All good things have to come to an end and for this one in particular the end turned out to be the highlight of the entire trip. I spent my final 8 days in Indonesia on a diving liveaboard which enabled me to be based inside the Komodo national park for the best part of a week. It also enabled me to fulfill an ambition which I've had for around 18 years, that is to see Komodo Dragons (and not in a zoo...after all I'm not a cheat). 24 stunning dives later I returned to Labuanbajo ready to fly home after one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life.
The diving in Komodo is not only spectacular, (sharks, mantas, dolphins were all seen during the trip) but it is also fantastically exciting, one dive in particular led to a fellow English diving companion being swept off a reef and out into the blue. The currents there are so strong that in places it looks like someone's placed a mountain stream in amongst the calm of the surrounding ocean. A very strange sight to see.
Thankfully the other 9 people on the boat were a joy to be with as well, in particular the 5 Japanese who utterly destroyed any stereotypes about them being reserved and quiet. Honestly I have simply no idea how they managed to get so much alcohol and camera equipment onto the boat. I'm pleased they did though as it meant that I could steal some of their unnderwater photos.
Speaking of photos...
A map of the park:
The three sites near the top (Castle Rock, Crystal Rock and the Cauldron were all sensational. Sharks, Dolphins and Mantas were to be seen. The cauldron was my favourite though because not only was the sealife stunning but the currents were insane and it felt like being in a immense washing machine. Possibly.
The dragons:
Some underwater shots:
Fruit bats:
Shots from the boat:
(the cauldron is between these two islands)
The japanese
Flori and Enke, two of the Indonesian crewmembers. I love this photo as it sums up the people perfectly:
Ricardo, one of the divemasters:
As I've said it was a fantastic ending to a great trip. Hopefully it won't be too long until my next one.
See you all soon,
Keg
p.s: Quite pleased with my timing of climbing the volcanoes in Northern Sumatra. Would've been entertaining to see though...
Sunday 29 August 2010
Friday 20 August 2010
Flores photos...
...and an insight into the life an times of my backpack.
He'd been having an easy time of it, no scratches, no dirt, no offensive comments hurled his way etc etc, then he arrived in Flores. Immediately things started to go wrong as at some point on the flight from Denpasar to Ende a careless baggage handler managed to rip the zip to the bottom compartment. After a quick (and some was say utterly shocking) stitch job he was back to nearing match fitness however that didn't last long. On the first truck from Moni to Ende the next day he was placed on top of a batch of Oranges which have provided a quite overpowering citrusy fragrance to the bottom half however that turned out to just be the start of a very difficult day. Later on he fell off a motorbike before being dropped again while being placed on top of a minibus. If he thought things couldn't get any worse a quick rethink was needed as a particularly large bump sent him flying from the top of the minibus onto the road where he showed an impressive ability to cartwheel in a straight line for a number of seconds. Disappointing. Finally things really came to a head today when a local man decided that the twisting and turning of the mountain roads was enough to make him want to throw up. As luck was have it my bag provided some good target practice for his very impressive effort, now I'm sort of thankful for the Orange based fragrance that he's still trying to cling on to. Still, at least one of us is having a good time...
Well sort of good, the 12 hour bus ride was a little on the tedious side. Although having said that I arrived in Labuan Bajo just in time for sunset which made it all very worthwhile.
Anyway, the photos...
Moni and Kelimutu:
The locals believe that when you die you go to one of Kelimutu's three lakes. Light blue for middle aged, dark blue for the young and dark black for the old:
Riung:
The 17 (21) Island park, obviously not all are in shot before someone starts feeling clever...
Flying foxes:
The fish we caught. I have no idea why he donned a balaclava to go fishing. Answers on a postcard please.
Where I spent most of my birthday:
Bajawa:
The view from the traditional Nggada village of Bema:
So9me spider which lived there. Quite a big one in fact.
Someone posing on a rock with the help of a 10 second timer and some mad scrambling.
Bema itself:
The things in the middle are monuments which represent men (the umbrella type ones) and women (The mini hut style ones).
