Indonesia 2019 | Last days, last post

I am home, and packing for the yoga retreat. There are some notes left unposted, and also some photos that have arrived in the past few days from friends.

This was an A-mazing trip, every minute filled with adventure. Despite any apprehensions I might have had, it was all do-able, and fun, and tiring (yes) and so worth the time and energy (and money) that went into it.

The long travel is definitely challenging, but I arrived in Vancouver having had a good night's sleep on board, but still feeling stuffy. So it was good to hang out, and not rush home. I was expecting extreme cold, but of course, I missed all that :-) and managed to settle in to home pretty quickly.

Here's some photos to close things off.

The group, ready to hit the water

Our crew

An afternoon on the forward deck

In the water near the jetty

We don't take underwater photos, so if you want to see fish photos, you will have to ask me  to show you them on Wendy's  Snorkeling Etc. facebook page.

Indonesia 2019 | Yambuba Village in Central Raja Ampat

January 15
We sat still last night, and had dinner outside on the upper deck.

Wendy, our Snorkeling Etc. Escort

Margaret, on her way up to the top deck

Karen, Pat and Susan relaxing on the bow (laundry room)

Lightening over one of the islands

Bill, Margaret and Anthony on the top deck

We've been in and out of the water a couple of times today, and then this afternoon visited a quaint village called Yambuba. Unlike so many places, it's orderly, with a main street straight from the jetty, and side streets on a basic grid, many-coloured painted houses, fencing in yellow, green and blue all round, and lots of warm, smiling faces. I was glad to have my camera. We walked through town, and then along the beach, chatting as we went, asking lots of questions or Irwan who seemed to be familiar with everyone and everything.

But first, take a close look here and see if you can't see a mermaid. She's under the jetty, at Yambuba. We did look for her the next day, but she was gone. I call it Crazy Rich Asians 3.

"Mermaid" (costume) under the jetty at Yambuba

Here's some village photos.

Mostly blue houses, green and yellow and blue fences.

These shelters are painted to celebrate the new year and will be repainted for Easter and other occasions.

Robert and Alex decided to charge for photos. No wonder!

This is a loom, that will one day be a large carpet.

Indonesia 2019 | Airborek and Manta Ridge

January 14, 2020
After three more days of coughing and spitting, the conclusion is now that I have bronchitis. Up until now it's been a head cold: sneezing, wheezing and post-nasal drip. I've used up Margaret's arsenal of OTCs, and an now working on the cruise director's supply and what I can beg, borrow or steal from other travellers. I missed several drops over the last three days, but I did get out on the post-breakfast snorkel yesterday and again today. I made it through an hour yesterday before the coughing and my snot-filled mask did me in. Not a pretty picture, to be sure. But I took lots!

Pearl farm and jetty

We are anchored for the day. There are islands all around us here, with tiny jetties, villages, and homestays. I'm sitting on the big cushions on the forward deck, sheltered from the scorching sun by a large tarp. People are paddle boarding, kayaking or swimming in the ocean. I'm going swimming later.

Margaret taking a yoga break

My group in Boat 2, without me!

Bill and Pat from Hawaii out on the water

This morning I started on anti-biotics and I feel the best I have in several days. I went out to see the mantas. That was our sole purpose on that particular drop. They are amazing creatures.  On our first drop they put us practically in the middle of a school of about 10 or 11 giant batman-like fish. There's a cleaning station there on the ridge of the reef, and they are lined up waiting a turn. The cleaner wrasses are busy at work, picking away, and someone said she saw (and probably photographed) small yellow fishes in the open mouth of a manta. Since mantas don't eat fish, he must have been having his quarterly teeth cleaning.

Mantas like to stay in the current, which this morning was quite strong. The strategy was to spot the mantas as they broke the surface of the water, then jump into the water up-current and float toward them. The mantas would swim toward us, and then quickly past us, against the current. You just hang out, and watch them swim effortlessly by, and try not to drown as your jaw drops to your chin and the current carries you forward. I didn't see any photographs, but you can't hang out with them much, or chase them or keep up to them. But watching the photographers, you could only describe it as a manta paparazzi!

But then the boat is there to pick you up, and take you back where your started, jump in again, float, get back in the the boat, and do it all again. It can be hard work getting in and out of the boat in a current. You have to get your flippers off and onto the boat without drowning, wait your turn at the ladder, climb up, get in, put your flippers back on, then mask and snorkel, and be ready to go again, all in record time. I gave out after five or six repeats of that routine!

The guides are fantastic. "Look down, look down" Sadat, my guide for the day,  would yell as another one went by. There were so many, I just needed to stay close to him, and do as I was told. At one point, we were surrounded by mantas on all sides, and the current was so strong he had to hold me in place. And then, as I held him round the waist, he swam with me out of the current. They are all so wonderful, all of the people here, and so helpful!

