Author: Justine

It’s a rest day but not like I know it. We’re spending the day on the outskirts of a small village of 200 people and since we arrived we haven’t been alone. About 20kids have followed us closely, sitting shyly to start with then helping us to put up our tents, making a clothes line for us from a plant that grows on the beach, appearing with bananas then a papaya,
trying on my hat and sunglasses, trying out their English words, fascinated by my sparky stick that lights our stove without a lighter. A few break away to draw in the sand or play with a ball and If I follow with my camera then more copy, eager to be on film.

That was a few days ago now, since the we’ve had a mixture of camping in villages and camping on our own private beaches. The variety is great, too much being surrounded by people can be more exhausting than paddling. In another place we were immediately surrounded and the crowd swarmed around us like bees. Sandy and I the Queens. Once I’d put my tent up, 2 chairs were set up in the shade for us and about 30 people sat around in a circle as I moved to the chair. I was brought a coconut to drink then a local fruit called lansak and all the while people took their turn in the chair next to me to have their photo taken with me on their phone, or on someone else’s phone if they didn’t have one. It was quite bizarre, especially as most people made a funny sign with their hand, something I’m too old or too uncool to be familiar with! Or maybe both!

We’ve just had 2 long days on the water, 11 hours each, to make it to surf free landings. Last night we made it 45 mins before dark and just got our dinner cooked before torrential rain poured from the sky. Sandy things she had a guardian Angel and maybe she does although she did get scared when something but the back of her kayak twice in murky water. After having a big crocodile do that in Australia she was understandably worried!

Tomorrow we should reach Manokwari, a town where we’ll spend a few days. We should have internet and phone signal. I’ve been sending a few messages overt the last 2 weeks or so by iridium sat phone.

Bed time!

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13th March

This 200km section of Indonesia is committing. The surf is around 1.5metres from the NE every day with not that many nooks and crannies offering a sheltered landing. We’re not always brave or stupid enough to land for lunch through the waves and we anxiously scan the horizon when arriving at a place that we’ve identified as hopefully a “dry hair” landing.

Yesterday we made great progress in light winds and reached Weios, the geography of which looked certain to offer nothing more than a splash on the deck. What the map didn’t reveal was the unbroken line of reef that guarded the entrance like a castle wall, revealing itself as an impenetrable black line every time a wave approched and sucked the water away. The waves then built up into their own white wall, rearing up and breaking down with a fierce boat-and-body busting crash.
Inside the calm bay, we could see a small house on stilts above the water and a couple of boats on the shore. The welcome oasis was so close but first we had to get past the angry guard. I approached a 1 metre wide gap in the fortifications as close as I dared as a set of big waves rolled through. Each wave swelled and puffed up is chest as it approached the shallower water but they didn’t break until they reared up on the reef with a heart stopping thump. It was intimidating to sit in this zone of flexing muscles, knowing the waves didn’t usually break here but also knowing there is always that extra big wave. I needed to be as close to the gap as possible so I could sprint through in the brief few seconds between sets. I sensed my moment and pulled hard on my paddle. I tried not to think about the confused white water surging and colliding and pushing after a wave breaks but concentrated on getting past the danger zone on a blue sea. As i powered forwards, I felt my kaya k get
pushed sideways slightly but I was through into deeper water. Just in time as another wave reared up onto the reef behind me and crashed down sending a breaking wave careering towards me. The wave didn’t die as I expected but caught me up and pushed me towards shore. A brief moment of panic but the wave petered out. I had run the gauntlet and survived.

It was Sandy’s turn. I couldn’t see her line very well as she kept disappearing behind the swell. I saw her powering towards the gap and the white foam of a wave in quick pursuit. A stern rudder set her straight, I think she made it through but then the breaking wall of water caught her up, her red kayak looking small on the face of it. A brace and a braking stroke and she handled it beautifully, skilfully surfing away from the danger. I asked if she heard me whooping. She asked if I heard her swearing!

The rain had been with us on and off all day and an hour before landing it started falling with a vengeance. This is the wet season and it rains at least every other day but usually for no more than a few hours at a time. Last night heavy drops fell incessantly and we were grateful that the two guys who lived in the bay let us organise our things under their shelter and cook on their fire. It’s great to see how self sufficient they are. They’ve dug a well for water and set up a system to filter it through gravel. Fish were being smoked above the fire while bananas lay on a bench and papayas grew on a few trees. They helped us clear an area for our tents and put mine up with me.

The rain stopped sometime in the night and today was overcast then sunny. Getting out through the reef was easier at a higher water level and we made pretty good progress towards a village where sandy identified a gap in the reef on Google earth. In the end we stopped a bit short of this as we found a really protected beach with an easy landing. As a bonus there are also rustic homemade wooden chairs and table. We’ve enjoyed a couple of hours of pottering about watching hundreds of hermit crabs of all shapes and sizes crawl over everything including each other, like a living carpet.

