Indo Vs North QLD.

A week on the water and we can't believe time is racing past so quickly. I suppose we are heading east, and we have already crossed one time zone but I have a sneaky suspicion that the headwinds somehow push time past us faster than normal.

The differences between paddling in far north QLD and Indonesia are as many as the number of spices used to add bite to every Balinese meal. From the end of the wet season in QLD you are almost guaranteed a regular trade wind to blast you north east along the coastline. Whether using a sail or not, you couldn't help but derive some benefit from these conditions. Here in Indonesia, in July, the weather is not so constant.

The towering, mountainous peaks of Bali's north shore act like the jumps in a skate park for the wind that flutters and flecks the clouds around the summits while blasting down upon those unweary souls paddling precariously below. Gusts that nearly blow us over come from nowhere, a tailwind that was filling our sails, flips 180 degrees in an instant to blow us back to where we came. Wind can whoosh all morning, dying in the heat of the afternoon, or build steadily from a whisper to a roar as the day ages. We can't predict it, we just keep paddling.

Perhaps though, the single greatest advantage to paddling in such a heavily populated archipelago is that there are just so many people. There are willing hands, from toddlers to toothless octogenarians, willing and waiting to help us drag our heavy plastic vessels up the beach wherever we land. In QLD the kayak adventurer must plan their rations meticulously as the next spot to resupply may be hundreds of kilometres and weeks of paddling away. The overpopulated coastline of Bali, in comparison, has small shops, essential supplies and cheap, friendly restaurants at remarkably regular intervals.

Fresh fish, nasi goreng, cold Coca-cola, chocolate bars, tropical fruit and drinking water are on offer almost wherever one cares to stop. Our boats are significantly lighter as a result than they were, hauling weeks of supplies in QLD. A few rupiah kept dry in a handy hatch can make all the difference to a day and nothing beats sitting out a headwind in the heat of the day than a freshly made, and icy cold mango juice.

Of course a coastline riddled with rice paddies, fishing boats and villages has its challenges as well. Finding a spot to pull up for the night isn't perhaps as straightforward as a pristine Barrier Reef island but so far we have found no issues. Tonight we are camped in the middle of a wide, black beach, our tent neatly tucked between our kayaks. The stored heat in the volcanic rocks below my self-inflating mat only adds to the pleasure of watching shooting stars zoom overhead.

Yep, things might be different over here, but I LIKE IT!

Photo: Taking a lunch break, Bali style.

Paddling to Bali

The very idea of paddling to Bali in the first place was so crazy that many times we wondered if we would ever achieve it. We might now be heading in the opposite direction to what we had originally anticipated but for us, paddling to Bali would be an achievement.

What we didn't expect as we made a 4:15am departure from a small black beach on Java's volcanic eastern shore, was the violent headwind and tearing current that was waiting for us in the Bali Strait. The busy shipping channel separating the mountainous masses of Java and Bali is a narrow funnel, crisscrossed daily by hundreds of ferries, container vessels and boats carrying whatever to wherever.

According to the trusty GPS, we were to expect about 24km of paddling, a small day under benign conditions like those that carried us up most of the coast of north QLD. But these conditions were anything but benign, and as the sun rose it became evident that this was going to be an epic paddle - the details of the trees on the beach we had left still clearly visible despite nearly two hours of hard paddling.

Paddling into wind and current is like riding a pushbike up a steep hill. As soon as you stop cranking the pedals you'll cease to move forward and roll back down the hill. Taking a hand off the paddle for long enough to dip into a hatch for sunscreen, a camera or a bite to eat will result in your boat being thrust backwards, and turned perpendicular to the wind and waves making your recovery arduous and exhausting.

But press on we did, despite the bursting blisters on our hands, the aching muscles and the exhaustion we could not escape. For seven hours we slogged into the strengthening wind, waves checking our progress as they washed over our boats and crashed into our chests. Seven hours at full throttle - we were shattered. The beach finally crunched under the bow of our kayaks, our beaten bodies barely able to flop into the warm water beneath us. This 'small paddle' had turned into one of the hardest, most exhausting days of our lives.

But what a spot we had chanced upon - paradise! Once we had refuelled, rehydrated and rested we were able to fully take in this beach on Pulau Menjangan, a small island just off the coast of Bali. The coral shelf extends for about 80m from the shore before dropping steeply into an endless abyss. The walls of reef harbouring an abundance of life, corals, fish, sponges and all sorts, that would make any tourist brochure look dreary. Acres of underwater garden extended as far as we could see up and down this glorious beach.

This adventure, Archipaddlo, was fuelled by a desire to see parts of the world that other people don't, to push ourselves hard, to be self sufficient and to do it together. This paddle, from Java to Bali, summed it all up in one day. We feel exhausted but truly alive. This paradise is the stuff that dreams are made of, the place people go to when they retreat to the 'happy place' in their head. But we are here, and we deserve this paradise.