This afternoon the group went out to snorkel around the jetty. I'm off for a swim in the cool water off the side of the Seven Seas. It will be nice to get in with just a swim suit, instead of all that gear. 

Indonesia 2019 | Hike and The Mangroves of Yanggefo

January 10, 2020

It may seem like we are always moving the boat. The weather has continuously forecast wind and rain, and we have been dodging that since the very first day. But more importantly, this is anything but a "if it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium" trip. Every day is carefully planned to give us the maximum experience in the water. It's not for the convenience of the boat; but for our safety and pleasure that we are moving as much as we are. Before every outing, Alex goes out to the reef, gets in the water, and scouts it out. When he briefs us on the deck, we get a map of the area, with tides and currents marked, details on what to look for, where the best snorkeling might be, and where the boats will drop us, and pick us up. It's very personal, and very good!

I missed the first snorkel of the day, waiting and hoping that the anti-biotics would kick in, and let me breathe without gagging. I'm hot, and sleepy. But just the name of our next reef, Melissa's garden, was enough to get me out there for as long as I could stay.  This is a coral garden, and the water is shallow, abundant with reef fish.  But we were reminded to look out to the blue often, for "things" going by. So today, I added to my list of fishes: blue-spotted ray, colourful striped sweetlips, tiny black blennies hanging on to the underside of the cliff along the edge of the island, a giant clam, Napoleon wrasse, and a delightful moray eel peeking out from his hiding place. Irwan poked a bit, and got him out where we could get a good look!

Our final outing of the day was a hike, 268 steps to a look out. We took the speed boats in to the dock, then stretched ourselves out along the lengthy climb. The route is constructed, so no scrambling required here, but I felt every one of my 67 years as I climbed, trying to keep up to those ahead.  Beads of moisture covered my hands and rivers of sweat ran down my body as we climbed to the summit. The islands are like mushrooms from up there, rising like muffin tops up from the ripples of aquamarine water that gently covers the reefs.


It was a tough climb. There were photos and more photos, and smiles and more photos. There was some reckless behaviour, in an effort to get the best photo. One of our fellow travellers, to the horror of many, climbed onto the railing, and posed for the perfect mantel-piece photo. It ended with a quiet moment on the dock with Anthony and Margaret. We had taken a different stairway down and ended up on a different pier. The boat picked us up, drove us around some small villages and home stays before heading back to the Seven Seas.

January 11, 2020
It was an absolutely surreal experience this morning snorkeling along the edge of the mangroves. I was fearful at first; in my mind's eye was the river through the mangroves in Tenacatita, Mexico and in Vietnam where the exposed roots hung down close to both sides of the boat, giving me a spooky dark chlostrophic feeling. But here there is mangrove on left, and blue on the right. It's very shallow. So shallow you can barely move your arms and legs you just float. The coral is so close you can easily touch it (but don't of course), and the millions of tiny reef fish move in and out, between and among the corals, in schools and solo. The sunlight cast streaks of shadow and light on the corals, lifting the colours from paleness to brilliance, and making the fish seem almost translucent. Still, every strip or dot or speckle of their mature bodies was visible on the tiniest of fish. Even the tiniest cardinal fish, smaller than your baby finger, showed off distinctive black polka dots. I felt like I was floating through an aquarium. I swept my hand over the many-coloured Christmas tree worms, and watched them instantly close to make a gaping hole in the rock. I passed my hand through the light shining on a tiny blue clam, and watched as he closed then opened again, closed then opened again with each pass of my hand. I watched as a juvenile batfish swam casually among us, modeling for the cameras that swept in to capture his best pose. I studied the movement of a single anemone fish and scurried off at the sight of a snake-like banded krate.

Today I added to my list: banded krate or banded snake fish, false clown anemone, Clark's anemone, blue clams, pyjama cardinal fish, dragon fish, and a crocodile fish.

Indonesia 2019 | Lenmakana Jelly fish lake

January 9, 2020
Sitting in the lobby/ dining room after an adventure-filled morning. It's a late lunch-- 2pm. The boat is moving, in hope of avoiding a rapidly progressing storm. A light rain is falling, and moisture rises off the water and obscures the islands.

It was an early start to the morning: they moved the boat starting at 4am. The engine starts up first, then the anchors come up. Once we start to cruise there's just the steady soft hum of the engine and a gentle sway of the boat. I fell back into a deep sleep to the sound of waves gently slapping the sides of the boat.

