Force Field

Doodlebug in the foreground; Bali Marina docks

The Bali Marina occupies a small slice of the industrial waterfront of Benoa, itself situated on the southeast corner of the island of Bali.  The marina is framed by randomly sloping concrete walkways, floating uncertainly along a narrow ship channel used by tugs, small outrigger canoes, outsized yellow catamaran power boats hauling tourists out for dinner cruises, and the occasional sailboat.  The dock lights flicker at night, and boats are cautioned about frequent voltage and amperage drops – so the ramshackle plumbing and wiring systems strung alongside the docks come as no surprise.  Outside the gated walls, the dirt roads are dusty, with the few streets fronted by various one-story government buildings and garage-front stores selling pipe, oil, wiring, and other industrial supplies. There is room for maybe twenty boats or so, and the marina represents the best of shoreside facilities in this part of Bali. 

We made a reservation here several months ago, knowing we’d need reliable access to shore for the inevitable maintenance and repair work after our 2-month trip from Cairns to here, via the Coral, Arafura, Banda, and Flores Seas.  In addition, as unlikely as it seems, boats are safe and secure in this tiny marina, which will allow us to travel inland for a few days to enjoy the well-regarded traditional Balinese artisan communities around Ubud.  We arrived a few days ago, and spent the first day navigating officialdom – surprisingly, clearing into the port was a one-hop stop, and mercifully free of the oft-reported demands for “gratuities” by the officials.  To date, we’ve been fortunate in that regard; most of the cruisers’ reports we’d read about Indonesia complained endlessly about being hit up for extras.  In Ambon, where we checked out during a holiday, we were asked the pay the equivalent of $1.40 in port fees and $15.00 in quarantine inspection fees; in Labuan Bajo, it was $15.00 for port clearance (apparently more than the normal $5), and here it was free.  We paid the government of Australia $330 for the quarantine certificate, so I’m not sure what those cruisers were complaining about. 

Jennifer, Stannie, and Jessica, pre-evening dive

Yesterday was a serious boat work day.  With the lack of winds along the northern coast of Flores and Sumbawa, we found ourselves motoring a lot, and in any event, we want to enter the Indian Ocean with our engines in top shape … so I changed the oil in both engines, changed the transmission oil in each, and changed the impellers used to suck cooling water from the sea into the two engines.  The jobs are messier than they are difficult, but there’s a lot of crawling around, so after six hours of pumping out and re-filling, I was pretty tired.  Jennifer and I are both fighting head colds – karmic revenge for our week of R&R on Gili Air perhaps.

Mandarin fish, +/- 2 inches long

The week on Gili Air ended with a few trips to the adjoining island of Lombok, to a tiny village on the northwest coast, Mengiti, home to Abdul, the erstwhile business partner to Cedric, a 40-year old Frenchman who’s decided to have a go at building a multi-part business venture on the Gili islands.  After co-investing in dive shop on Gili Trawagan, he just opened one up on Gili Air, a few kilometers to the east, run by his Dutch girlfriend, Stanneka, or Stannie for short.  We fell in with Cedric and Stannie, and came to enjoy their company and friendship; together with one of their friends, Jessica, the five of us took ile de Grace over to Mengiti for an evening dive to see the Mandarin Fish … Jennifer and the three of them dove, while I tended the dinghy. 

Jon in Doodlebug, ready to take on the divers

Abdul, Cedric’s Lombok business partner, lives in a small compound just off the beach, with the rest of the village.  Years ago, under the previous government, the Army apparently arrived one day and informed the beach-dwelling village that they all had to move inland a kilometer or so, since the land was now being offered for sale to a friend of the President … the land, with title “properly conveyed,” is still owned by an outsider.  Such is the way of dictatorships; their legacy often “legally” outlasts their tenure.

Today, Cedric and Abdul co-own a small “warung,” or restaurant, with the cook earning a small wage and 60% of the profits.  In addition, Abdul proudly showed me his brick-making business, where his three staff can make about 900 bricks a day.  Each brick sells for 2,500 rupiah (about 27 cents) to the developers on the Gili islands; Abdul’s bricks are valued for their quality; he makes 90 bricks per bag of cement, while his competitors make 125 bricks per bag.  Abdul also serves as a middleman between the various skilled and unskilled laborers of his village and the developers, and, in the area where his services and our needs intersected, manages to procure diesel for boats.  He invited me to his compound, where I met his father and daughter, and where he explained that one of his brothers was working in Saudi Arabia, and the other in Malaysia.  We wish Cedric and Abdul all the luck in the world, and will miss their generous optimism.

Blue ribbon eel, about 1 cm in diameter

After sailing the 45 miles or so west to Bali, it’s clear that the business and culture of Bali is a universe away from Mengiti, with planes flying overhead every hour or so, cars and motorcycles everywhere, and the marina charging 7-10 times the labor rate we had been experiencing in the outer islands.  It’s a big island.  Traffic is everywhere, and the drivers here are a bit unsteady – bobbing and weaving with little regard for traffic lanes, lights, or pedestrians.  We’re learning to watch our step, and yesterday, as Jennifer accompanied Bobby, a fellow cruiser on some errands in his car, she watched with adrenaline-inducing horror as a motorcyclist careened in front of the car without so much as  a glance, with a collision barely avoided.  Bobby, our new friend, exclaimed in tired amazement, “they think they have some kind of f#!%ing Hindu magic force field around them!”

Another wondrous animal of the deep

… which reminds me of another element of this archipelago countries diversity:  religion.  Bali is the country's only Hindu island, and we now see Hindu shrines everywhere, even as we hear pre-dawn calls to Muslim prayer, and see the occasional cross-topped church as we make our rounds.  As I consider our impending 6000+  mile trip southwestward across the Indian Ocean, I find myself leaning to multi-theism as my religion:  perhaps I will fashion a little marigold-laden Hindu offering, bow east towards Mecca, and pray for the Virgin Mary’s intercession … at a minimum, I will want some of that “f#!%ing magic Hindu force field” around our tiny vessel as we cross that great ocean.