Risk and Reward

Getting off the couch, as Lain and I started planning Archipaddlo all those many months ago, we knew we were taking many risks, and the outcome, let alone the rewards, was uncertain. During our paddles in Indonesia we have had to take quite a few leaps of faith, big risks with uncertain outcomes, and in basically every case we have been rewarded handsomely.

Paddling close to a coastline is usually not so risky. If everything goes wrong you can just paddle (or swim) to the beach and even if you get smashed into shore by beating surf, the outcome would hopefully be positive. Indonesia, however, is an archipelago, and the coastlines don't all match up. Deep water, often over 1km deep within a few hundred metres of the shore, surges and swirls around causing roaring currents in often the most unpredictable places. Crossing between islands, or jumping across wide bays, where currents are at their strongest, places weary paddlers in the very real risk of being swept out to sea never to be seen or heard of again (well, we do have personal locator beacons so we should get found).

After a long day paddling along Gili Moyo off the coast of Sumbabwa we searched for a campsite but could find not a single decent tent site. It was late in the day and we were already tired but we took the risk to paddle an extra 10km to Pulau Satonda, across a wide strait. We paddled hard through the current for just under two hours, to slide up, exhausted, onto a rocky beach just as the sun set. To our surprise a few minutes later a brawny, bronzed Mexican paddled up to us on a stand-up paddle board. Ramon was a divemaster on a live-aboard dive boat anchored in the next bay and when he asked if we needed anything we politely declined. Ten minutes later however, Ramon returned in a dingy with an icy cold six pack of beer for us. We gladly accepted Ramon's kindness and enjoyed our reward as we watched the sun set over the rippling strait.

On a hot day in Flores we set ourselves a bold goal of paddling 50km or so to find the small town of Wodong that apparently had some tourist infrastructure. Desperate for supplies and food we paddled well out to sea past many towns including sprawling Maumere and another town which had a bustling market right on the waterfront. Headwinds rattled us, the heat was exhausting and we paddled past beach after beach of perfect campsites but we took the risk and pressed on. Turning into the tiny bay that according to our map, was supposed to be Wodong, we saw nothing but mangroves and collapsed on the beach, dejected that our efforts were not rewarded. Shortly afterwards I walked down the beach to discover that we had landed about 100m away from a perfect little resort with comfy cabins overlooking the water. Our risk was again rewarded and we spent an extra day recuperating in the comparative luxury of our cabin.

The Alor Strait, separating the islands of Lembata and Pantar is about as risky as any paddling we could hope to achieve in Indonesia. Roaring currents surge unpredictably through the straight and many local fishermen die here being swept north into an endless expanse of warm ocean. Crocodiles thrive in the mangroves and sharks teem in the rich, deep water where whales are unfortunately still hunted. Our first attempt crossing the strait, a 14km crossing to Pulau Lapang, resulted after just 15 minutes, in us being swept so far out to sea that it took nearly an hour to crawl back to the windswept coast of Pulau Lembata. It would have been easier to just aim for the coast of Pulau Pantar but we were determined to make our way to the smaller and more remote islands in the strait. We watched the currents for 24 hours until we felt we had a window of opportunity, and we raced across the strait in the nick of time. Pulau Lapang was an almost treeless and totally flat expanse of coarse, sharp, rocky limestone. One tiny beach hid beneath the shade of some fig and tamarind trees and we took the opportunity to rest here for a day. The real reward for our risky crossing was the treat that lay waiting for us underwater. The snorkelling here was not just the best we have seen in Indonesia, it was by far the best snorkelling either of us had ever seen. A vertical wall of coral, rich with colourful sponges, iridescent gorgonian fans and huge fish dropped into a deep blue abyss. Huge numbers of fish schooled around us as we duck dived repeatedly down into the depths. It was simply breathtaking. No wonder this area is renowned as having some of the best diving in the world.

Risk and reward. These are just a few of the so many rewards we have been fortunate to receive during our travels. The greatest reward though is simply being here and completing this adventure, a reward we could never have found had we not taken the risk to leave in the first place. Your rewards are there waiting, what are you willing to risk to get them?

Photo: Juz enjoying the rewards on offer on Pulau Lapang.

Some Like It Hot.

In Indonesian there are two words for hot - panas and pedas, which better represent the difference between the English words hot (temperature) and hot (spicy). Out here in the Alor islands the two feel like they have been mixed together with a mortar and pestle, creating the sort of heat that makes you feel like your whole body is being smeared with freshly blended chillies while being roasted in an oven.