After an early 7 am light breakfast we pile into the speed boats and head for an isolated salt water lake filled with jelly fish. The briefing on this excursion had set most of us to wondering if this was one to skip. There was talk of good footwear (no flip flops or open toes) to help us over the rocks, and long pants to avoid scrapes and bruises on our legs (both of us came away with bruises despite the long pants). Alex warned of a tough rocky climb, starting with a rope, then nothing but tree trunks and rock holds. It was 6 minutes for him (he'd already scouted the site earlier in the morning), but expect 12 minutes for us. We took about 20. It's a steep climb of about 50 m up and then 50 down. Well, it was all of that. The rock is limestone, with deep ridges. There are lots of hand holds--rocks and tree trunks--but nowhere to put your feet. It's not so much hard, as focused and intense. The first boat with Alex made it up in record time; Sadat carefully guided us up and down, both times. Left foot here, right foot here, hand here. Up and up, then down, down, down. And there it was, a lake filled with jelly fish, the non-stinging kind.

Picture a cool mountain lake, surrounded by lush verdant forest. Imagine it motionless, except for the cautiously moving snorkelers who have invaded. Under water, it's like a millions bubbles, floating gently, their tentacles stretched beneath them, some as small as my thumbnail, others the size of a softball. Some are completely transparent, and nearly flat; most have caramel-coloured fluff on the rim of the dome, and on the tentacles. The smallest ones puff along to the rhythm of I-THINK-I-can, I-think-I-can. The mid-sized ones, maybe the size of a tennis ball, are like joggers: TA-da, ta-da. It's like watching a heart beat. The biggest ones are pretty relaxed and I quickly fall into their yoga-like breathing in, then out. In, then out. I fell into a bit of a trance, floating, not moving my legs or arms, not wanting to disturb their peace, but feeling the feathery touch of their bodies against my skin, and watching their gentle movements as they bump into my facemask. Margaret took this photo from shore. A bit hard to see the jellyfish but you get the idea. Click on it to make it bigger--the photo that is.

Sadat guided us safely and slowly back up and over, then it was into the speed boat and home for breakfast. The next trip was a swim through the "cathedral", a 30 m. high cave. Fortunately I wore a snorkel and mask; I've been swimming but this might have been a bit much. First you jump in off a cliff--well, a low one. But it's the cool way to get in (the uncool way is to go down the steps from the boardwalk and walk in--not). Margaret went first. What choice did I have. Okay, so big splash, clear the mask, and swim, in the mostly dark, for 300 meters, stare up at the stalectytes, and swim back. It's pretty cool.

We've just been briefed, and we have an 80 nautical mile trip to a (hopefully) safe harbor and some snorkeling tomorrow.

Indonesia 2019 | Snorkeling the shallow reefs.

January 10, 2020
It's just after lunch on our second day of snorkeling and we've been in the water 6 times, I think-- twice already today--and several fabulous meals. I'm sitting on upper deck in front of the wheel house, trying to avoid the scorching hot sun. Next to me, a large brass bell hangs is suspended from an ironwood hanger mounted to one of the masts. A knotty and knotted rope hangs down. At about three Alex will ring the bell and that "ding ding", as we call it, will signal that it's time to gear up and get ready to go.

I almost forgot about the visit to see the baby black tip sharks. This was a sidetrip in the speed boats to an island. We crouched low in the shallow  water, with just our snorkels, or you could stand on shore and watch them just as well. Alex took bate with him, and they came in for a taste. It seemed like hundreds, but hard to say. When we were told about this, we thought, babies, maybe six or 10 inches. Not. They were about 2 feet long, and darted among us while munching on fish bate. One took a tiny bite at Andrea's  pinky finger and left five tiny teeth marks as a souvenir!

We are anchored between Wedding Cake Island and No Name Island. After snorkeling around that reef this morning, Margaret suggested Pre-nuptial agreement might be appropriate. I like it, but not sure it will win the up-coming contest at dinnertime. Out snorkel this morning along the shallow reef was breathtaking. The sheer variety of coral and fishes overwhelms: the colors are both brilliant and subtle. There is hard plate coral fixed in its place on rock, and on the sloping walls of the reef. They look like you ought to go sit on the. There are lacy fan corals that play in the current, some of them as large as 10m across. The free floating feather stars move about and attach wherever they choose, hang out for a bit, then move on. No photos underwater. Maybe next time.

My "fishlist" for these first two days reads like this: a schooling bar fish, schooling needle fish, mauve star fish, barimundi, leopard fish, yellow box fish, fusilier in huge schools, clown trigger fish, sardines in big schools, Clark's anemone fish, moorish idols, blue clam, bullhead parrotfish, a pair of huge angel fish, green turtle, baby black tip sharks, Christmas tree worms in multiple colors, damsel fish, spinney backed anemone, orange starfish, yellow snappers in a school, Indonesian sweetlips, sea cucumber, a pipe fish, a lobster hiding in the rocks, trumpet fish, nudibranch, and feather stars. It's a testament to our outstanding guide--weve had Alex these first few days--that I saw and can identify all of these sea creatures!

