TOP 5 EXPEDITIONS
Indonesian Journals
‘Forest people’ melt many hearts
by Wendy O’Hanlon Photos By Garry Sundin No Roads Expeditions Big Fish
PICTURE this: A full moon blazing, lightning cracking the clear night sky, cruising in a small wooden boat on a river in the Borneo jungle with millions of fireflies lighting up the mangrove-palm riverbanks like magical Christmas tree lights.
Or trekking through a jungle swamp, knee-deep in mud and tree roots with a massive tropical thunderstorm pelting down unrelentingly for two hours.
Or sitting still, just watching the facial expressions and movement of beautiful wild orangutans, so close you could reach out and touch them…
It had long been a dream of mine to travel to Borneo to see the orangutans – the ‘people of the forest’ and thanks to a passionate initiative by Australian tour group No Roads Big Fish, my dream came true in May, 2009.
This incredible Borneo adventure was more memorable because we went deep into the jungle, way down river where there were no roads and no tourists. And we raised thousands of dollars to help save the orangutans who are facing extinction.
The No Roads Big Fish team’s motivation is to not only visit amazing regions throughout the world but to leave something positive behind for those communities.
Our group of 11 Aussies raised $13,000 for the Australian Orangutan Project to care for orphaned orangutans and enough money to protect 6000 hectares of jungle habitat through Safeguard. This charity funds Wildlife Protection Units that patrol national parks to protect them from illegal loggers intent on clearing land for palm oil plantations.
Indonesia has the dubious honour of a Guinness Book of Records entry for the highest level of deforestation anywhere in the world. The massive expansion of palm oil plantations, most
illegal, is the single most significant threat to the survival of the orangutans. The equivalent of 300 soccer fields are being deforested every hour for palm oil plantations.
The orangutans who call the forest ‘home’ are not relocated by the loggers – they are shot, killed and the babies sold as pets.
It costs just 75 cents to protect one hectare of jungle forest and $2000 a year to care for an orphaned orangutan. Our group adopted more than 100 orangutan babies. You can adopt a baby for a whole year for just $55.
Orangutans are only found in Indonesia and Malaysia on the islands of Borneo and Sumatra. In 1900 there were more than 315,000 wild orangutans – today there are less than 45,000 and they are being slaughtered at a rate of about 6000 every year.
When you watch these amazing creatures in the jungle, watch the mums cradle their babies, the big boss dads peacefully chomping on bananas, watch them moving gracefully through the tree tops, watch their gorgeous faces – your heart just melts. How could any human harm such a creature?
Orangutans are 97% genetically like us. The babies rely on their mums to teach them everything, including the important job of building nests high in the treetops away from predators on the ground. They build a new nest every night – keeping on the move in search for food.
Our trip to Tanjung Putting National Park in Kalimantan, Central Borneo was ‘totally awesome’. We were so very blessed. We saw 18 orangutans at the feeding stations and surrounds and more along the riverbanks. We were also enchanted by dozens and dozens of proboscis monkeys and macaque monkeys, plus one naughty gibbon (who slipped into the ceiling of a food storage shed like a contortionist). Then there’s the abundant bird life - the magnificent hornbills – and butterflies of all sizes and colours. Our group also encountered a couple of freshwater crocodiles, some wild boar (buaya) and one fleet-footed clouded leopard some hours before sunrise.
Tanjung Putting National Park is the base of world-renown orangutan expert Dr. Birute Galdikas, who has been studying and living with the orangutans since 1971 when she was just 25 years old.
Dr Galdikas was mentored by Dr Louis Leakey along with Diane Fossey and Jane Goodall. Camp Leakey, inside the Tanjung Puting National Park, is the site of the longest continuous study by a principal investigator of any non-human wild animal in the history of science.
Tanjung Putting became our home for a week – or more specifically the Camp Leakey River was our home as we chugged along on the blue-and-white wooden klotok boats. We ate, toured and slept on the boats – pulling up alongside riverbanks and just lashing a rope to the Nipah mangrove palms. The crew served three delicious meals a day – meat, fish, tempeh, rice, vegetables, fruit and other treats such as French toast and pancakes.
Before arriving at Tanjung Putting, we spent one night on land at Rimba Orangutan Eco-Lodge built above swamp ground on the banks of the Sekonyer River. Visitors share the lodge with Macaque monkeys who scatter across the rooftops and walking platforms and, sometimes, just sometimes, stay still long enough for a photograph.
Our days in the jungle were spent visiting information centres and watching orangutans make their way to feeding stations deep in the national parks. These were the orangutans that were once orphans. They had been released back to the jungle and had started family trees of their own.
At Tanjung Putting, the oldest orangutan we saw was Tutut who was 40. We also met Siswi (35), Samson (17), Riga (35) and her son, Roy (2), Carlos (18), Popai (19), Unyuk (30) and her daughter Ursula (2).
And we met the very famous, Princess, who did a kind-of meet and greet at the wharf and checked we humans out numerous times. She also showed off her one-year-old son, Putri, and two-year-old son, Persi.
Thirty-five-year-old Princess is a cover girl on many magazines across the world because of her cheeky character and her intelligence. She often ‘borrows’ the little boats and rows along the river searching for food growing along the banks. When she has had her fill, she promptly ditches the boat and heads back into the jungle. The national park carers have to send out search parties for the boats.
Princess is also a dab hand at taking the keys to the food storage sheds and unlocking the padlock to have a snack. We saw her in action, and saw her being sprung by a carer. She gave a ‘thumbs up’ sign that probably meant ‘next time’.
At nearby Tanjung Harapan National Park we saw Wana Laga (27) a sub-adult male in the river palms. He had not been sighted for many years. We watched the big male Yani (24) with his big boss cheeks lord it over the feeding platform and then we watched in awe as Ceping and her six-year-old, Citra, cautiously made their way across the treetops towards Yani.
