Lombok, Here I Come
By far the most popular method, and until 1999 just about the only method, of getting from Bali to the Gili Islands is to buy a combination bus/boat ticket from one of the many travel agents in the many tourist towns like Kuta or Ubud. I have experienced this torturous journey before. It involves a full and hard day’s travel from Kuta to Padangbai in Bali. A lot of waiting around before the departure of the slow ferry across the Lombok Straits. For the 3½ hour plus ferry crossing you do get to sit on hard bench seats or wherever you can find a spot. In reality this is on the top deck in the baking hot sun. On arrival in the port of Lembar, you’re packed like sardines into a minibus or bemo for the transfer through Lombok’s main urban district, Mataram, over what is termed by travelers, the Monkey Forest pass to Northern Lombok. From Bangsal it is another short ride on a local ferry to the Gili Isle of your choice. You arrive exhausted and ready for a bit of R&R.
I have heard that sometimes travelers can charter a local fishing boat that will take them from the east coast of Bali to the west coast of Lombok. However, prices are negotiable (maybe Rp150,000), time is variable (maybe three hours), and safety is dubious (maybe you won’t make it).
With the benefit of hindsight, on Saturday, September 7, 2002 my transfer to the island of Gili Air was a breeze. I used the Bounty, an Australian built luxury catamaran. This is a very modern, very high-speed passenger boat that makes the crossing direct to the Gilis in about 2½ hours. It is painted bright canary yellow, you can’t miss it. It’s principle purpose is to transfer high-spending tourists between the Bounty Group’s five-star hotels in Bali and Lombok without compromising their comfort. Independent travelers can purchase tickets for the boat transfer only and the prices are three times the cost of the more traditional ticket. The service started up exactly when last I visited the Gilis in 1999 and there was no hesitation then or now to fork out extra US dollars for an easier and most enjoyable cruise to the tropical islands.
An early start saw me walking through the Kuta alleyways until the inevitable “transport”, with the accompanying steering wheel hand gesture, question gets asked. I haggled a Rp30,000 taxi ride to Benoa Harbor just south of Denpensar. At the Bounty check-in, guests’ luggage, or in my case backpacks, are checked in separately to be stored below decks and we are provided with coffee or tea in a lovely shaded rest area whilst the Bounty, which is moored directly in front is readied for sailing.
At 8:30/9am-ish all guests are ushered up the gangplank onto the ship. On board you have a choice sitting in the two air conditioned lounge decks where a light breakfast is served and a video is screened during the crossing – the movie this time was Pearl Harbor, seen it. Outside are lounge chairs where queasy passengers can get some fresh air and you don’t even have to miss one minute of precious tanning time. Interestingly scattered around the ship are complimentary barf bags for guests to use.
After settling down I spotted a couple sitting nearby. The guys seemed familiar and after hearing them speak with definite South African accents I knew for sure that I knew the guy from when we all windsurfed together in Cape Town in the early eighties. I started chatting to Sam and Roselyn and soon worked out how and when we knew each other, it’s such a small world really. Not only to bump into someone this far from home but someone who you have known briefly from such a long time ago. Anyway we chatted and caught up on each other’s lives (these were more young adults who had foregone their South African lifestyles for new lives in the UK). The journey just flew by and in no time we were pulling up to the pontoon off Gili Meno. Fortunately there were no mishaps with bringing up our breakfasts although Sam had a close call there for a while.
Off the northwest coast of Lombok are three coral-reefed, palm fringed islands. Gili Air is closest to the mainland and has the largest permanent population, only around 1000. The restaurants and guesthouses are scattered all the way around the island giving it a pleasant rural and un-crowded feel. The middle island is Gili Meno and is the quietest with the fewest tourists. It is the only Gili that has a shallow lake, which produces salt in the dry season and is infested with pesky mosquitoes when it is wet. Gili Trawangan is the largest Gili and the only one with a hill. It attracts the most visitors and has many facilities. It has a Mediterranean ambience and is dubbed the “party” island. Despite the damage done by the now defunct practice of dynamite fishing, diving in this whole area is excellent.
Sam, Ros and I had the same plans to cross to Gili Air, thus avoiding the crowds on Trawangan. The ferryboat drivers have formed themselves into a nice little cartel which monopolizes tourist movement between islands. From a small wooden kiosk on the beach next to Bounty Jetty, boats are hired at a fixed price of Rp80,000, maximum three people per boat, not negotiable. With no other choice we grinned and bared the controlling mitts, forked out our money and were soon on our way across the short stretch of sea to Gili Air.
On Gili Air, Sam and Ros chose to book into, by this island’s standards, the most luxurious Hotel Gili Air, in front of which the ferry man conveniently dropped us off. I myself walked 50m next door to the Lombok Indha, probably the cheapest bungalows at Rp30,000 per night. My room was just on the beach with a lumpy bed, mosquito net, fan and open-air salt water shower with an Asian squat toilet. My new mate, Deni, the caretaker/manager seemed very friendly although he looked like he had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.
