Sumatra Islands Photos
Monthly Archives: April 2016
Sumatra Islands
I was happy to leave Sinabang. Too much commotion when we went ashore. Especially when we walked by a school where the kids apparently were on recess! A cacophony of shrieks and “Hey Mister” and “What is your name?” Almost everyone is friendly, but we did have a couple young men flip us the finger as they went by on a motorbike. I also noticed an older woman give a disapproving stare at Tim’s legs. His shorts were too short, plus his shirt nearly covered the shorts, so the net result was probably disrespectful.
We headed south to the island of Belayar, into a passage between the two islands that gradually got narrower but remained deep. We anchored in a nook among mangroves, with no sign of humanity in sight. But we could hear the distant town sounds — an occasional vehicle, and the distant call to prayer.
I was awoken in the morning by Tim talking with two fisherman. They had a good-sized red snapper, and we bought it from them with the proviso that they fillet it for us. Well, I don’t think fillet is in the Indonesian language or culture, but they did cut it into manageable pieces for us. They asked for food, and we invited them aboard for PB&J’s, plus Tim loaded them up with some crackers and snacks before they left. Very nice, and kind of fun trying to communicate what our various electronics and winches were for.
The snapper was good, but we are tired of eating fish and rice!
We continued south to Lasia. Beautiful and empty except for a couple fishing boats at anchor. We swam ashore and walked some of the soft white sand beach. A squall came through during the night, but not of any consequence. Lasia was the first place we’ve been to that had no cell/data connection at all. For one night I couldn’t play online Scrabble with Hallie, and I really missed it/her!
Next stop south would be Nias, but it is too far for a daysail with little or no wind. So we turned east to the Banjak island group. Another squall along the way, but despite looking very threatening it didn’t amount to much. Anchored at the north end of Pulau Tuangku. Had another visit from fishermen. We declined the big octopus they wanted to sell, but we had a chat, with some assistance from an English-Indonesian dictionary. Other fishermen passing by have asked for beer. We always say no. Good cell/data connection once again… Made chicken and pasta for a change…
Off again in the morning, right into a squall that lasted half the day. First really heavy rain we have had. Took advantage and washed my sheets. Of course, I expected sunshine an hour later for the dry cycle, but didn’t get it. Things did dry out in the afternoon, just in time for me to have sheets to sleep on.
Sailed (mostly) to the Bay of Plenty surfing spot. About a dozen surfers out there, some from a big power catamaran where I imagine they live aboard for a week or two. There is a surfer’s guest house ashore. Possibly we could get a meal there, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort to rig the dinghy and go exploring to find out. After a busy sailing day it’s nice just to be at rest in a beautiful anchorage.
A canoe paddles toward us, and to my great surprise I see it is paddled by a bule (white person). His name is John, he’s from Florida, he works at the surfer camp six months out of the year, and has for several years. He says he’s never seen an American boat come into the bay! It is fun and refreshing to speak English with someone. I invite him aboard, but he has things to do.
We watch a movie, which is becoming a common evening activity. The bugs convince us to stop before the end, put screens in and retreat to our cabins. I’d like to read, but I don’t want to use the light and attract the bugs to my berth. I’d like to continue my online Scrabble game with Hallie, but we have no internet connection here. As Mom used to say, mockingly, “It’s a tough life!”
Well, it is…a strange experience for me. In some ways this is a cruising paradise. No other yachts. Make it up as we go. Beautiful islands. Squally, but warm, and so far all squalls have been manageable — i.e., we sail on with the jib. But on the other hand it is constant unknowns, running out of provisions with no immediate prospect for resupply, no restaurants, intense sun, and no ability to communicate much with the people who live here. One moment it seems wonderful, another moment it sucks, and I’m just trying to maintain my equanimity for another 2+ weeks until T.C. joins us. At that point I think we’ll be in prepare-for-the-crossing mode, and I won’t be ruminating about whether things suck or not.
Photos to follow with better internet connection.
