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Published: March 24th 2010
After saying our goodbyes to Lucy, we were dropped off at a coach station where they packed all of our bags into a decrepit bus and told us to return by 1.30pm, when the bus was due to leave. After finding ourselves at a loose end, we decided to go and wait in Pizza Hut for the next three hours, figuring that they were unlikely to kick us out, had air con and a nice toilet. At 1.15 we arrived back at the coach station only to be told that we had missed the bus! A man offered to drive us there if we sat in the back of his pick up with some boxes he was transporting. This was fine, but the decrepit bus was still there and we were positive that our bags were still inside. We insisted that they let us check inside the bus, but to no avail. Twenty windswept minutes later and we were on board another bus and despite our best doubts, the bags were already stowed beneath, ready for the epic journey ahead. This is one example of the unsettling sense of disorganisation in Indonesia, you never have a clue what is going on
and just have to have faith that it will work out, and impossibly and probably luckily it always did work out for us, despite all of our scepticism.
Thirty hours of buses and ferries later, we arrived in Labuan Bajo the gateway to Komodo and Rinca Islands. Here we were greeted by having to traipse around disgusting guesthouses that were astronomically priced, all in the roasting heat of midday. We finally checked into one, but promptly left again upon discovering that it had neither water nor electricity. Eventually all three of us decided to share a very expensive room, which at least did have water and a fan that vaguely worked. By 6pm we were all booked on a 2 day private boat trip to Komodo and Rinca Islands that began at 7am the next day, so we spent the rest of the evening watching the beautiful crimson sunset over the harbour and chowing down on fesh fish.
Early the next day we were whisked off to meet our grande yacht only to discover that the yacht was a tiny little boat, which although looking barely sea worthy, was brimming with character. The boat consisted of a tiny
little cabin at the back which contained the kitchen and a toilet, an even tinier cabin in front of this where the permanently smiling captain sat and then the deck with its two benches and table which was to be our home for the two days. There were three crew members in total and although they couldn’t speak any English, they were incredibly friendly and took fantastic care of us. We set off slowly, sailing past dozens of small Islands with Ashleigh, Tom and I sunbathing, reading and generally soaking up the stunning scenery. We reached Rinca Island (the smaller of the Islands that are home to Komodo Dragons) at about 1pm. As soon as we stepped off the boat one of the crew pointed out a Dragon lazily hiding behind the welcome sign which was just slightly perturbing.
This member of crew, armed with a not-so-reassuring stick, led us off across barren orangey brown land where monkeys were playing, to the main registration office. After paying the relevant fees we were introduced to our guide, who again armed with a stick, was to lead us off into the jungle in search of the infamous Komodo Dragons. Before we
had even left the office area we saw about 10 of the Dragons lurking beneath a building that transpired to be the kitchen, lured there by the smell of food. And yes, they were huge!! They were all longer than Tom and can grow to be twice the size of him - 13 foot! And although looking extremely fearsome, we didn’t have any close encounters with them. The only time i felt nervous was when we came across a mother guarding her eggs, who followed us away from her territory. (Although the guarding process comes across as slightly futile, as Komodo dragons apparently eat many of their young when they hatch, the lucky ones that escape have to hide in trees until they are nearly a metre long and too big to eat.) However, they can be dangerous, the guide told us that a few months ago a small Komodo dragon attacked the boss after climbing up the steps into the office attracted by ‘Mr Harrison’ (the boss) tapping his foot. The other guides alerted by the noise came just in time to beat off the other Komodo Dragons that were attracted by the blood. Luckily ‘Mr Harrison’ was whisked
away by a speedboat to the mainland for treatment and is now back on Rinca Island, although our guide thought that if it had of been a bigger dragon he may not have been so lucky.
As per usual we did have one awkward moment on the trek; about half an hour in, we mentioned that we had seen the BBC documentary on Komodo Dragons. Our guide got extremely excited - and automatically assumed that we knew the BBC team personally: asking us how David Attenborough was, pointing out where the filming had taken place, could we pass his kind regards on to Geoff and trying to take my camera from me thinking that he could watch the documentary on it. We were mortified by the misunderstanding and for some unknown reason, rather than try to explain the mistake, we confirmed that Attenborough was fine, despite a slight sniffle at Christmas and we would say hello to Geoff for him!? We also felt quite disappointed that the BBC hadn’t bothered to send the guides a copy of the documentary, when they had obviously assisted in the making of it and were so eager to see it.
