Covid came and went… and this blog clearly was a Covid victim. Although one of the key things that made blogging difficult was there before Covid: the WordPress app did not handle offline authoring very well. On the boat we are often cut off from the Internet. And the times offline coincide with times where I would have time to write, while keeping a watch during long passages.

When we started to sail again in March 2022 I shifted writing to my Predictwind weather app. It includes GPS tracking for the boat, and an easy way to keep friends and family up to date on our progress. And best of all: it works with the IridiumGo satellite connection, so also when under way.

More than anything then this post is a test to see how the WordPress app has evolved in the last few years, and whether it is now possible to create posts offline. That would be a good reason to revive the Rainbow Safari blog!

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.

My birthday this year started in a quiet anchorage beneath the beautiful Nila volcanic island. The sun was shining, and we had had a good and uninterrupted night’s sleep to recover from the 36 hours that brought us here from Tual. Nila is part of the ring of fire, a loop of isolated, little developed islands in East Indonesia. In other words: the perfect place for social distancing during Corona times.

My family welcomed me with a heartily performed rendition of “Happy Birthday”, and I had to blow out the candles on the birthday cake. We had a slow morning, enjoying the view of the volcano, sipping our coffees and tidying up the mess that always accompanies a longer passage through wavy seas. Around 10:30 we raised the anchor, picked our way through the coral shallows, and sailed for an hour to Karang Dusborgh.

This is a reef in the middle of the ocean, probably on the rim of a long extinct and sunken volcano. The reef is always submerged, there is no island, but the rim is very shallow with approx. 1m of water and many waves washing over it. From the satellite images we had picked the spot with a pass through the coral ring into the interior of the reef, and with Ute and Nyala as lookouts we managed to carefully maneuver ourselves into the reef. The shallowest depth that we measured was 7 meters, we need about 2 to be safe. Outside of the ring the sea drops to a thousand meters deep, inside it is 40-60 meters. We slowly motored along the rim and found a spot to anchor that was not too deep, yet far enough away from any coral we might swing into. Lunch time, surrounded by clear water of a myriad hues from deep blue to glassy turquoise, with the lush green volcano Nila towering on the horizon. I could not have wished for a more extravagant setting!

After lunch, sufficiently sure that our anchor would hold Rainbow Safari in place, we suited up, grabbed fins, masks, snorkels and lowered the dinghy to set off and explore. We found the coral on top of the reef beaten up by the incessant waves, but on the outer wall, where the reef started to drop from shallows into deep blue, we found the coral to be healthy and plenty of colorful reef fish. It felt amazing to be snorkeling so far away from any land, just water all around. Sticking our head up we could of course still see Rainbow Safari, and Nila in the distance. As a highlight we spotted a black tip reef shark patrolling the reef below us, and later on two turtles. The larger one disappeared into the deep blue depth, but the smaller one was feeding on the reef and we could observe it for a while. When we got back onto the dinghy Robin sported a big smile: “This is the first time I saw turtles while snorkeling!”

Back on Rainbow Safari we rinsed and cleared away the gear and prepared to raise anchor again. This time we knew the pass was deep enough for us, so without any issues we left Karang Dusborgh and sailed off into the golden sunset, for the next 24 hour passage to Pulau Romang.

(This would have made for a lovely wrap to my birthday, but of course sailing being what it is the peaceful moment lasted about 5 minutes, and then our mainsail came crashing down because the halyard snapped. It’s certainly not all champagne on the aft deck, and don’t let anyone tell you it is! 🙂

About four days after leaving Sorong we made it to Biak, when PNG announced the full closure of all borders. All other island nations on our planned route had already shut down or were in the process of doing so. Slowly it became apparent that our plan of heading East would not work.

We anchored in Biak and contacted the local Indonesian immigration office, to see if they could let us re-enter Indonesia (we had officially cleared out and left the country, a day before our Indonesia visas were due to expire). We had heard that Indonesia was now offering some kind of emergency visa to those stranded in the country, and allowing tourists to overstay their visas without the usual hefty fine ($100 US/person and day!) The officials asked me to come to the office, so armed with face mask and hand sanitizer I set off, hopeful that we would be allowed to return to Indonesia. That turned out to be a false hope. While friendly, the officials insisted that since we had officially already left Indonesia they would not be able to issue any new visa, and that we would need to leave the country. The fact that no other country within 2000 km would accept us did not concern them. The officials allowed me to fill my Diesel jerry cans at the gas station and to buy groceries at the supermarket, and then escorted me to our anchorage to make sure we left. So we loaded everything on board in the pouring rain and raised the anchor, destination unknown, trying to keep up our morale and thinking through what we could possibly do next.

