Adventures by Human Power 
| Route
From Sape Port Pulau Nisasanai to Loh Wia (Komodo) Loh Wia to - From Loh Liang to Lauan Bajo (Flores) Accommodation Night 1 Night 2 Night 3 Other Information The area is legendary for fast, dangerous currents, large swells and white water tidal races. During this journey a current of 20 kilometres per hour was followed for about half an hour. This is probably the peak speed that can be expected - although drifts of around 5 kilometres per hour are quite normal. Note it is quite possible that currents impossible to kayak against may be encountered. Assistance for Sea Kayaking in Indonesia Clive at Blue Marlin Diving Senggigi Beach Lombok is
the only operator of Sea Kayak tours in the area currently. He may be
able to assist in renting Sea Kayaks, or in organising a programme
around Komodo. check out www.diveindo.com
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Introduction
Protected by swirling, tempestuous waters, racing currents, and the population of wild giant lizards, Komodo World Heritage Site is a treasure for anyone with a passion for nature and the outdoors. To a team of British Sea Kayakers, the environment provided a breathtaking experience to never be forgotten. Deep green clear waters, crashing waves booming through blow holes at the feet of towering cliffs and the cloud topped green velvet hills undisturbed by man make for a pristene example of nature's majesty. A four day paddle through the heart of this paradise from Sumbawa to Flores, although physically punishing and a challenge to organise, is surely wild Sea Kayaking at its best. Story To make our arrangements for transporting the kayaks, sorting our food and water, and actually getting to the port of Sape at the eastern end of Sumbawa had seemed like an endurance challenge in itself. As we sat punch-drunk, dehydrated and already quite tired, we remembered that we were just about to set off on the sea kayaking adventure of a lifetime. The afternoon wearing on, we hurried through the dusty main street of the village, pockets bulging with chocolate bars and plastic bags heavy with bananas and mineral water. We squeezed the last items into our deck hatches, the overspill being accommodated in the dry bags tied securely down to the deck lines. Crowds of eager locals jostling and doggedly pursuing questions such as 'Where are you?' and 'Hey Mister, what you go?' can sometimes become tiring. Today however, they are a welcome addition as they happily carry our heavily laden kayaks to the waters edge and thrust their way through the throng to dump them into the warm water. The shore is full with chattering, excited locals, a busy confusion of Indonesians trying to work out what the two white travellers are up to. And then, in a twinkling we had left the dirt and bustle behind. The waving, shouting dark faces of the Bimanese islanders diminished in the distance until we rounded the headland. A flat calm smoothing the surface of Sape Bay, the two kayaks slice easily through the dark water and into the setting sun. The only sounds to disturb the perfect peace in the early evening were the gentle 'putt-putt' of a distant fishing boat and the swoosh of our paddles through the water. Easing along, we enjoy the silence, and move steadily for the small island of Pulau Nisasanai just off the shore of Sumbawa. Although our intention had been to cross Sape bay and be out on the final cape of Sumbawa, ready the next day to make the crossing to Komodo, time and light were failing us. With the choice of a 10 kilometre open crossing of the bay to the next landfall, or the island just at hand, and the prospect of another 3 days of paddling ahead, we plumped for safety and the option of a longer day tomorrow. A small sandy beach on the far side of the island from Sape gave us a smooth landing. The sharp angle of our bows carve into the soft sand and we find our home for the night. A quick scout around the beach reveals that our gamble on being able to cook with just a pan, a couple of forks and a box of matches has paid off. A plentiful supply of firewood litters the shore. The tinder dry twigs crackle and pop and burn easily, and within just a few minutes we have a roaring pile of orange flames. We sit well away from the bonfire; and let the flames die down, making camp whilst we wait for the fire to settle down to be able to cook. We tuck into our meal on this wild and deserted beach; noodles and a tin of mackerel making a filling feast for the two of us. The extent of the Komodo Dragons and exactly which islands they live on is rather a difficult question to answer. One might have thought it an important one; especially as several tourists have wandered away from their parties and never been seen again. A fully grown lizard can weigh over one hundred kilos and measure three metres. Any sounds from the undergrowth set our mind racing, but somehow we're both fast asleep within minutes; dreaming of the adventures that await tomorrow. Just before sunrise we