The baby orangutan was definitely not going anywhere near Yani. His mum, Ceping, was so patient as she led him across the treetops – at times prying away his long fingers wrapped around tree stems, pulling his legs, coaxing him to continue to the feeding platform. We watched for about an hour until the mum reached the platform. With Citra remaining in the treetops, Ceping filled her mouth with fruit and headed back to feed her son. She did this many times. Such devotion and patience.
At dusk we would settle on our klotok boats, chug somewhere up-river and watch with wonder as families of proboscis monkeys settled in the riverbank trees, blending in with the brown leaves. The babies clinging to their mums’ chests, the young ones chattering and mucking around, the big males haunched on the branches, their long white tails hanging down. These dusky silhouettes are unforgettable. The proboscis monkey has a large nose and in profile is quite striking – especially with that long, white tail.
Every day was an awesome experience. One day we trekked 12 kilometres into the jungle to stay overnight in tents at Pesalat Camp – deep in the jungle. This jungle camping experience is only available to scientists and researchers. No Roads Big Fish had organised a special pass for our small team. It was during this trek that we encountered the tropical thunderstorm – just as we were entering the swamp.
Two hours later, we arrived at Pesalat Camp drenched, all our gear sodden (camera gear okay), our hands and feet wrinkled, leeches galore. The village crew from Kumai was already there setting up our tents and boiling water for hot drinks. We were ecstatic! Hey, if you are going to trek through the Borneo jungle swamp, you might as well do it right – smack bang in the middle of a tropical thunderstorm!
The next morning, on our way back to the klotoks, we stopped at Pesalat plant nursery where we planted native trees in a re-afforestation area. Again, we were blown away. So deep in the jungle and yet we were given the GPS co-ordinates so that we can monitor the growth of our trees on Google Earth from our comfy Aussie homes. Re-afforestation is an integral part of the grand plan to save the orangutans and all the jungle creatures.
Our whole jungle adventure was made even more memorable by the passion and warm friendship of the klotok crew, the Kumai villagers (whose children we gave Aussie souvenirs such as kangaroo and koala toys) and the Borneo-born tour guides. We talked, laughed, swapped stories and learned the words of the Bahasa and Malay languages. There were real tears and hugs when saying goodbye.
In just one week in the Borneo jungle, this small group of Aussies had experienced something that we will never forget. And I have become a passionate orangutan supporter. You can’t get that close without your heart being touched.
If you would like to help the Orangutans of Indonesia you can join one of our Orangutan Expeditions or you can donate to the AOP.
I jostled my other kayakers awake, grabbed my camera and hurried outside.
Several more Indonesians shot past me, pointing in the direction behind our hut. Our guide, Yusef, slowly walked out of his hut, cool and unperturbed by what was happening around him. "Peter, 4 Dragons are eating a deer just 50m from here" he said. Oh, is that all, I thought. Like a duck swimming, I calmly walked towards the feeding frenzy but beneath the casual exterior, I was extremely excited by this rare siting.
Through the bushes, I pushed my way to a clearing where there, in front me, only meters away, were 4 enormous Komodo Dragons gorging themselves on Timor Deer. It was a scene straight from a 1930's King Kong flick, four beasts tearing flesh from the bone, heads shaking in some sort of prehistoric eating ritual. As I watched my mind wandered to the thought of how I got to watch 4 Komodo Dragons eating a Timor Deer at 6am. I began to reflect on the journey that brought me here with a group of friends. Allow me to explain.
Komodo National Park is not the easiest place to get to. After flying in to Bali from Australia you must fly to Labuan Bajo on the island of Flores and then catch a boat for about 2 hours to get to the park. We broke this journey up by spending a couple of days in Labuan Bajo, exploring the town and the area surrounding it.
We were here on an exploration trip, which meant we had some idea of what we were going to do but the details had to work themselves out as each day presented itself.
This area is really undiscovered by tourism. We visited a small village about 2 hours from Labuan Bajo which is where you start your trek to an amazing gorge and waterfall. The massive waterfall had carved an enormous gorge out of the valley beneath, giving us and the 20 or so locals that accompanied us, a chance to test our metal by jumping into the river from a 10m cliff. For some, Bazza and Pete, the leap was easy, but for others such as myself and Rach, the jump was a matter of overcoming a series of fears and the fact that if we didn't jump, what would the others say for the rest of the journey.
That evening we drove to a small village out of town to see the local Caci Dance. The dance is steeped in tradition and is usually performed for rich families and around crop planting time. The legend goes that a man had a dream that he must kill his daughter and let her blood flow into the earth.
In return the earth would provide an abundant crop. The man refused, but the dream visited him every night until he relented and killed his daughter. His wife was suspicious. The man told her that she disappeared, but raked by guilt he told her the truth and why he did it. She understood (as if) but instead of killing a child each year, the locals now perform the Caci Dance, where 2 men whip each other until one bleeds. The whole scene is one of celebration, rhythm, music and drama.
After a couple of days of relative relaxation, we readied ourselves for the kayaking expedition. Our Indonesian guides went through our safety check list and prepared the kayaks for our epic journey. Our first destination was the beautiful Kanawa. The island is one of a few inhabited islands in the Komodo National Park which consists of over 40 large and small islands.
After nearly 2 hours of paddling across the open sea, we arrived at Kanawa.
Kanawa consists of a few small hills central to the island, a sweeping sandy beach and a great coral reef flowing off this beach. A rickety old jetty extends out past the reef so that visiting boats don't destroy the coral. We checked into our huts which are as basic as the jetty, and grabbed a bite to eat before heading off for a spot of snorkelling. The reef is literally meters from shore and has an abundance of fish and coral life. The clarity of the water is amazing here with great vision of 30 plus meters.