There is no escape from the heat either, don't think that just because we are bobbing around in kayaks on the ocean we can just jump in for a refreshing dip. We have no qualms about launching into the deep for the occasional splash around, a snorkel over some brilliant reef, or even to release some internal alimentary pressure, but none of these activities could be considered to be refreshing in water that is, we predict, well over 30˚C.

The searing rays of the sun, and a lack of much wind helped to sway our decision to get off the water today earlier than we had planned. We literally felt like we were being deep fried. Fortunately we were able to persuade a small herd of goats to relinquish their shady spot at the back of a rocky beach and we settled in for a day of limited movement, reading books and playing cards, as any form of activity caused our bodies to leak valuable fluids profusely from every pore.

What we failed to notice, stupidly considering we have spent the last 6 months living on tropical beaches, was that the tree above us was not a complete canopy, and small rays of sunshine must have been getting through to us. We both felt the glow of sunburn at about the same time, too late to apply sunscreen but too early in the day not to. A quick dip did nothing to cool us and we rapidly covered up in sunsmart gear for the remainder of the afternoon. As I write, in the 'cool' of the evening, a pool of sweat sits below each of my elbows. Oh, what I would give for a fan.

Despite the heat the paddling has been beautiful. Towering volcanoes jut from the sea like the huge pyramids of some ancient and forgotten race (perhaps it was the hobbits from Flores) while the vertical walls of coral that form the edge of the volcanic massifs plunge away into a bottomless abyss. Water that is so clear we can see every detail of the fish 10m below from our kayaks, teems with life and everything from turtles to whales have surfaced to say hello. Lain has the uncanny ability to be hit with flying fish, jumping fish, just about any fish, to the point where if we were keeping score Lain would have retired not out many innings ago.

After several thousand kilometres, we actually feel like we are finally qualified to paddle in Indonesia. We have worked out our food to the point where every day now we have been eating hearty and fulfilling meals (and some instant noodles) and despite the heat we have had no problem sourcing enough water. We even managed to procure a six-pack of cold beer from Seven Seas, a dive boat we had previously bumped into in the Komodo region. Mark the Aussie captain treated us with a care package of cold goodies and, at 10am, the beers went down a treat (Cheers Mark!).

We don't have too far to go and we have plenty of time to get there so fortunately at this stage we are not in a great hurry. We are still not sure which route we are taking, which beaches we will sleep on or even exactly where we are going. We just hope that we haven't been melted, boiled, fried or baked by the time we get there.

Picture: Attempting to cool off in the evening, and enjoying a yummy dinner on another perfect beach.

A day in the life of Archipaddlo...

Lain here…

Even after all these months of being on the water, you may start to think that the days begin to blend or become a little routine... well somedays they do seem to feel like they are slightly on repeat but somedays are just so unique they once again for the 208th time (or somewhere around there, I have lost track) they feel like a completely new experience. Enter Sunday 23rd October 2011...

We awoke on our sand cay... yes afloat on a sea of sand (or so it felt) with only a small area of sand protecting us from a very (potentially) wet nights sleep. As it is getting close to a new moon we calculated that in fact we are probably just okay to stay on this incredible and isolated sand cay off the coast from a group of islands. Behind the sand cay towards the east on the main land lay an active volcano which we had been watching smoking away over the past couple of days as we paddled towards it. Anyway we awoke to the sun rising up directly behind a smoking volcano on our sand cay... BEAUTIFUL!

We paddled for about an hour and a half and decided to pul up on a distinctly Australian looking beach. For the first time on this trip we found a beach that was surrounded by gum trees with that incredible bush smell of fresh eucalyptus after a rain storm... We couldn't resist so pulled up for a coffee and enjoyed a brief feeling of home, back in the bush.

After coffee we set off again to paddle past our smoking volcano this time to see it from behind. The entire back section of this volcano is actually seeping out yellow gas and smoke and to cruise around the base of this looking directly up 1400m of smoking volcano was a powerful image to behold.

We set off again, this time our destination was a cliff section approx 8km away which we had decided may offer a remote camp for the night. Not long after leaving the beach we paddled across a turtle tied up to a piece of rope attached to a coral bommie. We immediately cut him loose and watched the little guy make his way to (hopefully) a long life of freedom. We continued again and about half way across this bay on route to the cliffs approx 10m away on my left a colossal breath followed by volumous mound on the surface revealed a fin whale! I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement as this mammal approx 20 -25 m long continued around next to me and then directly in front of us (literally just off our bows) just cruising along on the surface. It was the last thing I expected to see in a bay crossing on the northern side of the Alor Islands (although there is a traditional whale hunting village over on the south side!) This whale was one of the highlights of this trip as we watched it swim around popping up and disappearing for the next hour or so. I felt like this was just an incredibly special treat and one that will never be forgotten.