The view a few moments ago in Labuan Bajo
Jean - Lovely stuff, reminded me of the Great Bustard story from Philbert Street. I'm not sure what will happen next time I drink, haven't touched anything since that dinner with you in London before I left. I trust you're having a laugh though? Also any luck with that link? When are you back in Norfolk? I feel the tuckage field calling... Also just seen your comment from the 14th a couple of posts down, I think the jokes would be appreciated by all so fire away. Will try and keep the beard but I fear it will have to go before Sammy's out of respect for the occassion.
Off diving on Sunday so won't be able to update for a week however I will try and do a post before I head back to the UK.
Happy birthday Xi'an,
Keg
He'd been having an easy time of it, no scratches, no dirt, no offensive comments hurled his way etc etc, then he arrived in Flores. Immediately things started to go wrong as at some point on the flight from Denpasar to Ende a careless baggage handler managed to rip the zip to the bottom compartment. After a quick (and some was say utterly shocking) stitch job he was back to nearing match fitness however that didn't last long. On the first truck from Moni to Ende the next day he was placed on top of a batch of Oranges which have provided a quite overpowering citrusy fragrance to the bottom half however that turned out to just be the start of a very difficult day. Later on he fell off a motorbike before being dropped again while being placed on top of a minibus. If he thought things couldn't get any worse a quick rethink was needed as a particularly large bump sent him flying from the top of the minibus onto the road where he showed an impressive ability to cartwheel in a straight line for a number of seconds. Disappointing. Finally things really came to a head today when a local man decided that the twisting and turning of the mountain roads was enough to make him want to throw up. As luck was have it my bag provided some good target practice for his very impressive effort, now I'm sort of thankful for the Orange based fragrance that he's still trying to cling on to. Still, at least one of us is having a good time...
Well sort of good, the 12 hour bus ride was a little on the tedious side. Although having said that I arrived in Labuan Bajo just in time for sunset which made it all very worthwhile.
Anyway, the photos...
Moni and Kelimutu:
The locals believe that when you die you go to one of Kelimutu's three lakes. Light blue for middle aged, dark blue for the young and dark black for the old:
Riung:
The 17 (21) Island park, obviously not all are in shot before someone starts feeling clever...
Flying foxes:
The fish we caught. I have no idea why he donned a balaclava to go fishing. Answers on a postcard please.
Where I spent most of my birthday:
Bajawa:
The view from the traditional Nggada village of Bema:
So9me spider which lived there. Quite a big one in fact.
Someone posing on a rock with the help of a 10 second timer and some mad scrambling.
Bema itself:
The things in the middle are monuments which represent men (the umbrella type ones) and women (The mini hut style ones).
The view a few moments ago in Labuan Bajo
Jean - Lovely stuff, reminded me of the Great Bustard story from Philbert Street. I'm not sure what will happen next time I drink, haven't touched anything since that dinner with you in London before I left. I trust you're having a laugh though? Also any luck with that link? When are you back in Norfolk? I feel the tuckage field calling... Also just seen your comment from the 14th a couple of posts down, I think the jokes would be appreciated by all so fire away. Will try and keep the beard but I fear it will have to go before Sammy's out of respect for the occassion.
Off diving on Sunday so won't be able to update for a week however I will try and do a post before I head back to the UK.
Happy birthday Xi'an,
Keg
Thursday 19 August 2010
No one even sent me any Flores
Having turned 28 yesterday I feel like these posts should become more descriptive and informative. Balls to that, I just saw a fat German fall into a ditch while walking along the road. Apparently my offers to help would have been more warmly appreciated if I hadn't been doubled up in laughter during my half hearted rescue. Poor fatty.
Since my last update I flew to Ende where I planned to stay the night however on arrival a sweet family (also German) offered me a space in their car for nothing. Naturally I accepted immediately and so ended up in Moni a day earlier than planned. Moni seems to only exist as a place to stay for the handful of tourists who head up to Kelimutu each day (photos will come later). As such it has little to recommend it, except for a Rastafarian named John who meets every car/minibus and shows them round the available rooms, then joins you for supper and gets hammered on any drug available. I liked him. Kelimutu itself was beautiful and the 15km trip up at4.30am on the back of a motorbike was spine wreckingly enjoyable. I'm not quite sure why I walked all the way back though, it was fun for the first few steps then became a very tedious ordeal. Strange decision really.