It was early afternoon and there is a group of small islands about four hours from Biak, so that is where we headed. We had heard that the islands still have telephone network coverage, so we planned to do more research on our options and decide what to do there, while giving the kids a chance to get off the boat for the first time in 10 days. We had an uneventful sail and anchored as the last daylight turned into night.

The next day was Ute’s birthday! Nyala and I got up at six to bake a birthday cake and decorate the salon. There was coffee in bed for Ute, and we had a pleasant, sunny birthday morning, making plans for a beach BBQ in the afternoon. We did not yet know the day would take a different turn. We got everything ready in the morning for a beach outing to look for a good BBQ location and give the kids some play time. But just as we were getting ready to go to the beach a small police boat arrived in the anchorage, some distance from us.

We debated whether to wait or to go ahead. Since the police boat made no sign of approaching us we took the offensive: we piled into the dinghy with our beach things, and headed straight over to them – all officials we have met in Indonesia have started to smile when they saw our kids. The police boat had nine or ten people on board, some with face masks, but their English, if that’s possible, was worse than my Bahasa. So we said hello, smiled a lot, and headed off to the beach – making sure to go to a shallow end where their bigger boat could not approach. This bought us about ten minutes, just enough for the kids to get off the dinghy, splash about and start digging in the sand. Then the police pulled up about 100m further down the beach, and those on board clearly signaled that they wanted to talk to us. I did not want to aggravate them, so picked up Hero (for the kid bonus), and headed over to talk to them. They made it clear they did not want us on the beach. I told them that we had self-quarantine on the boat for 10 days, and the kids needed some time to stretch their legs. At least one of them seemed sympathetic, so we seemingly agreed that the kids could have 10 minutes, and then we would go back. The less-sympathetic must have won, because two minutes later they came across to our bit of beach and told us to leave. We gave up and headed back.

Back on Rainbow Safari I tried to contact the German Embassy for advice, but could not get through on their 24 hour helpline. From earlier alerts I knew they had on that day scheduled flights to take stranded tourists back to Germany, so they must have been over-busy shepherding Bali package tourists through the airport. I also contacted PNG immigration again to get written confirmation of denied entry (something the Indonesia immigration in Biak had asked for). I also contacted sailors on a boat in Palau, about 500 miles from us, to see if the country would still accept us. All this time the police boat hovered a few hundred meters away.

Just before noon the situation became more serious. A small boat arrived, and both it and the police boat approached us. On the small boat I recognized the Biak immigration officer who had sent us away. Surely enough he started the conversation with: “Why are you still here, I asked you to leave Indonesia?”. I explained again that PNG had closed its borders, that the Indonesia central immigration in Jakarta had issued a letter saying it was ok for tourists to overstay their visas, and told him we had contacted our embassy to get advice. This went back and forth a while, but for some reason he did not want to change his position. I finally managed to get through to the German embassy in Jakarta on the phone. They were immediately helpful (despite what must have sounded to them like a very bizarre situation: a German family on a sailboat in the far reaches of Indonesia, asking for help in talking to the local immigration officer?) I was able to pass my phone to the immigration officer and the consular lady from the embassy spoke to him in Bahasa for a good 5 minutes. It seemed friendly, and I was hoping she would be able to buy us some time for sorting things out. But when the officer returned the phone to me she said that he would not bargain, and that we would have to leave, while she would try and arrange help through the central Jakarta officials. After a last, very unfriendly verbal exchange with the immigration officer we gave up, readied the boat and raised the anchor again.

On our way out of the little bay we discussed what to do next. Continuing East towards PNG was futile and would just get us into more trouble. So we took the difficult decision to turn around and head West, the end of our ambition to go into the Pacific. We felt defeated: we had battled boat fixes, a lightning strike, worked our way East for 6 months through Indonesia, and finally were stopped by Corona.

