August 14-18, 2005
Komodo and Rinca , Indonesia
Sailing Indonesia : Komodo and Rinca
By Lois Joy
Leaving Riung for Komodo: Saturday, August 14 th
As I write this, Pacific Bliss is sailing along at 6-7 knots, on a beam-to-broad reach, with the wind at 13-15 knots. Perfection. You cannot imagine how wonderful this breeze feels! I realize that I am sitting at the helm without my hat and rush to put it on. 
In the cruising life, everything little thing becomes crucial. Because mistakes always come back to haunt you. Ever since the Bali Belly episode, I'm prone to heat stroke. The last time it happened was upon our arrival in Riung. We had to anchor twice, because of the anchor dragging; the sun was beating down on us ferociously as Gunter, Alison and I searched for a good spot in the anchorage—crowded with Rally yachts—and set the hook
Then I went inside record the data into the logbook and to shut off the navigation instruments. All of a sudden I felt like I was going to pass out. I had to bend my head down between my knees. I'd managed to complete the logbook, but did not turn off the instruments or computer. Breaking out in a sweat, I laid down in my bunk underneath the fan, attempting to regain my equilibrium. I heard Gunter asking faintly through my foggy brain: “OK to turn off the instruments?”
“OK,” I answered, still dazed. So he did, with the MaxSea navigation program still up at the computer. I hadn't saved our track into the difficult double-reef anchorage, and after the GPS was turned off, it wouldn't SAVE. So I'd lost my TRACK all the way back from Alor.
As it turned out, I did have the three waypoints to plug in again, and when we departed, the sun was high in a clear sky; we could see the reefs well without the TRACK. No worries. Plus, we watched Mi Gitana and Rainbow Voyager carefully wind through the reefs, about 1 ¼ hours ahead of us.
Komodo: A Fairy Tale Arrival at Dawn's Light Monday, 0730
Land ho! Pacific Bliss is now motoring along in a light breeze along the eastern coastline of Komodo, north of Rinca; the little islands of Tatawa, Mauah, Siaba Besar and Siaba Ketjil are at our bow. Rainbow Voyager is ahead, Layaleeta is behind and MiGitana has cut through the channel another way to find some wind to sail. They didn't find that wind, Michelle reported on our good morning VHF call at 0715, so all four yachts are motoring along. I spy fishing boats in the harbors now; we pass a big two-masted motor cruiser anchored near the island of Mauah, and another fishing boat anchored off a little reef-island whose position appears to be accurate on MaxSea . A good sign. 
It is a busy watch this morning. I drink two cups of coffee but never do get around to having anything more until everyone is up and we are ready to anchor. Gunter rises. He has no luck in receiving Komodo net on the SSB; not that we need it. I'm immersed in navigation and watching the wonderful scenery rush by. Yes, RUSH. We began my watch with a one knot current in our favor. By the time we reached the Lindas Strait , we are pushed along at 7-9 knots. Once we hit 10 knots SOG (speed over ground).
I talk to Nicole who is on watch on Rainbow Voyager ahead of us. She's busier than me, watching, navigating, and feeding Luna her breakfast all at the same time. I pass on the waypoints for our anchorage.
I'm in awe of the raw, rugged beauty of the Komodos as Pacific Bliss glides along, sails down, her engines barely having to work. It is a joyous early morning sleigh ride. A magnificent moment of bliss. Each turn brings another craggy mountain rising high from a glass-green sea. The sun glints on golden cliffs, shaped from rushing waters eons ago. I am thrown back in time. This is a ride through fairyland, the Alice in Wonderland of my childhood. No, Pacific Bliss is our magic carpet, carrying us through kingdoms of yore, where dragons scaled those cliffs and lazily swam from Komodo to its outlying islands and then on to Rinca. Komodo and Rinca—the only two places in the world where these dragons still roam.
08º35 S, 119º 31.3 E: We drop the hook to the starboard of Rainbow and Layaleeta drops theirs to our starboard. The three yachts face a serene bay, with a reef lining the shore. We anchor at 27 feet but we cannot see the bottom. The current is strong here, so I hold onto the swim ladder while I take a refreshing dip. Ah! I love this place.
