Back to Lombok - Selong Belanak

As promised, Amy gets some beach time. Arriving out of the jungles of Papua (see last post), we spent a well-deserved organization day in Wamena (ground-zero base for hiking in the Baliem Valley) to dry out our gear, drink coffee, and relax – although, because liquor is banned in Papua, what we really could have used was a cold beer (no such luck). Anyway, as they say, no rest for the wicked. Next day, off to the beaches of southern Lombok!

The loyal followers among you will recall that we have visited Lombok in the past, specifically to climb Gunung Rinjani (Indo’s most famous volcano) followed by a trip to the “Gilis”, Lombok’s famous beach getaway islands. This time though, we had our sights set on the less-known beaches of southern Lombok, mostly just because we haven’t been there yet. Ah, so much to see, so little time J

Lombok is Bali’s little nephew. An up-and-comer shall we say. Sitting side by side in the string of islands that make up Indonesia, they are just a 1-hr fast-boat ride apart (Lombok is the next one over from Bali). But, Bali still, and probably always will, reigns supreme by a bazillion miles in the tourist race. If you are scratching your head wondering what a Lombok is, that’s the point. Conversely, you have probably heard of Bali J But hey, you never know, one day Lombok just might be all growed up, and swarming with tourists….but that’s a long way off. For now, it’s our little secret. Don’t tell anyone. J

So ya, Lombok. Could be our new focus. Amazing beaches (better than anything we experienced in Bali), about 1/100^th of the people, and only 10 minutes more in the air from Jakarta. What’s not to like? Well, there are a few glitches. First, it’s Muslim (Bali is not), which makes drinking, especially wine, challenging. Ya ya ya, I know, you don’t need alcohol to have a good time…blah blah blah…who said that anyway? Obviously not true. Splitting a good bottle of red wine on a beach at sunset is one of this world’s great pleasures (at least ours). So that is a factor. Then there’s the mosque issue, i.e., the 4:30 am wake up call. Also, fewer tourists means less competition, meaning higher prices and less infrastructure. In general, just less going on. In a word, way more chill.

OK, let’s lay this out in real terms. If you’re looking for a yoga retreat, hot-rock massages, and caramel lattes amongst the rice paddies, or alternatively partying like a rock star on the beach till the sun comes up, that’s Bali. If you can live with nasi goreng (fried rice, AKA “nasty” goreng), chilling on a beach, and drinking Bintang (Indo’s national somewhat nasty beer) in a bamboo warung (food stall), then Lombok is for you! The single biggest overriding plus: way way way less people, and probably better beaches. We’re definitely in for more Lombok I think (we’ll just bring our own wine – domestic flight = no customs – done!).

Our target was a place called “Selong Belanak”, a beach on the south coast of Lombok recommended to us by a friend (thanks Lindsay!), and could be one of the nicest beaches we have seen yet. Indo is full of beautiful beaches, but finding one that is not vying for the Guinness world record “most humans (and garbage) on a single beach” award, is the problem. The challenge is finding that sweet spot where this is just enough stuff going on that you can buy lunch, read a book, maybe grab a beer, and rent a surf board (although, I don’t seem to be getting any better J), without feeling like you are at the mall on a Saturday afternoon. Selong Belanak delivers just that (but don’t tell anyone).

Yep. The world of concrete, beach clubs, 2-for-1 cocktails, and infinity pools has not yet discovered Selong Belanak. In fact, once past the 5 or 6 bamboo warungs/surf board rental places, the beach is basically untouched as far as you can see. And, it’s a quick 30-mins taxi ride from the airport. OK, wait a minute, why am I telling you this?! (don’t tell anyone!) J

Ironically however, due to the lack of development, accom is a bit of an issue (recall the “less going on” discussion previously). Nothing beachside. All feasible accom choices are in the back forty, meaning a 10-mins walk to the beach. We weren’t sure about that, but you know, given the choice of an over-developed beach layered in 5-star hotels (i.e., Bali), we’re OK with the walk!