Sumatra…Simeulue
Next day we went another 30 miles down the coast to Pulau Raya. Many floating fishing platforms here, that come to life at night. We anchored off the beach near a small town. From ashore came the sounds of a soccer match — we could here the referee’s whistle, the announcer, and the cheers of the crowd when a goal was scored.
Two young men in a fishing boat came alongside, and one did not wait to be invited to come aboard. To me this is a major breech of protocol, but he was so charming — and he spoke pretty good English — that I forgave him. His name was Hendra. He taught himself English by speaking with people who came to help after the tsunami, and with yachties. He asked for beer. We lied and said we had none aboard. But we said if he caught a big fish we would buy it from him in the morning.
Tim asked him lots of questions, including if there are orangutans in the jungle nearby. “Oh,” he says, “I have one of those.” I assumed he misunderstood. But no. He says he has a two year old orangutan that he raises like a pet. Tim asks if other people do that. “No, just me.” Tim asks if the authorities might not allow this. “In Aceh it would be a problem. Here, not a problem.”
In the morning the two of them are back, but no large fish. We chat. They smoke. We tell them, “Save your money. Save your body.” They understand, but don’t appear likely to quit the habit. Hendra wants to know how much a boat like ours costs. I blank out with the number of zeros on Indonesian currency, while Tim tells him 50 million. This seems like a big number to him and to me, though later I realize it is only about $4,000.
Hendra invites us ashore. He will be our guide if we need anything, or if we want to go meet his orangutan. But the forecast is for favorable winds to sail the 120 miles to the first of the offshore islands. So we take his phone number to pass to other boats, and say goodbye.
The wind turns out to be perfect…until 1am when it builds to 30 knots and changes direction repeatedly. Oh well, not a lot of sleep, but we get to Simeulue. We poke into an almost land-locked bay to try to anchor where the chart says it is 27 feet deep. There are a few houses/shacks there, and children calling to us from shore, and it looked very inviting. But way too deep! Sure, we could find 27 feet, but a wind change would likely put us on shore. We went back outside and anchored along the coast. Some fishermen in canoes stared at us, but no Hendra appeared.
Today we motored down the east side of the island to its major town of Sinabang. Despite having 20,000 residents and a commercial harbor, it is not even mentioned in our little cruising guide. The channel in was buoyed, which was helpful since the layout didn’t correspond very well with our chart. I have to keep reminding myself not to take the charts too seriously here.
It was unclear where to go along the long waterfront, and again the whole area seemed overly deep. But as we neared the town we saw another catamaran anchored. We pulled up alongside and hailed them (waking them up, I think). It didn’t work to anchor near them (too deep, too shallow, or too in the way of the big ferry that (we learned later) runs to the mainland twice a week. We moved out and anchored next to a tiny island a quarter mile away. Probably a better choice anyway, as kids were swimming out to the other boat, and the call to prayer was very loud there, and mosquitos would be less likely at our spot.
We paid them a visit. Two men…French…on a month’s holiday…sailing from Thailand on a 34 footer that is very much like a Maine Cat 30. It is owned by one of the guys (who lives/works in France six months of the year, and lives in Thailand the other six), and it is available for charter. Very nice boat. I could see chartering it from him if I ever wanted to sail in Thailand again.
We went ashore and had an Indonesian dinner, bought ice cream for dessert, got bread, and gasoline for the dinghy. Lots of young boys wanting money, or whatever was in our shopping bag, or to swim with our life jackets from the dinghy. One kid was very persistent, plus he seemed to think if he said something enough times I would understand him. I just started speaking to him just as much in English. It was kind of funny, especially when a teenager explained to me, “He not understand what you say!”
The teenager and a buddy of his were sweet. He wanted to ask me questions, but was very unsure about his English. His friend knew more English words but he was too shy to speak to me. So they would confer about how to form a question, and the outgoing one would ask it. One thing they asked, which surprised me, was my age. When I told him 62, he didn’t believe it — he thought I must mean 42! Interesting…
Tomorrow we will venture ashore again to find the market, as we are nearly out of fruit and veggies and eggs. Maybe stay another night before we move on south.
ZekeTheSailor 