Just for safe measure, we took an extra day to recover and explore Pulau Menjangan and its brilliant coral chasms. No point rushing these things.

Picture: Lain soaking up the tropical rays as we relax and recuperate in paradise.

We are on the water!

A black sandy beach, lined with colourful traditional fishing boats and friendly locals, shadowed by smouldering volcanoes and coconut palms, was a fitting starting point for our voyage through Indonesia. The tiny township of Seletreng is a microscopic dot on the map in an area that never sees tourists, let alone two crazy Aussies in shiny kayaks. We were waved on our way with the enthusiasm and goodwill that is so customary to the lovely Indonesians we meet along our way.

Day one was a calm 10km paddle just to get the muscles moving, and the blisters a chance to find their place. Sea snakes slithered past as we neared our first camp, where we were met by two youths casually wielding massive rifles. "Bird hunting" they said while I stared in vain for any sign of wildlife. A perfect campsite, a beautiful sunset and an evening dreaming and chatting excitedly under the stars. What a way to start our adventure.

There is no way to escape the constant stares and the torrent of questions from the crowds of locals gathering around us. Even our breakfast, muesli and dried milk, is so different to their usual nasi goreng that every mouthful is contemplated and discussed by the onlookers. Packing our boats creates all sorts of excitement, our gadgets being met with stares of amazement. A double bladed paddle seemed as revolutionary to one of the locals as a wheel would have been to a cave man.

We were again blessed with dreamy paddling conditions as we dodged the huge nets of the many fishing boats hauling in their catch. Twenty five kilometres was enough today - no point splitting the atom. The afternoon brings a strong easterly wind - we are paddling east. Needless to say, we'll be getting up early from now on to make the most of the calm mornings.

Despite landing in Baluran National Park, on a beach surrounded by coral reef, we were met by a couple of friendly fishermen just bringing in their daily catch. They offered us lunch and selected their best fish for us. Within minutes the fish were killed, gutted (with a stick), skewered on a stick and roasted over the fire we had hastily made. With sambal and kecap manis from our supplies mixed up in a shell, we had a tasty feast. Moments later our chefs sped off to get their catch back to town. After my failures with fishing in the teeming waters of north QLD, I think I like this new style of catching fish!

For the first time in months we were actually able to get into the ocean without casting a thought towards being mauled by a crocodile. The water was a bit murky, the reef surrounded by mangroves, and there wasn't a reptile to be seen. Unfortunately the reef appeared to be the victim of the dynamite fishing trade, and the few tiny fish we saw clinging, terrified, to their territory seemingly acutely aware that they are living in heavily overfished waters.

More than anything, Lain and I are just so thrilled to be back on the water. It has taken a couple of months of hard work and challenges to finally have our boats here and, after the blissful start we have had over the last couple of days, you simply couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces.

Photo: Lain paddling past a colourfully painted traditional fishing boat.

We Have Kayaks Again!!! Let's Go!

The kayaks are finally here! Our gear is in tact. All the paperwork is signed. Our bank balance has been seriously drained. But we have our boats, and we are ready to restart the Archipaddlo Expedition.

Tomorrow morning, at the crack of dawn, we will strap our kayaks to the top of another rusty truck and drive them about 5 hours east of Surabaya, to the coast just near Situbondo in East Java, our new starting point. We had hoped to restart from Surabaya, fittingly the city of sharks and crocodiles, but because of all the delays we would run out of time to paddle to our first major goal, Gili Trawangan, an island just west of Lombok.

The time restriction this time will be to renew our tourist visa in Indonesia - a quick flight to Singapore and back via Jakarta. This is in about two weeks and we have quite a bit of distance to paddle before then.

The spare food we had so carefully prepared back in Australia for this high calorie adventure had to be left in Darwin so our boats will now be stuffed to the gunnels with rice, noodles and chocolate bars - whatever we could find in the oddly stocked Surabayan supermarkets. We'll be topping up water from plastic bottles rather than the crystal clear springs of north QLD. The elements may have changed a little but the adventure remains the same.

Too much time waiting out days in hotel rooms has faded every shade of melanin from our recently bronzed skin to the point that we now resemble the translucent organisms of some deep underground cave. Despite our occasional visit to a gym/swimming pool/badminton court, our muscles are atrophied shadows of their slightly buff memories. Paddling and sunshine might shock these bodies, but we are ready.

Let's go!

Photo: Surabaya - Sura = shark and Baya = crocodile. We hope these creatures don't follow us on our adventure.

The Customs of Customs

Forty-three days. It is an excruciatingly long time to be separated from our kayaks while on a paddling adventure. Like inmates doing time for a crime they never committed, our dusty kayaks were waiting for us today in a massive warehouse in the sprawling Surabaya shipyard.

The not-quite-bulletproof cardboard, bubble wrap and packing tape shells encasing our plastic boats are showing the scars of more than one tussle with a forklift. The boxes containing our precious gear are imprinted with the dusty footprints of too many boots. While we haven't had the chance to fully check our gear yet, it all looks to have made it here in one piece.

