Few stretches of coastline have been as dramatic and beautiful as the last couple of days of paddling along the north-east corner of Flores. Gigantic limestone cliffs have been ripped into the landscape by roaring currents. Dense tropical rainforest dripped from every crack and crevice in the cliffs like it had been melted into shape by the intense heat. The cauldron of swirling water beneath us concealed endless coral reefs, bright and colourful and boiling with colour. Turtles flipped, fish jumped and we paddled on by.
Indonesian red tape has ensured that the route we hope to achieve needed to be sliced up into stages as our visas can only be issued for 60 days. Our goal for this stage has been Larantuka, a bustling but small port town in eastern Flores. About ten days ago we seriously wondered whether it would be possible to achieve this goal, as the headwinds had made certain that we moved slower than we had hoped. Larantuka became a powerful motivator and we both dug deep to make the distance, and to reach the goal.
An enormous volcano towers above Larantuka and the narrow strait that divides Flores from the islands of the Solor and Alor archipelago. A dawn low tide on a new moon (tides are generally bigger around the full and new moons) ensured that we departed our final campsite in the pitch dark to avoid being trapped by the wide and very shallow seagrass shelf that surrounded our camp. Features on the silhouette of the jagged volcanic peak above Larantuka slowly appeared with the morning light, as did the extensive shallow reef below us. The scene was dramatic and spectacular, a fitting finale for this stage of Archipaddlo.
It wasn't long however before our old foe, the wind, decided that we shouldn't have things so easy on this last day, that we still needed a challenge. We pressed into a strong headwind as we entered the narrow channel where Larantuka lies. Unfortunately narrow channels in this part of the world are like funnels and water roars through them with a vengence. We first noticed a large cargo boat with engines clanking at full power that was literally going nowhere. Even within inches of the shore we could barely paddle into the force of the water, but we did manage to overtake the cargo ship.
Eventually, after expending considerably more effort than we had hoped, and after several long and tiring days of hard paddling, we slipped our kayaks onto a beach just outside Larantuka - we achieved our goal.
Just how and why our boats are stacked in a side room of the tax office is altogether another long story. We needed somewhere to safely store the boats for the next couple of weeks, and despite my personal efforts to avoid the tax department back home at all costs, this seemed like a safe, if somewhat illogical option for storing our boats. I suppose we just chatted to the right person at the right time to get what we needed done. That is the way of things here, and perhaps it is the same everywhere.
Picture: A top spot for lunch (instant noodles again) in north-east Flores.
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