As we left the police boat trailed us a few hundred meters away, making sure this time we really left. We prepared ourselves to sail through the night if needed, back in the direction of Sorong, moving away from Biak as quick as we could. In the meantime we had several more calls with the German embassy and connected on WhatsApp. They were really very good. Within the hour they had escalated to the Indonesian foreign ministry and received a “sympathetic response”. They asked us not to leave the Biak region just yet, in case the ministry could sort things out with the local immigration. Two hours later it turned out this would not work: due to the special regional status of Papua (with some autonomy to appease the Papuans who dislike being part of Indonesia, there are still active guerilla movements fighting for independence) the foreign ministry would only be able to help us once we left Papua. She asked where we would like to head to – a difficult question, as it would determine our near future, that had just abruptly changed completely.

Back in February we had spent a fun week in Raja Ampat with three other kid boats: Zig Zag, Family Circus, and TOC. These had headed West to an island called Roti, near Kupang in Timor. A good 2000 kilometers away from us, but it seemed that given the virus situation, the border closures and uncertainties, this would be a good destination, half way back to Singapore and also close to Australia. So we asked the embassy for Kupang, and the Indonesia foreign ministry arranged for a “warm welcome” by the Kupang immigration office once we reached. To make sure our journey would go safely and since we were traveling by boat the good embassy lady also connected us to someone at Indonesia’s maritime search and rescue agency. She told us that their first reaction was to “send a rescue helicopter for them”, something we all agreed with a smile would not be needed at this time!

As the sun set we began our long journey, which would see us go through Sorong once again, and then new parts of the archipelago we had not yet seen. A quiet, unceremonious end to Ute’s birthday as we faced our new reality.

We initially thought that the new virus was a bit of a media hype. Serious in China no doubt, but we underestimated how quickly it would change the world.

We’re currently in Sorong, Papua, and this is probably not the hot-bed of infection. Well, it might be, but officially Indonesia only has approx 200 cases. Hard to believe, in a country of 250 million people, with few measures put into place until this week. Schools in Sorong only closed yesterday. Hand sanitizer is sold out, more people are wearing face masks. But life has not yet come to a standstill. I expect it will.

Last weekend we read the quantitative analysis by Tomas Pueyo, https://medium.com/@tomaspueyo/coronavirus-act-today-or-people-will-die-f4d3d9cd99ca

That brought it home for us: obviously the real number of infections is a multiple of the known infections. Sorong is probably as affected as any other place in the world. This week we have seen many countries shut down, close borders, change their immigration policies. That is starting to impact us: our Indonesia visa is expiring this week, and except for Germany our stay in any other country will be limited by visa duration, if they let us in in the first place. The excellent German passport has almost turned into a liability.. now whenever I tell someone that we are German I am quick to add that I have not been home since 2018.

With our visas expiring and many countries closing, the question becomes where do we go from here? The three nearest neighbours to this end of Indonesia are the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, and Australia (Palau and Micronesia to the North have already introduced strict controls). The Philippines are increasingly being locked down. Papua New Guinea is the direction we wanted to go anyway, and still allows entry in three ports. So today we are clearing out of Indonesia, and tomorrow morning we will leave for Rabaul, at the Eastern end of New Britain, PNG.

We are well stocked up with everything. As much as this is just the same normal provisioning that we have done for any extended trip, in this case it does conjure images of survivalist bunkering. Maybe we did buy a little more than we usually would, as there is a very real possibility that in Rabaul we will be asked to quarantine first. We are hoping that they will count our journey, which will take 3-4 weeks, as quarantine time. We will self-quarantine for the first two weeks and make sure we do not spread anything.

In many ways we are probably fortunate to be able to remove ourselves easily from civilization and the areas with a more concentrated risk of infection. But it sure feels like setting off into the unknown!

We hope that instead of creating new barriers this crisis will bring out the best in communities, with people helping each other in times of need. For sure nobody will stay unaffected.

Since the beginning of the year (really from mid December) we have been busy traveling East, with many amazing destinations and experiences. I did not have enough time for regular updates, so I feel a quick post to catch you up will be helpful. Hopefully I can write in more detail about some of these experiences later.

December. We left Lombok on December 19, then met up with SV Antares on the 20th for a kids playdate. We passed Sumbawa and spent our Christmas Eve at a small volcanic island. On Christmas Day we encountered a family of pilot whales that invited us to swim with them for about an hour, playing with us – a very unique and special experience. Ute later found out that they were “pygmy killer whales”, a little researched species (obviously with no killer instinct). We continued into Komodo National Park, went scuba diving with Manta rays and encountered Komodo dragons in the wild.

