The twenty thousand or so islands of Indonesia are stretched along the equator. As it concerns sailing, this puts Indonesia straight in the ITCZ, the Intertropical Convergence Zone. This is the area approximately five degrees to each side of the equator. The trade wind systems of the Northern and Southern hemispheres meet here, creating predominantly – nothing. Remember those old pirate movies where they sit in the middle of the ocean with no wind and dwindling supplies? That’s the ITCZ. That’s sailing in Indonesia. For the last year and a half our idea of a good sail was whenever a thunderstorm whipped the wind to 20-25 knots for ten minutes. Our 750 mile voyage from Tual to Rote promised to finally be something else entirely.

Tual is the capital of the Kei Island archipelago at the Southeastern end of Indonesia, five degrees South of the equator. (More on our stay in Tual and how we got there from Sorong will be for a different post). The islands are exposed to the Southeast trades that blow across the South Pacific at a steady 15-20 knots, and are funneled between Australia and Papua New Guinea. Our journey would lead us along the Pacific ring of fire and the coast of Timor, down to Pulau Rote, the Southern most point of Indonesia at almost 11 degrees Southern latitude. Heading Southwest, our route would give us a wind angle  around 110 degrees, and the forecast showed steady trade winds between 15 and 25 knots. Ideal sailing conditions.

We left our anchorage in the Kei islands early on May 10th, headed to Pulau Nila, a volcano on the ring of fire. We planned to cover the 200 nautical miles in less than 36 hours. This has turned out to be a good distance for us, as we sail for a day, a night, and another day before we reach the next destination. Ute and I can split the night shift between us, which makes for one shorter night, but a good sleep before and after is enough to recover. On this stretch we crossed the “Weber deep”, a part of the Banda sea that is up to 7000 meters deep. (You can drown in a bath tub so the depth does not really matter when you’re sailing, but it is kind of cool!) It is part of the geological fault line where the Australian continental plate meets the Asian plate. A week earlier a 6.8 magnitude earthquake was recorded just 45 kilometers from Nila.

Our sail to Nila started off well with good wind. But as we left the shelter of the islands waves started to build and the sea turned “lumpy”. Waves were 1-2 meters, but at a short period and with some cross seas to break the rhythm. It was not as comfortable as we had hoped. Not bad, but just not comfortable. We were glad to see Nila on the horizon around mid-day the next day. About 5 miles before Nila we reached a mid-sea reef called Nil Desperandum, possibly because of a ship that was wrecked here hundreds of years ago. The reef is almost entirely submerged, with a small sandy island in the middle. There is no pass into the lagoon, and in any case it would have been too shallow for us. Apparently at the right time of the year you can see schools of hammerhead sharks when diving. We tried to see if we could approach close enough to anchor on the Northern tip, but the seabed was very steep, rising from too deep to too shallow very quickly. At least we had a few calmer minutes where the reef sheltered us from the waves. As we steered away from the reef toward Nila the waves picked up again and we saw a big school of dolphins playing and jumping in them. Clearly they don’t mind lumpy seas!

With the Corona pandemic we did not know what to expect in Nila, and whether we would be chased away on arrival. We also had not found any information on anchorages. Obviously we were going off the beaten path. The big Northeast bay looked like it should be good for anchoring on the satellite images, but these do not show whether the depth and ground are suitable. As we approached Nila after over 30 hours under way we were prepared to just turn away and sail on if needed.

The great benefit of the satellite images is that you can (usually) see reefs or other obstructions. We slowly navigated into the coral maze, picking our way where the satellite showed no obstructions, as if we had come here every day of our lives. Pretty far into the bay the water was shallow enough for us to anchor, the island protected us from wind and waves, and there were only a few houses on shore and nobody to be seen. We dropped the hook and relaxed, the first leg of our journey completed.

We had a very calm and peaceful night. There were just a few houses on the island, and nobody minded us. The next day was my birthday, covered in a separate post. We spent a day snorkeling at Karang Dusborgh, then sailed through the night in the direction of Timor. To keep things exciting, our mainsail halyard snapped just before sunset, so we could not use the mainsail and motorsailed with just the jib. It was pretty miserable. Lumpy 2m waves hit us from the side, and the wind drove a cold rain across the boat. No cooking in these conditions, we had Doritos for dinner and took turns steering through the night.

By morning the rain stopped, the sun came out, and in the early afternoon we reached the next group of islands. I had picked a small, uninhabited island called Pulau Kital as our next anchorage. The satellite imagery showed nice beaches and reef. It took some time to find a spot with good holding, but eventually we steered through some coral bommies onto a small sandy patch, where we dropped the hook in three meters of clear, light blue water. It was as if we had parked Rainbow Safari in a pretty little swimming pool. We went for a swim, checked the anchor and that we were far enough away from any coral, then relaxed and had an early bedtime.

Kital turned out to be a beautiful little island. Uninhabited, unspoiled, with a wide, powdery white sand beach three quarters around the island, and the last quarter with picturesque rocks, rising to a small peak covered in lush jungle. We swam, walked on the beach, collected shells. Ute and I joked that if there had been a “For Sale” sign on the island we would have asked for the price 🙂 The only downside was that the rain was back with only short breaks in between, and our little sand patch anchorage was not as calm as we had hoped, with waves washing over the surrounding reef. Ute and I went for a nice drift dive across the bay, then on the third day we raised the anchor early in the morning and set sail for Timor.