I fell asleep on the couches upstairs before heading out, and then again when we came in from visiting an amazing coral garden. It's like a vibrant, living, under water coat of many colors. I was cold and tired when I came in, so slept again. Eat, sleep, snorkel. Repeat.

I have what is probably the seasonal (summer) cold, at least that's what it feels like. The car exhaust and barbecues in Sumatra was bothering my nose and throat right from the start of our time there. By Fridaylast week, I hit the wall with post- nasal shit, and I've been taking OTCs ever since. If I'm late taking something, I suffer. And when we run out of Sudafed, which is soon, I'll be I trouble. And if Margaret gets it, we are in trouble.

Indonesia 2019 | Aboard The Seven Seas

January 6, 2020
We arrived on time this morning in Sarong, our jumping off point for the snorkeling trip, after another 20 hours or so of travel. Goodbye Samosir.
We were up at 630, fed, packed and at the dock by 830, and met up with the car on the other side by 945. There was just one stop in the four-hour drive to lunch and the airport in Medan, and what a stop--an orchid greenhouse. I've never seen orchids in their infant state, or such variety. I'll let the photos do the talking. We check into our day hotel at 230, reorganize our bags for flying, shower and snooze. Goodbye Sumatra, goodbye Deslim and Nasim.

A late departure from Medan got us into Jakarta with nothing much in our tummies and nothing open but Starbucks. There was no GF food on either flight so I settled for yogurt and my own cereal pack for dinner. We met up with Wendy and many of our group so we had a chance to get started on names.

This morning, we were met at the airport by Alex, our cruise director, and the cars that would transport us to the dock. Somewhere out there was our boat, and the ride out was just one long anticipation. Leaving the land, and heading out to sea, I kept thinking, one of these is my home for the next 11days.
The boat is a two-masted Buginese schooner, traditional Indonesian design, and very common in these waters. Heavy sacks of sails hang from the tall wooden masts; two speed boats fill the forward deck. Our cabin is one of 8 on the lower deck, with twin beds, staggered so I'm not sleeping under the upper one, a cabinet with drawers, and wet bathroom. There are three cabins on the upper deck, a shady lounge aft, the wheel room, and more seating forward.

It's time for our briefing. We are in the lounge on the main deck, which serves as our dining room. It's a full house, 16 passengers and 17 crew, including two women.
Alex explains the process of guiding and snorkeling, and how we will transport to the reefs. The anticipation is palpable. The schedule is a lot like the Maldives. In the water early before breakfast, a full breakfast, back in the water, lunch, back in the water, and potentially a night snorkel before dinner. Eat, sleep, snorkel. Repeat.

We've had our first meal. White rice (of course), chicken teriyaki (not for me), pan-seared tuna with sesame and ginger (all you can eat tuna!), vegetable puff (nope), sauteed water spinach, mixed salad, and fresh fruit. Always, there is fresh fruit.

Kitchen crew

Sitting on the aft deck in the shade watching the islands roll by. The pages of my journal flutter in the warm breeze, and wisps of hair sneak out from under my headband to tickle my chin. Bill from Oahu is sleeping soundly down the way, his tanned legs stretched out, legs resting on the coffee table, well-toned swimmer's arms folded against his chest, fists tucked into his arm-pits.

I can see how this could become my go-to space. Merlot-coloured upholstered cushions form a u- shape around the box-like aft lounge. Oversized back cushions in lime green, tangerine and Chile-pepper red create a soft backing. I'm slouched against a batik design, a cinammon-coloured bolster under my outstretched knees. Anthony has joined us, his headphones on, music playing in his ears. The slapping of the waves is interrupted only by the laughter and incomprehensible chatter from the crews' lounge on the deck below.

I've dropped by to chat with the Captain in the wheel house and he shows me the route on the map. We've gone through a long channel, headed mainly south. Our destination is a safe harbor in which to anchor, and wait out a storm that has developed in the north.

Bill, Anthony, and Karen on the way-upper deck

Alex says the boat doesn't sail in winds over 15 knots: it's just very uncomfortable, he says, when the furniture starts sliding back and forth across the floor and the dishes come flying out of the cabinets. The winds forecast for the north will be 20-25 knots, so we're going south, where we can easily enjoy three days of good snorkeling while waiting it out. Given all the travelling of the last week or so, I'm happy for this quiet day on the boat, traversing 100 nautical miles of sea green ocean, endless sky, nothing on the horizon but the occasional boat.