For those of you that have enjoyed some of my previous posts, here is another account of an experience I had whilst backpacking in Indonesia this year. I have referred briefly to this trip in a JBR, but I thought that some people might be interested to hear about the adventure in more detail.
An Eastern Adventure
As we waited in the dark at 6.00am at the hotel reception, we watched the security man wash the hotel jeep with the radio blaring out loud. It's lucky we're not trying to sleep, we laughed. The taxi was late. You going back to England? the staff on duty asked. No, we laughed, we are not leaving Indonesia yet. The staff here were always surprised when we kept on returning. We had been in Indonesia more than two months now. We are going to Flores, we said. Our reply was met by surprise. None of the staff had traveled this far East, but they said that they had heard it was very beautiful. Be careful, they added, as our taxi arrived and we threw out backpacks into the back.
This was the start of a long trip, which would take us all the way to Flores, an island quite far East of Bali in the chain of islands known as Nusa Tengarra. Since reading about these islands before leaving on my backpacking trip, I had been keen to see them and go to a part of Indonesia that is not visited by tourists on a typical holiday to Bali.
Our plan was to travel from Lombok to Flores by sea. There are many operators that advertise boat trips of this type in Flores (for the reverse journey of course) and in Lombok. However, in Bali your choice pretty much limited to Perama. We booked the one way trip, which took 2 nights and 3 days, on Jl Legian at the main Perama office and paid 1,250,000 each. We chose to pay a little more than we had to in order to have a cabin. This turned out to be one of the best choices of my trip. If you read on, I'm sure you will understand why.
We flew to Lombok that morning with Merpati and were met by a Perama representative, who took us to the Perama office in Mataram. After a nap on the benches in the office, we were woken by the arrival of some Germans who were also booked on the trip. We quickly woke ourselves up and were herded onto a bus, where we squeezed ourselves between the other backpackers and to the back of the bus where the legroom was best.
After a couple of stops at some gardens and a pottery-making villa, we arrived at the small harbour from which our boat was going to leave. Before boarding, the twenty or so of us due to sail to Flores were invited into a house where we enjoyed fresh pisang goreng (fried bananas) and tea. While nibbling on our late breakfast, it soon became apparent that Gemma and I were to be almost the only English speaking passengers on the boat, as most of the conversation going on around us was in Dutch, German and Polish.
It was nearing lunch time when we finally clambered aboard the Perama boat. It was not a large boat; I think in total it can carry about 40 people, but we were lucky that it was only about half full. The cabins were all full, and about 10 people were to sleep on the deck.
We were told that our cabin was upstairs, and we soon rushed up to check it out. It was small, which was to be expected, but contained 2 beds (one on top of the other) and a little bit of space to put a few belongings. We were just glad that we had not had to share a three person cabin, as some others had had to downstairs near the toilets and petrol fumes of the boat.
As we set sail we waved to the crowd of Indonesians that had gathered on the shore to wave us off. It certainly felt like we were setting off on an adventure like we had never experienced before. Lunch was quickly served, and was far tastier than we had expected, Throughout the trip, the food was always similar (usually some rice and vegetables with a different sauce and some fish or chicken), but always very good.
As we sailed away from Lombok, we explored the boat more thoroughly. On the bottom deck, you could sit outside in the fresh air at the front, or inside on benches where the food was served. Here, a drinks cooler kept coke and Bintang cold, and there was the kitchen, toilets and the two 3 person cabins. Upstairs were two 2 person cabins, some space to sit at the front and a big deck at the back covered with sand, where you could lay and sunbathe. This is where most people who didn't have a cabin slept at night.
Early in the evening, we pulled into a small island not far from Lombok. We were all ferried to shore by the small boat that we carried with us, and swam and played volleyball until dark. The crew cooked us fillets of fresh tuna on a fire and we all enjoyed a Bintang or three as we feasted on the fish and rice. It was not long before we started to make conversation with the only other person who had English as their first language on the boat - Jude. Jude was from Australia and in her mid fifties. She had traveled solo to Indonesia on many occasions and had even traveled on this particular boat twice before. A bit of a ‘hippy', if I may say so, Jude was a wonderful character and certainly kept us entertained on the journey.
After some singing around the fire from crew and passengers alike, we were ferried back to the boat to set sail again. Soon, everyone seemed to be bed. Gemma, Jude and I looked at each other. It was only 8:30! The crew all certainly seemed to be in the party mood, so we bought a bottle of vodka and shared it between us all. Soon, they had the music blaring and the disco lights flashing as we danced around the lower deck to the sounds of Bob Marley and UB40. As the (admittedly small) party of the two English girls, the fifty something Aussie hippy and the Indonesian crew wore on into the night, the swell of the sea steadily grew. By the time we decided to head to our cabin, it was definitely strong. Whether it was the movement of the boat or the effect of the Bintang and vodka (I imagine a bit of both), it was only with the help of a couple of the crew that Gemma and I were able to climb the stairs and make it to our little beds for what was left of the night.