We’ve paddled the last 8 days, mostly getting up early in the dark so a rest day is due but we’re short on water so probably need to paddle to a village tomorrow. We’re both tired and I’m looking forward to sleeping as fireflies light up the night outside my tent.

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Our fresh water was running out so we moved from paradise Island to the village 2km away on the mainland. Before we could leave a man appeared paddling a wooden canoe. Come to my house in the village for a shower he said. We paddled back in convoy, our host impressed with the speed of our longer sleeker craft with twice the paddle blade. We were impressed with his skill in the cross wind and how he stopped every so often to bail out with his water jug. Kids ran around on the beach flying kites made of plastic bags strapped onto a bamboo frame, controlled by fishing line wrapped around a discarded water bottle. They all circled in on us as we landed through small surf. Strong hands grabbed my kayak and easily carried it to the top of the beach. Sandy's was next. Fifty people watched intently as we unpacked our valuables from the kayak and took off our spraydecks. Mostly children from age 2 to 15. Sandy gave a speech in basic Indonesian explaining her trip. They all followed us as we headed to our host's house and they snuck into the room after us. The rest of the day as we waked around the village, fetched something from the kayak, ate a coconut or drank tea, we had an entourage, a band of followers who watched our every move. I felt like the pied piper with a raggle taggle procession behind me. Sandy says this is a small crowd. She's had up to 200 people surrounding her, blocking the air flow, no escape from stares, questions, hands. I am enjoying it today and hope I'll continue to appreciate the curiosity.

I wonder how many people will watch us sleep for a few hours before we get up early to cross to mainland Papua tomorrow.

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11th March

I’m sticky in my tent. My body has become more used to the 30degree plus heat during the day but at night without a breeze or a shower, my skin is moist and sand sticks to everything. A wet wipe has helped but I long for some wind to cool my skin.

About 1 in 3 nights we tend to land in a village, partly because villages are in almost every sheltered bay along the coast, a small collection of mostly wooden houses behind a beach adorned with a row of dug out canoes with flimsy looking wooden outriggers. As we land, people appear from all directions and collect around us, watching our every move, fascinated by these white women in red kayaks. I wish I spoke more than a few words of Indonesian and could answer their questions and ask more about their lives. Grandmothers, Fathers and children all stare at us, it’s not intimidating, it’s healthy curiosity and it seems like they can all drop whatever work or play they were doing to spend an hour observing us. Only the very small babies get scared of the strange looking people. One small girl cried when her mother wanted to take a photo with us.

Usually someone offers to put us up in a house or tells us where we can camp. We always get offered a “mandi”, a shower where you pour a pot of water over yourself to wash, and we’re sometimes cooked for. Fried breadfruit, fried bananas in coconut oil or rice with fried fish. You can see the theme! Indonesian people are very kind.

This is our 2nd day camping without a mandi and I notice the difference. It’s calming to have a break from the hectic non stop people in the villages although people always find us anyway, it just takes longer sometimes!

Today we paddled alongside steep green hills covered in lush vegetation, with golden pocket beaches and rock gardens. Despite that, we landed in a logging operation. It was the most sheltered landing on a beautiful coastline battered by surf. An offshore reef protects the landing giving us an easy get out. The downside is that we are camped alongside piles of planks and logs on a flat wasteland. We moved the tents to slightly higher ground after some passing locals warned us that our chosen spot becomes a a river in heavy rain. The women were carrying bags of food on their heads and Sandy bought 5 sweet potatoes and a local fruit for about 50cents or 25pence.

We have avoided big surf every day apart from the one I wrote about. The next morning I was ready to push Sandy through the surf when 2 local fishermen turned up. They landed their canoes on the far end of the beach where the surf was much smaller, then walked the 10 minutes up the beach to help. They tried to tell us to move to their sheltered corner but we’d already checked it out and decided to try here first, put off by the immense effort to move the kayaks and kit so far. So they helped push us both out through the surf, and it was an easy launch when timed well with so much pushing power. We whooped our Thank yous from the comfort of deeper water!

The surf zone continues for another 7-10 days. We have identified possible sheltered landings and we hope to reach one every day. Tomorrow we have to paddle about 35km to a village where google earrh suggests the landing is protected by a reef. We’ll be up early as every day we have a NE headwind which when combined with the swell and sea state can slow our progress to a crawl.

A breeze had started and every breath of air is a delight. It’s time to sleep listening to the crash of waves onto the reef and the melodic chirp of crickets.

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