In January we crossed the Flores sea and headed up to Taka Bonerate, the little known third largest atoll in the world. The sky around us reflected the turquoise waters beneath for miles around us. We had good wind for sailing, but too many waves for diving or snorkeling, so continued on to Sulawesi and Wakatobi National Park, where we stayed for a week of swimming, beaching, and of course diving.

From Wakatobi we started a 2.5 day passage to Ambon in good weather, but then had to evade thunderstorms both nights at sea and had continuous 3-4m waves, which made the ride less comfortable than expected. Passing over a 5000 meter deep trough in the ocean floor, we only met two other ships (big merchant vessels) on this leg.

Ambon was pleasant and an unexpected discovery. We had heard about the muck diving (scuba diving for small, unusual creatures, often in not so clear harbour waters) in Ambon, but did not realize how special this is. While we waited for our visa renewals, refueled and provisioned for the next month, we had some amazing dives and had the good fortune to discover a range of unusual critters, including sea horses, Rhinopias, and the psychedelic frogfish.

At the end of January we left Ambon for the Banda islands, the original spice islands that were heavily fought over by the British and the Dutch in an attempt to control the nutmeg monopoly. These were endemic to this small group of islands, and in Europe they were believed to help against the plague – making them more valuable than gold. In an interesting twist of history, to control the nutmeg business the Dutch traded the island of Pulau Run from the British, giving them a seemingly worthless island in North America in exchange: New Amsterdam, today’s Manhattan! We found Banda to now be a very relaxed, pleasant and friendly place, with fantastic scuba diving under the lava flows of Gunung Api, and in “Mandarin City”, which houses a colony of Mandarinfish.

In February we turned back North towards Seram in the Malukkus, and then finally into the Southern end of Raja Ampat: Misool. This island is known by divers for some of the most diverse coral in the world, and there is a continuous flow of high-end liveaboard dive safaris coming here from Sorong. There are hundreds and perhaps a thousand small rocky islands around Misool, and we spent time in this beautiful area, also called a “Thousand Temples” due to the rock structures.

By the time this blog post uploads we will have reached the civilization and telephone network of Sorong, capital of Raja Ampat. This will be a major provisioning and service stop for our boat, and was our goal for this part of our journey from Singapore. What a journey it has been already!

Our journey has taken us from the Western-most tip of Indonesia in Aceh to its Eastern region. This is a huge country: superimposed on North America it would stretch from West of California to East of Maine.

The one thing that has remained constant is the hospitality and friendliness of the Indonesian people. Wherever we go we are met with friendly smiles, waving hands, thumbs up,  Selamat Pagis and Sores, and of course selfie-times.

When we first arrived in the Anambas, Agus, who works in the restaurant in Nikoi, welcomed us to his hometown Tarempa. He was on his two-week annual leave, precious time to see friends and family. Instead he spent two days guiding us to the various offices, waiting while we served the officialdom. Here I learned that for any kind of paperwork (and we need to extend our visas monthly at the immigration offices) it is best to take Hero and Robin along: the moment the officers see the children their faces light up and they turn extra helpful.

In Bali, Joe helped us to source a new outboard engine for the dinghy, drove us around town, took us on an afternoon outing to the waterfall, haggled fruit prices for us, and brought freshly caught tuna as a birthday gift for Niki.

In Bima I dinghied to the beach to buy Diesel, and the kids there helped me carry the jerry cans to the road, then the local men went out of their way to help me find a truck and driver to take me to the gas station, one handing me to the next until they had a solution.  Without question the driver also helped to carry the full jerries, came with me on the dinghy, helped to pour them into our tanks, and then we took selfies.

In the Banda islands we walked through a village, looking for the nutmeg orchards. Idin was peeling bananas in front of his house, dropped what he was doing, and (after a selfie 🙂 guided us to the nutmeg trees, explained how they grow and how the fruit are processed, and then invited all of us to his house for a refreshing drink and probably the best banana chips we have had. As we slowly travel Eastward I leave a trail of new WhatsApp friends.