We were woken at 7 the next morning by banging on the cabin door. It was the captain. Get up! Get up! Come to the lake! We quickly pulled our clothes on and, quite surprisingly considering the night before, we the first downstairs and ready to go. We had pulled up to Satonda Island off Sumbawa, and were going to swim in the lake there before breakfast. We, perhaps still a little tipsy, were raring to go. Our enthusiasm was not matched by out fellow European travelers, whose faces and grumbling comments (yes, they could speak English when they wanted to) suggested that they had not appreciated our antics the night before. We quickly hopped onto the little boat and were the first to Satonda Island.
After a little walk over a hill, we were at the lake. It was huge and beautiful, and very refreshing so early in the morning. Most of the boat stood on the edge yawning, not wanting to get wet, but I swam right out and it was beautiful.
After breakfast back on board, we set sail again. I cannot pretend that the next 24 hours were enjoyable. All I will say is that is was rough. It was more than rough. The boat threw us around, and by lunch time I was hanging over the front deck feeling sicker than sick. We stopped to eat lunch - I tried to have a little - and I spent the afternoon on my back in the cabin. We stopped at a little island for an hour or so, and just to be on land that was not moving was a nice respite, but soon we were back on board and heading into even rougher seas. After dinner, everyone went to bed as all we could do safely was lie down. We were afraid that if we didn't go to our cabin then, we would never make it up the stairs. It was getting worse. Gemma and I lay on our beds, and we were hitting both sides of the cabin. I was feeling sick again. Gemma was not, but was very scared. ‘Is this normal?' she kept asking me, as we struggled to stay on our mattresses and she tried not to fall off the top bunk altogether. I think I managed to get a little sleep, and when I woke up, Gemma and I agreed that it must be nearly morning. We had been hitting the cabin walls for hours. I turned on the light so that she could check the time. It's only midnight! she exclaimed. We just couldn't believe it. At least seven more hours of this nightmare until morning came.
Eventually, it did come, and with it, calmer seas. The whole boat was relieved. It certainly had been a rough night. It had been an even rougher one for Jude, who had decided to drag her mattress from her cabin downstairs to the upper deck to get away from the German girls being sick in her cabin, and the petrol fumes that were making her feel sick herself. Half way through the night, she was desperate for the toilet, but the sea was so rough that it was impossible to get downstairs to the toilets safely. The only option was to try to go over the side. Precariously, she told us, she had dangled herself over the upper railing and was quite pleased with herself when she had managed to go without falling overboard (I have to admit that this is a feat that I would not have attempted). Happy with her accomplishment, she returned to her mattress on the back deck to try to sleep again. It was only when she laid down again that she realized that the direction of the wind had not been in her favour. It had, in fact, carried her own urine and soaked her mattress thorough.
Komodo was the next stop, and trekking across this dry and barren island is something that I will never forget. The walk was guided, and we spotted two ‘wild' Komodo Dragons (well, I say wild, but they did have GPS collars on so that they can be tracked) as well as two that are fed and kept by the keepers at the national park. It is surreal seeing these legendary creatures, who are the largest extant lizards in the world and actually look like something left over from dinosaur times.
Afterwards, we climbed back aboard and set sail for Flores. There was an air of excitement about the boat, as we were finally reaching our destination. Despite the rough conditions the night and day before, it was somewhat sad that this sea adventure was coming to a close. Still, as we saw Labuanbajo emerging on the horizon, I looked forward to experiencing a part of Indonesia that I knew would be so very different to the part that was had left on that early morning a couple of days before. We were soon to be in Flores, an island of alluring landscapes and magical people. I really could not wait.
After checking into a hut with a magnificent view on the hillside at the Gardena Hotel, we booked a car and driver to travel across the island the next day. After a quick cold and dark shower, it was back to the boat for a farewell dinner and party, where we said good bye to the other passengers and hello to those joining the boat for the return journey. Drinks flowed and we (and hippy Jude) certainly enjoyed ourselves, even if some of our fellow passengers decided to head to their cabins at 8:30pm. You have probably got the idea by now that they were never going to be the life and soul of the party. The crew all had a good time dancing with us and a couple even came onto the mainland with us to a bar in Labuanbajo with ‘live music' (a rarity in Flores - you have come on the perfect night! we were told my the locals when clambering off the boat and onto dry land).
Despite the rough seas, this was a trip to remember. The scenery is stunning, the Komodos are amazing and the overall trip is great fun. It is something that can be feasibly done in three or so days from Bali, and is such a contrast from the usual shops and beach of Kuta. If you have spare time, then it is definitely worth stopping off for a while in Flores. But if time is an issue, the trip is worth doing for the experience itself - you see so much, and you can fly back from Labuanbajo or book a return trip by sea. While I was pleased to be on dry land, as I lay in our hut on the hillside in Flores that final night I could not help but think about how much fun our little adventure across Eastern Indonesia had been.