After settling in and a short rest I walked the short distance around the coast to the Blue Marlin Dive Center. This is where I was first certified as a qualified diver three years ago, I had had such a good time that I was eager to visit the guys again. The dive center had seen some improvements made over the years, no longer a couple of sheds and small outbuildings on a dusty plot. A large center had been built with all the necessary facilities, including a restaurant, table and chairs laid out on a lovely paved forecourt, berugas (Bahasa Indonesian, literally meaning “meeting hut”) with cushions and low bamboo tables and a volleyball net on the beach.
Two diving instructors, Alina and Chrissie, remained from the old days and without much prompting they remembered me. I immediately signed up for some fun dives and proceeded to the next door (and newly opened) Star Bar to catch up with my old diving buddies and make some new ones. And it gets better… at the bar I was introduced to an instructor who straight away said he recognized me from Thailand and we soon worked out it was back on Koh Tao, in the Safety Stop bar when we both decided that although soccer was not our football of choice we would force ourselves to watch the England/Brazil world cup match. Marc and his girlfriend were making their way down to Indonesia and Gili Air and we hadn’t made the connection.
So, all in all, a top day, great meeting up with so many and various old friends. Being back on Gili Air I was welcomed back like returning to an old family. That evening a large dinner was provided for many expats on the island and I was privileged to be included. When I arrived at Safaris, Neil from another dive shop came up and welcomed me back after a 3-year absence, how news travels fast. Later on a few of us made it further around the island to Sansibar for some late night drinking games involving some dice and the local poison, Arak. It was hilarious to see Trevor, a young American tourist who just couldn’t drink out of his glass backwards. I had too much to drink and got to bed too late.
8:30am next morning I dragged myself down to the dive center for my first fun dive. Sam and Ros had chosen to use Blue Marlin so we went straight into kitting up and getting the dive gear loaded onto the outrigger boat. Despite the hangover it was great to be getting back into the water again.
SHARK!!!
Our fun dive was to be on Sunset Reef off the southern part of Trawangan. Howard our diving instructor guaranteed that we would see sharks or he would buy us all a beer. He wasn’t wrong and his money was safe. The boat ride was a bit rough and wet, the sea having been whipped up by the stiffening breeze. It took over 30 minutes to get to the dive site. With the minimum of fuss we were in the water and diving. After 15 or so minutes swimming with an unbelievable amount of sea life, the variety of fish and coral is amazing, there it was, a white tipped reef shark. Now don’t panic, these are very docile sharks and this one was placidly lying there about 2-3 meters above the seabed. After a short while we swam into another one that we tentatively approached so he sort of circled around us. But with not a worry in the world the dive group swam on. That dive we also saw turtles.
The afternoon dive was at the shallower Hans reef, literally just off the beach outside the dive center. A more relaxed dive but again it showed how much variety the marine life around this part of the world contains. Howard pointed out to us the ghost pipefish that are very seahorse-like, tiny and very rare, very difficult to make out amongst the black sea weed it was using as cover. Also difficult to make out, until they actually moved, were two bright pink leaf scorpion fish.
The sunset that evening was spectacular. Sam, Ros, a Dutch couple we met diving and myself chilled out on a beruga with sundowners and watched as the sky turned to crimson. Amazingly, Bali’s largest volcano, Gunung Agung, which is visible on only the most exceptionally clear days, becomes beautifully silhouetted against the darkening sky as the sun sinks behind it. Gili Air is such a peaceful and tranquil place.
Like Bali, Lombok topography is dominated by volcanic activity. On morning boat rides to dive sites the awe inspiring sight of Bali’s Gunung Agung, with it’s more classical volcano shape and the more rugged Gunung Ringani, at 3726m one of Indonesia’s highest mountains, dominates the early morning skyline. These mountaintops peek out above the early mist, towering over the landscape below. Within hours the mountains are enveloped by hazy cloud and for most of the day are scarcely noticeable. Late one evening there was mild excitement on Gili Air as the mountainside in the distance glowed red with what was a suspected mild eruption and subsequent lava flow. Unfortunately, over the next couple of days, the consensus amongst the local was that it was only the burning of land by the Lombokese to create farmable land.
On another day I was lounging around the dive center doing nothing when a gentleman named Philip walked in. His story was he and his wife, from Melbourne Australia, were on a trip around the world on their brand new 50-foot yacht. On slowly motoring his yacht to moor in the small bay at the south of the island between the two of them they had managed to snap the safety line securing a $3000 anchor and chain. This was lost overboard in 20m of murky water. Philip was now looking for divers to help in the anchor’s retrieval.