Clearly Lain and I needed a lesson in patience, or some serious reason to relax. I can't claim that our time in Surabaya has been overly exciting, and our buoyantly positive attitudes were really starting to wane as the Customs Department kept moving the goalposts for their archaic procedures. "One more day", "Probably Friday", "Just one more signature" - we have heard them all. It has never been a specific enough time, or a long enough window between procedures for us to escape Surabaya and perhaps explore some of the surrounding areas of Java.

Today we were finally reunited with our boats, albeit briefly. We had to be present while the Customs Department performed a thorough check of our gear to make sure we weren't attempting to smuggle any boogie board bags into the country. The process was laughable, and a reminder of the farcical nature of the red tape trail were are riding along.

With our hi-viz vests and hard hats we slipped through the security gate to the dock yard, despite not wearing covered shoes (a mandatory requirement). Our kayaks were piled in a lonely corner of a massive warehouse and we were left to sit with them on our own for about an hour. When finally the entourage of Customs officials, security guards and various other minions arrived the focus of their investigation became making sure that they were able to snap a photo for Facebook with these crazy Aussies and their wild looking boats (minus our mandatory hard hats of course). The officials barely even passed a glancing eye over our well-travelled and tightly packed gear.

The paparazzi session ended with a tick in the box, another signature and one more, "Probably tomorrow". We are not sure if we will actually get our gear tomorrow as it is Friday, and nothing seems to happen here on Fridays. However we'll place our fingers in their customary crossed position in the hope that this time they will actually come through with the goods.

If nothing else, somewhere on Facebook there will be some proof that our kayaks are actually in the country.

Photo: The hive of activity as customs officials buzz around these suspicious looking packages.

Surabaya - the tourist Mecca.

I can just imagine the hordes of tour groups making their once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to Surabaya's international icon - the Sampoerno cigarette factory. However, it was surprisingly fascinating to watch over the 500 or so workers on an overcrowded factory floor frantically and mechanically rolling cigarettes - 325 every hour!

We've wandered the backstreets, dodging the entrails, heads and feet of various animals, all simmering gently in the afternoon sun, and pushed our way through overcrowded shopping malls, narrowly avoiding being rolled into an enormous bundle of batik.

Perhaps the most laughable part of this city is the occasional gem of poor translation or mimicry of some internationally recognised brand name Cock-a-Cola, CFC, or even Dunny Donuts!!

Time is ticking slowly. The kayaks are in the country. Fingers are crossed.

Torpedoing through the red tape.

Delays, waiting, hotel rooms, smoky offices, diarrhoea, bed bugs, overnight busses and trains, concrete jungles, feral bathrooms, and a submarine - hardly the things one would consider integral to a kayaking adventure.

The 12 days it was scheduled to take our kayaks to be transported from Darwin to Singapore has somehow turned into over a month due to unexpected shipping delays. Fortunately we have had extra time to sharpen our scissors and slice through the labyrinth of red tape that the Indonesian authorities have placed in our way.

Lain's remarkable grasp of the language, and her diplomatic dealings with so many stern-faced stiffs behind the tall desks of Jakarta's boxy government offices has resulted in our having "diplomatic immunity" (one for the Lethal Weapon fans). We have a letter from the Department of Trade that states we can bypass the normal processes for importing products into Indonesia. We also have a special permit from the Director General of Customs that gives us
unique rights to paddle our kayaks throughout most of the archipelago. The ship from Singapore is due to arrive in Surabaya today, with our boats hopefully safely packed inside, however without both of these customised letters our kayaks would be on the first boat back to Australia with their rudders between their legs.

Despite so much of our time being spent organising all this red tape we have managed to squeeze in a few days to explore Bogor, a 'small town' (just 3 million people) a short and very overcrowded train ride south of Jakarta. Bogor's crowning glory is a massive botanic gardens, originally built in the early 1800s in the grounds of the Governor General's summer house. Two hundred years on and the massive rainforest trees that line the avenues of this grand garden are perhaps the only old growth forest in Indonesia that is free from the threat of being turned into furniture.

Now that we are waiting the (hopefully) last few days in Surabaya we are exploring this somewhat soul-less city's sparse tourist attractions. We have decided not to go out searching for the mud volcano in the south of the city - a huge, swelling pond of hot mud, swallowing suburbs as it gurgles through the Earth's crust. Instead we found the ex-Russian submarine that, for some reason, is permanently on show in the middle of town. We might even rustle up the energy to go exploring the city's other major tourist attraction, a cigarette factory! Nope, this city is not renowned as a tourist wonderland.

So if all goes to plan (I think we are up to 'Plan Z') then in just a few more days we might actually be able to use these atrophied bodies to slide our paddles back into the water and start heading East. Somewhere here there is an adventure waiting to happen!

Pictures: Lain manipulating Indonesia's red-tape system (in a Russian submarine), and Juz, 'Nature Boy', getting in touch with one of his old friends.