leap was 28'), so for its length, it is a bit narrow. Each hull is narrow, too, for the knifelike slice through the water, but that results in narrower accommodation space in the hulls. The master cabin, however, is forward and very spacious, sort of a split level space under a raised cabin deck, with, another split level above and aft of that -- a divine bridge deck which houses the nav station and a long banquette and table behind it to starboard and the all electric galley to port. Aft and down a level is a den-like cabin with a big flat screen TV and behind that is the aft deck with a table and chairs.
One of the nicest spots on the boat, especially in this climate, is the fly bridge which has a small C-shaped bench area around a raised captain's seat. Although George and Melinda say they rarely use the control station there (and why would you need to when the inside station is such an awesome setup), they use it more for morning coffee and evening sundowners. This eagle's nest of a spot provides the 360* view and breeze one misses on other catamarans. Although I'm sure I'm glad I wasn't up here during our rough half hour, for the rest of the trip it was my preferred perch.
Lovina turns out to big a big open roadstead of an anchorage along a coastline of black sand beaches. Behind the shoreline the mountains rise up more steeply to the east where the big volcanoes Agung, Batur and their buddies cluster, while the skyline slopes off more gradually to the west. Backlit at sunset the high profile of nearby Java emerges from the haze; otherwise you wouldn't have a clue it is there!
Quite a few of the Rally boats were already in Lovina and more have arrived since, resulting in a crowd of boats we haven't seen the likes of since Kupang and Darwin. The Rally schedule of events is due to start on Monday the 20th, with a ten-foot high poster on the beach detailing the sequence of activities, performances and dinners.
Ashore is a string of tourist restaurants along the shaded strand, and we've been surprised, actually, by how many land-based tourists seem to be about. Not enough, however, because the streets, beach and even the waters of the bay itself are populated with folk trying to find someway to make a rupiah (or two hundred thousand!) off of you. This high-pressure -- if polite -- salesmanship quickly becomes exhausting.
However, I have just picked up a book Melinda lent me called Fragrant Rice by Janet De Neefe. About Bali from an ex-pat's point of view (Aussie De Neefe and her Balinese husband have a famous restaurant/cooking school in Ubud called Casa Luna), the book begins with the October 13, 2002 bombing in Bali. The bombing not only sent shock waves around the world, but, easy for outsiders to overlook, shockwaves through the Balinese community and its economy.
Just this morning, Don's parents asked, with a tinge of concern, if Bali was Muslim. In fact, as I have detailed in our Ubud escapes, it most definitely is not (although much of where we have been traveling to this point is!) Bali is 95% Hindu. But the association between the evocative island name and the horrendous terrorist act still lingers. It is ironic to realize that this island that is so conscious of spiritual balance, of live-and-let-live, is still tarred with the bad aura of that one act.
So I will try to be more tolerant of the full-court-press of everyday people trying to get ahead rupiah by rupiah after enduring nearly a decade of oh-so-slow economic recovery.
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
September 15, 2011 -- Back to Gili Aer
We barely got a slurp of coffee down before our early departure from Ubud for the fast boat back from Bali to Gili Aer. For anyone following, take note: the Sea Marlin fast boat is a much pleasanter ride than Eka Jawa!
Back on Gili Aer, the anchorage was packed with Rally boats. Hard to believe that when we first arrived we were the only one! It was nice to see again old friends, some of whom, of course aren't so old, but friends made in Darwin, Kupang and Alor! Oddly, the tourist population ashore seemed much diminished.
Quantum Leap, of course was long gone, on their way to Kalimantan and the orangutan experience, so, as planned we moved aboard the 60' power cat, Dedalus. Our hosts George and Melinda made us feel like honored guests. We enjoyed a lovely last dinner ashore with George's visiting brother Stan at Scallywag's, then it was home and to bed for an early departure.
Gwen Hamlin
Cafe Getaway
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
September 11-14, 2011 -- More Bali, Part One
(Please Note: This is a long post I have broken up into three parts with photos in between!)
If I had to sum up Bali in one paragraph (hardly likely, huh?), it would start with a list: Gates, temples, shrines, offerings, walls, sarongs, flowers, petals, touts, deals, kharma, traffic... and rice -- on the table and in the fields.