Our accom, Tiki Lodge, found yet again by Amy’s internet prowess, turned out to be fantastico (a little Spanish still invades my thought patterns now and then). Tucked away amongst the fields of rural Lombok, the place is a small oasis of comfort, outdoor garden showers, relaxing breakfasts, poolside drinks, and amazing food. In fact, after trying out the various local options (all 3 of them…again recall the “just enough stuff going on” discussion), we all agreed that Tiki has the best food – no small feat in this world of seemingly endless gastronomic endeavours. 

When I say “we”, interesting “small-world” twist here, is that our dear friend Grant Burns (Nelson connection), who is currently living in Sydney, met us for the week. It just lined up, and we spent the week talking about the good ole’ Nelson days, and of course, the good ones to come! Small world indeed.

 Alrightly then, enough of this frivolity, we need to get back to reality. What am I saying?! No we don’t. Let’s just stay here! J (note: in the end, we reluctantly got on our flight and flew back to Jakarta, but, I think we’ll be back….)

yes, me standing...finally. (look at the size of those waves!)

Papua - hiking the Baliem Valley

For a detailed trip description, map, tips , and advice for trekking in the Baliem Valley, go here: https://trekkinginthebaliemvalley.blogspot.com/

Papua is to Indonesia, what the Arctic is to Canada. It’s out there. Mostly uninhabited, mostly indigenous, mostly without electricity or modern infrastructure – it’s their last frontier. Obviously a place we needed to check out! (well, truth be told, Amy required a bit of a bribe in the form of some post-hike beach time J – see next post).

A bit of history/geography here, cuz it’s an important part of the story, and can be a tad confusing. “Papua”, to an Indonesian, is the western half of the island of New Guinea – the world’s second-largest island (second only to Greenland), located a canoe-paddle off the northern tip of Australia. This western half is part of Indonesia, and is therefore the Indonesian province of Papua. The eastern half of the island is the sovereign nation of Papua New Guinea. Er, ya, they could have avoided the wording overlaps a bit better, but hey, that’s the current labelling we’re stuck with.

So, for clarity, what we’re discussing here is the western half of New Guinea that belongs to Indonesia, and is called “Papua”. Papua has had a rough time politically, having been kicked around by the Dutch and the Indonesians over who gets what, and the de facto uprisings and calls for independence followed by the obligatory knee-jerk government crack-downs. It’s one of those “politically unstable” places where blood in the streets could break out tomorrow. In fact, the Canadian government currently has a blanket “avoid non-essential travel” advisory for Papua. We ignored that J

OK, so why go? The draw for us is a place called the Baliem Valley – a true story right out of Indiana Jones. In 1938, an American by the name of Richard Archbold flew over central New Guinea while doing zoological surveys. Archbold was shocked to see obvious and widespread agricultural landscape patterns below him, thereby indicating human civilization. But you see, until that moment, no one in the outside world had any idea of their existence. It was a true “first-contact” with a stone-age civilization. Hmmm. Cool. 

Since then, the Dani – as they are referred to – have inched somewhat into the modern world, but hey, not that much! While the days of naked cannibals with bones in their noses killing you instantly if encountered on a trail (which was the situation in 1938) are over, things are still remarkably prehistoric (and you still see the odd naked guy dressed only in a penis gourd). The only feasible way into the valley is by air, to the town of Wamena. Once there, the pavement ends quickly and abruptly, giving way to walking paths that have been burned into the hillsides since time began.

So that’s the setting: a lost valley deep in the mountains of central New Guinea, cut off from the outside world until recently, and home to a stone-age culture of people living in scattered villages connected by walking paths. No electricity, no phones, no cars, no nothing other than the odd house made from wood, and the odd pair of flip flops and package of cigarettes.

The missionaries who took on the challenge of “civilizing the savages” have done a shockingly thorough job of converting everyone to Christianity, and in so doing, insisting they wear clothes, for example. And, of course, the ubiquitous village church prominently constructed as the focal point amongst the grass huts. However, given the remoteness and cost of flying anything in, modern commercial goods are pretty much absent, and the Dani live almost as they did 1000 years ago (with the exception of flip flops and cigarettes of course).

