The reflection of the dark red shadow-moon shimmered
like molten copper upon the sea, and shooting stars streaked across
the sky. The total eclipse of the moon waxed and
waned as we sailed through the night toward the lilac-colored promise of dawn. It was our fourth night at sea, sailing the hundreds of sea miles from
Thursday Island, Australia, toward Tual, our first landfall in Indonesia.
I watched much of the eclipse as we sailed through the night.
The weather was fair as we put to sea from Thursday Island. We pushed through terrific five knot currents and turbulent
rips as we departed T.I., but the sea was calm once we got away from the shore
and the following 16 knot wind pushed us along our way. Away from shore, we settled into the rhythm of the sea and in a sense, becoming part of the boat itself. In the following days, watch followed watch,
day followed night.
The sea lit by the full moon and green and red running lights. Ideal overnight sailing conditions.
During each watch,
we scanned the horizon visually at least every ten minutes for ships, fishing
boats, nets, rafts and floating debris, and monitored our course on the
navigation screen and at night, the radar. We tried to sleep and eat
efficiently in our few hours off, but fatigue was inevitable and sleep scarce.
At the nav station. Watching the chart, the radar, and then going outside in the blackness
to watch for obstacles invisible to our electronics.
The hours and days went by. Gordon hooked a
nice tuna in the early morning, and landed it by himself, but the fish flipping
and bleeding all over the cockpit roused the Captain from his sleep to a big
cleanup job! Half of the fish was fabulous, sautéed in a sesame crust, and, sadly, the other half went overboard due to a terrible curry recipe which flopped
spectacularly. It was the only fish we caught on the whole trip!
We sighted our first Indonesian fishermen in
long narrow boats festooned with all kinds of lights, lines and flags. They looked
so exotic on that first day, and became commonplace as the weeks went by. The wind remained moderate, but as we passed
the southern tip of New Guinea the sea was choppy and mounded up, waves coming
from several directions. These erratic waves would slam against the hulls,
sounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer, and sleep was impossible at
those times. One night Gilles had to make a hard evasive maneuver to avoid hitting a local fishing boat running with no lights, which did not appear on the
radar.
We arrived at Tual, rested and had a lazy day of much-needed
rest at anchor. When we went ashore to clear through Customs and Immigration,
we attracted so much attention we felt like rock stars. We were surrounded by
children and even adults as we went thru the day, and little children furtively
felt my hair when we sat down for a rest. The people were full of smiles and
laughter and waved at us as they passed.
I think that foreigners don’t pass thru here so often!
At the morning market. So exotic .
Gordon and I
stopped to look at the mosque, where the doorman eyed us until the Imam came to
welcome us inside.
Inside the new mosque. Very pretty. Saudi Arabia helps to build them.
The next day we toured the island with Olaf, a guide Gilles
met while clearing in, and we went to a local market, a catholic shrine with a
panoramic overlook, a natural pool in a nutmeg grove and a grotto cave filled
with a mythical past and crystal clear spring water.
Having fun with Olaf, Gilles and Gordon at the springs and pool.
Gordon enjoying a luscious swim. Sadly I didn't bring my swim suit.
Colorful buildings at the natural pool.
A nutmeg seed, surrounded by red mace spice. The taste of Christmas eggnog.
Historically and currently both are valuable commodities for the islanders.
We lunched on savory
grilled fish, then went on to a lovely beach where we met some other cruisers
on the rally. At the end of the day, we went to a local market and the
bargaining for mangoes and dragonfruit commenced, with unfamiliar currency
where 20,000 rupiah equals a dollar, no command of the language, and a crowd of
curiosity seekers gathering to watch the show.
Delicious charcoal grilled fish!
On the last day we sailed around
to that beach, both of us crew perched on the bow to watch for reefs ahead. We
spent the day swimming, snorkeling and lounging, and had fish for dinner at a
tiki hut lit by fairy lights in the coconut groves on the beach.
Banda's waterfront
We departed for Banda, the island of nutmeg, and had
an uneventful motorsail for 29 hours. We passed a southern right whale and gray dolphins frisking in the sea.
Volcano Gunung Api, dozing until the earth shakes again.
The approach to the inhabited Island of
Banda Neira was lovely and lush. Here is the home of nutmeg trees, and in the
past it was the most important trading center for this coveted spice. The Dutch
East India Company had headquarters here, a massive fortress looming of the
town, and on long walks we found many Dutch colonial era buildings and
ruins. We were welcomed by Aba, a
prominent businessman and the head of preparations to welcome the rally. There were dancers, gongs and drums and the
cruisers mingled and socialized while enjoying a fine meal and cold Bintang
beer.