After a quick breakfast I decided to see if I could get to Riung the same day. Everyone told me it would be impossible but I decided they were all idiots so set out to see for myself. Technically I was right however I'm not sure a combination of 5 trucks, a minibus, 2 motorbikes and 5km walk is the accepted way of getting there. Still keg 1, technically correct locals 0. Either way I arrived just before 9pm and found a room in a semi-converted convent which was run by two sweet Indonesians called Josephine and Margaret. I signed myself in as Judas Broke just to try and fit in. Got a bit weird when they said happy birthday to a "pak Judas" at breakfast though.
The 17th was a write off as I was exhausted so I just pottered around taking photos and bearing the innumerable cries of "hello mister" from anyone under 30 Also it was their independence day so there wasn't exactly a lot on offer. For my birthday I hired a boat to take me out to the island national park which lies just off the coast. There are actually 21 but as independence day is on the 17th they decided to ignore 4 of them, brilliant. Firstly we headed to an island full of Flying Foxes (something Indiana Jones had inspired me to want to see someday), then on to an uninhabited island where there was just me, 2 indonesian boatmen and a random but highly entertaining spaniard called Bruno. A local fisherman gave me a tuna as a present which was strange but highly generous considering (I might have ended up accidentally leaving him it's value in Rupiah on his boat...). After that we headed off to look at groups of flying fish which were being hunted by some 2 foot long Tuna, we had a go at catching one but ended up with a disappointing Grouper instead. I also saw something about a meter long fly 5 feet out of the water but I'm not 100% on what it was. The captain's best guess was that it was another type of tuna, just massive.
On to today where I got woken up at 5am to catch the Riung-Bajawa minibus. The ceiling was at my shoulder height and the seat in front was 4 inches closer than my knees. Oh and the road was a shambles. Also the man next to me kept falling asleep on my shoulder. That was a fun 5 hours... Also I fell for the trap of being really optimistic that it wouldn't be too full when I got on as it was just me on board. I forgot that in Indonesia they just drive round and round until every possible space in, on and around has at least some sort of animal product in it. Oh, and two tyres blew out at different moments. I think the Indonesia transport system will not be something which I miss all in all. Anyway we got in at lunchtime and I hopped on the back of a motorbike to head out to the traditional Nggada village of Bema on the flanks of Gunung Ierie (sp?) (photos to follow...). Utterly stunning, so much so that I bought some vanilla pods from a local woman who looked like Dracula's wife with red Betel Nut juice running out of her mouth (all the older ones here do to be honest). So now I've got a sore arse, some beautiful photos and a selection of very fragrant vanilla pods. A decent afternoon considering.
10 hour bus journey to Labuan Bajo tomorrow where I will try to post the best pictures so far from my time in Flores.
Until then...
Keg
Since my last update I flew to Ende where I planned to stay the night however on arrival a sweet family (also German) offered me a space in their car for nothing. Naturally I accepted immediately and so ended up in Moni a day earlier than planned. Moni seems to only exist as a place to stay for the handful of tourists who head up to Kelimutu each day (photos will come later). As such it has little to recommend it, except for a Rastafarian named John who meets every car/minibus and shows them round the available rooms, then joins you for supper and gets hammered on any drug available. I liked him. Kelimutu itself was beautiful and the 15km trip up at4.30am on the back of a motorbike was spine wreckingly enjoyable. I'm not quite sure why I walked all the way back though, it was fun for the first few steps then became a very tedious ordeal. Strange decision really.
After a quick breakfast I decided to see if I could get to Riung the same day. Everyone told me it would be impossible but I decided they were all idiots so set out to see for myself. Technically I was right however I'm not sure a combination of 5 trucks, a minibus, 2 motorbikes and 5km walk is the accepted way of getting there. Still keg 1, technically correct locals 0. Either way I arrived just before 9pm and found a room in a semi-converted convent which was run by two sweet Indonesians called Josephine and Margaret. I signed myself in as Judas Broke just to try and fit in. Got a bit weird when they said happy birthday to a "pak Judas" at breakfast though.