Once the
trek was finished the guide dropped us back at the office, where we proceeded to wait in the hope that somebody would offer to escort us back to the boat. When we realised that help was not forthcoming, Tom was assigned the role of Dragon beater-offer, we found him a stick and he led us back to the boat only pausing for some Ramboesque pictures en-route. Back on the boat the crew cooked us an amazing meal with freshly caught fish, rice, noodles and the best pineapple ever, it was so sweet my teeth ached for days afterward. After the feast was finished we set sail for Komodo Island through what the Lonely Planet accurately refers to as 'tempestuous waters' full of strong currents and whirlpools- quite fitting for the monsters that inhabit the islands they surround. Having read a greek myth as a child about a ship being sucked in and down by a giant whirlpool I was excited and scared to see what I imagined to be black holes in the sea. Unfortunately they didn't seem quite as dangerous as I imagined but were cool to see nonetheless. Near the shores of Komodo Island we anchored up and
spent the evening listening to music, chatting and reading; interrupted only by the flying fox bats and another amazing meal; we ate something that tasted like fish but appeared to have chicken bones in it? We tried to reassure Ash (a vege) by deciding that it was a monster fish. We slept peacefully out on the deck that night, under the stars, on a giant blow up mattress.
At 6am the next morning the crew tried to subtly awaken us lazy tourists by stamping around us and clattering pots and pans. After about half an hour of this, we finally got ourselves up to watch the sun rise over the surrounding mountains and eat the crispy fried bananas for breakfast, by 7 we were trekking over the more mountainous Komodo Island. Unfortunately we didn't find this trek as rewarding as Rinca as there seemed to be less wildlife, although the scenery was great. Once the trek was over and the token souvenirs were bought (and later broke) we set sail again for the mainland, stopping en-route to do some fantastic snorkelling at pink beach whilst the crew went fishing for lunch. On the way back Ash and I sat
on the pointy tip of the boat (not sure of the technical name) with our feet dangling in the water contemplating how perfect it all was and how breathtaking the scenery was, before the rocking of the boat beat us and lulled us all to sleep (except the captain - thankfully or the whirlpools may have seemed more dangerous.)
We arrived back at Labuan bajo and in typical Indonesia fashion, managed to go from having one of the best experiences of my life to one of the worst. This all began when we decided we needed to head back to Bali, as although we all wanted to explore more of Flores and in particular visit Kelimutu, it was the first day of the monsoon season when apparently the roads become deadly.We had planned to fly back to save us another 30 something hour journey but this proved to be to expensive. So two full days after braving the journey the first time we decided to do it again. The man who we booked our ticket with told us that we would have to be at the ferry terminal by 4am as they were expecting heavy rain so would need
to leave 4 hours earlier than usual. So there we were at 4am, sat outside the ferry dock, feeling completely confused and increasingly agitated as nobody could tell us what to do or when we could board but instead argued around us in Indonesian. Three hours later we were finally on board the ferry ready to go. By 3 pm we were waiting at the bus station when we were told it would not leave until 6. 30pm: then the heavens opened. I can now say with some confidence that i understand the meaning of the word monsoon, i have never seen rain like it. About 5 minutes after it started Tom and i decided we needed the toilet which meant crossing the open pavillion to a shop on the other side. 10 seconds into the run and we were soaked to the skin, about 20 seconds in my foot went into 3 foot deep puddle/pond which ensued a search for the lost flip flop. This brought great amusement possibly even joy to the street vendors children who were sheltering under the stalls tin roofs. I gave up after this and enjoyed the shower and the smiles as everybody watched
me attempting to wring out my sodden clothes.
By 7pm the bus was finally ready to go, this time we really did get the decrepid bus and were wondering why it smelled so musty when we got on board. About 10 minutes into the journey the dripping started, we were praying that this was just condensation. What ensued was a 16 hour bus journey from hell, where the drips became a torrent of water due to countless nail sized holes in the ceiling. After enduring the dripping Chinese water torture all through the night we were all soaked through and possibly in the foulest moods ever. We had to exercise severe self control to stop ourselves having fits, as it obviously wasn't going to get us anywhere, you either put up with it or you get off. Anyway 30 hours later, drenched but not quite drowned, we arrived in Senniggigi, Lombok where we thankfully slept the rest of the day away in dry beds.
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Gill Carr
non-member comment
What an adventure
This must be the best and most exciting blog yet! THe dragons, the boat trips, the buses and the rain what a mixture of experiences lots of love Mum xx