Archipaddl-over

Two hundred and forty three days after we paddled away from Trinity Beach in Cairns, we waved goodbye to our kayaks from the dusty, hot tarmac of a deserted jetty at Benoa Harbour in Bali. The boats are on their way back to Australia, and the Archipaddlo journey has come to an end.

Five days on a big boat would seem to be a breeze after spending so many days in a kayak but at each stop along the way, and usually in the middle of the night, the crowd of passengers swelled. Every conceivable space on the boat was taken up with mattresses, sheets of cardboard and anything else people could sleep on. Limbs (hopefully still attached) could be seen hanging over the gunnels of the lifeboats while corridors and stairways were impassable. Crossing from our cabin to the dining hall, a distance of about 10 metres, was like walking through a minefield, and we did our best not to step on the pile of sleeping bodies, babies, bags of fruit, and everything else that had been piled in our way. Of course, being a foreigner meant that every eye was glued to us at all times and our every move was scrutinised in detail so we tucked ourselves away into our tiny cabin and hibernated for 5 days.

Overcrowded to the point of bursting, the hulking vessel Awu lived up to our expectations by arriving in Bali at 3am, 11 hours late, leaving us to wait on a shadeless bitumen at a deserted dock in the sprawling harbour for 7 hours until the freight company arrived to collect our kayaks. We waved off Trinity and Birubi in the back of a truck and hope that they somehow find their way back home.

Archipaddlo has been an incredible adventure. Lain and I began with a big dream and although we ended up on a slightly different track to the one we started on, we are so thrilled and proud to have achieved such a grand goal. This has been an unbelievable opportunity for the two of us to explore some incredible parts of the world, places that travellers normally don't visit, and to get there exactly as we wanted to. We have met so many beautiful people, seen, paddled and swum with so much incredible wildlife, explored untouched beaches, reefs and islands and learnt so much about ourselves in the process.

I would really like to thank you all for following the blog, it has been a lot of fun and a great experience for me to distill down some of our experiences into these short snippets along the way. I also enjoyed an excuse to play with expensive gadgets during the trip! Of course through the blog I have only been able to tell a few brief stories, and I feel that there is so much more to this story that I haven't been able to squeeze into the blogs.

My next adventure, therefore, is to take on a challenge that is just as daunting and as big a step outside my comfort zone as the adventure itself, to write a book about our travels. We still have a few months of travelling to go before there's Aussie soil between these toes again so a book won't be on the shelves before Christmas but I hope that some time during 2012 you'll be able to read the rest of the story and see what really went on in making Archipaddlo such a success.

Sometime later on I'll post again with more details of the release of this #1 Bestseller (well, here's hoping!).

Lain and I have now swapped kayaks for backpacks. There's volcanoes to climb, reefs to freedive, busses to catch, borders to cross and who knows what other adventures we'll have. Our kayaks may have left but that is no reason for us to slow down - the adventure of life continues…

Photos: 1. Juz and Lain, team Archipaddlo; 2. The deck of the Awu, just outside our cabin; 3. Our kayaks 'safely' stored on the deck of the Awu; 4. Two small kayaks, one big boat - the Awu at Benoa Harbour, Bali; 5. Swapping kayaks for backpacks, one adventure finishes while another begins.

The last paddle.

Tempted as Lain and I were to stay in the Alor region for the rest of time, it is a truly spectacular place, we paddled in to Kalabahi to meet the huge boat that was destined to carry us and our kayaks back to Bali. We both felt a huge sense of accomplishment and pride knowing that the Archipaddlo adventure was drawing to a close and we chatted along happily for the final paddle of our journey.

Having to spend three weeks in any one spot is normally a nightmare for Lain and I but we somehow managed to put up with the trauma inflicted upon us upon Pulau Kepa. Lovingly operated by a beautiful French family, La Petite Kepa is a friendly, extremely relaxed and welcoming 'homestay' on a tiny island dropped into some of the most rich and abundant coral reef systems on the planet. Anne, Cedric, Lila the eight year old, energetic bundle of joy as well as Anuk and all the beautiful locals who keep the place going made us so welcome and comfortable that we really found it hard to leave. Thanks to you all, I am pretty sure you will see these two adventurers again.

Expecting a certain level of inefficiency from Pelni, the boat company (it is operated by the government), given that the last boat was cancelled without warning, it was not a surprise to discover that our 7pm departure had been delayed. We arrived at the port just before sunset and the crowd of people to swarm our arrival had grown to easily 50 by the time we had slipped out kayaks up onto the boat ramp. We have learnt to work the crowd a little, answer the few key questions to a key member of the swarm and then let him retell the story to every newcomer who joins the zoo.

Seven o'clock slipped past, as did the next estimate of a 10pm departure. Even though we had previously paid for a ticket and the freight of our kayaks, we still did not actually have the required ticket, a situation that you would not see as normal unless you has spent many months travelling in Asia. When the boat finally appeared, some time after 11pm and we still had no way of proving our expensive purchase we wondered if we should have been worried. Nope, just as the last rope was thrown from the enormous vessel to the jetty a voice called to us from the crowd, and our tickets appeared - things always seem to work, they just don't work with logic.