The following morning we trekked to one of the hills behind the huts to grab a view of the journey ahead. Island after island spread out before us, girt by luminous green shallows filled with coral and fish. In the distance was Komodo and Rinca islands, the ultimate expedition destinations. The only Timor Deer on the island guided us down the rocky hillside back to our kayaks.
We pushed off towards Sabayur Besar for a spot of lunch on a deserted beach and then off to the western side of Tatawa. We made camp on the beach with a spectacular view of Komodo Island and the setting sun behind its razor edged peaks. As night fell the stars of the equator burst to life above us. With no lights for miles around, the heavens and their cosmic show eased us all off to sleep, exhausted after a couple of days kayaking.
As with most adventure expeditions, it was a case of early to sleep, early to rise. We were excited that we would at last set foot on Komodo island today. A friend, Phil, was sailing aboard the No Roads boat "Moana" while we were kayaking and as we awoke, the Moana sailed into the small bay in front of camp. The 100ft luxury schooner was at full sail and a very impressive sight indeed. We all alighted our kayaks and paddled out to the boat.
Phil greeted us and welcomed us on board. It was only 730am but we all got stuck into the Bintang beer. They were so cold!. The Channel Nine Getaway team were also on board filming a story about the Komodo Dragons. It so happened that we were going to track their same path for the next few days so we hoped the Bintangs would be a common luxury.
We piggy backed a ride on the Moana for a couple of hours (they were going in our direction and have I mentioned the beer was so cold). After thanking the crew, we pushed off again, arriving at a lovely little island off the coast of Komodo. The scene was spoiled however by an over powering smell of rotting buffalo. The buffalo drowned a few weeks earlier after the boat it was on capsized killing 3 crew and all the horses and buffalo on board. It was a testament to the waters in the area that they shouldn't be taken for granted. Swells can pick up quickly, currents in some areas are extremely strong and the wind can change at a moment. That is why we were staying as close to shore as possible.
After a short break, we shot across the strait to the shores of Komodo Island. We had reached the island that had meant so much to all of us, the expeditions name sake. Komodo is home to over 1500 Dragons so we were unsure whether to paddle too close to the coast. Our guides assured us that the Dragons would not bother themselves with such a difficult prey. Comforting!
Our lunch time destination was Pink Beach, ranked in the top 3 best beaches on the planet. We would find later that day the best beach in the world but more of that later. The beach is so named because the red coral that is prolific just off the coast (literally 30m from shore) breaks up and forms small granules that wash up on shore giving the beach a dramatic pink effect.
The beach and reef are constructed in a way that you would swear man made it. The sand is perfect and then the first 20m of the beach is only half to one meter deep with soft sand underfoot giving snorkellers a great place to put on their gear and push off. From 20m off shore the reef explodes before you with every imaginable soft and hard coral forming a metropolis for the thousands of fish that live here. Clown fish and angel fish of every description live here. As you paddle further into deeper water we saw schools of barracuda and several large manta ray. The reef has been well protected by a series of moorings that ensures boats don't damage the precious resource below them.
Back in the kayaks, we paddled a further 30 minutes until we reached the safe harbour that shelters the Komodo National Park Rangers Office. The harbour is enormous and peaceful compared to the rough coast we had been paddling for hours before. Although we didn't see any, we were told that dolphins frequent the harbour.
We glided the kayaks into shore, greeted by astonished locals and excited children. They all helped us carry our large 7.5m Komodo Kayaks further onto shore. This is what I love about Indonesia. The people are so welcoming and warm and genuinely pleased and interested to see you. They were all amazed that we had paddled from Labuan Bajo. Whispers of "gila" could be heard, a word that means "crazy". We checked into our huts and headed to the restaurant for dinner only to have our path blocked by 3 enormous 3m, 100 plus kilo Dragons. They weren't threatening, just lazing around looking menacing.
After some cold Bintangs and noodles we drifted off to sleep to the rhythmic noises of the jungle.
The following day would prove to be the biggest by far. On the map it looked no worse that any other, but we were to hit a current and swell that would exhaust us and make the expedition that much more memorable.
Crossing from one headland on Komodo to a headland on Rinca looked simple enough. A 30 minute paddle, maybe 40 on the outside. We set off just as the current turned, the swell picked up and the wind hit us in the face. Bazza and Rach moved ahead of the group, powering their way through the seas. I looked to my right to get a point of reference. And to my left. Norm and Yusef were nearby and so were Peter and Buhan. Ok, I saw a narrow channel on my right and a series of islands to my left. Ronnie and I powered on (powered is probably an overstatement actually).
Thirty minutes passed and the land on Rinca looked no closer. I must be imagining it. I looked to the right and the left and my perspective had not changed. We were paddling on the spot. I suggested to Norm that this was happening but he assured me we were moving forward. I looked ahead towards Bazza and Rach. All of a sudden their kayak shot 40 meters to the right.
What's going on there? Ten minutes later I understood what was going on. A huge whirlpool had formed not sucking you into its centre but shooting you from left then to the right as you passed through it.
Another 30 minutes passed and again the sensation that we had not moved was overwhelming. Even Norm started having his doubts. What were we going to do?
The support boat would even have trouble in these waters. There was only one thing to do. Dig deep and paddle harder.
Two and half hours later we had reached the other headland, exhausted and a little shaken from the experience. We pulled into a small beach that was sheltered from the choppy seas and we ate lunch. It was here that we would discover the best beach we had ever been to. It was similar to Pink Beach in that there was a short sandy entrance before the coral, but unlike anything we had ever seen, the coral exploded before us, hectare after hectare after hectare. There was not one single broken section nor a sandy patch. It was literally soft and hard coral as far as the eye could see with a plethora of fish beyond anything we could imagine. This is the best snorkellers beach on earth.
