Whose idea was this.......?

Bajawa and the Ngada and Nagekeo people.

Lynne and myself, Akke and Xander, Miquel the guide and Sipri the driver all met at the car in the morning and headed off to see some the local villages we had heard so much about. We were excited. As we drove we passed through new villages with the local house style made out of corrugated iron. We were then dropped off in a bamboo forest and walked down the road to catch our first glimpse of the tourist popular Bena. We joked as we first glimpsed it that we could see a car and was that the local car park. Quick as a flash our guide was on his mobile. “Car ruining photos!” And in a few seconds it was out of sight. Slightly surreal.

On our way to the traditional village. View to one of the many surrounding volcanos.

Our first view of Bena. With car moved Stunning!

Despite this it was clear that the Ngada villages were very different from the Manggarai peoples. We waked on past Bena to return to it later as the last village of the day and to buy some local Ikat weaving and headed into the forest to walk to our first village. As we went our guide pointed out local crops and Akke asked questions.

Approaching out of the forest the village of Toliela spread out before us as a rectangle of houses surrounding smaller stranger objects. Behind sat the backdrop of iridescent green volcanoes and blue sky. Children ran around playing football and flying kites made out of plastic bags. Chickens scuttled around. And that was it. No cars. No motorbikes. Nothing. We were in a traditional village, seemingly untouched by many of the spoils of modern world. Of course there was a satellite dish and TV, but still there was a beautiful feeling about the village.

Kids having a lot of fun.

Parasols representing the male spirit.

Horse details on little houses of the female spirit. Representing protection and home life

Details on house. A figure of a warrior says a man from another village has joined that houses clan. If it was a house, it means women. A marriage thing.

Every aspect of the village was steeped in symbolism and had meaning. Three parasols represented the man, the three small huts women, while the huge rocks represented the next generations. The Nagada are matriarchal and the men come to live in the women’s clans house. The warrior or house on some roofs symbolizing the movement in and out of the traditional number of clans in the village. Toliela had two parts on two levels and impossibly the second level was more beautiful.

Amazing views at Toliela second level.

Pressing on down the hill, pursued by local children singing and laughing we arrived at Gurusina and spent another few hours wondering around taking in the amazing surroundings and appreciating more and more the detail and meaning in every construction.

Bena's large stone monoliths representing the next generation.

Ende, Moni and Kelimutu.

Our drive the next day took us past the port town of Ende with its famous black sanded and blue stoned beaches. We spent a short time hunting for the perfect blue stones comparing and contrasting our finds. It seemed the locals were doing it at a more industrial level, filling bags to sell. This was clearly the local business along with Arak production (moonshine). We pressed on and after seven hours in the car, and feeling pretty well swerved out we arrived in Moni, gateway to the volcano Kelimutu.

Ende Beach

A disappointing meal in Moni’s Bintang Café was our reward, 90 minute wait for my most bizzare meal to date. A very strange long macaroni in a tomato sauce of quartered tomatoes. Anyway with a 4:30am start we didn’t have much time to sulk and hit the sack early.

I think secretly Lynne had been planning this for a long time. Some sort of geography wet dream. Why it had to involve getting up at silly o’clock and dragging my self repeatedly up large volcanoes is my question? Marriage I guess. But there we were again. Thankfully it was a short walk this time to the top. There were even stairs. Kelimutu is famous for its three crater lakes that change colour at random. We were treated to an amazing sunrise and two and half craters seen. Then the clouds rolled in. Feeling a bit worse for wear I trudged back to the car and had a snooze only to see the clouds parting a few hours later. I shot back up the mountain and found Lynne and our Dutch friends enjoying perfect views of the three craters and surrounding countryside.

Kelimutu sunrise above the clouds.

Twin craters behind. The black lake sat in the third crater in the direction we faced.

Close up of lakes.

Maumere, the Sikka district.

After the early morning Lynne and I did our best nodding dog impressions as we made our final drive to Maumere. We stopped for lunch at an amazing Wurung (shop). With the perfect setting on the beach I was still a little unsure with its basic interior. However we ordered a fish for the four of us and were showed a moderate sized tuna. It appeared 15mins later grilled to perfection with lemon and turmeric and other spices rubbed in. Amazing food. Very yummy.

Warung's beach view.

Yummy Tuna

The third from of traditional house seen on our brief trip down Flores. Sikkah.

We checked in to Gardia hotel 7km outside of Maumere and said goodbye to Sipri. A highly recommended driver, we found him at random in the street but he’s in the LP bible if anyone is passing this way again. We sat down and enjoyed a parting beer with our Dutch friends. It had been a great pleasure sharing the last 10 days with them. Always quick to laugh and appreciate our surrounding they made great travel partners. The food was rubbish, but the beer was cold and the view pretty stunning. Good luck to them in Sulawesi.

The first flight out of Flores was not until the day after, and a little stranded out of town, we settled down to a day of pretty much nothing. We watched two of our $1 DVD’s, appreciating Thor’s genius for a second time. We read. And we walked on the beach. As we wandered along we realized the hotel was next door to a Karaoke Club, and that this was likely a brothel. The working karaoke girls chased us down the beach and were very excited to have their photos taken with us on their mobile phones. Lynne’s Bhasa was getting pretty good but she was left a bit tongue-tied by this experience, so we stood like plums and had our photos taken with the smiling and giggling girls. Another strange experience chalked up.

Maumere beach and boat. As always with Flores. Amazing volcanoes.

5:30am the next morning we were bouncing along in the back of a bemo to Maumere airport and a Wings flight bound for Bali. The restaurants of Ubud were calling me!

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Eggs in Indonesia:

Time for a rant. So after the delights of Thai, Vietnamese and Malaysian food it was a tough act to follow but now 40 days in, I’m just a little fed up with Indonesian food. Don’t get me wrong, we have had some great dishes, some delicious curries, Lynne has fallen for Gado Gado (vegetables with a peanut sauce) and we have had some great Nasi Campur (rice with lots of random bits), but please, please can someone teach Indonesians to firstly cook eggs, and secondly when is an appropriate time to put one in or on a dish.