Daily life for the average villager consists of working the hillside crops of sweet potatoes, which constitutes 90% of their diet. Everything is done by hand, with no use of animals, plows, or power tools. The standard dwelling, AKA a “honai”, is a water-tight grass hut that serves as kitchen, sleeping quarters, and center of the universe for a Dani family. Shockingly though, the key fixture of a honai is a central fire pit used for cooking and warmth – not so shocking in itself, except for the complete lack of ventilation. No chimney, no hole in the roof, no windows. The only way in or out of a honai is a miniature opening at ground level that provides crawling access. Basically it’s an igloo, with a smouldering fire in the middle of it. Seemingly oblivious to the carcinogenic effects of smoke inhalation, they happily spend upwards of 12 hours a day/night inside. We lasted all of 5 minutes, and had to make an excuse to leave to clear our lungs and eyes. (I actually thought it was a smoke house for smoking meat upon first inspection).

So what was the mission? The Baliem Valley could be one of the last relatively untouched, traditional areas accessible only by foot paths. If you have hiked in Nepal, it is what Nepal must have been 100 years ago, before it exploded. Our mission was a 6-day, village-to-village trek taking us as far into the Baliem as we dared – the major challenge being where to go, and which trail takes you to the next village. Given our hatred of guided tours, we were on our own to blindly go where the trails took us. The biggest vacuum was getting information and trail beta. There is none. We pretty much relied on people pointing us in the right direction. We only got lost once, when we didn’t see another human for the better part of 36 hours, resulting in an emergency overnight bivi in the middle of a rain storm (as they say, life is an adventure…or nothing at all J).

As a village to village hike, we stayed with the locals, and ate lots of sweet potatoes (AKA “ubi”). Luckily, every village we targeted for the night, had at least one wooden house, and we therefore avoided having to sleep in a honai. I honestly don’t think we would have been able to. I have no idea how they tolerate the smoke.

What I think surprised us most, and what we enjoyed most, was the remoteness, cleanliness, and insanely rugged terrain. The area is still relatively pristine, and reminded us of some of our best mountain trips in the interior of British Columbia. We brought water purification tablets, and didn’t use them. We drank the water they drank, which is the water flowing off the mountains.  Crisp, clean, and cool like water should be. And, at elevations of 1500 to 2500 m, the cool mountain air was a breath of fresh air for us. Nice.

Unlike Nepal, which can seem like Disney Land in places, the Baliem remains relatively undiscovered by us white folk. We didn’t see another tourist in 6 days, other than a fleeting glimpse of one guy. It was surreal to be hiking up and down mountains again, drinking water out of creeks again, then sleeping and eating with the locals in their grass huts. All in all, an amazing experience, if not an adventurous one.

Also, a humbling experience. The Dani are lovely friendly people, and were happy to help despite only having the shirts on their backs. Our biggest regret was that we had little to give them. We gave them our coffee packages, salty snacks, and candies we brought for the kids. But, the single most-sought-after item they wanted, we didn’t have: cigarettes! Sad but true. The one thing they really want from modern civilization, is something that will kill them.

Alas, after six very full days, our feet and backs were ready for a rest and a return to base. As promised though, Amy first gets her beach time. Off to the beaches of Lombok! 

Lost in Papua -- staying dry for the night

To season hot

Summer is coming. It’s kind of funny, because even though there is nothing remotely resembling winter in Indonesia (i.e., a Canadian winter), a lot of bules here, myself included, still think in terms of summer versus winter. Interestingly, the summer/winter concept actually works here. Sitting near the equator, Bogor (our town) enjoys a narrow range of temperature from chilly nights of about 23 degrees C, to sweltering afternoons of about 31. That’s it. That’s the entire range 24-7/365. Going outside that range would mean earth just got hit by an asteroid. In fact, the typical daily range is more like night lows of 25 to afternoon highs of 29. It’s just always warm.