The 17th was a write off as I was exhausted so I just pottered around taking photos and bearing the innumerable cries of "hello mister" from anyone under 30 Also it was their independence day so there wasn't exactly a lot on offer. For my birthday I hired a boat to take me out to the island national park which lies just off the coast. There are actually 21 but as independence day is on the 17th they decided to ignore 4 of them, brilliant. Firstly we headed to an island full of Flying Foxes (something Indiana Jones had inspired me to want to see someday), then on to an uninhabited island where there was just me, 2 indonesian boatmen and a random but highly entertaining spaniard called Bruno. A local fisherman gave me a tuna as a present which was strange but highly generous considering (I might have ended up accidentally leaving him it's value in Rupiah on his boat...). After that we headed off to look at groups of flying fish which were being hunted by some 2 foot long Tuna, we had a go at catching one but ended up with a disappointing Grouper instead. I also saw something about a meter long fly 5 feet out of the water but I'm not 100% on what it was. The captain's best guess was that it was another type of tuna, just massive.
On to today where I got woken up at 5am to catch the Riung-Bajawa minibus. The ceiling was at my shoulder height and the seat in front was 4 inches closer than my knees. Oh and the road was a shambles. Also the man next to me kept falling asleep on my shoulder. That was a fun 5 hours... Also I fell for the trap of being really optimistic that it wouldn't be too full when I got on as it was just me on board. I forgot that in Indonesia they just drive round and round until every possible space in, on and around has at least some sort of animal product in it. Oh, and two tyres blew out at different moments. I think the Indonesia transport system will not be something which I miss all in all. Anyway we got in at lunchtime and I hopped on the back of a motorbike to head out to the traditional Nggada village of Bema on the flanks of Gunung Ierie (sp?) (photos to follow...). Utterly stunning, so much so that I bought some vanilla pods from a local woman who looked like Dracula's wife with red Betel Nut juice running out of her mouth (all the older ones here do to be honest). So now I've got a sore arse, some beautiful photos and a selection of very fragrant vanilla pods. A decent afternoon considering.
10 hour bus journey to Labuan Bajo tomorrow where I will try to post the best pictures so far from my time in Flores.
Until then...
Keg
Thursday 12 August 2010
Just Bali made it.
As the quite simply wonderful pun in this post's title suggests I now find myself on a beach in Bali surrounded by an amazing array of obnoxious tourists, on the plus side there's also a huge expanse of beach and a very inviting stretch of sea. You can definitely see why people flock here, it's just a shame that they do.
The day after arriving in Yogyakarta I got up at 3am to go to the nearby temple of Borobodur which is supposedly Java's top tourist attraction, I say supposedly because having seen Bromo straight after I'm not quite sure why. That's not to say it isn't very impressive, it is, but it's not as awe inspiring as I'd been led to believe. It was definitely worth the effort of dragging myself out of bed at such a disappointing hour though as the view of the sunrise coming over Merapi (a volcano which poses such a threat to Yogya that it's on the equivalent of the FBI's most wanted list for volcanoes) was stunning. I ended up walking around with a 25 year old Dutch couple who shared my dislike of both other tourists and the local shopkeepers who try to force their wares on you. We got on famously. The highlight of our brief encounter was the invention of a game which would best be described as "how many people selling the same crap can you get to bother a tourist". I'm proud to say I think my record of 10 people trying to sell really shit hats to a bewildered Frenchman will be hard to beat. I also particularly enjoyed it when my Dutch companions effort backfired when he tried to get lots of t-shirt sellers to come up to me as apparently "I had lots of money and I love t-shirts". Sadly for him they looked at me and declared that they had nothing in my size, however they did have lots that would fit him. It took him 10 minutes to get clear of them, a feat that probably took longer thanks to me rounding up more sellers to go and bother him. I will refute any claims that I'm easily amused however.
Some Borobodur pictures:
The temple:
Sunrise, you can just make out the shape of Merapi which the sun is just coming out from behind:
Having visited the temple I spent the rest of the day walking round Yogya. After being pestered by more Batik vendors than I care to remember I gave up and crashed back at my hotel figuring that the next few days would need me to have a bit of energy in reserve.
The next day I boarded my cramped minibus and got taken the 12 hours to Cemoro Lawang on the lip of the Bromo-Tenegger crater arriving just before 9pm. After spending a few minutes persuading someone to try and sell his hats and scarves to my fellow bus passengers I went to sleep with the help of the soft sounds of "non merci" and "I don't want a sodding hat" coming from outside my window.