We were trying to explain to our driver yesterday the meaning of the English word opposite (he asked) -- good/bad, black/white, rich/poor, north/south, good kharma/bad kharma etc -- but in my mind was also the contrast of Bali's philosophy of serenity and balance in a reality of hierarchy, obligation, caste, and constant hustling.
Although Tom and Bette Lee gave us the name of their driver, somehow he never got called. At Ubud Inn we had Gusti, for his connection to the coffee plantation owner, and here at Sagitarius, our room steward Eddie precipitated us toward "a friend with a car" -- Putu. In such a way, tourists are pulled into our place in the hierarchy.
I'm not sure Putu's tribal heritage, but he has an almond-shaped face, golden skin, and long slightly kinky hair he twists up in a tight bun or lets down according to some system I never deciphered. He drives a chocolate-colored Toyota vehicle the shape of a Ford Explorer, with standard transmission and more years on the road than most of the taxi fleet. The windows are heavily tinted so the polisi don't see that he has Western passengers in the back, because he does not have a full taxi license In other words, Putu is working hard to get ahead.
His English is pretty good, but like most people here, it's been learned on the fly and is not infallible. However he is keen to communicate especially when you ask questions about real life in Bali, or about all the Hindu paraphernalia we are constantly driving by.
Unlike the Indonesian islands we have visited previously which were, first predominantly Catholic (despite the loud mosques) -- Timor and Alor -- and later predominantly Muslim --Flores and Lombok --, Bali is 95% Hindu, but a Hinduism that is uniquely Balinese.
According to the Lonely Planet (my bible!), Balinese officially "worship the same gods as the Hindus of India --- the trinity of Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu -- BUT they also have a supreme god, Sanghyang Widi." However, Lonely Planet goes on to say, that in general the trinity is "never seen" nor is Sanghyang Widi often worshipped, but that daily deference is paid to spirits that "are more animist than Hindu." This explains why a young guide at the Mother Temple talked of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu while Putu insisted that "there is only one God, one God!" It is all subject to interpretation, but you'd better not fall down on your daily offerings to the spirits whether you are a store keeper, a taxi driver, a restauranteur or well-to-do hotel owner. Kharma is precarious.
For example, we can delight in the simple charm of the typical daily offering -- a small square basket of plaited palm leaves filled with a flower, a tablespoon of rice, several tiny slices of chili, and often a stick of incense. In the morning, these are placed everywhere -- small shrines, niches in walls, on the sidewalk, or on the steps of a business establishment where patrons must step over and walk around. Today, a particularly holy day that repeats every 15 days, the offering were particularly prolific, heaped in piles that made getting down the sidewalk somewhat of an obstacle course.
Then there is the odd (to us) Balinese habit of dressing their statues in black and white checked sarongs and providing them with parasols. Statues are placed at gates, gates being anything you pass through to enter virtually any kind of a space. According to Putu they are there to provide "security," his English word for standing guard against unwanted spirits. This custom exists at doors to stores, hotels, restaurants, temples, and even villages. Dressing the statues is a "courtesy" (my word) you extend to the statues for special days and ceremonies, or longer if you can afford to do it.
The temple phenomenon is also something you can't really grasp until you've experienced it. Every village has its community temples, every house its family temples no matter how rustic, every temple its shrines, every shrine its offerings. The community's temples are the temple of origin, dedicated to the village's founders; another for the spirits that protect the village, and one for the dead.
Every family compound has much the same, a walled yard with a shrine for the gods to inhabit, one for the "head" (best translated to sanity and perhaps good sense), one for the spirits of the ancestors ("but not their bodies, you understand!), and some I'm still not sure of what/whom they are for...and neither, I suspect is Putu!
When you build a house, you must first build the family temple, and you must build it to the best degree you are able. The gods/spirits aren't greedy, but they will know if they've been stinted! Your returned kharma will be based on your investment, and as you make progress, then it's expected that some of your gain will be put into your shrines to upgrade them.
So as you drive around you see everywhere the industry this supports, the stone (or cast cement?) statues, the stone plinths, the shrine toppers in skeletal form, the elaborate carved panels that get added, the thick grass roofs, the fancy paint and gilt that get added. Where we might lust for a new flat panel TV, Putu lusts for a "quality" shrine topper made by the best craftsmen who are found on the slopes approaching Mt. Agung.
Please don't get the impression that I am belittling this. It just bewilders me, and yes, at the end of the day our American practicality hopes that the tip we leave goes to school books for the kids and not to a fancier shrine. But one has to respect utterly the structure all this gives to a very definite way of life.