start from our beds. The night has safely passed without dragon disturbance, but now we've got to begin the business of getting to Komodo. Silhouettes of tiny dugout canoes scull past in the low rays of the rising sun. One fisherman, unable to contain his curiosity pulls up alongside us as we make ready the kayaks. As we push off he follows us out for a while; and we wonder at his boat fashioned simply from a tree trunk; how complicated do our plastic kayaks look next to his age old design? Our journey out to the eastern cape of Sumbawa is brightened twice with sightings of distant leaping dolphins. One seems actually to fly for twenty or thirty metres, the others launching themselves vertically towards the sky. We're also momentarily confused by the surfacing of a splashing brown barnacle encrusted object. Although my head reasons that it must be a snorkeler, I know that here, light-years from the tourist trail and well offshore it can only be a wild animal. The turtle pauses only momentarily, and then dives into the unseen depths. With stiff legs and thirsty from the increasing warmth of the sun we step out on to a paradise beach on the final landfall before we strike out for Komodo. We've made 16km already, and are moving well. Our confidence is only temporary however. Not long after leaving the turquoise waters of the beach area, we're encountering a choppy sea and are battling a strong wind. We skirt two islands and set our sights on the distant looming mass of Komodo. Unsure of quite which direction the current will be running as we head out into the channel we opt for the direct straight line crossing of the straits. We reason that we shall then be able to check the prevailing currents, and from there decide on our best forward route; either North or South around the island. All being well we should manage the 22km in around four hours. Initially we're glad to find no discernable pull from the current. Its hard work against the strong blow of the wind that seems to be racing down from Komodo's inland mountainous areas, and we push hard on the rudder pedals to hold our course . The GPS reports a steady speed of around 5 kilometres per hour; and gradually we draw closer to the wild untouched coastline. Two rocky island outcrops pass on our port side, proud sentinels way out in the middle of the Selat Salas; the Komodo straits. We pick up a good way-marker as we proceed to Komodo. Another sheer faced orange rock cliff drops sharply into the water. As we edge closer, however, we find that we're slipping away southwards. Our deck mounted compasses report that we're experiencing our first tidal drift. Rafting up in mid channel for a few minutes of rest and some much needed liquid refreshment, we notice that we're drifting along at 2k's per hour, southbound. We readjust our course to take advantage of the current, and begin to make our way south easterly towards the shore line, and towards Tanjung Torolangkoi; the southernmost leg of Komodo. Our speed climbs gradually and we make excellent time on our southwards run; hitting a high of eight k's per hour. As we close on the shoreline we notice the hilltops wrapped in cotton wool clouds. They strike a bright contrast to the rolling green of the upper slopes. The textures and perfection of the natural habitat, without any sign of human presence are a wonder to behold. Around three o'clock two paddlers with aching arms, pounding heads, and stiff legs make their way into the shore. We're relieved to find a beach here on the West Coast of Komodo; as long expanses of the coastline are sheer cliffs and jagged piles of rocks that do not make for comfortable overnighting spots. The two of us collapse on to the grey sand beach, and find the only shade from the still powerful sun. As we slump behind a rock sipping our bottles of mineral water, and stuffing down sweets, bananas, and biscuits, the tide slowly creeps up the beach. As we try desperately to replenish our calorie deficit, the tide rises and washes up around us. Our tired bodies sit unmoving in the warm water and we look curiously at the gushing waves that surround us. Utterly exhausted we sit until our food gets wet, and then we realise that we had better steel ourselves to put up the tents and get some proper food inside us. The tropical desolate beach and the deep orange sunset almost distract our attention from the fact that tonight we're alone on Komodo island - camping wild and without protection from the fearsome dragons. I sleep fitfully on the sand that night rolling to and fro; anxiously checking my watch and counting the darkness hours past. Giving thanks to our good fortune in the morning, I wake at first light once again. As I wander the beach I make the exciting discovery that during the night we have indeed had an animal visitor. Across the expanse of dark volcanic sand is a trail of footprints that comes to visit our fire, very close to our campsite and then off up into the hills. Certainly this is a rather small lizard, or maybe a