After all this excitement we made it to a gorgeous white sandy beach on the edge of a beautiful reef and set up camp. To top off this spectacular day we got a rain storm pass briefly over us just before dusk so were also afforded the pleasure of a fresh water shower before climbing into the tent for yet another night. Aaaaahhhhhh life...

Just another day in the life of Archipaddlo...

Photo: Dawn on the sand cay, smouldering volcano in the background.

Enough comfort.

Dust forms a layer on pretty much everything in the tax office in Larantuka, and the thick layer that covered our kayaks at least suggested that they had been left alone in their storage room for the last couple of weeks.

Larantuka is not a town accustomed to tourists and it is a challenging place to visit - a test for all of our senses. Indonesian social life seems to revolve around the road so whenever we are walking anywhere we are yelled at from every direction - 'Halo Mister', 'Buleh' (foreigner), 'and touts for all sorts of transport and other services. "Mau ke mana?" (where are you going?) is screamed from every passing vehicle and every stationary individual.

Jumping into a 'bemo' here, the standard form of transport around town, involves cramping into the back of a tiny minivan with several people who are smoking clove cigarettes and a stereo pumping out bad techno with enough base to register on the Richter Scale, while the teenage driver does his best to break the land speed record, dodging chickens all the way. The olfactory senses are treated to a wondrous feast of stimulation when walking through the main 'pasar' (market) where huge fish are being chopped to pieces with machetes in the baking heat of the tropical sun, the stinky fish blood running in thick sheets down the streets and gutters.

All this is assisting us with the motivation to get back out of our comfort zone and back into our kayaks. We have had a couple of weeks out of the boats to zoom around some of the areas of Indonesia more frequently visited by tourists. We snorkelled with turtles, sat in hot springs and under cool waterfalls, paid off the police (what 'international licence'?), swam through a shipwreck, walked on a volcano and in rice fields, fed monkeys, drank too much beer and ate delicious food - sounds like the makings of a comfort zone to me.

Talking about the Richter Scale though, we were fortunate enough to be in Bali when an earthquake rattled the buildings around us - something we have both been hoping to experience in this volcanic country. It was a bizarre and exciting experience to feel the ground beneath our feet that has always felt so solid, move with a strange liquid shaking. For once we were a long way above sea level though, so tsunamis were low on the list for these happy paddlers.

We are now working to a new schedule. There are only two boats a month capable of taking us and our kayaks from eastern Flores back to Bali. In order to send our kayaks back to Australia in time to fulfil our red tape commitments with the Indonesian Government we need to return to Bali at the end of November. In total we now have just over four weeks left of the Archipaddlo Expedition - just enough time to cut a quick 600km lap of the Alor Archipelago. The first hints of wet season are starting to show though so hopefully the odd shower will make a small dint in the 35˚C that assaults us every day.

It is hot, I am not looking forward to more noodles, and we have some challenging currents to negotiate. No more air-con, cold drinks, or restaurant meals. The short break from our kayaks has been great fun but I am looking forward to jumping out of this comfort zone and back out into the ocean. Bring it on.

Picture: Lain enjoying the last day of comfort zone - a 'padang' meal in a roadside restaurant in Larantuka.

The Zoo

It is 9:00am as a buzzing crowd of nervous parents and overexcited children queue at the gates of the zoo. At 9:04 the shutters are raised and the turnstiles start spinning. By 9:07 the first of the children have dragged their parents to their ultimate prize, the lion cage. For the next eight hours it does not matter which way the lion turns, whether he is sleeping, yawning, roaring, eating or taking a dump there will be hundreds of glaring eyes pressed in his direction, and every action will be illuminated by a paparazzi of flash bulbs…I know exactly how he feels.

With somewhere around 230 million intrigued inhabitants, and this being one of the world's most densely populated countries, it it perhaps no wonder that we have found it challenging to locate campsites that are out of the way of the hustle and bustle of daily Indonesian life. Of course one of the joys of paddling in a country like this is to be able to have interaction with so many people from such a different culture, and to appreciate the different subcultures within the country, but this can become very tiring.

