first day of summer

While today marks the official first day of summer for the antipodean continent, here in the tropics, it is remarkably similar to the first day of winter, only a bit hotter and more humid.  For those of you unpacking mittens and stoking fires in the northern hemisphere chill, I send you a big dose of sunshine. 

Thanks to John Tinggi for the photo of us enjoying a morning cuppa on the beach.

getting younger every year

Another year younger, spent again in the beauty of our island home with my hunk of a husband and dear friends.  The day began with a motorbike trip south to swim at one of my favourite lagoons and explore the mangroves; a burst of beachcombing and coffee at a friends bungalow, then back to our village for a little party.

John and Hildi have recently returned after a few months in Europe and we were reunited  over almond milk chocolate shakes and cake in Tinggi's pondok.  I have strict regulations regarding birthdays, including: there must be cake, a rendition of "Happy Birthday" and no doing dishes.  Tinggi's maids baked me the the trusty one bowl wonder chocolate cake and while I got my hands sticky making smoothies, I didn't have to wash up.

Full of excito-toxins and stimulants, we rode to Baylo's house on the cliff for a sunset picnic and candlelit sleepover with views fit for a birthday princess.  Totally unexpected, Greg and Anita arrived on dusk with another cake that Anita had decorated in fine Indonesian style. A great day, a charmed life. Thanks to everyone that makes it possible.

you take the high road

There isn't a day go by where I don't immerse myself in the lagoon.  Sometimes, just a cooling dip; at others times a test of my strength against the current.  I follow footpaths through the sea grass, suspended above the narrow highways, and swim the length of the sand patches, as clear and vast as a pool.  Thoughts are few; my mind calm with the rhythmic pull and kick, my eyes watching for the occasional glint of fish.  I cherish the freedom, the opportunity to preserve the splashing child within, the simple joy of moving forward quietly with my own power.  

first day of winter

Who's coming in for a dip?

The pool is open until 1pm today.

I've requested private usage, free solarium and slow moving tide.

Granted.

Not too shabby for the first day of winter.

private pool time

The hotel is closed for the season, however we have permission to use the pool at our leisure.  Private resort facilities - my kind of exclusivity, at the right price.  The panacea for hot low tide afternoons. Thanks Greg. 

south coast sojourn : part 2

Outside of our village or the island’s main town, the majority of locals live a subsistence lifestyle; raising a few pigs and goats, fishing, and tapping nutrient rich juice from the lontar palm.  For those lucky to own land near the wave, the opportunity exists to lease to a bule, or make a small income from tourism and development. In certain geographical conditions, seaweed farming has been recently introduced, and provides the potential for reasonable returns.  The money usually goes toward a mobile phone or scooter, and the traditional home is demolished to make way for exalted concrete brick walls.

The seaweed is grown as a monoculture; tied to ropes and floats, suspended in the clear, warm water.  After 3-4 weeks it is harvested and dried in the sun on simple palm frond racks, then bagged up for sale and shipped to a processing plant in Surabaya.  

With the sun at its zenith, we stop for a dip in one of nature’s finest swimming pools.  Like stepping into a  1980’s menthol cigarette advert; and to think it is just an ordinary Friday...
 

all day low

 

During neap tides (half moon), the tidal variation is less than with spring tides (full and new moon), and the water level changes slowly.  For a couple of days each month the lagoon is empty from around 9am to 6pm, and so the “pool” is closed during the hottest part of the day. Oh the troubles of this island life.

lagoon therapy

My lagoon water therapy has begun in earnest, and I am like a yacht under full sail with a broken rudder.  The arms are going, but the right leg lags behind.  I manage a short stand-up paddle session and a waddle up the beach to Colin and Linda’s.  Slowly, slowly.  It is heaven to sleep with a sheet rather than be trapped under the layers of a doona and blanket, trying to keep my beanie, pillows and hot water bottle in order.