pig or deer possibly, but plenty to get us both chattering energetically. Afloat and we're heading for probably the trickiest stretch of the journey; the southern cape of Komodo; renowned for its wild tidal races. And in just a few minutes we're approaching a frothing rumbling horizon of white water. Our first tidal race is upon us. Between a tiny island stack and the main expanse of Komodo, the sea is accelerating viciously and a tidal river rushes between. We fight our way upstream and into the bubbling white water. After a brief fight we break through to the wide expanse of slow moving water and pause for some photos of the spectacle at a safe distance. Along the southern coast we find ourselves skirting towering mighty cliffs. The full swell of the Indian Ocean wallows in and gives the rocky face a battering. We maintain a safe distance, not wanting to get entangled in the reflecting waves, but wanting to get close enough to check out the impressive hydraulic blow holes that spout sea water high into the air as each breaking wave crashes in. Mighty sea eagles soar on thermals rising from the cliffs. Striped undercarriages and deep red plumage wheel and turn, surveying the surface of the sea before diving with outstretched talons, reaching to collect an unsuspecting fish from the waves. We're also accompanied by dark grey gannets with yellow beaks who curiously make repeat circles overhead, swooping low to get a closer look at the two strange kayakers. A dizzyingly steep jagged sea stack marks our entrance to the next narrow tidal channel. Around the stack the sea seems to have a steep gradient and we watch in awe as we paddle downhill checking the gravity defying wall of water that perches around the rocky island. We're pulling our way deliberately through some very deep dark and gluey waters. As we paddle through the sea seems to have a hold on us and we move slowly, slowly forwards. The water somehow feels enormously deep and dangerous here. A nervous feeling suddenly grips me as we're paddling through. I glance over my left shoulder, and there rising up on the smoothly rolling waters is a dark fin. Jet black, it cuts the water deliberately. With just enough time to start to point, I watch him rise and then dive, never to be seen again. We paddle on and into green waters; finding a shallower channel where the tide holds us in chains; we're unable to make progress. Frustratingly I watch the speed on the GPS dwindle and drop to zero; we're going nowhere fast. We edge diagonally across the race and into the shallows where we find the going slightly easier. Here we edge up the painfully long channel, and eventually out and around the final southern headland of Komodo. We're on the home straight; at last we're on our way to Kampung Komodo; the only habitation on the island. The rough waters of the Cape are now behind us and we head out across the wide expanse of sea that lies between Komodo, Rinca and the sharp and forbidding outline of Pulau Padar. In the middle of the day, the open sea gives no shelter from the burning sun. Our arms suffer and turn red even beneath the generous layers of zinc block. Our heads and eyes pound from the painful scintillating brightness, and our throats grow dry. We reach out for the beach that beckons us on a distant shore. Just a few more paddle strokes and we'll find shade. In the early afternoon we notice the waters brightening beneath us. We're approaching shore; and we peer down beneath us through maybe as much as 20 metres to the white sandy bottom. Perfect coral, and the odd shoal of fish pass beneath our floating kayaks. To be able to clearly see everything that passes beneath us is a curious feeling; and as we paddle we adopt an unusual style paddling with our heads craned over one side of our kayaks to watch the marine life below us. Ashore, we pull up on to a beach perfect in every detail. The clear waters slide in over the pale yellow sands. The cliffs drop into the water on each end of the beach, and faint red spirals swirl amongst the sands; from corals who have been ground into bright coloured sand. Looking back out to sea we make out a mottled turquoise and blue jigsaw. Like a sequin flag the colours change and sparkle in a beautifully dancing and changing seascape. And of course the most amazing part of this beautiful beach is, that there's another one, just as perfect, just around the corner, and another after that, and that, from here to Flores. Despite our fatigue we know that we're truly in a special corner of the world; treading in places that few have been before. This is a special place. Although we have to work hard in the afternoon to overcome a fierce rushing tide heading from the North, we continue to enjoy sublime surroundings. For two and a half days we have been isolated from any form of civilisation. Cast adrift on the clear waters of Komodo we left the human world behind in Sape. Now as we edge towards the village of Komodo; we're returning. In the gentler warmth of evening we round