Reenergized, we paddled on, pulling into the rickety jetty at the Rinca National Park HQ. The facilities here are pretty rudimentary and definitely not recommended for an overnight stay. The main advantage of staying on the island however, is that you are there from the start of the day when the Dragons are most active and when there are no tourists.
Which brings us back to the morning of the Komodo Dragon feeding frenzy. The Dragons were tearing the dear apart, with snarling grunts. The dominant male would bury his head deep inside the deer's chest cavity gorging itself on some tasty morsel. Its quite strange how quickly you condition yourself to what is an everyday occurrence. After 30 minutes of watching these beasts devour the deer I had had enough.
We pushed off early on the last day, tracking the coast of Flores and finally back to Labuan Bajo. The expedition ended with a celebration dinner overlooking the harbour of Labuan Bajo and the islands of the Komodo National Park. There are few places left on earth that can boast such beauty and remoteness as the Komodo islands. Crystal clear waters, pristine reefs and beaches, uninhabited islands, a sea bursting with life and of course the mighty Komodo Dragon. This is a place worth exploring.
Komodo Kayaking
There was a commotion outside our hut different from the ubiquitous rooster crowing or scavenging wild pig. This was human activity at 6am, a highly unusual event in remote Indonesia. It was excited and frantic! Then I heard the words "Dragon" and immediately I understood what was going on.
Tanjung Putting became our home for a week – or more specifically the Camp Leakey River was our home as we chugged along on the blue-and-white wooden klotok boats. We ate, toured and slept on the boats – pulling up alongside riverbanks and just lashing a rope to the Nipah mangrove palms. The crew served three delicious meals a day – meat, fish, tempeh, rice, vegetables, fruit and other treats such as French toast and pancakes.
Orangutans of Borneo
A Firefighter’s work is never done-even on holiday in Borneo.
What was supposed to be a brief visit to an Orangutan orphanage, turned into a three hour operation and a return trip for firefighter Andrew Aitken of Moonee Ponds.
After spending a month in Indonesia, nothing prepared Mr Aitken and his paramedic girl friend Lyndall Shipton for the heart-wrenching experience that lay ahead. While at the orphanage, a distraught German tourist brought in a baby orangutan suffering from a maggot infested bullet wound. The deathly-ill animal, named Dian, had been bought from a villager for the princely sum of 750,000 rupiah (the equivalent of $106)- almost a years wage.
“He had been shot in the arm and kept in the house for a couple of weeks. He was malnourished and suffering from bouts of severe malaria. If he had been human with the same condition, he never would have survived.”
Forced to clean the wound in the rudimentary camp, the two Australian travelers, assisted by volunteer staff, set about putting their life saving skills to use.
Three held the orangutan down – there was no anesthetic - while in poor light, they cut away rotting flesh and disinfected the wound with hydrogen peroxide.
“We tried to do what we could. Dian had amazing strength. But just by holding him, stroking his arms and talking to him, he seemed to calm down.”
Three days later the couple returned to see how their little friend was doing.
“ It was dark. He was curled up in a pile of paper towels fast asleep with a staff member on the floor next to him monitoring his condition. I know it sounds strange, but when he opened his eyes, it was almost as if he recognized us.”
Unfortunately, soon after their visit, Dian died from internal injuries, which were later revealed from an autopsy. Mt Aitken said they could only guess what had happened, but thought poachers had killed Dian’s mother to get to the four year old.
“He must have been shot during the attack and fallen from a tree, which caused internal damage. There were no X-ray facilities to help us before the operation, the orphanage relies on donations. It was sad the little fella had died. Lyndall and I are discussing going back and volunteering as a paramedic and firefighter. Dian really touched our lives.”
Article appeared in the Moonee Valley Community News and North West Advocate. Written by Marianthi Kypuros.
Komodo Adventure, October
On a hot and steamy afternoon in late October we arrived on the island of Flores in the small port town of Labuan Bajo. Renault a French web designer, Lyndal an Australian Paramedic and myself, a self professed jack of all trades and master of none had travelled to the eastern end of Indonesia in search of one of the world’s most awesome animal’s, the Komodo dragon. In Labuan Bajo we met Aleksander, a pleasant young man who was our contact and the man that had our boat organised to take us to the island home of the Komodo dragon.
As it was already getting late and we had an early start in the morning, Aleksander dropped us off at the Hotel where we had a quick wash and then set off to have dinner at one of the many restaurants along the main street. With so many to choose from we had trouble first deciding where to eat but soon decided on one that had a great view of the bay that Labuan Bajo was built on. After a very filling and cheap dinner of local culinary delights we set off back to our hotel for a good night sleep.
Rising at 6:00 the next morning we packed our bags and set off with Aleksander to meet the crew that would be looking after us for the next three days. Our boat, the Alba was captained by a young Indonesian by the name of Noval, a fully licensed seafarer operating his Uncles boat. Novals crew consisted of 2 younger boys; John and Jos both about fifteen. I wasn’t sure and I don’t think they knew either? On board was everything we needed for our trip, food, water, snorkelling equipment and ice for the beer we had bought (the only thing other than soft drink that wasn’t supplied). Settling in we stowed our gear on the deck and Noval set off, motoring out of the harbour towards our first destination, Bidadari Island.
Earlier that month I had been snorkelling off the Gilli island on the North east coast of Lombok and what we saw there was no comparison to the underwater life in the waters around Bidadari. Anchoring on a small patch of sand so as not to damage the coral we stripped off to our swimming attire, donned our snorkelling gear and jumped in to the crystal clear waters. Fish of all types, clams of every colour imaginable and coral of all shapes and sizes greeted us as we floated around the boat. After an hour or so we paddled back over to the boat where we boarded for a light refreshment of fresh fruit, tea and coffee. While we settled down Noval set off to our next stop, Rinca Island, and our first opportunity to see the legendary Komodo dragon.