Omelettes are overcooked rubbery affairs with whatever was not cleaned out of the wok mixed in. Scrambled eggs are omelettes that have received a savage attack from a meat cleaver. But there is something about fried eggs that now makes me a little sick just thinking about them. Firstly an old wok must be found. If it has been used to fry fish or a dead cat then all the better. Next fill with an oil, perhaps engine oil? Then fry. Return a few hours later and place on the top of food, all food, like every dish. And when it’s not a fried egg it is something else. “Perhaps you would like scrambled eggs in your spaghetti Bolognese Mister?” No thanks, but I still get it.

Yes I am spoilt, and yes I am stupid for ordering Italian in the first place but I do feel a bit better now. Rant over.

Fried Egg horror.

Labuanbajo and Komodo NP:

Alive! The cruise from Lombok was actually great and my misgivings were misplaced. It serves me right for reading too much before doing an activity. Note to self, “don’t read accounts of boats sinking before getting on any more boat trips.” However sleeping on deck was not as restful as one might have hoped and we were pretty tired when we arrived in Labuanbajo.

LBB sits on the edge of Komodo NP. A ramshackle fishing town with lots of dive shops, B+B’s and restaurants. While we overheard some less than happy tourists, Lynne and I loved its rough charm, tasty food, but most of all, its pick your jaw off the floor setting. It nestles on a series of green hills with a view out to KNP’s hundreds of islands. Sunsets with a cold beer were heaven.

LBB sunset!

We spent the first day recuperating and organizing after a solid sleep in. We booked a diving trip and, along with our new travel buddies Akke and Xander (a Dutch couple from the boat trip), arranged a driver to take us to the other side of the Flores on a 4N/5D adventure.

The next morning we were up early and cruising out into KNP with Divine Diving (a fantastic diving school with well earned amazing reviews). The same ubber currents that worried me during the cruise were in full flow, and this time we were going to dive in them.

Diving Komodo Dragon!

KNP view from dive boat as we cruised out to Komodo island.

Dive one was Batu Bolong (hole in rock). As we sat on the upper deck receiving our dive briefing we saw the currents in full force whirlpooling past the rock. Our dive was to take us into the current shadow of a large rock. We were to dive down and then zigzag our way back up the rock over the dive with the dive master leading us and giving hand signals when he saw the current at either side. Any misgivings soon vanished as were entered one of the most amazing dives of my life (and many of the other divers on the boat). Huge shoals of every fish imaginable, sharks, turtles, lion fish, scorpion fish, nudi branches and huge Napoleon Wrasse. Massive smiles.

Strong currents visible during briefing. Eeek!

Dive two. Manta Point, or Makassar reef if we didn’t see any Manta! A drift dive along a ruble coral bottom. For the last few months this sight was producing 30-50 giant manta’s on every dive. Then a week ago they left. We were hoping they might return. Our briefing for this dive included an explanation of the many divers who had followed Manta and then after a while realized they couldn’t see their dive group anymore. Aptly named “Manta Madness!!” As it turned out all we saw was a Manta tail cruising away from us. The dive was lovely in itself with some great micro life to see as well as the crowd pleasing macro life. I came across a smashing mantis shrimp. Fabled for breaking cameras put too close with its punching fists!

That evening Lynne and I celebrated my birthday a day early with a trip to a lovely restaurant after watching the sun go down in the Treetop Bar. Only mild stomach cramps from our rich pasta and cheesecake dinner. But they were well earned stomach cramps and it felt ok!

Ruteng and the Manggarai people.

We met our driver Sipriano at 8 am and were soon cruising out of LBB east along the Trans-Flores highway. It was more of a windy road than highway. Soon the beauty of Flores began to dawn on the four of us. Endless steep, green volcanoes with small villages nestled amongst their bases and on their slopes.

Road Trip!!

We were excited to be heading to see the spiderweb rice padis. The area around Cancur was particularly famous. These giant padi fields are owned by entire villages with the padi divided up to represent the importance of each owner (designated by notches on a post in the middle). As we approached Cancur we started to glimpse half webs of padi. We then pulled up at a steep slope and a local guide took us to the top of a hill just as the sun burst through the clouds. Two vast spiderweb padis covered the floor of the valley. Quite unlike anything I had seen before. But Flores was turning out that way.

Friendly kids at one of the many photo stops.

Spider padis!

Now for an interesting little aside. The sort Indonesia and Flores throw up. Hobbits are from Flores. Not NZ or JR Tolkin or Peter Jackson. Just north of Bajawa an an amazing discovery was made. There were long stories of a tiny humans living on Flores but no proof. Then in 2003 in Liang Bua cave a tiny skeleton was found the size of a three year old child. But this was an adult skeleton. Whats more she existed 18,000 years ago, when modern Homo Sapiens (us) were the only (?) human left. Was this another case of giagantism and dwarfism that occurs in small island populations? A genetic disease? When did they die out? No body knows but Homo Floriens had been discovered. (Standing only 1m tall imagine them coming up against Komodo dragons which also live on Flores. Dragons often attack by standing up on their hind legs and swiping with their 1.5m tail to knock prey over. An even scarier proposition if you are a third of the size the Dragon!!!!)

By mid afternoon we had arrived in Ruteng and we checked into the local convent. Yes, convent. We were staying at Santa Maria convent. No drinking or smoking and the gates shut at 9pm. It was the cleanest place we stayed in all of SEA.

Late in the afternoon our driver took us to a traditional Manggarai village. Ruteng sits high in the hills and the village was shrouded in clouds. The traditional huts loomed large at the end of a raised stone oval. The center of the oval stood another raised platform, the village burial ground. We wondered around the village and sat down in side a traditional hut with a few of the villagers and Sipri as our translator. The villagers spoke some Bahasa Indonesian but Sipri was from Ruteng and could speak their local language. We sat for some time asking questions (I’m sure Akke won’t mind me saying that she is very good at asking questions!). We discussed traditional building methods as well as Cacai fights. These consist of two men from opposing villages, bare above the waist but with a shield and face guard trying to whip their opponent to submission. The villagers proudly told us you couldn’t go to jail if you killed your opponent and that a good win was when you got their eyes through the facemask. That took real skill!

First view of Manggarai village.

Manggarai village houses a little closer up.

Cacai fighting stick and shield.

Bajawa and the Ngada and Nagekeo people.