If I had to sum up Bali in one paragraph (hardly likely, huh?), it would start with a list: Gates, temples, shrines, offerings, walls, sarongs, flowers, petals, touts, deals, kharma, traffic... and rice -- on the table and in the fields.
We were trying to explain to our driver yesterday the meaning of the English word opposite (he asked) -- good/bad, black/white, rich/poor, north/south, good kharma/bad kharma etc -- but in my mind was also the contrast of Bali's philosophy of serenity and balance in a reality of hierarchy, obligation, caste, and constant hustling.
Although Tom and Bette Lee gave us the name of their driver, somehow he never got called. At Ubud Inn we had Gusti, for his connection to the coffee plantation owner, and here at Sagitarius, our room steward Eddie precipitated us toward "a friend with a car" -- Putu. In such a way, tourists are pulled into our place in the hierarchy.
I'm not sure Putu's tribal heritage, but he has an almond-shaped face, golden skin, and long slightly kinky hair he twists up in a tight bun or lets down according to some system I never deciphered. He drives a chocolate-colored Toyota vehicle the shape of a Ford Explorer, with standard transmission and more years on the road than most of the taxi fleet. The windows are heavily tinted so the polisi don't see that he has Western passengers in the back, because he does not have a full taxi license In other words, Putu is working hard to get ahead.
His English is pretty good, but like most people here, it's been learned on the fly and is not infallible. However he is keen to communicate especially when you ask questions about real life in Bali, or about all the Hindu paraphernalia we are constantly driving by.
Unlike the Indonesian islands we have visited previously which were, first predominantly Catholic (despite the loud mosques) -- Timor and Alor -- and later predominantly Muslim --Flores and Lombok --, Bali is 95% Hindu, but a Hinduism that is uniquely Balinese.
According to the Lonely Planet (my bible!), Balinese officially "worship the same gods as the Hindus of India --- the trinity of Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu -- BUT they also have a supreme god, Sanghyang Widi." However, Lonely Planet goes on to say, that in general the trinity is "never seen" nor is Sanghyang Widi often worshipped, but that daily deference is paid to spirits that "are more animist than Hindu." This explains why a young guide at the Mother Temple talked of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu while Putu insisted that "there is only one God, one God!" It is all subject to interpretation, but you'd better not fall down on your daily offerings to the spirits whether you are a store keeper, a taxi driver, a restauranteur or well-to-do hotel owner. Kharma is precarious.
For example, we can delight in the simple charm of the typical daily offering -- a small square basket of plaited palm leaves filled with a flower, a tablespoon of rice, several tiny slices of chili, and often a stick of incense. In the morning, these are placed everywhere -- small shrines, niches in walls, on the sidewalk, or on the steps of a business establishment where patrons must step over and walk around. Today, a particularly holy day that repeats every 15 days, the offering were particularly prolific, heaped in piles that made getting down the sidewalk somewhat of an obstacle course.
Then there is the odd (to us) Balinese habit of dressing their statues in black and white checked sarongs and providing them with parasols. Statues are placed at gates, gates being anything you pass through to enter virtually any kind of a space. According to Putu they are there to provide "security," his English word for standing guard against unwanted spirits. This custom exists at doors to stores, hotels, restaurants, temples, and even villages. Dressing the statues is a "courtesy" (my word) you extend to the statues for special days and ceremonies, or longer if you can afford to do it.
The temple phenomenon is also something you can't really grasp until you've experienced it. Every village has its community temples, every house its family temples no matter how rustic, every temple its shrines, every shrine its offerings. The community's temples are the temple of origin, dedicated to the village's founders; another for the spirits that protect the village, and one for the dead.
Every family compound has much the same, a walled yard with a shrine for the gods to inhabit, one for the "head" (best translated to sanity and perhaps good sense), one for the spirits of the ancestors ("but not their bodies, you understand!), and some I'm still not sure of what/whom they are for...and neither, I suspect is Putu!
When you build a house, you must first build the family temple, and you must build it to the best degree you are able. The gods/spirits aren't greedy, but they will know if they've been stinted! Your returned kharma will be based on your investment, and as you make progress, then it's expected that some of your gain will be put into your shrines to upgrade them.