On arriving at Rinca the build up of some ominous looking clouds were starting to appear over the island. We ignored them, as you would when you were about to see the world’s largest lizard for the first time. Mooring at the harbour we gathered our camera gear and some water in a small pack and set off to the ranger station. At the end of the pier we saw our first dragon a mid sized animal about two meters long. It was resting under a group of mangroves just near the path and we were less than two meters from it when we walked past. We were met at the ranger station by a very energetic ranger who then led us to the start of the walk which led up a dry river bed. We learnt from our Ranger Guide that Komodo dragons let unsuspecting animals, us included, to wander quite close pretending to be asleep or dead and then when we get close enough they spring into action inflicting a bite that usually results in death due to severe infection. The infection results from the huge amounts of bacteria in their saliva. The dragons use this bacteria to their advantage and are able to bring down animals substantially larger than then selves such as fully grown buffalo. As we walked up the river bed the clouds grew larger and larger, blacker and blacker and the distant thunder was now not so distant. Not that we really cared as the temperature was starting to climb into the mid thirties and some rain would bring some relief from the heat. At the end of the walk we came across a small muddy water hole where many of the islands animals had congregated to cool down in the shade and have a much needed drink. In amongst the buffalo, deer, monkeys and Megapod birds were some opportunistic Komodo dragons that were lying in wait for one of the animals to stray too close. We sat and watched the animals doing what animals do while they stared back nervously wondering what we were doing at their water hole. Not that they would understand that all we wanted was some great photos to take back to show our family and friends.
With a loud clap of thunder that seemed to come from the sky above us we decided that it would be a good idea to head back to the ranger station before we got wet. Too late. After walking only 100 meters the rain started to fall, only lightly at first but as every second passed the drops seemed to get bigger and bigger and more and more frequent until it felt like someone was throwing buckets of water on us. We started to walk quite quickly but were forced to slow down as the rain had turned our track into a muddy slippery dip and it was taking all our concentration just to stay up right. An added problem to our trip back to the ranger station was that mud from the track was sticking to our shoes and with each step our feet became heavier and heavier not to mention more awkward to move. We finally made it back soaked to the bone and our legs covered in mud. The ranger station has a small undercover seating area which we headed to to take cover from the monsoonal bucketing. Once under cover though, the rain stopped, just as quickly as it had started. What perfect timing.
After trudging back to the boat we set off, this time for Kalong Island or as it is some times called ‘Flying fox Island’. This name comes from the tens of thousands of Flying foxes that call the small mangrove covered island home. That is, they usually call it home. On our arrival we were expecting to see the flying foxes all leaving their daytime roost for the evenings foraging on the other nearby islands, however all but a handfull had either already gone or had not been there in the first place. We were a little disappointed but as we had already seen so much the disappointment did not last for very long. Especially after we opened a couple of Bintang beers and sat back to watch the sun set over Komodo Island in the distance. This was topped off by the two deck hands John and Jos serving a fantastic meal of fish, fried rice, fresh vegetables and Tempe. We were all excited about the next day, our journey to the world famous Komodo Island.
That night we slept on board the boat, gently rocking back and forth with the movement of the water. Apart from the humidity which made it a little hard to get to sleep it was a great way to spend a night. In the morning we woke with the rising sun and set off early for Komodo. By 6:30am we were on Komodo and setting off on the walk around the Ranger station to try and spot some more dragons. Our new Ranger guide walked us through the dry scrub of Komodo past many trees covered in beautiful purple and white orchids, stag ferns hanging off the trees in the cooler gullies and many of the islands animals, including a dead pig in a tree? But no Dragons. As it turned out we didn’t see any Dragons on the island apart from those near the ranger station. The ranger informed us that they were spread out over the whole island in search for the scarce water sources. Unlike Rinca the island hadn’t received any rain yet and was still very dry from the past six months of dry season weather. Nonetheless the walk around the island was still great as we saw so many other animals and interesting plants.
Leaving Komodo Island we headed for Red Beach for some more under water adventure, seeing once again numerous species of fish, coral and an interesting looking brown and white spotted eel. From Red Beach we set off for our final night stop, Kanawa Island while we ate our lunch. Once again prepared by our very capable deckhands, John and Jos. On Arriving at Kanawa Island we moored at the end of a one hundred meter long wooden pier that led down to a pristine white beach and a small low budget holiday resort. Before we set off to explore the island we were able to sit and watch a group of locals fishing off the end of the pier and on a couple of small boats moored to the pier. They fished, not with the normal bait on a hook method, but with a heavily weighted hook that they threw out into the large schools of fish under the pier. Once the hook had sunk under the school of fish they would rip the rod up into the air hoping to snag a fish as the hook flew through the school. As we watched they caught only three fish for maybe one hundred attempts so it seemed to be quite a lot of effort for not much return.
Noval let us know we had about an hour before our dinner would be ready so we had ample time to explore the area around the resort. Ranualt and I decided we would go and have a beer before dinner but soon found out that the generator was only turned on in the late afternoon and that the beer was still warm, so we all wandered around checking out the resort. The owner had some time in the past brought a couple of Timor deer to the island as pets one of which we found asleep under a tree near the bar with warm beer. This deer acted more like a dog and would respond to a good pat and scratch under the chin. Along with the tame deer the Island had a resident eagle that was able to be approached quite closely. More so by the locals that would feed it a fish or two from their daily catch ( I doubt though that the guys at the end of the pier would give up one of their three fish). After our exploring session we wandered back to the boat, ate our dinner and settled down for the night once again to a magnificent sunset.
