BALI '99 - A TASTE OF BINTANG AND BALI HAI 1999 - EPISODE 3 - by Willy Wombat Graser
A Western Province Waveski Association Travel Experience
A TASTE OF BINTANG AND BALI HAI 1999
EPISODE 3
- by Willy Wombat Graser
We moved on. Our aim of going to Roti Island via East Timour is shattered. The news headlines "56 Beheaded in One Night of Slaughter", streets of terror become rivers of blood, curb our enthusiasm. The Christian versus Muslim fight for independence is exasperated by the impending Indonesian elections. We charter an outrigger and head out through the Sanur Reef gap onto a deep blue rolling sea. Toward the East a sliver of brown and green separating the immense blues of sea and sky, highlighted by towers of cloud whiter than white, lies our destination. Nusa Lembongan disappears as we drop into the churning troughs of the swell but draws ever nearer.
We're still learning. The 7.00am ferry is Rupiah 25000 per person; our charter is 75000 per person. Experience gained yet lost. We could have enjoyed the company of 50 locals with their dogs and chickens. Instead we had the run of the boat with just an offering basket on the bow to protect us from the currents and whirlpools of the deep and narrow Badung Strait. The whole China Sea drains through the 18508 Indonesian Islands between tides. Many boats have been lost to the treacherous currents . The outrigger bamboo poles lashed to their spider leg frames skim through the swirling sea, sending glittering showers against the distant horizon. The bow surges and dives, the offering basket with its array of rice and slices of banana never moved a millimetre, a tribute to the seamanship of our mute skipper and his equally deaf and dumb crewman. Big swells were bursting into high skyward plumes of spray against the seaward cliffs. The deep blue waters of the Strait became turquoise as we chugged into the bay past a play station, luxury yachts and a glass bottom submersible. To the right is a hurling bowl with a soft shoulder - not for the seasick - but, rather at 6' for the hardened committed surfer. The lip launch and subsequent wipeout delivers an awesome mauling. When smaller it befits its name of 'Playground'. To the left along the edge of the lagoon 'Lacerations' zippered its 6' barrels over hapless surfers and, no doubt, causing such to their bodies on the shallow reef. At the end of this wave floats a platform - I wondered if all those huddling on it were only spectators or mostly injured of just plain scared. The outrigger was back at anchor close to the beach and our gear was manhandled along with Bronwyn through the surfline onto a baking, white beach. We had arrived safely.
Jungut Batu - Nusa Lembongan's bigger of two towns is a jumble of assorted abodes fronting on the lagoon and melting into the thick greener inland. Hundreds of jugung (dugouts) bobbed at anchor in the calm crystal clear waters off the palm fringed beach. More colourful vessels of all sizes lay interspersed among thatch, wood and cement sheds and houses above the high water mark. The Mainski Inn, our destination among them - but where and how far. With gestures and much nodding of head, beads of sweat rolling down our brows, we got the message across much to the amusement of a platform of locals resting in the shade of its thatch. The only truck on the islet was summoned and loaded. We bounced along the only road of this tiny speck of land to emerge 600 metres down the beach. The skipper could have dropped us right on the doorstep but here - like elsewhere - tourist is spelt "sucker" and one hand washes the other. Each loss is just another due paid and part of latter tall tales.
Pete and I settled into the rickety upstairs of a chalet, a 35000 Rupiah per night. Wicker wooden palm frond walls, barking geckos, bucket flush toilet, noisy electric fan were negated by the spectacular view of 'Razors' and 'Shipwrecks' to 'Lacerations' across the lazy water of the lagoon and kaleidoscope of life down the beach. What a place! The urge was to sit back but, even here I couldn't do nothing. There were so many questions to answer and waves to surf. We hired a jugung and enjoyed an introduction surf at 'Playground'.
The economy of this dot in the ocean got a big boost with the introduction of Philippine seaweed aquaculture. The low rainfall and high salinity of the sea makes conditions ideal for its growth. Farmers harvest at low tide with snorkel and goggles and fill their jugung to the gunwales, once dried, Hong Kong merchants purchase the weed for the cosmetic and food industry. The calm tropical nights we idled away on the beach recovering from smashing sunsets and bintangs out on the calm lagoon flickered a symphony of strong king paraffin lamps, illuminating the harvesting fields of the chattering apparition like seaweed farmers. Early every morning a 10 minute paddle over a patchwork quilt of seaweed rectangles would see us at 'Shipwrecks', a bowling right ...
More pictures and the rest of the Bali experience soon...... Watch this space!
Photo's and travelogue by Willy Graser
In the Travelogue Series - The Namibian Safari of '98
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