Five Men in a Boat
Five men in a boat
The first story is about five travellers and their crew who while away a few days sailing in pacific waters among prisitine islands, ancient creatures and starry skies. Far from the everyday world, at the mercy of the waves and fate, the ‘uncle’, the ‘girl’, the ‘old lady’, the ‘salesman’ and ‘Don Diego de la Vega’, leave the coast of Flores Island guided by Indonesian sailors and head towards Lombok, passing by Rinca and Komodo and sailing along the coast of Sumbawa. But how did they all meet each other?
Meeting up
At sunset a few days before our adventure in the small harbour of Labuanbajo-Flores begins, the uncle and the girl arrive in port all worn out after a 12 hour journey in a canoe. After such an undertaking they had visions of somewhere basic to sleep, but these turn out to be a mirage. So what do they do? They’re walking along the main road, tired and annoyed, when they bump into three men from their homeland. Solidarity between fellow countrymen assures them a bed and plans are hatched for a boating expedition over a few beers. The group is to be composed of the following members: the ‘uncle’, who was given his name by the others in the team for his authority, the ‘salesman’, unbeatable in any business deal, the ‘old lady’ (very tall and thin, prim and proper with long hair), ‘Don Diego de la Vega’ (for his uncanny likeness with Zorro – little black beard and all), and finally the ‘girl’, the only woman in the group. Now they just have to find a crew and start the traditional negotiation process.
The deal
Dinner date with the potential sailing outfit in an inn in the hills around the bay. The captain and the deckhand introduce themselves and they’ve brought two women (occupations unknown) for ‘dessert.’ After two mugs of beer and, the salesmen, who everyone was relying on to land a good deal, loses his marbles and throws himself into a dubious chat up routine. He doesn’t realise that the only thing that matters is the price. The uncle, the old lady and Don Diego take control of the situation. They cast adrift the salesman and start to bargain themselves. The girl gets bored sitting next to the deckhand who belches like a dinosaur while he speaks to her but excuses himself and hides under the table whenever he needs to blow his nose. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. Sitting opposite her the old lady witnesses the goings on and gallantly trying to distract the deckhand in the hope of redirecting his gas emissions. A great big gecko hanging from the ceiling casts a shadow over the table. Everyone hopes that the pads on his feet have good suction. As the night wears on the combined blood alcohol limit goes way over the limit. The ‘dessert’ has changed table in search of less romantic clients on the orders of the captain. The group reaches an agreement. We leave tomorrow. A time is set to be at the docks.
Departure
In the morning our five intrepid adventurers show up together with their luggage on the dock of the small harbour of Labuanbajo for their first boat inspection. As far as size and general impression goes, it seems OK….apart from the rust. The crew will provide food as well as transport -excluding drinks….. Excluding drinks? Oh my God! The uncle and the old lady immediately set off in search of a crate of beer – fundamental for the group’s survival. They walk towards the village and return heroes after about an hour spent bargaining, and carrying back the precious, heavy crate. Last checks and we weigh anchor. The coast disappears into the distance.The boat heads out into the open sea. On the inside everyone makes the sign of the cross. On the outside, everyone opens their first beer.
The crossing
The first encounter with the waves in the open sea leaves everyone a little worried. Will it be like this for five days? They’ll have to wait to answer that. In the meantime, they roll around the boat from bow to stern, they take in the view, breathe the fresh, humid air of the open ocean, they follow the flight path of birds, and get hit in the face with bucketfuls of sea water. The first meal prepared by the ship’s cook puts everyone in a good mood: rice, fish, spicey vegetables. We eat sitting on the deck on the bridge, chatting in different languages, sign language included.