The last day of our trip saw us doing some more exploring and also some snorkelling on Kanawa Island before heading off to Kalong Island where Lyndall and Renault relaxed on the beach while I climbed to the highest point on the island to see what I could see. What I saw was a perfect view of Kalong Island and the clear blue seas which stretched for hundreds of kilometres all around me. After lunch at Kalong Island it was back to Labuan Bajo via Bidadari Island for some more snorkelling. Arriving at Labuan Bajo we were met once again by Aleksander who took us back to our hotel, before we flew out back to Bali the next day.
Gunung Rinjani
It was 3am at 3000m above sea level and we had just been woken from our restless sleep by our guide. We were all feeling nervous from the anticipation of the climb ahead. A quick cup of tea and a muesli bar and we were off. Except for by brother Phil. I could see he was visibly upset. The cameraman was filming everything. Phil looked into the lens and told the world that he had to pull out. Holding back tears he explained that he just didn't have any energy left and that he felt ashamed. He walked off and retired to his tent.
The summit of Gunung Rinjani stands at 3726m on the island of Lombok , Indonesia . The mountain itself is part of a series of massifs that form an enormous volcanic calderas. Lying within this calderas is a new semi active volcano, Gunung Baru. Forming a crescent around this new cone is Segara Anak which is a fresh water lake home to a multitude of Carp.
Our expedition began in a small village on the northern slopes of Rinjani. From our guest house we could see Rinjani's summit and its long, angular ridge line. For all of us it was an imposing site. We were all climbing for various reasons. Some needed an adventure, others a challenge, while I was here filming the struggle the nine other trekkers would undertake to reach Rinjani's summit. My brother Phil needed an adventure. He had a one year old at home and a pregnant wife with his second, so I guess (though I never have asked him) he needed something for himself, to relive a bygone day when he felt more important and to some extent his own person.
The first day from Senaru is a long and at times grueling climb through lush rain and cloud forests. Grey Macaques and Ebony monkeys swung through the forests canopy, pausing occasionally to spy on their unusual biped cousins below. Buttress roots gauged there way across the worn path frequently forming steps that were just a little higher than a natural stride. After 6 hours we had reached base camp three which stands approximately 500 vertical metres below the volcano's rim. It was a difficult climb. Phil rested in his tent for most of the afternoon complaining of feeling weary and having sore knees.
By dinner time we were all starving so we scoffed the Nasi Goreng down with gusto. Phil took one mouth full and quickly ran off to the bushes to vomit. Repeatedly. Very loudly. It was like some enormous beast growling in the bushes. I went to comfort him and soon realised that we were standing in amongst a thicket of Stinging Nettle; an extremely painful weed that can takes days to clear up. Phil was oblivious to this as he was concentrating on his vomiting bear impersonation. I slowly backed us out of harms way and took Phil to his tent. In the moment of illness, of stomach cramps and sweating brows he mumbled to me that he couldn't go on and that he wanted to head back to Senaru. I asked him to sleep on it and we would reassess it in the morning.
My restless sleep was broken by the sweet chirping of morning birds. I exited my tent to film the morning sites and sounds. The porters were already busying themselves with breakfast preparations while the trekker's tents moaned, groaned and vibrated like enormous purple beetles. I slid into Phil's tent to see how he was. Physically he remained weak and sore, but the feeling of defeat had waned and he was prepared to go on and see how he would do.
Another difficult climb awaited us, but we could see the rim of the crater and our spirits rose with every metre closer to it. Until midday , the air around Rinjani remains crystal clear and as we climbed we would pause to look behind us to see the awesome volcanoes of Bali rise from the sea. Then all of a sudden, that rock and grass that we had been looking at beneath our feet for the last two days fell away into one of the world's most amazing gaping holes. The horizon flung itself 8 km from us as we walked up to the rim, witness to Segara Anak and Gunung Baru rising from its depths.
But more impressive than that was the summit of Gunung Rinjani. From our vantage point we could see what we had to do to get to the summit. We could see the camp site by the lake and the steep climb to base camp 4 on the other side of the calderas. And finally we could see the intimidating ridge climb all the way to the summit. From here we wondered how on earth we were going to get there. God knows what Phil was thinking. This would have been the last chance for him to turn around, as by the time we had reached the lake's shore he would have been half way between the two towns that could offer him safety. I didn't tell him this. He picked up his pack and led the expedition down the inside of the calderas to our camp for the night.
By the time we reached the lake camp several other trekkers started to feel the pain. One had a nasty fall on his way down though he escaped any real injuries. Others who were full of humour and spirit two days prior were more introspective, while another dehydrated himself and found himself vomiting uncontrollably. Phil remained composed, mustering all he had to continue the climb, wasting no energy on swimming or talking terribly much. The camp site itself was ideally perched on the top a small 5m cliff that over looked the lake and the tranquil scene before it. By mid afternoon the lake itself was hardly visible though we were only metres from it. The warmed low lands had shot cooler air up the valley into the lake, forming giant cloud banks that whirled and danced across the water in a mystical rhythm. The summit we had been eyeing off all day also vanished, so we all retired to some nearby thermal hot pools to soak our weary bodies. By dinner our spirits had lifted. We all slept well that night 2200m above sea level on the shores of our volcanic lake.
The following morning began exactly the same as the previous one. Birds chirped, porters prepared and tents moaned and groaned. But you couldn't help feeling happy and excited waking up to banana pancakes, a hot cup of tea and a view rarely rivaled. The air was fresh and clean and our bodies felt like they were acclimatizing to the outdoor life. We rested until lunch, waiting for the clouds to come in before attempting to climb up the other side of the calderas to base camp 4. Without the clouds and the subsequent breeze, the climb would be stifling hot and almost unbearable. Phil started to feel better. He was holding his food down and after a massage from one of the other trekkers, his muscles and knees felt slightly better. He led out of camp once again, this time just carrying a day pack to conserve energy for the summit climb. Four others had passed their laden backpacks onto the porters as they too were still feeling the strain of the last few days. We filmed their bodies move up the slope, disappearing into the swift cloud banks like silhouetted spirits.