The next day we were off bright and early again and heading into another tribal region of Flores, the Ngada and Nagekeo. The Flores landscape continued to mesmerize with endless beautiful volcanoes and padis. With the volcanoes the Flores highway was continuously rising and falling while snaking around. The highway seemed constantly in a state of repair or landslide removal. The local technique of cutting vertically into the soil and stone slopes without reinforcement seemed bound to fail, but they seemed to press on regardless. Luckily Sipri was turning out to be an excellent driver, the safest we had experienced in SEA.

It was a long seven-hour drive and we were happy when we finally reached Bajawa and booked into the Edelweiss hotel for two nights. The town was again high in the hills but it was far from Alpine, anyway the rooms were cleanish.

After unpacking a bit we headed to the market for a bit of exploring. We bought some fruit and then got lost in the maze of a market. Dried fish, stomachs of some large animal, vegetables, batteries and well, anything else you could possible want or not want (to smell) was available.

The usual SEA market but with added "cobwebs" for dramatic effect.

That evening we arranged a guide to take us to some traditional villages the next morning……….

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Stupid things travellers say (or write):

Another classic from the special people who don't engage brain before writing. This time a lady was complaining on Tripadvisor about her stay in an Indonesian hotel. She spent the whole holiday in the same hotel but said that every morning before it even got light she was awoken by a terrible racket like singing. This went on every day and she wouldn't stay there again. She gave the hotel a low mark.She ended by saying she had no idea what the noise was. Ok, so people may not have been to a muslim country before or heard the call to pray before, but perhaps engage enough with the place you are travelling to ask what the noise is. Arrrrrrrgh!

Firstly, I’d like to quash a vicious rumour started by my own father. My lovely straw hat is very much still alive and will feature extensively in this blog.

Hat chilling on Sumbawan beach

We have decided to head east across Nusa Tengarra towards Flores. We weighed up the options for onward travel:
a. Overland in public bus and ferry combo – dangerous roads, takes a long time, no sleep…
b. Island hopping on a boat – numerous sinking incidents, tales of floating cockroach infested piles of junk, no sleep…

In the end we book a two night, three day trip with Perama. The travel forums are a bit like Marmite. Some people though it was the best thing they had ever done and some thought it was the worst. Justin freaks himself out with a forum entry from one of the passengers of a Perama boat that crashed into a reef and sank a couple of years ago. The incident took place in the height of the wet season though, which all the locals have told us to avoid boat travel during. We stop reading the forums in case we find anything else – the trip is booked and there is no going back. Probably not one to mention to the parents before we head off though (sorry mums, dads and mums mum).

We head off in a bus with 18 people from Europe and Australia. Amusingly our first stop is the Mataram Mall to buy essentials. We visited the mall the day before to buy essential chocolate supplies, so we head to McDonalds to make use of their free wifi. I also make use of the McFlurry machine for breakfast number dua (much to Justin’s horror).

On the way to the harbour we visit a couple of local villages, including the basic boatyard where our boat was made. The questions start – when was it made, who made it, how long will it be seaworthy for, what happens if x or y goes wrong, why is this boat being made out of rotten wood..? I can see Justin turning a whiter shade of white and I think we are all relieved when we leave the boatmakers yard.

Visiting some of the local pottery villages on the way to the port

We arrive at the harbour. The boat is pretty much as expected having read through all the blogs – basic and a bit rough around the edges. But, it is clean and the crew are helpful and friendly.

Our new home for the next few days

Goodbye dry land...hopefully we'll see you again

I think we may be eating some pineapples on this trip

We head off into choppy waters. It doesn’t take us very long to reach our first stop, an island just off Lombok’s coast. We need to board a smaller boat to go to shore, which is brought around to the door. The crew attempt to hold it still. Unfortunately the waves aren’t helping as the small boat slams violently against our boat several times. “Okay two groups, who wants to go first?” By this point we’ve all backed away from the door a little and one guy asks if he can stay on the boat. In the end though we all MTFU and make the short trip across to the island.

Feeling a little bounced about after our first few hours on the big boat. Time to swap to a smaller boat!

There’s a nice quiet beach and we go snorkelling. The coral, as in many areas around Indonesia, has been dynamite fished to shreds. Mounds of blown up dead coral litter the sea floor. It is very sad to see the devastation and frustrating to think about how short-sighted the fishermen who use these destructive methods are. Perama run a number of socio-economic projects and 20% of their profits are ploughed back into local projects, in particular environmental protection and social enterprise projects. They are running a coral replant scheme and in the areas where new coral has started to grow back there are lots of little fish swimming around. Black clouds are starting to ominously move in and we head for a dinner of yummy barbequed tuna and campfire-cooked corn on the cob.

Our first beach stop...with dark clouds looming overhead

We are on a tour...therefore there must be organised fun!

Back on the boat we bed down for a night on our deck mattress. The boat lists from side to side and the winds whip around the sleeping area sheeting. I spend the night dozing in and out of sleep. Justin unfortunately spends the night wide-awake. One too many bedtime forums about shipwrecks and storms.

Our next day is spent cruising in calm waters along the coast of Sumbawa. We visit saltwater island lakes, go snorkelling in clear blue oceans and relax on beautiful deserted beaches, with only a group of locals to stare at us. I try a bit of Bahasa Indonesian, but Sumbawa has two different languages. Unfortunately we end up having the same conversation over and over again:
“Hello Mister, where you from?”
“Manchester”
“Manchester United?”
“Tottenham Hotspur.”
“Wayne Rooney?”
“Tottenham Hotspur?” – blank look, end of conversation.

Climbing up to the top of an island. The view down to our boat...

Going for a swim in an old volcano crater

Sumbawa coastline in the distance

View from top of volcano down into old crater

Just a few members of our sunbathing audience!

Watching the sun setting

Beautiful sunset over Sumbawan beach

I know what you are thinking…Sumbawhere? According to Wikipedia (bible number 2!) Sumbawa is 15,448 km2 (three times the size of Lombok) with a population of around 1.33 million. This is one of the poorer islands in Indonesia. The majority of the population are farmers, although there is a massive gold and copper mine (one of the biggest copper mines in the world) being run by an American company with some interesting environmental records according to the press reports. Many of the island residents are at risk of starvation when crops fail. Tourism is a small part of the economy - there is snorkeling, world class surf spots and volcanoes to climb (I might wait a few years before suggesting another volcano climb to Justin though).