So as you drive around you see everywhere the industry this supports, the stone (or cast cement?) statues, the stone plinths, the shrine toppers in skeletal form, the elaborate carved panels that get added, the thick grass roofs, the fancy paint and gilt that get added. Where we might lust for a new flat panel TV, Putu lusts for a "quality" shrine topper made by the best craftsmen who are found on the slopes approaching Mt. Agung.
Please don't get the impression that I am belittling this. It just bewilders me, and yes, at the end of the day our American practicality hopes that the tip we leave goes to school books for the kids and not to a fancier shrine. But one has to respect utterly the structure all this gives to a very definite way of life.
September 11-14 -- More Bali, Part Two (Craftsmen and Temples)
September 11-14, 2011 -- More Bali, Part Two
We spent several days touring about with Putu. We visited many of the typical craftsmen that Bali is famous for. We viewed several awesome rice fields, one with at least 46 levels of terracing! We collected views, and meals at tourist restaurants (where the driver surely gets a kickback), and many temples.
The two temples that most impressed us were Pura Kehen, in Bangli and the temple of most importance to Bali as a whole, Pura Besakih, also known as the Mother Temple high on volcano Agung.
Pura Kehen had no tourists other than ourselves. It is built up a steep hillside with an ancient banyan tree at its base. After donning our sarongs and sashed and climbing the steps, we found a wizened old man who introduced himself as the temple keeper. He told us what every shrine was for and positioned us for the best pictures, many of which he snapped for us with us in them! The ground was littered with the debris of offerings,k surely not just from that morning!
Pura Besakih, high on the slopes of Bali's highest volcano (which, of course, couldn't be seen for the day's misting weather, was the exact opposite (there's that word again, Putu!) Although it is the most important temple to the Balinese, it is the one most abused by hustlers. It's reputation precedes it, from Lonely Planet to Bette Lee to Putu, we are warned not to say yes to anyone for anything. Buy your ticket, don your sarong, and keep your eyes forward and say "No/Tidak" to everyone demanding payment.
It's a long walk up the hill to the temple (Putu was turned back from the shortcut to a closer parking lot!), but perhaps because of the misty weather the tourist traffic was slow and actually the full-court press was relatively lethargic. Once in the temple complex you climb steps and more steps to wander amongst the 23 "separate-but-related" family temples therein. Having climbed the steps we were then told we could not continue without a guide because ceremonies were in progress and only with a guide could we continue. To make a long debate short, in the end we caved, and took the services of a quiet young man who in the end earned the $5 he charged. We did not however pay him until we were on our way out
However, in the end, we were glad we went. If you can ignore the hustle -- the old ladies selling snacks from tubs on their heads, the children pushing postcards at 3/$1, and the hustlers at the entrance -- it is undeniably a most beautiful and spiritual place, perhaps particularly so in the misty weather.
We spent several days touring about with Putu. We visited many of the typical craftsmen that Bali is famous for. We viewed several awesome rice fields, one with at least 46 levels of terracing! We collected views, and meals at tourist restaurants (where the driver surely gets a kickback), and many temples.
The two temples that most impressed us were Pura Kehen, in Bangli and the temple of most importance to Bali as a whole, Pura Besakih, also known as the Mother Temple high on volcano Agung.
Pura Kehen had no tourists other than ourselves. It is built up a steep hillside with an ancient banyan tree at its base. After donning our sarongs and sashed and climbing the steps, we found a wizened old man who introduced himself as the temple keeper. He told us what every shrine was for and positioned us for the best pictures, many of which he snapped for us with us in them! The ground was littered with the debris of offerings,k surely not just from that morning!
Pura Besakih, high on the slopes of Bali's highest volcano (which, of course, couldn't be seen for the day's misting weather, was the exact opposite (there's that word again, Putu!) Although it is the most important temple to the Balinese, it is the one most abused by hustlers. It's reputation precedes it, from Lonely Planet to Bette Lee to Putu, we are warned not to say yes to anyone for anything. Buy your ticket, don your sarong, and keep your eyes forward and say "No/Tidak" to everyone demanding payment.