Most of the group made good progress. The terrain was rough, rocky and steep. The buttress roots that zigzagged across the path only two days prior were replaced by small boulders that once again forced us to step upward with unusually long strides. We focused our filming on one of the other trekkers this day. He was really struggling and as we climbed higher, swore that he could see elephants walking up the path. He staggered into camp several hours after the first had arrived, utterly spent. What I didn't know was that Phil was fighting his own battle. His stomach cramps returned and his knees were aching from the climb up. He remained determined but I sensed defeat. It wasn't anything he said, as the words coming out of his mouth were positive. It was the way he looked at the mountain. In fact he had been looking at the summit like that for a couple of days as if to say "You're a lot bigger than I thought you were".
The feeling around the camp was high. We were the only ones at base camp, and on this narrow cliff edge we had amazing views of the lake and by now the setting sun over Bali . We were above the clouds. We were at the place that would take some of us to the summit. We were all a bit nervous.
That night, while sitting by the camp fire, I could hear Phil quietly crying in his tent. He started to feel ill again and his knees were aching from the days climb. There was little I could do except sit there. We were due to leave camp in 6 or 7 hours, so I suggested he get some rest and we'll reassess how he feels at 3am .
Most of the group had retired for the night. I checked and double checked the camera gear for the climb. I didn't want to go to my tent too early as I knew I would lay there for hours wondering if everything would be alright, if anyone would pullout, if anyone would get hurt. I slid into the tent I was sharing with Phil at about 9pm . This was late, usually it was around 7pm . I convinced myself I was tired and ready for sleep. Naturally I wasn't, and I lay there until midnight wondering all those things I didn't want to wonder.
This brings me back to the start of the story. I understood Phil's reasoning. It was the right decision and a brave one at that. But I couldn't help feeling disappointed and to a small degree, frustrated for him. He had come so far and so close to achieving a goal he had set, only to stop 800 vertical metres from it. I gave him a hug and then gathered the others together for our departure.
The moon was full and hung well aloft, illuminating the narrow path that led to the main ridge to the summit. This is a steep climb, made worse by the scree underfoot. Once the ridge was reached, the stronger climbers went ahead with their guide. I remained mid way between those at the front and the stragglers. Occasionally I set up the camera to film the thoughts of the climbers and to give an up date of events.
After two hours, we were at the base of the final and most grueling part of the ridge that leads straight to the summit. I looked back along the ridge to see small spots of light swaying from side to side then stopping. Sway. Stop. Sway. Stop. It was a rhythm familiar to me now. Several lights were well down the ridge. Their progress was excruciatingly slow. It was Gerrard and JJ. In a way I wished one of them would pull out. Not because I didn't want them to succeed, but because I didn't want Phil to be alone. I wanted to show him that it wasn't just him, that the mountain can take its toll on anyone.
The sun was starting to illuminate the horizon. I could see its warm glow to the east still 30 or 40 minutes from revealing its true brilliance. It is this part of the climb that tests ones metal. The 40 degree pitch coupled with scree and scoria base makes climbing not only exhausting but tedious. 15 steps up, slide back five and then stop. This was the rhythm of this mountain climb. 15 steps and stop. I needed to get to the summit before sunrise so I pushed on ahead of the 5 last climbers.
It was 6am when I reached Rinjani's summit. I shook hands with the others that had reached the top and congratulated them on their effort. This was the second time I had been standing here in the last nine months and for some reason I thought I wouldn't enjoy it as much as the first time. I guess that elation that I had done it wasn't there but I felt as proud and satisfied as ever. Not only had I climbed to the summit, but I was the leader of my first expedition and I was filming for a documentary. These added pressures had made the summit just as satisfying as the first time.
I set up the camera and tripod just below the summit platform and filmed the rising sun over Sumbawa . It was incredible. I could see the world's largest volcano; Tambora; to the east and the shadow cast by Rinjani's mass on the horizon to the west. I filmed the lake and the swift clouds that rushed over the lip of the crater. Finally I filmed the battle still being waged on the mountain by JJ and Gerrard.
I remember one shot of the ridge line which showed JJ slowly plodding into the bottom left hand corner of the frame. He stopped and took in the view, then took ten more steps before stopping again. After another rest, he soldiered on stopping soon after and looking up along the ridge. He finally plodded out of the top right of frame. This shot took up 4 minutes of tape and the distance walked would be no more than 50 meters.
I pointed the camera towards a large boulder outcrop that dominates the top of the ridge line, just below the summit. From here it is an easy walk up to the top. Coming along this path was JJ and Gerrard, accompanied by Craig (a Personal Trainer) who had motivated them up the mountain. They were exhausted but absolutely thrilled with their achievement. After the mandatory summit shots and a rest, we all headed back down to base camp.
Phil was waiting for our return. I could see his disappointment. He told me that he had vomited just after we left camp and watched our head lamps bob up and down along the ridge line. While everyone else was exhausted, they all had a look of satisfaction. Phil wandered around camp aimlessly, quiet and depressed.
Our walk back to a small village on the eastern slope of Rinjani must have been agonisingly long for him. He walked quietly, answering questions briskly and never starting a conversation. I shared a room with him for the last few days before heading home. Phil remained tense and unresponsive to encouragement. He told me that this was the last trip he would do for years. He blamed his wife and fatherhood for this. I was getting frustrated with his continued melancholy but what could I say? I had to let it go.
