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.
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