In most places we are the show of the town. A sailing yacht with a blond family on board is an  exciting event. The fishermen drive their boats to take a close look at Rainbow Safari. Kids paddle out in dugouts. The more daring ones climb onto the sugar scoop for photos. In town, our children have developed a dance to evade the women who want to pinch their cheeks, and depending on their mood, smile or turn away for the obligatory photos. Touching blond hair is also a national sport (I remember this from Italy when I was a kid. Wonder whether Indonesia or Italy would win in a blond-hair-touching competition. Or is it countries starting with I? I don’t remember it from India as much, but I’m sure it must be practiced whenever cricket is not on. Of course cricket is always on, so maybe that’s it).

Yesterday we had three curious fishermen come to our boat. They obviously wanted to have a closer look at Rainbow Safari, and came onto the sugar scoop. It was very awkward. Of course there was a language barrier. My three words of Bahasa were as limiting as their three words of English. I did not want to invite them into the boat. Part of it was embarrassment because of the obvious wealth gap between them and us. And part of it caution: you never know who might be tempted to come back at night – we already had a dinghy engine stolen. Maybe living in big Western cities has made us too cautious, made us prefer distance and perceived security of anonymity over going out and cherishing new relationships.

After the fishermen left we decided that we need to change our expectations and behaviours to better fit to the cultural norm here. We are the visitors, trying to learn something new, and clearly the Indonesian culture with its emphasis on people, relationships and friendships has a lot that would be good for us to adopt. So we developed a new routine to welcome visitors at least into the outside cockpit (but not inside, with its overwhelming clutter of possessions), to offer snacks and a soft drink, to take photos and laugh, and then send the curious visitors on their way. A few more words of Bahasa would also help. We tried this for the first time today and it seemed to work. We will continue to refine and learn and hopefully in the process shed some of our engrained caution and trade for some of the really nice habits that are common among the friendly, helpful people of Indonesia.

In November, our minds still full of the impressions and experiences in Tanjung Puting, we refilled our Diesel tanks, bought fresh vegetables and fruits, and prepared for the crossing from Borneo to Java and on to Bali. The Northeast monsoon had not yet started, so winds, while weak, were predominantly from the East. We had to decide between two possible routes: East along the southern coast of Borneo, then run South to Bali, or head South across the Java sea, and then eastwards to Bali. We eventually decided for the second option, hoping for more shelter on the Javanese coast from the wind, at the cost of potentially more motoring.

We set off, motor-sailing South for approximately 24 hours to Pulau Bawean. The passage was uneventful, we hardly saw any traffic and were preparing for an easy night. But once the sun set all of a sudden the horizon was full of lights: fishing platforms at sea. Mostly these seem to be boats or even anchored stationary platforms (bageans) that lower a net, attract fish with many bright lights, and then pull the net and fish up. But we never know whether some of them may have also put out longer nets – so we run a zigzag course through them, trying to stay as far away as possible. At least there is no risk of falling asleep on watch while you’re focused on avoiding them! (With Celine’s help we ran three shifts at night, each of us at the helm for approx. three hours. This made for halfway decent sleep.) We arrived in Bawean in the late morning and anchored in a sheltered bay. A small turtle lifted its head out of the clear blue water to check us out – but we were too tired to even snorkel and just rested.

The next day saw us up bright and early again, for another long passage to the Eastern end of Madura island. Winds were slightly better and we made good progress, arriving at out anchorage by 2 a.m. the next morning, again allowing for some sleep. The next day we had a slow start and woke up late, leaving around 11 to head South towards the Eastern most end of Java. As we left the anchorage some 30 or so beautifully decorated fishing boats crossed our path, with the crews waving and cheering and posing for photos. We did not have much wind and motored all the way, but were rewarded with a beautiful sunset and the silhouetted volcanoes of Java in the distance. Again we arrived in the dark, and with the help of the radar had to carefully pick our way through a series of fish aggregation devices (FAD): small platforms or in this case styrofoam buoys that are anchored to the sea floor. Small fish like to hide in the shade under these FADs, big fish like to come and eat the small fish, and the fishermen like to come and haul out the big fish. Easy principle that based on the number of FADs across all of Indonesia obviously works.