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Two weeks after our return, we were invited over to Phil's for dinner. I wasn't sure how to handle talking about Rinjani. Should I avoid the topic? The night went fine. We all talked about Rinjani openly. Phil's spirit returned and we talked about the film and when it would be completed. He told me that he had a great idea for another film. Always interested I lent him my ear. He told me it would be about him and a mountain in Lombok . The film would be called "Unfinished Business".
Komodo Island
In May of 2004 I was given the opportunity to travel with Andrew Aitken of No Roads Expeditions on a trial expedition to see the Dragon's of Komodo. The following is an account of our trip, one that I would thoroughly recommend and certainly never forget.
Early on a warm morning in the town of Labuan Bajo (Port Bajo) on the Indonesian island of Flores , we waited patiently for our guide to collect us for our expedition to see the biggest member of the Varanus family. Our guide, Bona Ventura, just like "Ace" he said, collected us after a visit to the local markets to stock the boat for our impending trip. Our journey to their island home began with a short dugout canoe trip to the boat that would be our home for the next three days. The 'Alba' was a clean looking boat that had plenty of room for both Andrew and myself and appeared it would provide us with a relaxed environment for our journey. Once on board we stowed our gear and met the crew, twenty one year old Noval, our captain for the trip, and his two deck hands John and Jos, both who were only fifteen.
The waters around Labuan Bajo were tranquil with hardly a ripple. We set off for our first destination, the Island of Rinca , pronounced 'Rincha'. Soon after setting off, Bona served our first meal, a range of tropical fruits washed down with bottled water and black tea. After a surprisingly relaxing three hour trip past numerous small Islands and the remnants of the Western end of Flores we motored into a secluded bay. Tying up to a small pier we were about to come face to face with our first Komodo dragon. At the end of the pier was a small shelter providing shade to a couple of Indonesian locals. Underneath the small platform they were sitting on was a two meter dragon looking as relaxed as the two men sitting above it. Bona produced a small bag of fish and proceeded to offer it to the dragon. With out hesitation it scoffed the lot including the plastic bag! Initially Andrew and I were a little disappointed as it felt like this dragon was staged and was only hanging around because of people like Bona feeding it. That may have been true of this individual but we were soon to see many more dragons away from obvious human habitation and influence.
It was only a couple of years ago that Komodo 'feeding' shows were stopped. These shows were put on for tourists who could witness a 'pack' of dragon's tearing a goat to pieces. With an increased understanding of the dragon's ecology, it was realised that this was putting undue pressure on the population and could be one of the reasons for the increasing difference between the male and female population. Offerings of large animals by humans are now only done by rangers and researchers when they want to attract animals for research requirements.
The walk on Rinca takes about two hours starting with a short section from the pier to the ranger station where you can pay your entrance fees and collect your special forked stick. The Rangers indicated that if you are attacked by a dragon while on the walk you should thrust the stick into its mouth this should make it drop to the ground and go to sleep? I was not sure how poking a forked stick into the mouth of a three meter lizard was going to make it go to sleep but I didn't really care as I wasn't going to get into a position to have to try it!
The walk was interesting with our small group coming across numerous animals including water buffalo, large centipedes, flying lizards and of course dragons. We walked through thick forest and scrub and out into open grasslands which appeared to include many species that were familiar to me from Australia . The island was very dry however the plant species we saw showed that it can be quite wet. Stag horn ferns and orchids covered the trunks and filled the forks of many trees and provided a welcome contrast to the dry brown surrounds. Many of the orchids were in flower and were quite beautiful. What a contrast, the delicate beauty of the orchids just above the lumbering bodies of the prehistoric dragons.
On returning to the Alba we motored away from the pier and onto our next destination, a small island off the coast of Komodo Island . Bona said that we were soon to see many flying foxes leaving their daytime roost for an evening of foraging on the surrounding islands. When Bona said many we were not prepared for the numbers we were going to experience. We arrived at the island just on dusk, a little later than Bona had anticipated, as we had taken too long on Rinca looking around for animals. The island was unlike most others we had past; it was low, only one to two meters high and covered in mangroves. As we approached we could already see a stream of flying foxes leaving the island. We had already experienced the Indonesian habit of underestimation of time, distance, etc. and Bona's description of many was just one more. For the short time we were anchored off the island we witnessed tens of thousands of flying foxes flying off to feed. It was an awesome sight.
Just before we set off for our mooring for the night we were visited by a small boat load of villagers selling carvings of dragons and other locally produced souvenirs. It seems no place is exempt from the pressures of needing to make a living, even out on a boat in the middle of this isolated part of the world. After a short round of haggling we set off in the dark for the pier on Komodo Island . On arriving we weighed anchor ate our dinner and settled down for bed.
The next morning we rose around 5am and set out to find more dragons. This time however it would actually be on the Island that gave them their name. Only a short walk from the pier through the ranger station we discovered over a dozen large dragons lumbering out of the scrub to start the days foraging. The day was perfect, the temperature was around 25C with not a breath of wind and the light of the rising sun made for an awesome sight. We were able to get quite close to the dragons with many that we saw wandering past less than a metre away. You could almost smell their breath.
Seeing the dragons on Komodo heralded the end of our adventure and we boarded the Alba for the trip west across the Sape Straight to the island of Sumbawa . The small port town of Sape on Sumbawa is where we would catch the overnight bus and ferry that would get me back to Mataram in Lombok for my flight back to Bali and then home to Australia .
While this trip provided so many opportunities to experience the island culture and see animals and plants that I had only ever seen in books, Andrew decided future trips will be increased from three to six days and include the North Coast of Sumbawa and not just the Islands of Komodo and Rinca. This would provide an opportunity to experience the wildlife, culture and scenery of Sumbawa as well as more chances to relax and do some snorkeling and fishing on the reefs along the way.
Peter Comber is a keeper with in the Live Exhibits department of the Melbourne Museum