Lovely local girls, who welcomed us with dance. The bamboo sticks are used to collect nutmegs from the trees.
The sound of the music is in this clip.We returned to the boat after dark by wending our way through the warrens
of the diesel docks and fish market, the reek of fish and fuel clinging to our
nostrils and shoes. The locals shook their heads about the route we chose, but
helped us find our way.
Banda's waterfront by day....
The yellow container is made from an old tire. Clever.
Dutch East India Company 's massive Fort Belgica on Banda, with the volcano in the background.
On the ramparts of the fort, overlooking the bay.
The volano Gunung Api looms over Banda Neira.
Gordon and I climbed Gunung Api, the menacing volcano
with its head wreathed in the morning mist, just across the channel from Banda.
This volcano had a big eruption in the 1880’s, and also the 1980's, killing some and driving
islanders from their homes. We made it about halfway up, where the steep
woodland path gave way to loose scree. Embarrassingly, I was dehydrated and
feeling poorly that day so I never made it to the summit. Rats!
A giant spider on the trail going up the volcano.
View from halfway up the volcano just before I wimped out.
We departed for Tifu village on Buru island. We
arrived after sailing for 40 hours, about 220 nautical miles. So glad to be in the tiny
protected anchorage surrounded by steep green mountains, we were ushered to a
tent set up in the town square at the bottom of the quay.
Welcome to Tifu village!
We were welcomed with
drums and gongs, dance and song, and speechifying by the local dignitaries,
including the Bupati, the district mayor, dapper in his Stetson hat and
cowboy boots. The dancers, ladies of all ages, invited us to join; I joined
first and soon all the cruisers and local dignitaries joined in the fun.
They
were so welcoming and loved taking selfies with us! We were invited into their
pretty homes and treated to a feast of local foods.
The ladies we danced with, back in their daily clothes, were my pals.
Little Dudes mugging...
Little dudes skinny dipping!
The next day’s activity was a tour upcountry to the
village of Mngbeguan. The “bus” turned out to be all the pickup trucks in town,
and we piled into the beds and available seats, packed in tight. I sat on my
flipflops, which cushioned my sitzbones from battering by the corrugated truck
bed. For two hours we bounced and bumped up the road, crashing into the
occasional pothole, while packed in the back we supported ourselves and each
other. Much bruising, and much laughter ensued.
Cruisers packed into the pick-up truck.
I got to know my neighbors
Terry and Mike from Australia and Russ the Welshman, and so enjoyed their humor,
laughing about the battering we were taking. We were treated to more music and
feasting with pork cooked with lemongrass inside a sealed section of green
bamboo, nice stewed eggplant, custardy pumpkin cakes, chopped green cassava
leaf (like spinach),
Welcoming dancers.
All of the drummers were men except this gal....she was GOOD!
The village headmen welcoming us. Their headscarfs are earned badges of honor.
The band was enthusiastic!
Cruisers Hugh and Sven enjoy local foods,
including pork steamed inside a tube of fresh bamboo. Delish
and demonstration of a special fishing technique, and in
spite of rain, it was a blast. An elder demonstrated a special fishing
technique, using a long wand of a certain bush, broken so it had a long strand
of bark trailing at the end where a worm was tied on, and a special chant was
sung. Of course, with 40 yachties and a hundred villagers splashing around in the
river, no fish was fool enough to bite.
More music and dance under a tarp in the rain, and we headed back to
Tifu.
An elder explaining how the fish are caught.
A man fishing with the special stick
The next day the villagers took us in boats to Air
Babunya, a lovely waterfall right at the beach. Gilles and I missed the
boat, but were rescued by crew of Kenobi who saw us waving and came in their dinghy to ferry us
to the boat.
Cruisers riding in the longboat from Tifu to Air Babunya.
An exiting trip. There were big swells.
Sandra of Blue Roger, Russ, "Handsome Mike", and Gilles on the long boat.
We beached the boats, and the waterfall was right there.
It was refreshing to swim in fresh cool water after nearly
a month of sailing, and you could go underneath the waterfall and hide behind the
curtain of falling water. We enjoyed cool green coconuts for only ten cents.
At the waterfall and river of Air Babunya. Great to swim in cool, fresh water.
The following day was cruiser Francesca’s
birthday, and she arranged for a pig roast and potluck. The locals aren’t used
to cooking meat low and slow, so the yachtie men jumped in to bank roaring
flames into mounds of coals. What a
delicious meal, and we got to know our fellow cruisers better. That night was
the closing ceremony, and I was invited to speak on behalf of the cruisers and
thank the village, officials and everyone for their warm and gracious
hospitality. More dancing and feasting,
and we were sad to be leaving.