Sumbawa is a volcanic island – part of the ‘Pacific Ring of Fire’. As we flew over Sumbawa on our way back to Bali we went very close to Mount Tambora, with its massive caldera. It was very cool to see it from the air. When we visited the museum in Lombok the guide took me over to a model of Sumbawa’s Mount Tambora. “As a geographer you’ll know this volcano.” I looked at it a bit blankly. “April 1815 – most destructive volcanic eruption in modern history?”. “Really," I reply "What about Krakatoa?” The guide looks at me and says “This was four times bigger and it killed about 80,000 people.” “Seriously?”. “Seriously. We call it Pompeii of the East. An entire kingdom was wiped out.”

I’ve had a look around on the web. One of my geographer lecturers from Cambridge has written quite a few papers on this area (I promise I was attending your lectures and not rowing). Mount Tambora launched 100 cubic kilometres of ash into the upper atmosphere. 1816 is known as the "year without a summer”. Agricultural crops failed and livestock died in much of the Northern Hemisphere, resulting in the worst famine of the 19th century. Apparently the eruption can also be linked to the invention of the bicycle, as the cost of maintaining horses rose, because of the cost of horse food and the death of many horses during the famine. Well you learn something new everyday!

Mount Tambora's caldera...it is a bit big! (PS I didn't take this picture. It is from wiki)

After another tasty meal and several Bintang beers we settle down for the night. We will be sailing through the night, reaching Komodo Island the next morning. We need to sail through this section during daylight hours because the currents are a bit weird (not a technical geographical term, but they were 'a bit wierd'). The guide runs through all the do's and don’ts for our trip to the island, including a request for any women who are having a period to stay on board because the dragons can smell you several miles off (now there is something they don’t mention in the tourist pamphlet!).

The sea is calm and the sky is clear of cloud. We decide to sleep on the front deck under the beautiful stars. In the early hours a bright flash of light wakes me up. Still half asleep I get up to try to turn the lights off. It’s only when a second flash goes off followed by a low rumble of thunder that I realise it’s a thunderstorm. I stand on the side of the boat and watch as a third flash lights up the whole sky, showing a sheet of heavy rain in front of our boat. The crew have started to run about pushing down rain covers and strapping down sections of the boat. I head back to bed and sleep until sunrise. Justin’s bed has been tidied away and all his stuff is packed away. Confused I wander around the boat until I find a sleep deprived Justin cradling a cup of tea. No more travel forums for Justin!

UNESCO World Heritage Site number seven. Komodo National Park is between Sumbawa and Flores. It was created in 1980 to originally conserve the habitats of the Komodo dragon, but over the years has extended to protect the biodiversity (sea and land) of this amazing area. You can find out all about the conservation programmes and challenges faced at: www.komodonationalpark.org

The scenery around is incredible. Island after island covered in Savannah rather than the forest-covered mainland. We moor of Komodo Island and head to the visitor centre where we meet our rangers for the morning.

Our boat...Justin feeling better when he sees some of the other boats we could have sailed in

Like a scene out of Armageddon

They give us some background on the conservation programme as well as safety arrangements. We must walk in groups. We must not wander off on our own. We must not touch the dragons (this gets a laugh, but the rangers look serious). We must not approach the dragons without a ranger and his sharp pointy stick (fork-shaped stick used to hold Komodo heads, which are very sensitive, as the rest of the body is as hard as stone). We must tell the ranger if at any point we cut ourselves. We must do exactly as the rangers tell us.

The ranger plunges into the story of the tourist who did not listen, wandering off into the savannah to get a closer picture. “…and all we found was his camera.” the ranger said in a hushed tone. “Were the pictures any good?” one of our group asks, which gets a good laugh. The ranger talk is serious though. Komodo dragons are powerful and dangerous animals and deserve respect.

As the largest living species of lizards Komodo dragons can grow up to around 3 meters and weigh up to 70kg (or more if they’ve just eaten a goat whole). They can run at speeds of up to 20km as well as being able to swim around 500m. The Komodo dragon has a tail as long as its body and 60 serrated teeth, which deliver bacteria filled (possibly venomous – the scientific jury is still out on this one) bites. A slow, painful death…unless you get swallowed whole, which only takes 20 minutes. They have been known to attack and kill humans…although they mainly eat small mammals/birds, deer and carrion. Luckily for tourists they can survive on 12 meals a year and spend most of the morning slowly warming up.

We head off in groups through the savannah and forest. Birds call in the treetops, the landscape is unusual and the plants are very different to anything we have seen so far. A bush rustles to our right. “What is it?” says Justin to the ranger. The ranger peers through the undergrowth with his stick out in front before turning around and saying “Chicken!”. Excluding the chickens it does feel like the land that time forgot. No wonder the first western expeditions to the Komodo Islands are rumoured to have inspired the original King Kong movie.

We reach a clearing and the ranger at the front makes a signal for us to stay close together. Here be dragons! Three huge male dragons sit warming up. One moves very slowly across the clearing. It is very hard to imagine these animals running up to 20km/h, but they do. They swing their heads from side to side, letting their enormous forked tongue taste the air - hopefully not for the next meal. What is really amazing is the sheer size of a) the tail b) the claws. They’re enormous.

We start taking pictures. The guides have obviously done this before, urging us to go and stand behind the dragon before stooping down on the ground to take a picture that makes you look like you are riding a Komodo dragon. Awesome. The rangers start quoting facts and figures; including some that we haven’t been able to confirm a) they have three eyes b) they have two penises. If anyone has any info on this please email us.

Patting a Komodo dragon...

...riding a dragon

It had big pointy teeth...

and a sharp pointy tongue

"So what happens if your stick doesn’t work?” asks one of our group. “You climb a tree very quickly.” replies the Ranger. The dragon nearest to us lets out a low hissing noise and everyone immediately looks around for the nearest tree. Justin’s is a four-foot twig of a tree, which everyone finds very funny.

We head off for a really nice walk around the park before returning to the Ranger Station. Another guide comes over to tell us a Komodo dragon is “having breakfast”. We head over to the spot and watch for 30 minutes as the dragon rips, drags and shakes a deer carcass, at one point rapping it around a tree to get some extra leverage.

Hhhhmmmmm yummy deer

We are all so mesmerised by this that we don’t notice a number of dragons chilling in the long grass behind us. One of our group, busy taking photos, starts to walk backwards straight towards one. The ranger closes in with his stick. “What’s the matter?” the group member asks. The ranger points at the Komodo dragon a couple of feet behind him. I’ve never seen anyone move so quick.

