Back to Indonesia
After more than two years of covid-induced sailing in Australia, we finally return to the land of the islands on 6 November 2022. The two day passage from Darwin to Saumlaki is smooth, marked only by a couple of beautiful sunsets and sunrises out at sea.
It feels cathartic to finally leave Australia, like the real adventure starts here. It could be because we're travellers first and sailors second; being on the water is great, but said water must also belong to a foreign territory to truly excite.
Our port of arrival Saumlaki, is a small town on the southern part of the Tanembaum island group and it's our first time here. The view of fishing canoes and mosques teases us but we must check in first before the exploration can begin.
The yellow quarantine flag goes up and after unsuccessfully trying to contact the harbour master on radio, Graham goes to shore to announce our arrival to the local authorities.
Last time we did this in Biak about 3 years ago, it was a fairly smooth process completed in half a day. Saumlaki it seems has other ideas. While Graham is out trying to locate the officials, a local 'agent' called Higgins is ferried over by another cruiser for an introduction. He seems friendly enough but I explain we don't need an agent. He doesn't have a boat so it seems the only service he would be providing is getting paid by us to ride in our dinghy with the Indonesian officials we have already notified of our arrival. No thank you.
The check in process is as follows. Customs, Quarantine and Immigration all come to your boat separately to inspect various things, complete paperwork and take group selfies on completion. In Saumlaki it would seem, they strongly 'encourage' go-betweens, who for a handsome fee 'bring' officials to you. Some cruisers are quite happy to pay this fee but we've so far successfully avoided it. Graham returns after a while to advise the officials will be arriving the next morning.
When they don't turn up as expected, we spend a few hours wondering what got lost in translation, then return to shore to make a call from the local hotel as we don't have any local sim cards yet.
After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing it turns out the morning shift from Quarantine wasn't too happy with our rejection of Higgins. A very grumpy looking official made a big production of speeding right by our boat with Higgins onboard to complete formalities with another boat nearby. When Graham dinghied over to ask what was happening, he was reprimanded to stay on our boat and wait. When grumpy then returned to shore without visiting us, we started to get a bit worried. Just as I loose all hope and pour myself a consolation sundowner, a boat load of fresh faced and smiling officials arrives! We complete the formalities in no time and after the obligatory selfies, we are free to roam.
The next day, we head into town and sort out sim cards, refresh our provisions and treat ourselves to an Indonesian lunch. The local eatery is cheap and popular and resembles what we remember of Indonesian street fair from our previous trip. A bit of rice or noodles with green veg, a protein (usually fish or chicken, occassionally very tough beef) and a side of tofu, tempe or eggs with your choice of sambal. Variations of this can be had in soup form too. We order a bit of everything from the display cabinet then sit down to eat. The owner brings over two bowls of clear liquid to the table too, I assume it's for hand washing so dip my fingers in. It's a bit hot but I persist and Graham follows my lead. The owner comes back shaking his head and laughingly tells us this is 'sup' or soup that comes with our meal. Soup thus ruined with our filthy post-market hands, we get stuck into the rest of the meal.
Our last night in Saumlaki, we go out for dinner with our sailing buddies Brave and hang out at the hotel onshore where we have been parking our dinghies.
The food is absolutely delicious and they also have cold Bintang, a double win.
On the way back, it's low tide and dark. As I climb down the concrete steps leading down to the water where our dinghy is tied up, I suddenly slip and fall into the waste deep water. The shock of the fall initially stops me from noticing a huge gash on my lower leg which causes everyone to gasp when Graham pulls me out, despite the dark. I must have dragged it along the wall littered with oyster shells. We hurry back to the boat to clean the wounds while I try to keep it together in front of the kids. It definitely hurts and is the worst injury I've ever had, my entire lower leg looks like I've been mauled by a large cat. I clean it the best I can, pop some painkillers and go to bed feeling sorry for myself. No swimming for at least a week, not exactly the ideal start to our Indonesian journey.