the final headland and are entering the natural harbour of Kampung Komodo. We're received by the outgoing fishermen heading out for the evening shift. The chug chug of their diesel engines seems strange after the peace and quiet of the sea. Their smiling faces and eager waves let us know that they seldom see Westerners afloat like this. We pull into the long shadows of Komodo and are immediately encircled by splashing and shrieking villagers. The language barrier is easily overcome by rapid flailing arm movements, whistles of disbelief, and much shaking of heads. Our new friends haul us up on to the beach before themselves heading out for a nights fishing on their sailing canoes. For that evening we're temporarily thrown back on to the main tourist trail. Nevertheless we're happy to be able to get washed in fresh water and to be able to eat food that's been prepared for us. Not long after sunset and we're collapsing into a deep sleep. Moments later the following day dawns overcast and cooler. With fresh provisions from the National Park store, we charge our supplies ready for the final day's paddle to Flores. At 46 kilometres its rather further than we really are in a fit condition to manage; but as its the final day of our Komodo adventure we decide to give it our best. A flat calm enables us to make a smooth exit from Komodo harbour, and begin our Eastwards trajectory towards Flores. As we enter a channel between Komodo and a smaller outlying island, the GPS begins to get quite excited and it turns out that we're picking up a strong current. Enthusiastically I shout out our speed to Andrew, as the clock flicks up to 8, 9, 10 and with a small extra effort 11 kilometres per hour. Within moments we've raced between the two islands and are emerging into the main Komodo Rinca channel where we anticipate much harder going and probably the fiercest currents of the whole journey. We pass the tiny protrusions on the Komodo side of the channel that are referred to somewhat unimaginatively as the 'Three Rocks'. The waters ripple, swirl and fold in a menacing way pushing our kayaks left and right as we zip eastwards. At sea, any distance from land, its rather difficult to judge speed, particularly in a sea kayak being moved by a tidal race. Its only the measurements on the GPS that recount the amazing progress that we are making. Our forward speed peaks at a staggering 18 kilometres per hour; certainly not a speed that we usually associate with sea paddling. We rocket across the strait and directly to the island of Pulau Papagarang, barely pausing to catch our breath. We alternately speed through short choppy patches of disturbed water, and round, wide pools of eerily calm current free stills. Our bows are from time to time caught by powerful surges of current and knocked off course, but in the main we proceed towards our destination - and quickly. The collection of tiny tin roofed wooden sheds, and a flock of brightly painted fishing boats is all that the people need on the island of Papagarang for a simple and happy lifestyle. Within moments of our pulling up outside the village's mosque, the majority of the island have left their work, their houses or their prayers to inspect the space age kayaks that have just landed. As the two of us lie back out of the sun, our kayaks are borrowed by a couple of local women who sit awkwardly, cross legged in the cockpit, wobbling their way in and out of the fishing boats. Andrew takes a gaggle of young kids for a spin on the decks of his kayak; some in front, and some behind. Peals of laughter echo around the shores as the kids climb aboard and are then shaken off as Andrew capsizes and turfs them off. We spend a few moments in the shade of the rickety buildings, before taking up the paddles once again. Out away from the island, the tide seems to have turned and we find ourselves pushing hard once again. Our speed dwindles and barely tops 4 kilometres per hour as we struggle for Flores. We take breaks regularly and inspect beaches whenever they come within our range. The vista is still a beautiful one; and yet our exhausted limbs have only one concern now; getting on to terra firma. With 10 kilometres to go we can discern the buildings and square turretted skyline of Labuan Bajo. Approaching our journey's end the weather and clouds begin to close in ahead. A brisk wind whips up signaling a monsoon shower and cooler air on its way. We paddle on and are presently surrounded by thick cloud, torrential rain, and a misty haze of raindrops striking the sea and splashing a fine mist back up that seems to create a foggy carpet as far as the eye can see. The end of our Komodo odyssey is at hand. Three and a half days of wonderful memories are behind us. As we look ahead all we can see is dark grey clouds and mist. Behind us however is a golden shimmering sunset shining through the falling rain. Our journey through this wild beautiful and untouched seascape is complete. |
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