Our time is up and we head back to the boat with wonderful memories of a fantastic trip. A couple of American college boys from a different boat hang back without their ranger. “Hey, look at me. I’m touching a Komodo dragon.” one of the lads says crouching down and reaching out his hand towards the dragons tail. The dragon looks around and his giant forked tongue flicks out. Needless to say college boy backed off pretty quick. What a muppet!

Our final boat stop is the beautiful Pink Beach, where the sand is pink! We pop on our snorkeling gear and head out to some of the best coral and fish shoals I’ve ever seen. No dynamite fishing here and what a difference it makes. Giant fish and coral everywhere.

We arrive in the port town of Labuanbajo, Flores. After booking into a hotel we head back to the boat for some dingin Bintangs with our group. A wonderful way to end an amazing experience.

Go team Perama!

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Adapted from wiki…

The Komodo dragon (Varanus komodoensis to Latin speakers or ora to the locals), is the largest living species of lizard. Komodo Dragons can grow up to a maximum of three meters and on average weigh up to 70kg. They managed to get so big because of something called ‘island gigantism’ – basically they are at the top of the food chain on the islands, although it could be because they are distant relatives of a now extinct giant lizard family isolated by rising sea levels in the last ice age. They are only found on the Indonesian islands of Komodo, Rinca, Flores, Gili Motang and Padar.

The Komodo dragon has a tail as long as its body, as well as about 60 frequently replaced serrated teeth that can measure up to 2.5 centimetres in length. Its saliva is frequently blood-tinged, because its teeth are almost completely covered by tissue that is naturally lacerated during feeding. This creates an ideal culture for the bacteria that live in its mouth.

Komodo dragons are carnivores. They hunt and ambush prey including invertebrates, birds, and mammals. Their group behaviour in hunting is exceptional in the reptile world. The diet of big Komodo dragons mainly consists of deer and carrion. For smaller prey up to the size of a goat, their loosely articulated jaws, flexible skull, and expandable stomach allow it to swallow its prey whole. but swallowing is still a long process (15–20 minutes to swallow a goat). A Komodo dragon may attempt to speed up the process by ramming the carcass against a tree to force it down its throat, sometimes ramming so forcefully that the tree is knocked down.

After eating up to 80 percent of its body weight in one meal, it drags itself to a sunny location to speed digestion, as the food could rot and poison the dragon if left undigested for too long. Because of their slow metabolism, large dragons can survive on as little as 12 meals a year. After digestion, the Komodo dragon regurgitates a mass of horns, hair, and teeth known as the gastric pellet, which is covered in malodorous mucus…nice! Komodo poo is white because dragons cannot digest calcium.

Mating begins between May and August, and the eggs are laid in September. About twenty eggs are deposited in abandoned megapode nests or in a self-dug nesting hole. The eggs are incubated for seven to eight months, hatching in April, when insects are most plentiful. Young Komodo dragons are vulnerable from being eaten by predators, other Komodo dragons and their own mothers, so they live in trees for a number of years. They can live for up to 50 years.

There are approximately 4,000 to 5,000 living Komodo dragons in the wild. In the wild their range has contracted due to human activities and they are listed as vulnerable by the IUCN. They are protected under Indonesian law, and Komodo National Park was founded to aid protection efforts.
The Komodo dragon does not have an acute sense of hearing, despite its visible earholes. The Komodo dragon uses its long, yellow, deeply forked tongue to detect, taste, and smell. With the help of a favorable wind and its habit of swinging its head from side to side as it walks, Komodo dragons may be able to detect its next meal from 4–9.5 km away.

Komodo dragons are solitary, coming together only to breed and eat. They are capable of running rapidly in brief sprints up to 20 kilometres per hour (12 mph), diving up to 4.5 metres (15 ft), and swim around 500m.

Dragons need to sunbathe every morning and hunt in the afternoon once they’ve warmed up. They sleep in burrows at night to conserve body heat.

Seggigi:
Two days in Senggigi post RInjani were more of a recovery session than a period of enlightenment after the leg burning.

Senggigi Beach. Hardly shabby.

I feel Lynne has done a good job describing Sengiggi already. In brief it doesn’t compare to Kuta Lombok or the Gili’s, but does have a great bakery selling nice fresh donuts.

Kuta Lombok:
The shuttle bus through Perama turned out to be a little Suzuki car, with AC and a driver called Apo who quickly turned into guide supreme. We chatted hard about religion, power cuts and local agriculture (more interesting than it sounds). He added a stop at a pottery village (boring) and a local Sasak village. I must admit with our rubbish remnant of the Lonely Planet South East Asia on a shoestring I knew little to nothing about Lomboks people and culture. The Sasak have their own language and many don’t speak Bahasa Indonesian, they were the original inhabitants of Lombok and were briefly ruled by the Balinese from over the waters. Their traditional villages are charming shared family rice house, ancestral family homes with many generations sharing two rooms and communal spaces as well as a village heads house. These villages are perched between the most beautiful and vibrant green padi fields. We got a tour with a local guide and Lynne bought a beautiful sarong (the men farm, the women mainly weave).

A rice house is shared by 4-5 families.

Lynne with Sasak baby. Pressed into her arms for some skin comparison by the locals. "ha ha, her skin is whiter than a babies". Disconsolate Lynne.

2 hours after leaving Senggigi we pulled into the most picture perfect white sanded bay with turquoise waters and little islands perched off shore at each end. We had arrived at the surfing capital Kuta Lombok (to distinguish it from the VERY different Kuta Bali).

Kuta Lombok. Very nice!

Kuta is rated as the next big thing. Large stretches of the beach are owned by a Middles East consortium with plans to build mega resorts. For now there is the Novotel on a different, private beach, over to the east and the Oberoi Lombok to the west (the Oberoi has won the worlds best hotel for the last few years- a snip at $500-800 a night). The rest of the strip is faced single story warungs (shops) and homestays, for now. Those who have been coming for 20 years say it has changed beyond recognition. I think it still has a slight 'end of the road' feel. Everyone is surfing, apart from us. Nearly all the waves are difficult reef breaks. Not for the novice. Being dropped off in those waves by the fishing boat with out a lot of experience is a sure way to drown or face plant into very sharp coral.

Kuta Lombok main drag with locals goats.