So what’s this talk of summer/winter? As Milli Vanilli used to say: blame it on the rain. To Indonesians, there is musim hujan, and musim panas – literally: season rain and season hot. Season hot, seems hotter simply because there is less rain, not really because it’s that much warmer (recall the previous “range” discussion). The beauty of it though, is that season hot coincides pretty much perfectly with Canadian camping season, with the primo weather months being July and August. Perfect. No need to reset the brain calendar. And of course, season rain lines up perfectly with the depth of Canadian winter, with January/February being the most dreaded. I know, whoever set that up so perfectly was a genius.

So ya, it’s May, and summer’s coming. In fact, the past month or so has been unseasonably nice with less rain than usual. Season rain appears to be firmly behind us, and days without rain are upon us. We learned the hard way that they call it season rain for a reason, and that attempting to climb volcanos and things like that in “winter” is just asking for it. Getting caught in a midday tropical deluge on top of a volcano is definitely an experience you will never forget (or want to repeat).

It’s been a fun month with a few local outings. Nice to stretch the legs lately and do a few bigger missions that we have been storing up for season hot. We’re probably jumping the gun though on season hot – you know, like a hot sunny May in Canada, but you just have to get out there don’t you?

One of the recent missions we ticked off involved a local hike into the back forty, surprisingly close to us. The challenge to outdoor recreation in Indo, is that nothing is described, there are no maps, no designated trails, no signage, and definitely nothing oriented towards making it easier for outdoor recreationalists. In fact, dealing with the logistics of “where to go” is by far the hardest aspect of it. Trails are either goat paths that connect the rice fields, or where water runs down the mountain. Constructing sign-posted trails solely for the enjoyment of weekend sojourns has yet to hit this part of the world.

The hike (we call it a hike, locals call it “the way to my village”) traverses along a beautiful forested ridgeline that Amy and I pass on our regular weekend biking route. Many a time we have looked up to it and thought: ‘that would make a great hike”. And it was! Anywhere else it would have its own website. Here, it’s just a rutted, eroding dirt track through the forest that locals use to get their chickens to market. We joined forces with our good Dutch friends Basja and Peter. They had an inclining of where to go, and own a car (very luxurious for us), so that took a lot of the painful logistics out of the equation. Hard to believe that was in our backyard for the past 2 years. We’ll be back!

Then there were a couple of missions up our local volcano, Gunung Salak (remember gunung = mountain/volcano). Salak is a love/hate thing for us. The trails (again, not trails, but simply where water flows when it pours) are mucky, root-infested, steep, and dangerous. The summit is forested and therefore does not offer a view. And, more often than not, it’s raining and treacherous. But, it’s our volcano. It’s in our backyard and we wake up to it every day. As a famous guy once said ‘because it’s there”. So alas, we must.

We’ve gotten to the point where we know the routes now, and can mix it up. We tried out camping on the summit to make it a two-day expedition. Sounds kind of fun, but not really. Camping in Indo means you are almost always sharing the summit with the hoards of chain-smoking, noodle-eating teenagers that frequent gunungs these days. Sharing a camping spot with 30 chanting teenagers, with no sense of personal space or the idea of “quiet time”, is rather trying. Another “experience” though J

The pinnacle of achievements recently, probably was a traverse of Salak where we combined an ascent route we have been wanting to do (waiting for season hot), with a descent we know well. It’s a big day with a 1200-m ascent and 1700-m descent, so it was fun to just do it. The best part though was a nice soft landing at a place we have recently discovered called “Portibi Farm” (www.portibi.com). We walked right to the door, where we had a cold beer waiting for us. The place is owned/operated by an American guy who embraces the “you are what you eat” philosophy. Situated at 700 m (fresh air!) on the lower slopes of Salak, it’s a fantastic weekend getaway of amazing food, good wine, country-farm setting, and perhaps what Indo used to be 100 years ago.

In fact, I am writing this blog from there, while sipping coffee and watching rural Indo wake up. So taken by the place, this long weekend we decided to cycle out to Portibi for a couple nights of R&R. Keeping it local, which is nice, and actually a fun cycle-tour through rural Java. Our fossil-fuel footprint has come down, Amy is enjoying a morning of yoga, we are supporting the local economy, and the sun is shining. Here’s to season hot.