The fifth day after leaving Kumai finally had Bali as the day’s destination. As we crept out from behind the Javanese volcanoes into the straits between Java and Bali the wind started to blow. The volcanoes on one side and Balinese mountains on the other side made the passage like a wind funnel. The sea got bouncy and we quickly reefed the sails. Even with the reduced sail size we easily reached 8 knots cruising speed, which isn’t bad for our comfort-focused boat. We sailed along the North coast of Bali through clear blue deep waters, when suddenly we were surrounded by dolphins. Lovina is famous for its dolphins and many tourists go on early morning dolphin safaris, but still many miles out we had this group all to ourselves. We enjoyed their company for a good half hour as they raced along and in front of Rainbow Safari. A fantastic welcome to Bali. By 4 we were anchored just off the beach, and by 5:30 we were on the beach in the Seabreeze cafe, enjoying a cold refreshment and the sunset view.

Lovina was a rest and recreation, and also provisioning stop. Robin had a bad tooth and we all went to the dentist for a checkup: $30 for the six of us. We also extended our Indonesia visas for one month, now a regular requirement until we need to leave Indonesia after 6 months. With the help of a super-friendly local fisherman/tourist guide, Joe, we purchased a new outboard engine for our dinghy, and did a day-trip to Ubud. We loved the drive through the countryside and over the volcano ridge, but were disappointed by Ubud: in the 20 years since our first visit it has turned from a somewhat eccentric hippie artist enclave into a tourist trap of cheap Chinese-made T-shirt and Sarong peddlers and over-priced (if nice) eateries. Not for the first time on our journey we were confronted with mass-tourism just completely destroying local culture and nature. No doubt tourist dollars are great for community development, and foreign experiences should help to foster more global connection and understanding. But un- (or mis-) regulated capitalism does not make for sustainability. (Thinking about it, democracy also does not always seem to bring out the best in a country, if you consider that voters have elected Trump in the US and Brexit-Boris in the UK. Some aspects of the Chinese model may be better, and the not-so-liberal but community-development focused Singaporean democracy may be a pretty good balance.)

But back to our journey: We really enjoyed Lovina. The water was clear and we were back to a daily swimming routine, with lessons for Hero. The restaurants were nice. We visited a local waterfall, with various levels of rock-jumping into ice-cold pools (ok, by our standards… probably in the mid-20ies Celsius), and natural waterslides. Celine gathered all her courage, overcame her fears and braved a 10 meter jump! Niki turned ten years old on November 22nd, and we celebrated with a dinghy ride out to the dolphins, followed by fresh Sushi home-made from a tuna that Joe gave us as a gift.

On November 23rd we left for Gili Air. The Lombok strait is infamous for its strong currents, being on the main route of the Indonesian Throughflow from the Pacific to the Indian ocean. (I learned that the Pacific is on average 20cm higher than the Indian ocean, root cause of the flow!) We had a good sail over to Gili, not too much current and good wind.The minimum age to start Padi scuba diving certifications is 10 years old, so Niki was ready to start his classes on the 24th, together with Celine. We had another special treat: as we approached the Gilis another large group of dolphins came to swim with us, quite spectacular as they jumped the 2m waves. You can watch here: https://youtu.be/-M4WKx4FoiU

We had four nice days in Gili, although the anchorage was poor. There is a constant run of large speed ferries carrying backpackers between Bali and Gili. Every time Rainbow Safari shook from the wake. Despite the reef there was also a late afternoon build-up of chop, making it a very bumpy place indeed. To top it off, one morning we almost got hit by a glass bottom boat with a stalled engine. Just in time I was able to race our dinghy around to the front of the boat and push them off.

We wrapped up the month with a sail back to Bali, this time to the Southern area around Denpasar, primarily to pick up boat parts. Bali is a supply base for all the dive centers in the area so a good place for us to add equipment for our now four divers on board.

Wishing all of you a very happy 2020, and may (some of) your dreams come true!

And for those of you who want to spend 20 minutes in 2020 to see the summary of our 2019 adventures: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYlxaSqi4qO5W648X9_NkXdqKZZe7ybYH

Happy 2020!!

I have neglected our blog for too long, or better said, was too involved in our adventures to write about them at the same time. November was a month of many experiences and many miles.

Our next destination after Pontianak was Kumai, a small town on the South coast of Borneo, and the gateway to Tanjung Puting National Park: one of the few and perhaps the most famous Orangutan reserve in the world. This was a highlight of our trip and must-see. It was also quite far and gave us an appreciation of the size of Borneo. Going down the West coast and around the Southwest corner, maybe an eighth of Borneo’s coast line, took us six full days of sailing. One day we passed an uncharted wreck of a fishing boat. It was perhaps dragged down by a net that was too heavy, standing vertically with only the bow sticking out of the water. Our radar would have probably picked it up, but it was a good reminder why we prefer to sail in the light, and be safely anchored when it is dark.