Beach East of Kuta Lombok. Popular surfing spot.

We hired a scooter and cruise east (very slowly mum and dad) down the coast dropping in at different bays, having a swim and eating freshly cut pineapple. After a lunch back in Kuta we try and head west to what we have been told is one of the best beaches in all of Indonesia. We were told by an expat that the road were rough but we though we could always turn around if we didn’t fancy it much. 5k in and the roads were as close to impassable as you can get. The locals have found gold in the hills and lots of little tent villages have sprouted up with homemade tunnels and grinders. We later learn that the Australian owner of the land has been unable to keep these people off it and that people are already dying in their homemade tunnels as they collapse on them. We gave up after hearing the roads were the same for the next 6k to the beach and return to the Kuta with our tails between our legs. We feel much better however after gatecrashing the Novotels 5* services for a few hours.

How to eat a pineapple. Skilfully carved by the local women.

The skilful women. The speed at which five women descend on you when you finally decide you might want a pineapple. The local stall holder laughed that if you even sneeze something like pineapple they appear from everywhere.

Green south Lombok from our trip west out of Kuta. We never made the beach.

Happily safe back at the 5 star resort!

Tetebatu (Stone Bridge):
Lynne is feeling a bit beached out so we head for the hills. We hire a private car again to take us back up the volcano. Getting around Lombok, and Bali for that matter is not easy. We could have got five bimo’s (the little shared vans) to Tetebatu but it could have taken an entire day or more. A car journey is only 90mins. Tete Batu is a village on the south slopes of Mt Rinjani. We had previously gone up the north side and come down the east side and were treated to new views of this monster volcano. The village has become a bit of a padi field retreat and is packed in the high season. We book into the Green Orry Inn as one of the few guests. Sitting at 600m the climate is a bit cooler which is a welcome relief after months of 30+ heat.

View from Green Orry Hotel.

Evening Competitive Monopoly. 3-1 to me at the moment. Easy........

The next morning we are off trekking again! Lynne doesn’t seem to register my repeated claim “that I don’t do hill walking”. However this time it’s a more easy 5k walk through the paid fields with a guide pointing out the various stages of rice production. The fields are incredibly fertile and they knock out 3 crops a year of rice. The benefits of living on a volcano! The terraces of rice stretch out every shade of green as far as the eye can see.

Planting Rice. A womans job. The men plough and as you can see in the back ground chuck the rice bundles to the women.

Stunning green padi. Something majestic about the green glinting in the water. Our walk was tightrope between them for a few hours.

Beating the dried rice. There is a constant cycle of production as the ground is so fertile.

Padis as far as the eye can see. My nemesis Rinjani in the background.

We also get to see some black monkeys. Which is nice. After three hours we reach the jungle and the path to the waterfall. As we approach it sounds like a public swimming pool with lots of squeals and shouting and laughing. We arrive to find most of the village teenagers there with their girlfriends having finished their yearly exams the day before. They are all very keen to get photos taken with Lynne and I. Strange white faces and skin. The human zoo in reverse. The waterfall is very refreshing after our trek. On our way back down we pass through lots of local villages. All have their local guard dogs but our guide is quick to wave a big stick at them which works a treat. I keep my big stick with me all the way back down.

Cooling waterfall / public playground.

Mataram:

Mataram is actually four villages and is the capital of Lombok. It has treelined streets and is quite pleasant as Indonesian towns go. Particularily pleasing was the western style mall (well Indonesian version of), where I bought some trainers (mine died on Rinjani!), and we ate McFlurries while surfing McDonalds free WiFi.

But then we felt a strange urge , quite the opposite of our usual feelings. The need to go to a museum. The Lombok museum has pieces from Lombok and Sumbawa (as it seems devoid of any tourist structure at all). We were the only people there and the guide gave us a relaxed tour ending at a locked gate through to the treasure room. "you have time?" "I get key!". In side were some truly beautiful pieces from the Sultan of Bima including some ornamental Kiri swords and a silver, gold and coconut jug.

Ceremonial masks for dances

Stunning jug. 1700's.

Sasak Kiri's. for weddings not killing.

We also visited two of Lombok's Hindu temples. Both were quite nice, but not too inspiring. I was more excited about buying some knock off DVD's and watching Finding Nemo.

Hindu Temple.

Tomorrow we get picked up by our friends Perama and start a 2N/3D boat journey to Flores via Komodo. Let the Dragon hunting begin.

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Where in the world is Lombok?

Lombok nestles between Sumbawa and Bali in the Indonesian Archipelago that consists of 17-20,000 islands. The largest archipelago in the world!

Some facts about Indonesia:

The population of Indonesia is huge: 240 million. 120 million on Java: the most populace island in the world. Kalimantan is one of the most diverse places in the world with twice as many plant species as the whole of Africa. Nusa Tengarra is home to the worlds largest lizard: the Komodo dragon which can get up to 3m long. Sumatra is home to worlds largest flower: Rafflesia anoldi. The reticulated python is the world’s largest snake and the largest ever was recorded in Sulawesi at 9.85m. A country of superlatives.

Some history about Indonesia:

It didn’t even officially exist till 27 December 1949. The region started out as a number of Hindu and Buddhist kingdoms and wasn’t united until the 1500’s when first the Portuguese and then the Dutch ruled the archipelago. The locals didn’t like the Dutch rule and greeted the Japanese during WWII as saviors. However this soon turned to horror as much like the whole of SEA they were treated abominably. After the Japanese were defeated at the end of WWII Soekarno declared Indonesia independent in 1945. However the Dutch with the help of the British tried to regain control but the Indonesians fought a tough four year long guerilla war. Pressure from the US and UN, as well as the mounting Dutch death toll finally brought independence.

Post Independence was a rocky road. Unity in war turned to division in peace. General Soekarno made moves to form a Guided Democracy (a euphemism for dictatorship of course). Despite these moves by 1965 Indonesai had one of the worlds biggest communist parties at over 3 million. A coup occurred which was blamed on the communists and 500,000 communist sympathizers were killed. Not surprisingly it later came to light that the British (protecting interests in Malaysia) and the US (against all things communist) had helped draw up hit lists for the military dictatorship.