Like the lion, some days it is impossible to avoid the crowd. Even when we are up before the 4:30am call to prayer that blares out from every mosque there is usually somebody waiting for us on the beach. An old man wandering the high tide line, and with apparently nothing better to do, stands and stares, a little too close. The concept of 'privacy' doesn't appear to exist in Bahasa Indonesia (indonesian language) and even the idea of personal space appears to be as foreign to many Indonesians as a meat pie and a custard tart.

We control our urges for morning ablutions - it is pretty hard to dig a hole on the beach and discreetly purge when there is an audience staring at your every move - and accept the growing crowd as part of a normal morning routine. I am not sure whether it is the brightly coloured silicone bowls, the orange plastic cutlery, the shiny mountaineering-style, petrol-burning stove, the brand of coffee we drink or the way we crush coconut biscuits into our porridge that is most intriguing to our audience, but every mouthful is scrutinised with the same intensity as though we were the lion tearing bloody flesh from a carcass.

The crowd grows, as we fold the poles and wrap up the nylon walls of our little tent, our only hope of privacy. Our change-room is simply a sarong wrapped around ourselves. We have tried to disperse the crowd on occasions telling them that we need to go to the toilet or to have a wash, but they generally simply smile and nod that they have understood, as though congratulating us on being able to use words from the Indonesian dictionary, without actually comprehending that we wish them to go away. We have given up on this technique now - they never go away.

Finally as we finish packing our boats, the crowd has reached a critical point. From a distance down the beach the bustling numbers have swollen to a point where our boats are surrounded. This then draws more and more people, keen to discover just what it is that is drawing this scrum together. Motorbikes begin to park above the beach, other boats arrive and each new entrant to the fracas asks the same questions.

Everything is poked and prodded. The rudder attracts people like a button in a science museum that would send sparks arcing across electrodes, the paddle is passed around with awe. Anything rubber is pressed and stretched and any moving parts are moved, in turn by every onlooker.

One great advantage of having so many spectators is that we usually have many hands to help push our boats into the water. Laughing and joking, the happy and smiling assistants race us down the sandy beach and our boats are shot out into the shallow water. As the rudders flip down we receive appreciative 'oohs and aahs' from the throng. Usually busting for the toilet by this stage we wave at the crowd and paddle away to find a spot of privacy somewhere in the wide blue yonder.

Waving at the crowd on the beach I think back to the lion in his cage, facing his daily crowd. We have a certain freedom as we paddle in Indonesia, but escaping the crowds is definitely a skill that we have learnt along the way. Fortunately the hours spent on the water are on our terms and this is the one place we can really find privacy, and our freedom.

Photo: Lain entertaining the crowd as we prepare for another day on the water.

Flying High

"Pelan-pelan" (slowly) is the only way to paddle past vast islands, endless reefs

and thousands of kilometres of water. What took us nearly two months to paddle shot past "cepat" (quickly) in just a couple of hours under the wings of the small plane

that zoomed us back to Bali. Massive volcanic peaks that had taken days to paddle around flicked past the small windows of the plane while the tiny white, black, pink, brown and grey beaches that have been our home for so long seemed so familiar even from 16000 feet. Bays, islands, beaches and mountains all had names in my head as I rapidly retraced our steps across this beautiful landscape. Our boats are still waiting back in Larantuka for us to return, hopefully with a few new stamps in our passports and permission to stay a little longer in Indonesia. We'll have a little time out over the next couple of weeks while we spend some time with family, exploring other parts of the archipelago. After just a few days of busses, ojeks (motorbike taxis), taxis and hotels I am missing the simplicity of the kayaks, the tent, the hammocks in the sun and I am looking forward to keeping this adventure rolling. I am however, enjoying the feeling of good food at every meal, and no instant noodles in sight! Photos:

1. The balmy calm that flattens the ocean before a headwind kicks in.

2. Beach Camp - A typical camp and a beautiful sunset on an island near Riung, Flores.

3. Lain paddling through a magical stretch of limestone coast in western Flores.

4. Happy days - On the water for another spectacular sunrise.

5. Chatting with a mangrove fisherman on his punt.

6. Paddling through the crystal water of Flores.

7. Juz, struggling to appreciate the beauty of this spot just seconds before leaping in for another 'royal flush'.

8. Kayorkelling - 'snorkelling' with no need for a mask, from a kayak.

9. The stunning coast just east of Sindeh Bay. 10. The kind of smile that comes after a couple of rest days in paradise. 11. Our cave camp, a cool and quiet spot to rest through the heat of the day, and the heat of the night.