Smiling faces everywhere. This man has been chewing red betelnut.
Here, first Gordon, then I, then Gilles all caught the highly infectious and virulent cough that circulated through the fleet for the next two months. For
me it went quickly to the lungs and became bronchitis/walking pneumonia, which
took two courses of Ampicillin to finally break.
Gordon enjoying a dip. Shark-free and saltie-free!
We sailed for Pasar Wajo on south Buton island, through seas like a
washing machine with heavy cross chop, and arrived after about 49 hours. Russ aboard Mandolin was the first to arrive
and greeted us as we anchored to the sound of opera from his boat. He dinghied
over and invited me to join him and Rusdi, our local host, to meet with the
minister of tourism.
Russ, Rusdi, me and "my brother", the curly-haired local Minister of Tourism
We went on to run errands like finding an ATM, the local market for bok choy, tomatoes and boiled peanuts, and fuel. Rusdi also took us to visit the 15th century fort of the founding Sultana (yes, a woman), then to his grandfather’s traditional house and cassava garden overlooking the bay.
Sitting on the throne in the ruins of the palace.
Rusdi's Grandfather's house. The stilts are tilted in to make it stable in the wind.
The small bushes around are cassava, and Rusdi's wife cooked some for us.
The lovely view from the house.
The cruisers were invited to the Bupati's mansion in celebration of Eid, where we were treated to a traditional brunch of Butonese dishes. The Bupati and his wife graciously opened their home to us as well.
The Bupati and his wife on the veranda of the mansion on Eid.
Inside the mansion
The Eid feast.
My gentleman friends, dressed elegantly to celebrate Eid.
Rusdi invited me to attend a family wedding the next day, and his wife and daughters kindly dressed me in Butonese finery for the occasion. It was fascinating, the food and companionship was wonderful, sweet Dinda translated for me and kept me hydrated (for I was sweating furiously beneath my layers of satin and cotton) and I was treated so kindly as a guest of honor. What a rare experience. Mantap and terima kasih!
Moms and Aunties getting me dressed. The scarf around the middle is for older ladies.
Paying respects to the bridal party.
More feasting.
And the dancing!
Thank you to sweet Dinda for being my Girl Friday,
with water, camera, shepherding, translation and being her sweet self!
Our hosts invited us to visit a village where arrak, or
palm liquor, is distilled from the fermented sap of the sugar palm. We walked
back through the woods to the homemade still, and sampled the moonshine. The clear liquid has a fiery little kick!
The still where the fermented palm sap is distilled...and below, the mountain dew drips into a jug.
The shiners...Buton mountain boys.
We were assisted in all ways by a large group of
smiling young people eager to practice their English and help us get around the
island. Since the local market was a long distance they gave us rides on
their motorbikes where ever we needed to go, which was great fun. They helped
us make the best deals, find whatever we were looking for, and engaged with us
on every level, always with a beautiful smile.
Gilles and I with Rusdi and our fantastic young guides.
A ten minute presentation of the Dance Festival in Indonesian language,
featuring Marce and Jack of Escape Velocity!
The biggest event of the year in Buton is the extravagant festival of dance, folkways, and music that school children prepare for all
year, which fills the stadium and draws people from all over Buton. A huge feast was prepared where we sat on
carpets with local hosts and dined on home-prepared dishes. We admired the beauty
of young women at their traditional coming-of-age ceremony, the cheerfulness of boys who recently had undergone circumcision, and retired to a
special pavilion to view the afternoon dance performances.
The weavers of Buton. I was presented with a gorgeous yellow sarong.
Feasting again....food from all over the island. We dined with local hostesses.
The blue tint is because we were under a blue canopy!
Lovely flowers.
Our host Rusdi asked
if I would help him out for a minute…sure! How? He needed me to speak on behalf
of the cruisers on national television! The afternoon of dance was a fabulous
spectacle and the joy and goodwill of the Buton people was a cloud of
happiness surrounding us all.
Later that
evening, we gathered with Rusdi, all our guides and other
cruisers for a farewell party on the end of the pier, laughing, dancing and
singing to the guitar one of our guides played so well (even though
I broke one of the strings earlier in the week!)
The last day in Buton,
Gilles invited Rusdi’s beautiful family to visit Samara II, and we shared a meal, lots of laughter, and lounged on
the trampoline ‘til evening shadows gathered
Rusdi's family
From here we raised our sails for the long trip to Flores.......that story is coming next in Part 3.