As we got closer to Kumai we could smell why the Orangutans are endangered: once again the air got hazy from forest fires, many of them started by humans to create more palm oil plantations. We could see great pillars of smoke in the daytime, and an orange glow at night. One day we sailed through thick smoke fog and had to change direction to get out of it. Less and less forests remain where Orangutans can live in the wild, they are endemic to Sumatra and Borneo only.

Next to Chimpanzees and Gorillas, Orangutans are the third species of Great Apes. Tanjung Puting National Park is home to about 6000 of them, both wild and rewilded (e.g. from areas where their forests were burnt down, or saved from the black market). Camp Leakey is where most research into Orangutans was started and still runs today. The park maintains several feeding stations, where rewilded Orangutans can come and supplement their diet.

To visit the park we anchored Rainbow Safari in the Kumai river, watched over by a boat boy while we boarded a narrower river liveaboard boat for two days and one night. Our safari led us up the Sekonyer, a small and winding jungle river. Within the hour we saw our first wild Orangutan in the trees on the river bank. We saw many big-nosed Proboscis monkeys, macaques and lemurs. There were blue-and-yellow Kingfishers, and once a beautifully colored and rare Rhinoceros Hornbill crossed the river and settled in a treetop on the other side (why, we don’t know 🙂

We hiked to three different feeding stations, where we could observe Oangutan behavior. They have a clear hierarchy, with the alpha male respected and feared by all others (but they will try and steal bananas behind his back when he is not looking). At the same time they are very solitary, and mostly ignore each other, except for babies/young ones that stay with their mothers for seven years before they are evicted to lead their own lives. One of the funniest scenes was an Alpha covering his head with corn husks when it started to rain. One of the most touching was a young male feeding on his own, but then putting his hand on the shoulder of apparently his mother for just a second, in recognition of their relationship, before trundling off into the jungle alone.

Just as amazing as the animal encounters was the atmosphere of traveling through the jungle on the river, listening to the sounds of the forest around us. At night we tied up to the river bank and slept under moskito nets. When the daylight slowly came back in the morning the mist rose from the black river water, perfectly reflecting the blue sky and green trees.

Coming back onto the Kumai River was almost like emerging from another world. The river forms the divide: on one side is the jungle, protected and preserved in as natural a state as possible. On the other side is human civilization, roads, buildings, bustling markets. Sustainable, limited tourism is a good way to create an income and give the local community an incentive to guard the park. Yet at all times smaller boats cross the boundary from the human side into the park to fish, cut some wood, maybe more, expanding civilization. And in the background larger corporations are at play, who would prefer to use the park land for their own businesses. As we left Kumai we were once again engulfed in thick smoke, and on the Southern and more removed edges of the park there were big, uncontrollable fires.

The small museum in Camp Leakey has a great exhibit, a poster on the wall reads: “Lift this to see the Orangutans’ biggest enemy”. Behind the poster is a mirror. We all consume palm oil, we buy shampoos and cookies and all kinds of things, at a value (or cheap?) price, but our consumption creates demand, leading to the destruction of our planet’s ecosystem.

Being on the boat, exposed to nature at all times, breathing air full of smoke, sailing through seas and swimming in water full of plastic waste, picking up trash from beaches that just look the same again after the next high tide – our current lifestyle makes us much more sensitive to how civilization impacts nature. It is easy to forget what happens with trash when you just throw it down the chute of your highrise condo. You don’t have to think about where your frozen fish filet comes from when you’re in the supermarket. But we have seen the sea depleted by countless fishing boats, and water turn a slimy yellow near the fish farms. Observing the Orangutans in their natural environment, while at the same time confronted with the reality that they may be extinct before our children can take their children on a similar journey is a wake up call.

We are following Greta Thunberg’s effort and the big and much needed debate on sustainability and reversing the path of destruction that humanity is on. Anyone who actually does something deserves respect. It’s a huge, complex and multifaceted issue that easily overwhelms, with no easy solution. We all need to change our behaviors, our expectations and needs – food for much more thought, and action.