What was less fun was waking up at 3am to go and walk the 5km's or so from the hotel to Bromo, a walk which would've been made easier if I'd remembered to pack a torch. As it was I followed the road out of town which I could just see by the light of the stars before reaching the bottom of the crater where I was faced with utter blackness thanks to the thick mist that lies there until mid morning. Deciding that waiting for someone with a torch was cheating I took a complete guess at the volcano's location and set out blindly across the sand with no real expectation of ending up in the right place. Thankfully more by luck than judgment after 40 minutes I ended up just a few metres right of the stairway which leads up to the crater, honestly I have no idea how. As the first picture shows walking around the crater in the dark wasn't hugely sensible but it was far too much fun to turn down:
It also meant that by the time any other tourists arrived I was safely on the other side of the crater and got to enjoy the view all by myself:
Far too quickly my time was up and I wandered the 5km's back to town to catch my next minibus which would take me to Sempol, only a 30 minute drive from the start of the trek up to Ijen. During supper this guy joined me, and yes that is a tablespoon next to him:
Ijen is supposed to be beautiful (go to google and you'll see just how beautiful), however when it's raining and misty the view is somehow diminished.
This is me posing on the crater's edge, the lake is behind me, possibly.
The sulphur which is mined by locals at the bottom. These weigh 70 kilos each and they walk for 2 hours with it on their shoulders 3 times a day, all for around $10.
You'll be happy to hear that I paid this sign no attention at all.
I probably should have as this was the walk down, in fact this was a relatively clear moment on it:
The lake:
A man carrying Sulphur at the bottom. The reason you can barely see him is thanks to the Sulphur fumes which were being blown horizontally across the crater floor:
I tried to take another picture seconds later:
Then spent the next minute coughing as the acrid fumes burnt my lungs and seemingly set fire to my eyes. I actually had to drag an Italian out of them as he was lying on the floor struggling to breathe. Maybe the sign at the top is there for a reason?
The sulphur workings taken during a clearer moment:
When I got back to the top of the crater I couldn't work out why the people at the top were laughing at me (more than usual). Finally someone pointed out that the smoke had coloured my beard bright yellow making me look like a cheap golden version of a terracotta warrior. I also smelt of sulphur, in fact 3 days later (and 3 showers and a swim) I still do a little bit. Why no one is trying to chat me up I've no idea.
I also took this picture of the coffee plantation where most of Java's coffee comes from, I'm not entirely sure why but here it is regardless:
Finally a 2 hour drive later I boarded the ferry to Bali (one not dissimilar to the beautiful boat in the picture below), where I've spent the last few days replenishing my book supply and planning the next weeks travel around Flores of which i will write more when I get the chance... The drive was relatively uneventful except for the fact that I couldn't stop coughing and my eyes felt someone was performing some very amateurish acupuncture on them. At least my bus karaoke rendition of 'in the end' by Linkin Park was warmly appreciated. I think I'm right in describing everyone laughing at me as appreciation right? Thought so.
Finally have some videos of Ijen and Bromo. The Bromo video was taken a few seconds before the photo of the crater ridge in the blackness:
Happy birthday to: Sam, Tom, Peter and Ken
Keg
The day after arriving in Yogyakarta I got up at 3am to go to the nearby temple of Borobodur which is supposedly Java's top tourist attraction, I say supposedly because having seen Bromo straight after I'm not quite sure why. That's not to say it isn't very impressive, it is, but it's not as awe inspiring as I'd been led to believe. It was definitely worth the effort of dragging myself out of bed at such a disappointing hour though as the view of the sunrise coming over Merapi (a volcano which poses such a threat to Yogya that it's on the equivalent of the FBI's most wanted list for volcanoes) was stunning. I ended up walking around with a 25 year old Dutch couple who shared my dislike of both other tourists and the local shopkeepers who try to force their wares on you. We got on famously. The highlight of our brief encounter was the invention of a game which would best be described as "how many people selling the same crap can you get to bother a tourist". I'm proud to say I think my record of 10 people trying to sell really shit hats to a bewildered Frenchman will be hard to beat. I also particularly enjoyed it when my Dutch companions effort backfired when he tried to get lots of t-shirt sellers to come up to me as apparently "I had lots of money and I love t-shirts". Sadly for him they looked at me and declared that they had nothing in my size, however they did have lots that would fit him. It took him 10 minutes to get clear of them, a feat that probably took longer thanks to me rounding up more sellers to go and bother him. I will refute any claims that I'm easily amused however.