It's a long walk up the hill to the temple (Putu was turned back from the shortcut to a closer parking lot!), but perhaps because of the misty weather the tourist traffic was slow and actually the full-court press was relatively lethargic. Once in the temple complex you climb steps and more steps to wander amongst the 23 "separate-but-related" family temples therein. Having climbed the steps we were then told we could not continue without a guide because ceremonies were in progress and only with a guide could we continue. To make a long debate short, in the end we caved, and took the services of a quiet young man who in the end earned the $5 he charged. We did not however pay him until we were on our way out
However, in the end, we were glad we went. If you can ignore the hustle -- the old ladies selling snacks from tubs on their heads, the children pushing postcards at 3/$1, and the hustlers at the entrance -- it is undeniably a most beautiful and spiritual place, perhaps particularly so in the misty weather.
September 11-14, 2011 -- More Bali, Part Three
At the front of the family compound, a long slot away from the main lane, was, of course, the family temple. Behind it was a traditional kitchen in which the lady of the house did the cooking on a wood fire, with oven space the size of a toaster oven and one burner for a kettle and a sort of wok shaped utility pan. Meals for the day -- steamed rice, vegetables, and perhaps some meat -- are cooked in the morning and stored in dishes in a cabinet. Like Pacific islanders, Balinese do not expect hot food. We sat on our hostesses bed (she likes to sleep where its warm) and she made us a cup of Balinese coffee that she claimed they grew themselves in the back garden (it was excellent) and served us delicious sweet rice cakes.
Across from the traditional kitchen was the formal beruga used for ceremonies, but then behind it were several more modern structures that were, she said, her sister's house (this included a more modern kitchen!) Out back was a garden, some coffee trees, and a pig sty with three tidy pigs.
Although it was a lovely and interesting stop, the modern buildings suggested that it was no longer very typical of how real Balinese lived. We asked Putu is there were villages still like this off the beaten track, which may be why, at the end of the day, he decided to take up to his home!
I'd expressed an interest in trying a Durian, that notorious SE Asian fruit of the prickly hide and obnoxious smell. People say you either love it or hate it, yet for sure it was in season because we saw piles of them all along the roadside. Putu said his son particularly liked Durian, so he stopped by the road to buy three. But then he was a a loss to where to carry it. It seems they are odiferous even before cutting into, and I made the mistake of teasing him about the smell, so he stoped and tried to rig a way to carry them hanging from the front bumper. This earned us a lot of hilarity from people we passed on the road...pedestrians, motor bikers, other drivers. We gave up and brought them inside.
Putu's family live in a seaside community not far from where we arrived on the ferry. The rains having failed for the past five years, his father has abandoned agriculture and resorted to collecting and sorting black stones, desired by hotels for decoration, from black sands of the beach. From the street the impression is of some sort of familiar suburbia, but reality is very different. Putu's house, shared not just with his wife, three children and parents, but also with another family, is more "traditional" than the one we saw in the traditional village. The whole long building of "rooms" is open on one side and the "kitchen" was also focused on the very same wood stove we'd seen in the morning...although there were some propane burners around too. Putu proudly pointed out his family temple (although he shares that with the other family, too) and the relatively new carved topper he'd been able recently to add to a shrine.
The wife and the three children were presented - aged 8, 5, and 1 -- and the two Durian were hacked into and shared around. The pulp comes out in pods from chambers, and you sort of tear it from the "button" or seeds. I do not know if I can describe the flavor; it is for sure unique in my experience. I think to say it is sort of like a sweet blue cheese brie, is the closest I can get. We did not dislike it....but the follow on burps were odd!
The day going late, Putu pushed to get us back to Ubud by 6pm following the route he takes everyday up, shifting up and down through traffic like a Nascar driver. When we compliment him on his driving, he sighs and explains that his workhorse Toyota (the best) is a good and bad thing. It is old enough he can afford it, but not new enough to really gain him proper entrance into the taxi/tour business. The Japanese, he says, take one look at the older car, and take their business to something newer. As we land cruised back to Ubud through the bustle of late afternoon villages after such a day, you can't help but reflect on all the lives going on in such a different style all around the world. Interestingly, he leaves the car parked in Ubud at night and makes the commute on a more fuel efficient scooter.
A postscript to hierarchy and a Balinese reality check: This morning Eddie, who initially hooked us up with Putu, seemed a bit miffed. Someone had already beat him to delivering our breakfast, but when we thanked him for introducing us to Putu, I said something like "He works hard" intending it as much as a compliment to Eddie for referring us as for Putu. You could almost see Eddie's feathers ruffle. "Not so hard," he said longingly, " he has a car
Black Sand Beach
The Lotus Pond Plaza at Pura Saraswati
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