The VHF breaks my spell. Mi Gitana has anchored apart from we three over to the right of the ranger station—even though Michele had been the one who gave us these anchorage coordinates. The VHF calls continue back and forth among the yachts, until we are totally frustrated. Michele arranges an afternoon tour for all of us at 1500 ( 3 PM ). We will not have our planned day of rest here after all. Gunter, Alison and I collapse into our berths and succumb to a deep sleep. Then at 1230 we have lunch, download compact flash cards to have plenty of digital photo space for the dragons, and rushing to be ready for the tour at 1430.
Upon our arrival at the Ranger Station, we are thrust into Tourist Land . Komodo is not Kelimutu or Riung where the locals are happy to see us and eager to relate. Here it's about the money. Too bad; it disrupts the natural beauty. One can tell the difference. We feel nickeled and dimed. The charges here are posted:
• 30,000 rupiahs per person for the park
• 10,000 rupiahs per person for the guide
• 40,000 rupiahs per person for anchoring
• 25,000 rupiahs per person for each camera
• 100,000 rupiahs per person for video
Plus, we are quoted 50,000 rupiahs to pick us up and return to Pacific Bliss
We negotiate upfront, 50,000 rupees for each for all three boats, then they want an extra 50,000 as the launch reaches Mi Gitana , trying to charge—per yacht—for the one boatload of passengers from all four yachts. After living for weeks with the easy-going attitudes of the other Indonesian islanders, it is a rude awakening. We feel preyed upon.
(In retrospect, we might have felt differently, had we seen the prey we'd come for. But all we saw was the rather lazy dragon by the ranger station (obviously kept and fed by them there). Although we hiked as a group, following a guide to the pit where—in former years—they brought a goat to be attacked by the dragons, we never saw another dragon. When Gunter and I had visited Komodo in 1995, we'd seen quite a few skinny dragons lounging around the pit area. I even took a photo of one ambling toward me! A year after the rangers had cut off the practice of sacrificing the goats, the dragons were still lounging around, refusing to go out and hunt. But by the time we came this second time, the dragons had dispersed and had acclimated into the wild. It is an interesting conundrum. The tourists had been the ones who complained to the Indonesian government about the bloody practice, in force up until 1994. Now, the tourists are complaining that they come all this way to see dragons, and they can't find any. Of course not! The dragons had finally been forced to hunt wild boar and deer, so they are hiding in the jungle.) 
As night falls, the launch put-puts along, dropping off its passengers at each yacht. In the bow of the launch, a large oval mask has been flung on top of the pile of souvenirs. The eyes stare at Gunter in the dimming light—she is a painted lady in bright orange, with a pensive face and a pouty mouth. Gunter is captivated by her look.
“No,” I say, following his downward gaze toward her doleful demeanor. “She's too bright, doesn't fit our décor. Besides, we have no more wall space for our mask collection.”
But Gunter can't resist. “How much?” he asks
“20,000 rupiahs.”
He bargains a little, but we both knew he had to give her a home. To ease his conscience,
he added three more carved Komodo dragons for the grandkids into the lot.
As we reach our anchorage, we spot three boars walking on the reefs near shore at low tide. We stand silently for awhile, mesmerized. Then we enter the salon, and place the painted lady on the settee. There she sits until we bring her home to California .
Sunrise over Komodo: Tuesday, 0600 0Stillness. Blessed stillness. The sea is green glass, the color of an old coke bottle. The surf kisses the shore across the bay, near the ranger station. But here where Pacific Bliss is anchored, the mangroves that line this shore dig their tentacles deep into the mid-tide mud. Small birds flit from one mangrove to the next, chirping a cheerful good morning. Seated at the starboard helm, I look down on Rainbow Voyager to starboard and Layaleeta to port, gently cradling their inhabitants who are bathed in the silence of sleep .
Somewhere the sun will peak out from these tall, arid mountains surrounding us. I look at the compass. Yes, we are facing east, toward shore. The outline of the ridges is sharpened by the pre-dawn—silhouetted backs of ancient dinosaurs. A faint orange is reflecting from the mountains into the water as the day awakens, blue hues changing to oranges, golds, and browns. Behind me, a fishing village nestles into a small piece of flat land on the opposite shore, as golden cliffs rise behind. A couple of windjammers skim the sea towards the ranger station, carrying a contingent of tourists eager to see the dragons. I am diverted by splashes alongside the hull. A group of small fish jump for their lives, not wanting to be part of this morning's food chain. Something bigger than they is chasing them, working for his breakfast!