Some Borobodur pictures:
The temple:
Sunrise, you can just make out the shape of Merapi which the sun is just coming out from behind:
Having visited the temple I spent the rest of the day walking round Yogya. After being pestered by more Batik vendors than I care to remember I gave up and crashed back at my hotel figuring that the next few days would need me to have a bit of energy in reserve.
The next day I boarded my cramped minibus and got taken the 12 hours to Cemoro Lawang on the lip of the Bromo-Tenegger crater arriving just before 9pm. After spending a few minutes persuading someone to try and sell his hats and scarves to my fellow bus passengers I went to sleep with the help of the soft sounds of "non merci" and "I don't want a sodding hat" coming from outside my window.
What was less fun was waking up at 3am to go and walk the 5km's or so from the hotel to Bromo, a walk which would've been made easier if I'd remembered to pack a torch. As it was I followed the road out of town which I could just see by the light of the stars before reaching the bottom of the crater where I was faced with utter blackness thanks to the thick mist that lies there until mid morning. Deciding that waiting for someone with a torch was cheating I took a complete guess at the volcano's location and set out blindly across the sand with no real expectation of ending up in the right place. Thankfully more by luck than judgment after 40 minutes I ended up just a few metres right of the stairway which leads up to the crater, honestly I have no idea how. As the first picture shows walking around the crater in the dark wasn't hugely sensible but it was far too much fun to turn down:
It also meant that by the time any other tourists arrived I was safely on the other side of the crater and got to enjoy the view all by myself:
Far too quickly my time was up and I wandered the 5km's back to town to catch my next minibus which would take me to Sempol, only a 30 minute drive from the start of the trek up to Ijen. During supper this guy joined me, and yes that is a tablespoon next to him:
Ijen is supposed to be beautiful (go to google and you'll see just how beautiful), however when it's raining and misty the view is somehow diminished.
This is me posing on the crater's edge, the lake is behind me, possibly.
The sulphur which is mined by locals at the bottom. These weigh 70 kilos each and they walk for 2 hours with it on their shoulders 3 times a day, all for around $10.
You'll be happy to hear that I paid this sign no attention at all.
I probably should have as this was the walk down, in fact this was a relatively clear moment on it:
The lake:
A man carrying Sulphur at the bottom. The reason you can barely see him is thanks to the Sulphur fumes which were being blown horizontally across the crater floor:
I tried to take another picture seconds later:
Then spent the next minute coughing as the acrid fumes burnt my lungs and seemingly set fire to my eyes. I actually had to drag an Italian out of them as he was lying on the floor struggling to breathe. Maybe the sign at the top is there for a reason?
The sulphur workings taken during a clearer moment:
When I got back to the top of the crater I couldn't work out why the people at the top were laughing at me (more than usual). Finally someone pointed out that the smoke had coloured my beard bright yellow making me look like a cheap golden version of a terracotta warrior. I also smelt of sulphur, in fact 3 days later (and 3 showers and a swim) I still do a little bit. Why no one is trying to chat me up I've no idea.
I also took this picture of the coffee plantation where most of Java's coffee comes from, I'm not entirely sure why but here it is regardless:
Finally a 2 hour drive later I boarded the ferry to Bali (one not dissimilar to the beautiful boat in the picture below), where I've spent the last few days replenishing my book supply and planning the next weeks travel around Flores of which i will write more when I get the chance... The drive was relatively uneventful except for the fact that I couldn't stop coughing and my eyes felt someone was performing some very amateurish acupuncture on them. At least my bus karaoke rendition of 'in the end' by Linkin Park was warmly appreciated. I think I'm right in describing everyone laughing at me as appreciation right? Thought so.
Finally have some videos of Ijen and Bromo. The Bromo video was taken a few seconds before the photo of the crater ridge in the blackness:
Happy birthday to: Sam, Tom, Peter and Ken
Keg
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