In the night we reached the tip of Timor, and the seas calmed down. Just before first light we could see Dili, the capital of Timor Leste, on our port side. There were many lights climbing the hillside. It is not a small town. As the first daylight set in we got a first real view of Timor. It is a moderately dry island (at least on the sheltered North coast), hilly with reddish earth. Soon after sunrise first small columns of smoke rose from the city as people lit fires to cook their breakfast. Within an hour the plumes connected into a grayish haze that hid most of Dili, as we slowly left it behind us and continued along the coast. By late afternoon we reached an area that I dubbed “three beaches”. On the satellite image it looked like three beautiful beaches, protected from the nearby road by hills: likely an uninhabited, comfortable spot for a break.

Eventually we anchored off the third beach, just in time for an evening dinghy ride in and stroll to stretch our legs. The landscape was beautiful, and many shells to be collected on the beach, but the sand was a bit grainy. We have turned into beach snobs, I’m afraid. Back on the boat we got ready for the night, when just before dark a small police boat drove up. “Uh oh, they will chase us away and we will again have to sail through the night”, is what I thought. Instead it turned out that this was the friendliest border control ever. In good English they welcomed us to Timor Leste, and asked if we needed anything. Encouraged I asked if it would be ok for us to stay the night and perhaps even go for a dive in the morning, even though we had not officially checked into the country. They replied: “No problem, enjoy!” What a shame we could not spend more time in Timor Leste!

After a good night’s sleep, Ute and I explored the coral and aquatic life on a short dive, but it was not as spectacular as we heard the diving on the Timor’s Eastern tip is supposed to be. We decided to set sail, continue on a few hours back into Indonesian waters, and in the afternoon we anchored in a very protected, small bay called Gurita. Legend says there is a wreck of an 18th century Spanish boat hidden under water, but we did not stop to check. Today the bay is famous for… a giant, 30 meters tall statue of holy Maria, towering over our anchorage! Apparently a fairly recent construction, this has become a local pilgrimage site for the Christian community in Nusa Tenggara East province. Our plans were different.

The next morning, in the waveless waters of the bay, I winched Ute up to the top of the mast to start the repair of our main sail halyard. While she was up there a small police patrol boat came into the bay. Not again, I thought. We said hello, and I explained we were on our way to Kupang and just fixing the boat on the way. Fortunately they seemed satisfied and drove off, and we continued our work. Little did we know that they had just gone to get reinforcements: as we finished a quick lunch a big customs patrol boat squeezed into the bay and hailed us. We again explained what we were doing, but they insisted on a full check: first quarantine came on board to measure everyone’s temperature and ensure we were healthy (with a laser thermometer from the local hardware store.. at least at 34.6°C I wasn’t running a fever :-). This was followed by an immigration control of our passports and visas, and for the final coup, a customs team in full personal protection gear took a tour of Rainbow Safari to ensure there was no contraband (and the occasional selfie, of course). After 2.5 hours the farce was over and they drove off, and we hurriedly returned to the halyard and just managed to get everything done and complete before sunset. There are no boring days on Rainbow Safari.

The next morning we set sail for Kupang. Approximately 110 miles away, we would reach the anchorage late at night, but we were done with more stops and patrols on the way and just wanted to arrive. The main sail was back in working order just in time: we had strong, if slightly irregular wind coming off the Timor mountains, pushing us at up to 9 knots of speed along the beautiful coast. A good sailing day.

The sail had been stowed for almost a week, and apparently a swarm of large wasps or hornets had decided to build their home in the folds of our sail. They did not like the fact that we disturbed their nest to set sail, and started buzzing around our heads. Thus began an epic battle of man against hornet. We closed the windows and doors to keep the enemy from the kids. With half an eye on the wind and the boat, Ute and I armed ourselves with a flip flop in each hand. Back to back just like in traditional cowboy movies the swatting started. At some point we killed their queen, after which the remaining “Indians” turned into angry Kamikaze fighters and the flip flops into anti-aircraft guns. The boat was strewn in carcasses and hornet bits. Magically we had no losses on our side. The battle was won. Our journey continued more peacefully, but the wind died down at night. At 5 in the morning we finally dropped the anchor in Kupang bay and went to sleep for a few hours.

We had prearranged our arrival in Kupang via an agent and were advised that we could not go to land. We did have a quarantine official come on board to take everyone’s temperature, and with that the agent arranged for health clearance, the entry ticket to our destination Rote. The agent also filled our LPG bottles, and arranged for 320 liters of Diesel to be delivered to us.

At 5:30 the next morning we set sail again and left for Nembrala, Rote. The wind picked up as we turned out of Kupang Bay. The forecast was for 30 knot winds, so we put two reefs into the main sail from the start. The sky was overcast, and it started to rain. In the sparse light we spotted a fish farm just in time to avoid it. We approached the Southwestern tip of Timor, and the open channel between Timor and Rote. The swell began to build up, waves driven by strong winds across the open sea from Australia. As we crossed to Rote we had to keep our course slightly more Southerly than we would have liked, to maintain a 30 degree angle to the waves. We estimated their height at 3-4 meters. Surfing down these waves the maximum speed I recorded was 9.9 knots. Eventually we had to change course to stay North of Rote. I missed the timing, and as we turned a big wave rolled against our port side and salt water spilled over the sides and into the cockpit, drenching cushions and the few things we had not cleared off the deck. Annoying.

As we proceeded along the North coast of Rote the wind continued to increase in strength. With both sails double-reefed we flew along the coast. When I started to see gusts in excess of 35 knots we decided to retrieve the main sail. These were definitely the wildest conditions we have had with Rainbow Safari!

With less sail area out and shielded by the island the rest of the day was an easy sail, and finally just after 5 p.m. we cruised into the small anchorage in Nembrala, where our friends on Family Circus were already waiting for us. Roughly six weeks after clearing out in Sorong, and 12 days after leaving Tual we reached what was to become our home for the next months, our safe haven during Covid.