Gunter is up. The teapot is whistling…demanding. I'd put off brewing the coffee, wanting to keep Pacific Bliss quiet for as long as I could. After half an hour, the shoreline is distinct, but still the sun has not appeared. That's good, because the only clouds in the sky have rolled over toward the park ranger station. It will be blazing hot in this still, moist air as we motor on to Rinca.
“Beautiful,” says Gunter as he approaches me for his morning kiss
“The sunshine will come from right there,” I say, pointing to a crevice in the dinosaur's back.
“No, you are my sunshine.”
Smart man.
He kisses me just as the sun peeks through, its rays growing like a searchlight, seeking out the yachts quietly anchored here. The tut-tut of fishing boats' one-cylinder engines invade the silence. The day has begun.
Anchoring in Rinca: 08º40.46 S, 119º 39.08 E We have a wonderful motor over to Rinca, in clear pastel skies, surrounded by rugged beauty. But anchoring proves frustrating.
The coordinates of two anchorages selected from the Southeast Asia Cruising Guide are off, and don't allow for the swing room we need. Layaleeta and Rainbow Voyager are having a similar problem. Finally, after repeated anchoring, we three are settled in. They tuck into a cozy inlet, facing a sandy beach. Pacific Bliss drops anchor at 34' right in the center of an inlet, towards the end. Perfect places don't come easy! It has been a short trip (18 miles from Komodo) but with tricky navigation and difficult anchoring. Alison and I cook the food for our two-day passage to Lombok: boiled eggs, potatoes and yams to make a salad along the way; and pasta—with a jar of sausage-and-mushrooms tomato sauce from our Darwin provisioning. Then we jump into the water to cool off. We have invited both young families to a happy hour, so there is only one hour for our pensioner's nap. Our guests arrive at 1700. Layaleeta contributes an Australian champagne : sparkling chardonnay/shiraz, which the women enjoy (except for Nicole, who brings her own Indonesian Bintang). Gunter introduces Eric to Queensland 's Dark & Stormy . How he has escaped this canned cocktail so far is a mystery! He asks for a second. Another American bites the dust. The children—Ryan, Brian and Luna—have juice cocktails. There are two bowls of popcorn as well as all kinds of munchies. The two families toured Pacific Bliss. “I'm hooked,” says Susan. “A catamaran was my dream boat anyway, good for a family of four. Now I can buy yours in three years. Lots of buyers lie in wait.” It appears that Pacific Bliss might have a good future after the Hofmann's! She is not the first one to desire Pacific Bliss when the circumnavigation is complete. Reflections on Rinca, Wednesday, 0700 
Gunter and I sit together on the helm seat as Pacific Bliss floats on the calm inlet, hugged by mountains on three sides, reflecting into the sea. Our entire world consists of Pacific Bliss, blanketed by the island of Rinca . We are folded into her arid slopes. We are comforted by her baby blue skies and soft green seas. Here, there are no birds chirping, no roosters crowing. We squint into the binoculars to find any sign of life. Dragons? No, the shoreline is steep, the mountains arid. This is not the environment for dragons. They like to crawl along dry river beds, like the one we traversed during our Komodo hike.
We didn't find a ranger station coming here—although reportedly, there is one on Rinca. So we don't know how to find more dragons. But we don't mind. It has been the perfect anchorage for reflection—secluded, yet spectacular. Where else on earth, I wonder, can one find such supreme, sublime solitude?
Leaving Rinca
This has been such a solemn, stunning anchorage that I am reluctant to pull anchor. But engines are on, I have fine-tuned the navigation and now Alison is entering the waypoints into her own GPS as a backup. We've listened to the 0800 Komodo net broadcasting the latitude and longitude of our own secret anchorage, which is not in any of the guide materials. Soon we'll be on a passage to Gili Geda, a new “ Secret Island ” resort where rally participants can collect their free cases of beer. If there is any way to get cruisers to go somewhere, offer them something free!