A huge crane was lowered from the front deck, which itself is about 4 stories off the water and our kayaks were hoisted aloft, with not a care in the world for occupational health and safety. They will weather the four day journey to Bali nestled amongst fuel cans and other greasy containers strewn around the front of the deck.

Watching the flood of passengers and freight surge on and off the boat, a passenger liner of vast proportions, all at the same time up just one tiny gangway could only have been more exciting if there had been a herd of wild elephants involved. In true Indonesian style it seems that the sharper your elbows the faster you get to the front, and there is no concept of an orderly queue. For nearly two hours the fracas continued until an unfathomable number of people were crammed into the expansive, cockroach infested third class cabins. For once we have splurged on 'first class' accommodation, our own cosy cabin with a greatly reduced number of cockroaches.

Five weeks ago we left a backpack full of gear in Larantuka, our first stop on the voyage back to Bali. Even though I was the first person off the boat and I deftly manoeuvred my way through the swarm at the dock, I had to travel nearly 20 minutes on a motorbike to collect our bag. Despite the speeding motorbike, when my return journey to the port was coming to an end I heard three loud blasts from the boat, the signal that the liner was sailing. I ran for all I was worth and almost had to leap to catch the gangway before the boat peeled off the dock, much to the joy of my very relieved wife.

We may have finished the paddling but until our kayaks are safely on their way back to Australia, this adventure is far from over.

Pictures: 1. Lain and Lila at La Petite Kepa; 2. The last pack-up; 3. The final paddle; 4. Two small boats are lifted onto one big boat.

Mola Mola

When I was a nipper one of the great joys of my life was being taken with wide eyes and an open mind to explore the dark and towering exhibits of the Queensland Museum. Nowadays housed in an appropriately huge and spacious gallery, the old museum of my youth was the slightly eerie and mysterious (to a five year old) grand, colourful brick building still nestled into Brisbane's inner suburbs. Hanging low from the ceiling (not far off the ground), about half way along the main hall, beside a giant globe of the earth that showed the rough topography of the main mountain ranges, hung the one exhibit that intrigued me more than any other, and the only one that I now have firm memories of. The creature was so strange, so obscure that it could easily have been an alien, or a cruel trick of taxidermy.

The Mola Mola (whose scientific name is also Mola mola) is perhaps more commonly known as it was in the QLD Museum, as the Sun Fish. This giant and very strange fish is the largest and heaviest of the world's bony fish, measuring in at up to 4.5m tip to tip and from 1000 to 2300kg and it is this very fish that Lain and I have been hoping to catch a glimpse of during our travels in Indonesia. 

It was with a great sense of joy, and a little childhood reminiscing,  that today I finally managed to tick this species off the painfully long 'list of things to see before I die'. What caught me by surprise was that this huge, flat, ungainly creature was not only capable of swimming in a straight line (it doesn't appear possible), but with enough speed to launch itself out of the water and breach as though it was giving us its best humpback impression. Over the months of paddling we have seen quite a few USO's (unidentified splashing objects) and after witnessing the splash of the sunfish from close range we realised that they have probably been swimming and splashing around us for much of the way. 

Our days have been recently spent paddling light, unloaded boats through the roaring currents of the Pantar Strait, circumnavigating islands, snorkelling steep coral walls, and just lapping up the incredible environment in this remote and beautiful place. 

There may now be a tick in the Mola Mola box but there are so many other unique and beautiful animals to track down - I suspect we might need another crazy adventure to some other far flung corner of the world to find even more wonders of this awe-inspiring planet. Mmmm…where to next?

Picture: The elusive Mola Mola or Sun Fish. (Not my piccy - cheers Google)

Thank You For The Music

Indonesian people love music and we often hear tunes from distant fishing boats or villages as the sound waves ripple out to us over the ocean. The problem is that there appears to be only one measurement of the quality of music in this culture, that being the decibel.

The adjective 'loud' cannot accurately describe the assault on the ears that is perpetrated by the enormous sound systems and huge blocks of speakers that each and every town uses to blare out ghastly tunes at inappropriate times. Generally the speakers belong to the mosques, and are used for the regular 'call to prayer', that starts as an alarm clock at 4:30am every day. While there is considerable religious significance to calling the prayer, to the untrained ear it sounds somewhat akin to a drunken yobbo slurring loudly into a karaoke microphone after having three teeth knocked out by a bouncer - the perfect alarm clock! For various (and regular) ceremonies the thunderously powerful mosque speakers continue after the call to prayer, to belt out a constant stream of 'music' at deafening volume and for hours on end.