During the voyage the boat often comes across tiny uninhabited islands – honest-to-God – atolls lost in the vast blue sea that are surrounded by coral reefs inhabitied only by crabs. Docking is impossible. The captain lowers the anchor some distance away so the only way to reach the islands is to swim. One after the other, the uncle, the old lady, the salesman, Don Diego and the girl dive into the cold waves to reach the beaches that have coral pink sand made from crushed shells like gemstones. They rest in the shade of the three palms that somehow manage to grow there. They float in the water just an inch above undersea castles made of seaweed and rocks and fish and multicoloured corals. Anchored in the distance, the houseboat bops about smoothly on the waves waiting for them. When the moment arrives to weigh anchor the captain gives the order with an umpire’s whistle. This of course provokes the group to display innate Italian football behaviours: “GOOOOAAAL!” they all reply emphatically in chorus before diving into the water and swimming back to the ship using the weirdest swimming strokes: one wants to bring back on board a twenty kilo shell, another needs to keep their camera out of the water, and yet another needs to protect their sunburnt back after too much tropical sun.
During one of the many trips to these islands, different method is tried out: canoe. The crew drop a small boat carved out of the trunk of a palm tree into the sea. Don Diego and the salesman give it a go. The former manages to squeeze himself into the cockpit without any injuries. The latter gets in perhaps a little too eagerly, and lets in water. The maximum sustainable weight for the twig has been exceeded. The canoes sinks, slowly and assuredly, inch by inch. The two bear witness to their shipwreck in silence. On the bridge of the mothership the captain and the crew erupt into thunderous applause.
The main leg of the crossing includes the exploration of the mythical, ancient islands of Rinca and Komodo, with its population of Komodo dragons. The boat reaches the islands on the morning of the third day of sailing. By now the crate of beer has been totally emptied by the preceding evenings festivities. A whole day is spent hiking on dry land. Swiss, Germans, Americans face the challenge in perfect ‘explorer’ get up: trkking boots, long trousers, hat, camera with tripod, factor 60 sunscreen. Our group doesn’t really make the grade. We get off the boat with our sandals, sarongs and sunglasses and receive odd looks from those already there. However, even our group takes a look at the dragons. To their great satisfaction theymanage to come across a few of them in the bush. They are huge, impressive-looking carnivourous lizards with a deceptively sleepy appearance. We hope that they don’t notice the inappropriate footwear that would make any attempt at escape precarious at the least and probably hopeless. The group and the the crew spend the following night anchored offshore in a calm peaceful bay under an undescribeable expanse of stars. This will be remembered as the night of the salesman. A small boat sneaks up beside the ship and quick as a flash an army of tiny Indonesian warriors come aboard. On the deck hey roll out mats containing all kinds of merchandise: necklaces, bracelets, tribal masks, spears, animals carved from wood, fabric….and immediatley the salesman cracks his nuckles, sits in the lotus position, glances at his comrades and takes control of the situation. The poor Indonesians don’t know what fate awaits them. Don Diego singles out a mask and the uncle and the girl choose a 50 cm-long wooden Komodo dragon. The bargaining begins. After two hours, the salesman and the only Indonesian stil in the game are in the final stages. All the others silently watch them through the fumes of some terrible local booze, probably distilled from the exhaust pipe of a truck, and ‘kretek’, some kind of clove-smelling cigarettes . The stars watch silently too. At sunrise the following day the dragon and the mask reign over the boat from the bow.
Lombok harbour gets closer: just one day and one night of open sea around Sumbawa are left between the group and their final destination. It seems easy. It would be if only the sea hadn’t decided to become the protagoinist of this tale for the time remaining. The sea, with its waves several meters high, throws the boat and her crew around from left to right in her hands . In day light this is amusing, but in the dark of the night fear takes over. To stay attached to the deck on the bridge requires considerable strength and our five adventurers, seem like old rolled up rugs wrapped up in their blankets full of sea salt: each person is in their corner, then they’re all together, then some at the bow, others at the stern, then all together once again … and so on. At sunrise you can see that the night has left deep scars on their faces.
Arrival
The famous five’s trip finishes with little fuss on the coast of Lombok Island in some other little port. The uncle, the girl, the salesman, the old lady and Don Diego, (with a strange hairdo created by the all sea salt) take their leave of the crew and try to regain some balance and stability on terraferma. Unsteady on their feet, they find a bus that jumps along the dirt road full of potholes to take them to the lush forests of the interior inhabited by thousands of monkeys. But that’s another story.
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