Using his GPS Philip had marked out a grid with marker buoys to indicate where he thought the anchor had been lost. That evening a search party was hastily organized and eight of us divers did a sweep of the area using a line to no avail.
Our next attempt, early one morning, was with 14 divers firstly doing another much larger sweep. We all then split into two groups to search the periphery of the main grid where Philip was adamant his GPS indicated where we would find his anchor. Finally with some local Indonesian dive masters we used an expanding search method to search the area. Muggins here got assigned the job of anchoring the line at the center of the circles. I ascended from that dive very hypothermic with shivering fits. Still no sign of that elusive anchor.
By this time rumor had spread throughout the local village about the windfall that could be earned to the person finding this anchor. The cost of chartering four fishing boats with hookers (air hoses) was negotiated to be around Rp250,000 per boat. The local fishermen would walk from the beach with their air hoses in a line. Of course the anchor was found within 15-20 minutes in shallow water and outside the area we had been dive searching. The fishermen earned a Rp500,000 finders bonus, the anchor was found and all’s well that ends well.
On Tuesday, 10 September, I managed to worm my way onto a shopping expedition to Mataram on the Lombok mainland. Two girls, Susan and Carol, who both owned bars on the island, had to go stock up with supplies. I was given a shopping list from Blue Marlin Gili Air and tagged along.
We set off early with windless conditions for the sea crossing to Bangsal. Here the girls knew a local driver named Harri and he was chartered to chauffeur us around for the day. We crossed the Gunung Sabris mountain pass with gray monkeys looking like old men lining up along the roadside like sentries.
Over the pass we soon arrived into the urban area of Mataram. There is a one-way system throughout the center of the town that makes for a lot of driving around in circles. We visited liquor wholesalers, printing shops, the bank, a local supermarket and a very smart western styled supermarket called Hero’s. Here you can buy those luxury items much missed when spending long periods away from home. We ate great spicy foods such as Padang curries and beef satays from local warungs or food stalls.
We returned to Gili Air with a truckload of supplies and goodies. The boat cartel in Bangsal is notoriously militant with westerners. Four backpackers were struggling to negotiate a ride to the islands at such a late hour, 5:30pm. The girls however, with their local connections, managed to hire a couple of boats for all our boxes, the backpackers and ourselves. The day was a lot of fun even if a bit exhausting, a real local cultural experience.
With no cars on the island and motorbikes banned, the main modes of transport are walking, bicycling and horse carts. There were always many push bikes around the dive center. Providing I let it’s owner know beforehand I was able to use the bikes. One night two of us were clumsily riding on one bike in pitch blackness from one bar to the next when some local islanders happened by with a spare bike. What are the chances of that on such a small island? They kindly offered the spare so one of us could use it, then followed us to our destination to collect the bike, such kindness is still to be found in Indonesia. The roads through the island however are treacherous to ride at night. On two separate occasions I was thrown off my bike when hitting holes in the dusty tracks. One tumble was quite spectacular in that the bike was stopped dead by a pot hole and the rear wheel cartwheeled over the front. I ended up in a pile on the soft ground but other than dirtying my clothes, no damage was done.
So you see, a lot does happen on the island. Even so, it is a lovely place to relax, do nothing and of course dive. I even managed to find the time to catch up on my travel updates on Marc’s laptop, which he kindly let me use in exchange for downloading all my MP3 and WMA music files from my CD’s onto his hard drive. One excellent bit of news I received from BBC World satellite TV service was that Alan Dawson scored a four off the final ball to clinch an unlikely victory for South Africa against the West Indies in the first game of the Champions trophy – a sort of mini cricket world cup being held in Sri Lanka.
So after nine days on Gili Air and a much thicker dive logbook I reluctantly decided it was time to leave. The time schedule is getting tight to accomplish what I still hope to, so I need to push on. I settled up my various bar bills, at one stage I had four bar tabs running at various drinking spots around the island. I did spend a lot of money on the Indonesian amber nectar, Bingtang, but it was worth it.
I got Blue Marlin Dive to confirm my return trip on the Bounty. On Sunday, 15 September, I had my last dive with a great bunch of people from the dive center. They kindly dropped off at the big yellow catamaran straight after the dive and I was on my way. Thanks for a great time, guys.
We sped back across the Lombok Straits to Benoa Harbor on Bali. I had one more night in Kuta – so much for me following my own advice to “avoid Kuta” – to do some last minute shopping and more Bingtangs. I needed to hastily rearrange the return flight to Singapore and an onward flight to Perth, Australia.
So this really is it this time. Almost seven months of backpacking in South-East Asia has come to an end. It was a lot of fun. So many places visited and so many great people that I have met along the way. Of course I will be back, at this stage I just have no idea when.
So long Asia, thanks for all the memories.
I’m going to the land down under, pass me a Vegemite sandwich.