At one point, our last camp on Flores before arriving in Larantuka, we snuck into a quiet and secluded beach about 1km away from the closest town for what we had hoped would be a restful sleep after a very long paddling day. As if to thwart our intentions however, shortly after we crawled into the tent, around about sunset, the music began. When I say 'music', imagine taking the most annoying pre-programmed beats from an old Casio keyboard (eg. the 'Samba' or the 'Waltz') and mixing them into hard-core techno, with some wailing voices in the background, or badly remixed snippets of crappy popular songs - Britney, Bieber and some J-Lo are the standards. This deafening disco continued in an unbroken stream, barely filtered by the surrounding mangroves, ALL night at top volume. We were already eating breakfast at 4:30am when the call to prayer finally put a stop to the din. Ah, the serenity.

To get around many towns the best value transportation is in a 'bemo'. These heavily panel beaten minivans, with uncomfortable 'troop-cartrier' style bench seats in the back are always driven by cool young guys who proudly attempt to blare out music that is no longer measured in decibels, but rather on the Richter scale! Inevitably, when we 'Buleh' (foreigners) board their dangerous, box-shaped, overcrowded missiles, the music is turned up to maximum, perhaps in an attempt to impress these two weary travellers. We are never impressed.

The peace and quiet of the most serene landscape can be broken at all hours by bad house music from any number of mobile phones. Busses should only be boarded by passengers wearing earplugs (I'm not kidding) and if there is a wedding in town be prepared to put up with the cacophony for at least three days on end.

I am sure that any music that is not to your own taste can grate on the ears, especially when played loud. When it is impossible to avoid such an intrusion it is hard not to get annoyed. But then, to find the roads less travelled and to experience the 'real' Indonesia is part of the reason we are here. If everything here was like it was back home there would be no reason to travel, and no new experiences to have. So, Indonesia, we can't hear you - turn it up!

Picture: Juz 'enjoying' the thumping tunes in the back of a pimped up Bemo.

Exp-Alor-ing

'Paradise' is a word that is all too often tossed around, I myself being guilty of using it as a somewhat simplified noun for attempting to describe some of the places we have visited during this Archipaddlo adventure. Perhaps the fantasy tropical island, dripping with lush rainforest and surrounded by a crystal ocean bursting with colourful life, does not really exist, but here in the Alor Islands it is hard to imagine much better. The pace of the Archipaddlo expedition has slowed just a little over the last week, allowing us a little time to make the most of one of the most amazing places we have ever had the good fortune to visit.

After a last minute change of plans we decided that instead of paddling a lap of the Alor and Solor archipelagoes we would instead head east on a one-way trip, finishing at the small port of Kalabahi on Alor Island. From there a large boat was scheduled to ferry us and our scratched and worn-out kayaks back to Bali in time for the kayaks' return trip to Oz. In true Indonesian style though, when we arrived in Kalabahi to book our tickets for the journey, we were informed that our boat was 'resting' and would not be sailing on its scheduled day, or any other day for the next two weeks. Although not quite prisoners, we have few options to escape this area and so we wait.

Having done our time waiting many hours in dusty airport terminals, smoky offices, cramped bus stations and smoggy hotel rooms it is perhaps a just reward for all our efforts that we can enjoy such an incredible playground with which to wait out our days, slowly crossing off the calendar until our boat arrives. Our two hammocks swing in the cooling breeze beneath the native-style grass hut with a commanding view over the rich coral shelf to the surging currents and volcanic islands of the Pantar Strait. If one must wait then one may as well do it in style.

Stripping our kayaks down to bare bones and paddling day trips rather than exhausting journeys with heavily loaded boats has been a refreshing change. We have leapt from our kayaks to swim within huge pods of inquisitive dolphins that dance and play with our silent kayaks. The almost electric pulses of the dolphins' chatter was so loud in the water that it felt like we had plugged a set of headphones into some wild underwater telephone exchange and turned up the volume. Vertical coral walls and wide shallow shelves drip with hundreds of life forms seemingly competing for space upon the rocks, corals and what ever other surface is available to grow on. Fish explode around us in schools so huge and numerous that it is impossible to see far in the crystal clear water. Armies of tuna and other pelagics froth the surface in energetic attacks on their fast-swimming prey. The water is literally teeming with colourful life - perhaps this is paradise after all.

Having had the opportunity to carefully appraise the identifying features of the various cetaceans currently singing away beneath the world's oceans I must admit to an error that I have previously posted on a blog. I wrongly suspected the enormous whale with which we had a close encounter recently to be a fin whale. After careful consideration I have revised this observation and will happily announce that it was in fact a blue whale with which we were sharing the water. There are several sub species of the blue whale (the largest animal ever to have lived on this planet) and the one we have now witnessed on several occasions (and tried to swim with once) is called a 'pygmy blue whale'. Just how a mammal that is over 20m in length can be considered a pygmy I have no idea but the sight of such a giant at close range is a joy that can only fuel our appreciation for the many beautiful wonders of nature.

And so we wait, our days spent somewhere between the hammocks and the coral wall. In some ways I would not be too disappointed if the next boat out of here is cancelled as well. This place is truly paradise.

Pictures: 1. Lain paddling with a pod of hundreds of dolphins; 2. Our 'native' hut on Kepa Island; 3. Lain snorkelling on one of the many coral drop-offs in this incredible paradise.