Then comes a chap called Soeharto (very similar to Soekarno) who ousts the previous dictator and ruled Indonesia with an Iron fist through the 60’s and 70’s putting down uprisings in Aceh, Papua and invading Timor. The government was corrupt but the 80’s and 90’s were economic boom years. However by the end of the 90’s the government went bankrupt and after 30 years in power Soeharto resigned in 1998.

Indonesia has remained somewhat unstable since then. Demonstrations in Jakarta and the East Timor split are proof of that (the army withdrew only after systematically destroying all infrastructure in the country), but then such a massive country with such vast difference in culture and religion often will. The country continues to grow at a strong 5-6% a year, however while the rich get richer the country still has countless millions surviving on a dollar a day.

Nearly three years ago we climbed Gunung Agung in Bali for our honeymoon. As we watched the sunrise from the summit we saw an amazing mountain appear on the horizon. “That is Gunung Rinjani on Lombok.” our guide told us. We said to ourselves that one day we would climb Rinjani and look back at our honeymoon volcano in Bali.

Watching the sunrise over Rinjani from our breakfast table on Gili Air, we started to get itchy feet again. With our diver certificates completed, we decided to finally prise ourselves away from Gili Air.

The morning boat from Gili Air to Lombok harbour, with Gunung Rinjani in the background

Sengiggi is an unusual place. There are the usual mega resorts along the front, although they were very quiet. The town’s main road has its fair share of restaurants and live music venues (Happy Bar - how much you kept us awake and how good was your live band).

The fishing boats go out in the early hours to catch tuna, returning in convoy at around 9-10am, which is fun to watch. We were told that if the fishermen don’t catch enough tuna they go back out in the late afternoon and if they don’t catch enough tuna again they then have to go home and explain to their wife.

There are literally hundreds of travel agencies. You cannot walk more than a few meters without someone saying “transport?” or “trekking?” Even when we sit down to have some lunch, our warung has a travel agent inside. I have no idea how they can all survive financially. In Indonesia, there are unnecessary middlemen everywhere making money from being able to use a mobile phone, the mysterious “managers” you rarely get to meet and the front men who don’t get paid unless they are working and therefore don’t have a lot of money. Whenever you book anything you always find a complicated line of connections back to a company you were probably trying to avoid in the first place.

We’d worked out how much it would cost us to trek to Rinjani on our own, but we were offered a good deal on transport and a guide if we left with a group the next morning - a little earlier than planned but we decided to go for it. The next morning we climbed into a car at 5am and set off for Senaru, one of the northern bases for trekking up to Rinjani. We met our group and set off up the track and into the rainforest.

We had read a number of reviews of the Rinjani climb so we knew what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the “nice walk” promised by some of the travel agents keen to get people on their tours. It was three hard days of 8-10 hour treks on steep, rocky and in places traitorous terrain. The key words were to go at a pace you were comfortable with, take extra snacks and take care!

Half an hour later our group reaches a gate. The heat and humidity in the forest as well as a few steep sections had definitely got the heart pumping and we are already dripping in sweat. “Where are we now?” we ask the Guide. “The starting point.” he replies. “Then what was that?” we say a little surprised. “That was the nice garden walk.” he replies without a hint of sarcasm.

The entrance into the National Park...and the start of our climb (not including the nice garden walk)

We pick up our team of flip-flop wearing porters, all of whom have calves like traction engines and are carrying 20 kilo bamboo packs full of food, cooking equipment and our tents. We head off for our first four km walk.

Our amazing porters...we're not worthy, we're not worthy

The Guide sets a pace, which he sticks to relentlessly for over an hour without stopping. We reach a clearing where a number of groups have already stopped for lunch. We ask when we can have our next litre bottle of water. “We were told we would get 3 litres of water.” Our guide nods “Yes, one today, one tomorrow and one the day after.” Justin manages to pick his jaw of the floor to say, “So we only have one litre per day? The average person should drink two - three litres a day without this amount of exercise on top.” Our guide looks a bit grumpy and wanders off and we hear the same conversation happening across the other groups. One Dutch guy is absolutely livid and many of the Guides are trying to reassure people that there are enough safe spring water stops along the way to top up.

We are off again for another four km walk at the same pace. We walk in silence for most of the time apart from the sound of heavy breathing, there isn’t time to stop and look around. Head down, march on. An hour and a half in and our carb low rice meals have already worn off. We haven’t stopped once and Justin eventually stops in front of me. “This is ridiculous.” We stop and take out some of our extra snacks and our now precious bottle of Pocari Sweat (Indonesian Lucozade).

The Guide and the rest of the group have disappeared off along the path. “This isn’t a good pace for three days of walking." I say. Justin nods and we decide to go at ‘turtle pace’ – a steady training pace with regular water stops. Better to get there in one piece than to not get there at all.

We head off a while later and catch up with our group. “What’s the matter?” the Guide says. “Nothing, but we are going to go at a slower pace.” Our Guide turns around without saying anything and heads of again at his pace. We wait at the back and head off at ours. We raid the emergency chocolate supply a couple of hours later and finish the last half hour in reasonably good shape, whilst our group in general limps in looking exhausted and dripping in sweat.

We arrive on a campsite shrouded in cloud and quickly change into some dry, warm clothes. You almost feel like you’re camping on top of the cloud and every now and again the sun shines through and tries to dry the damp clothing we’ve laid out. Having hauled up all our equipment, the porters are already busy setting up camp and making dinner. Massive respect! The good campsites are already full so we have had to perch our tents on a few rocky flat(tish) areas.

Camping on the clouds

We eat our Nasi Goreng around a little fire we have made and watch as the clouds part, the sunsets over the ocean and the stars appear. It is very beautiful. We all head to bed early for a very uncomfortable and unfulfilling nights sleep. “I don’t like hillwalking and I don’t like camping.” I hear Justin mumble as we lie in the dark. The only saving grace was getting up to go to the toilet at 1am and feeling like we were standing on top of the world. The Milky Way in all its sparkling glory stretched out in front of us and we sat in silence for at least half an hour watching the shooting stars and satellites fly by.

The next morning we are up at 6am to watch the sunrise. The cloud has gone and you can see right down into the crater where the mini volcano created by the eruption two years ago sits smouldering. After spending day one focused on pounding uphill we spend most of the morning starring down at a very narrow, rocky path with a sharp drop into the crater (not for the faint hearted). We slide down the large rocks on our bums, slowly make our way around areas where the path has disappeared and scramble down loose rocky areas holding onto wobbly rails. The views into the crater are amazing, but once again we have little time to stop as we tromp on for hours on end.