I am amazed at how quickly patterns change, when on my first visit to our toilet I reach for the flush button!  I put the first banana skin in the bin rather than tossing it out to the goats, and after only two weeks of a living with a well stocked fridge, I am at a loss to create something out of cabbage, tomato and cucumber.

Tom is thrilled with the three kilos of dates I brought back, and I have to ration the Lindt 75% dark chocolate one square at a time. 

when the water falls part 1

Beyond the Bukit, the Bintang and the Bounty, Bali has some magic natural landscape for those who dare venture out.   The high rainfall feeds innumerable waterfalls that tumble off the volcanoes and through dense rainforest.  When you find one free from day-trippers and single use plastic, there is nothing but to leap in and let the life giving waters tumble over you.

At the base of steep, slippery stairs from Sarinbuana Eco Lodge, is this secluded gem.   The stream flows from Mount Batukaru, through protected rainforest, to form three pools and small cascades.  Just you, the birds, and the deep, dark jungle.  

 Aquaman found the water a little cool for lounging, so took charge of taking my photo. x

boiled goat or radioactive biscuits?

It is hot. Energy zapping hot. Lay-motionless-and-sweat-hot. The water in the lagoon is warm, and is like swimming in a pool of wee. It rinses off the sweat, but is far from refreshing.

I make my first visit to the shop and I am so hungry that the radioactive packaged biscuits are starting to look like food. I read the odd label to shock myself and wonder again how an entire shop can contain nothing vibrant and fresh. On display in the new glass cabinet, next to the fluorescent puffed balls of hydrolyzed poison, are some bun like offerings. Anything that can remain in a stable state in this heat surely cannot be edible. I return home for a salad of carrot, greens and cucumber.

Our nearest neighbour, Long John, has arrived from the Gold Coast and saved the day with a bunch of bananas. The few we had left were so mushy they went to the goats. We try to ration them for a few days, but they ripen at an alarming rate, and without 24hr power we can’t freeze them for smoothies.

We are invited to a “building site party” of a house that Tom designed. It is customary to acknowledge certain stages of the project – foundations, walls, roof – and on offer is boiled goat and rice. Gee sorry, I have an appointment to scrub the toilet.

control of the high seas

Dawn breaks over the lagoon as we load Mick’s tri-maran with snacks, sunscreen, fuel tanks and an array of equipment for water activities. Surfboards : check. Stand-up-paddle board : check. Kiteboard : check. Mask and snorkle : check. A day out communing with nature is imminent.


The water is glassy and clear as we motor around the reef and into the open ocean. A brief interlude for a morning surf, then Mick unfurls the “screecher” and we sail to protected waters for a cuppa and cranberry muffins. The water is like Venetian glass, reflecting a cloudless sky over a white sand bottom. I do my best to channel Jacky Onassis or Princess Mary, lazing away a Thursday on the bow.



We push 6 knots across the channel to the leeward side of “Bat Island” for lunch. Sail, swim, eat, repeat. I’m getting the hang of this sailing gig. The coral garden beneath us is undamaged, a rare display in an area prone to dynamite fishing and a total disregard for preservation. Above us looms a grey, gaping cliff face; ancient reef exposed to the elements in another eon. The westerly on-shore wind has picked up and we punch into the swell under full sail. It is my first real sailing experience since lolling about in tiny bathtubs for school boating. If I stay on deck I can endure fairly rough conditions, but five minutes in the galley and I’m toast.


The red sphere hits the horizon as we enter the lagoon and glide home. The perfect clichéd end to a magic day.

the pool is open

Our days here are shaped by the action of the tide. Last night was full moon, generating large “spring tides” with a range of 2.6 meters. The reef frames a large lagoon that drains and fills twice a day. When the tide reaches 0.7 meters, the “pool” is open for swimming. Below this water level it is fit only for a wallow.

With spring tides, the water rushes through the lagoon, creating a jet-pool effect for swimming training. On the “neap tides”, the tidal range is less, the movement of the water slower, and the pool more subdued. To those of you rugged up against the winter chill, my condolences.