Our first glimpse down into the crater

We are accompanied by the constant sound of “Hati-Hati” (careful / slowly) from our Guide, whose look of real concern is more than enough to convince you that this is no joke. “How would they get you out of here if you had an accident?” I hear Justin think out loud. After our climb we found out someone fell in this area a few days after we’d walked it and had to be carried out on a bamboo stretcher by the porters, which must have taken hours.

We reach the bottom of the crater at lunchtime and walk around the flat lake edge. Local fishermen are busy at work catching and smoking fish. Justin and some of the guys go for a swim in the lake, whilst I have a splash around in the shallows. It was very surreal to watch Justin swimming with a smouldering volcano as a backdrop.

Finally made it to the crater and I didn't fall and break my neck. My jump height was seriously affected though!!

Chilling next to a casual volcano

Groups start heading off uphill to the next campsite. Some of the US uni students are heading off on their own leaving their Guides lagging behind, which was pretty stupid given the fact that the cloud was descending and there are numerous paths and drops. We’ve got the opposite problem. Our guide heads off and leaves us behind. We have no idea how far we have gone and how much further we have to go and plod on. We manage to summit in just over two hours rather than the four hours the Guide had told us (phew).

A more comfortable night beckons with our hay-lined campsite. We eat our noodle soup and head straight to bed after watching the sunset. Our alarms go off at 2am for breakfast. We can already hear groups heading off and there is a line of little torchlights bobbing up and down along the path to the summit. We are given four crackers for breakfast (for a five hour ascent and descent). I can practically hear Justin indignation behind me as we sit around the fire slowly munching on them. But, it is okay because the Guide has a couple of biscuits to give us half way up...woop woop! Luckily we’ve saved a box of biscuits and an emergency chocolate bar.

We begin the ascent, which within minutes has us scrabbling up rocks and sliding on volcanic rock. Only another three hours to go. The first lightning bolt lights the sky. The storm is miles off coast, but it lights up the steep and narrow path in front of us as well as the summit in the far distance.

My torch starts to fail an hour in. Our Guide is unhappy and I wish I’d asked for a better torch. “You need to come and walk behind me.” he says. “I’m fine with Justin at the back with our torches.” I reply. “This is dangerous section, you need to be behind me with my torch.” I might not agree with the way this Guide has been running this whole thing, but he knows his mountain and I move up behind him. “I can’t go at your pace though, I need to go at mine.” He glares at me and turns around without saying anything. Within a few minutes he is 20 meters ahead of me. I am left in a dark void, except for the occasional moments of sheet lightning, which show the path ahead and the sheer drops to either side of me. Great! My only comfort is to hear someone from our group comment on how much better the pace is!

An hour later and we hit the small volcanic rocks that slide back a few feet everytime you take a step forward. It is hard going and seriously demoralizing after 30 minutes of not really going anywhere fast. By now all the groups have merged together into one long line. Some of my group is in front and some have fallen behind. We’ve started to overtake other groups who are now sat either side of the path looking a bit shell-shocked and exhausted.

Justin gives me some biscuits and heads off. I start off again, but fall and try to scrabble forward on all fours before sliding back four or five feet. I end up sat down wiping volcanic dust from my biscuits. I look across the ocean and see the sky turning pink. The sun is already rising and the summit behind me still looks a million miles away.

One of my rowing friends once told me that sometimes “You have to take yourself outside and give yourself a good talking to.” This was definitely one of those moments. I heard Justin calling back. I dug my toes in and pulled myself up. A few minutes later I could hear whoops and cheers from the group in front. The summit was close and I was going to make the sunrise with time to spare.

I wrapped up warm and sat next to Justin watching the sky change colour ever few seconds and the sunrise over the clouds. The whole of Lombok spread out around us and in the distance you could see the Gilis and Bali as well as Sumbawa. Gunung Agung started to appear on Bali. A second mountain also appeared before we realised it was the shadow of Gunung Rinjani. It was the best view I have ever seen and we luckily had an amazingly clear day (I think I might have cried if it had been cloudy):

Moonrise over Lombok and Sumbawa

We made it

Beautiful views across Lombok's volcanic planes

Just had the last of my emergency chocolate and sitting on top of a volcano...happy times:D

Beautiful sunrise across Lombok and Sumbawa

The shadow of Gunung Rinjani and Gunung Agung, Bali in the distance

We start to head back down to our campsite. Our Guide passes me and stops “I don’t think you’re going to make it down today without a lot of help.” After the achievement of summiting it is like being slapped across the face. “I’m fine thanks, I’m just going to go at a sensible pace.” I reply. He turns and walks away. By now we can see everything that was hidden in the dark and Justin finds that his 90kg weight becomes useful for the first time as he slides down the volcanic slopes with ease. The steep drops, narrow paths and the beautiful views across the surrounding volcanic fields:

Justin slides down the path from the summit

The bain of my life at 4am in the morning

Me and my shadow and a mini volcano

We descend for two and a half hours. Breakfast of banana pancakes and deep fried crackers is waiting for us. We eat as much as we can and put the rest away in a bag for later…trust me after walking for five hours cold deep fried crackers taste AMAZING! We start our five-hour decent down to our end point. I’m feeling exhausted, but as I start off I find that I’m leaving the rest of the group behind and I comfortably make it down. I’m going to put it down to turtle pace leaving me with more than enough energy to keep going and recover properly…or possibly the big red rag that got waved in my face at 7am in the morning.

We thank our porters who have done an amazing job. Our lift, a sunburn inducing open backed truck, turns up to take us on our hour trip to Senaru. We shower, have lunch number two, do a bit of stretching and crawl into bed. The next day we are stiff and tired, but we head for a gentle walk down to a local waterfall, which is beautiful. No chance of doing a shampoo advert impression here though – the water pressure is incredible (P.S. The rocks were slippery when wet…see below).

Could not get much closer without being blown away

Note to self:
a) Justin doesn't really like hillwalking.
b) Justin really doesn’t like camping.

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We often use travel forums and blogs to research places and things to do. You do occasionally come across very funny things as you read through. This was a classic about the waterfalls in Senaru: “Be prepared for some things that the guides may not tell you in advance. The stairs down to the waterfall may be very slippery when wet, particularly those covered in moss.
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