Sailing the Lombok Strait

The Jakarta Globe, Ade Mardiyati

The Sri Noa Noa is crewed by Yosi, the deckhand; Wayan, the chef; and Heri, the captain. (Photo: Ade Mardiyati, JG)

I stepped carefully into the crystal-clear warm water off a beach on Gili Air, one of three small, coral-fringed islands off the northwest coast of Lombok. I put on my goggles and started to swim. Feeling scared, I stood up and breathed in deeply.

Earlier that morning, I had encountered the open water of the sea for the first time in years when I had woken on board a 32-year-old schooner under sail. Outside my porthole was so dark that I could barely see. I pressed the button on my digital watch and saw it was a few minutes past 2 a.m. That meant we had been sailing for almost 13 hours since leaving Benoa Port in Bali.

In the dim light from a small bulb some two meters in front of me, I could see Heri, captain of the sailboat Sri Noa Noa for the past 10 years.

“Where are we?” I asked him.

“Lombok Strait,” he answered.

When I asked how far we were from our first destination, Gili Air, Heri said he expected we would arrive there in about three hours. The boat was constantly rolling and I was a little worried but I realized there was nothing I could do.

Water has always been my biggest fear yet I decided to face it when invited on a four-day sailing voyage — my first such trip — from Bali to Lombok.

Normally, Heri said, it took 10 to 12 hours to sail from Benoa to Gili Air through the Badung and Lombok straits. However, due to the falling tide, a current from the north of Lombok and Bali would make our journey longer.

The boat kept rolling from side to side and at times I felt it would turn over.

“Don’t worry, it is safe. Trust me,” Heri said. Yosi, the deckhand, also assured me we were doing fine. But for a hydrophobic like me, it was not easy to relax.

I tried to go back to sleep but woke several times.

Later, the sound and smell of food being fried woke me completely. I opened my eyes and saw Wayan, the chef, preparing breakfast for the four guests and three crew members. “Good morning,” he said in Indonesian, with a thick Balinese accent.

“Good morning,” I replied. I looked around and saw some crew mates on the foredeck taking pictures. It was 6:15 a.m., an hour ahead of Jakarta time.

The boat had anchored a couple of hours earlier off the beach of the island, and after breakfast, I sat on the deck in the morning sun. The water rocked the boat gently and it felt much calmer than it had a few hours earlier.

As the sun rose, it shone on the pristine water. In the distance were gradations from light to dark blue, and to my right I could see another boat on the horizon.

Noa Noa, which means fragrance in Tahitian, is a beautiful boat. Fifteen meters long, it looks elegant with its twin masts, and even more so when the sails are raised.

Made of local timber, with teak paneling below deck, Sri Noa Noa has stood the test of time and weather.

“People prefer to charter wooden boats to fiberglass boats,” Heri said. “Wooden boats have souls. You can feel it when you enter the boat.”

Originally a private boat, which sailed from Bali to Cairns, Australia, in 1979, Sri Noa Noa has served as a charter boat in the eastern Indonesian archipelago for the past 17 years, mainly between Bali and Timor. It has carried many people on cruising adventures, including world-class surfer and artist Mike Doyle.

“He gave us this book and signed it for us,” Heri said, handing me a copy of “Morning Glass,” Doyle’s autobiography.

The best time to sail is between early April and mid to late December, Heri said.

“[That’s because] apart from the weather, which affects the movement of the water, Sri Noa Noa regularly goes through a maintenance period from January to March,” he said. “We inspect every single thing to make sure everything is in good condition for sailing.”

After breakfast, we boarded the yacht’s tender to get to the gili, a local word for island. In less than two minutes, we were on the sandy beach.

Gili Air has become increasingly popular among foreign tourists over the last several years. Heri said that the island was so popular it is always crowded, especially during school holidays. “More and more tourists will arrive in a couple of hours,” he said. “And that’s when vendors selling jewelry go around and come to you several times.

“So it’s good that we are here early. It’s only just past seven.”

Another journalist with us, Sara, quickly put on her gear and swam off. I watched her as she disappeared from sight. An Australian friend, Rob, convinced me to do the same.

Pushing down my fear, I swam a little more. Under the surface of the clear water, a school of tiny bright blue fish swam and spread out as I moved my fingers to touch them.

Just before they disappeared, some black thin fish with white stripes swam close to me and I saw and felt one touch my leg. It was a wonderful feeling to have a close encounter with the kind of fish I had previously seen only on TV or in books. I felt like a child in a toy shop, pointing at every beautiful thing I saw.

Rob later told us he had spotted a strange fish that looked like a designer sneaker. He described it as a pale yellowy beige with a nose. The fish’s head, he said, abruptly rose, making it look like a shoe.

We spent the rest of the morning resting in huts on the beach. By only 10 a.m., the sun was so bright it sparkled on the water. The breeze was calming.

A group of young local girls wearing colorful clothes ran down to the beach and swam like fish. A little boy pushed his bicycle with the help of a friend to get it through the sand. It was a perfect day out for everyone.

As Heri had foretold, a number of jewelry vendors came to us with open wooden boxes displaying pearl necklaces, bracelets and rings. We said no but they persuaded Rob into making a purchase.

In the afternoon, we set sail from Gili Air bound for Gili Nanggu, an island some 37 kilometers away that Heri said was even more beautiful. The crossing would take four hours, he said.

It was almost dark by the time we anchored and Wayan prepared dinner. Knowing that Sara and I don’t eat meat, he had purchased more vegetables and tofu on Gili Air. During our four-day sail, the 35-year-old father of two served various mouthwatering dishes, ranging from sauted water spinach to kebabs.

“What makes me happy is when I see the guests eat and finish the food I make,” he said. Wayan has been cooking aboard the Sri Noa Noa for nine years.

The evening was pleasant with the stars appearing like diamonds in the clear sky. I lay down on the deck star-gazing as such beauty cannot be seen in Jakarta. The lapping of the water was the only sound until Stefan, a Swedish writer on board with us, connected his laptop to the yacht’s speaker system and played some beautiful West African music.

When morning came, Gili Nanggu’s beauty was revealed. The 12.5-hectare resort island had water even clearer than that off Gili Air. It was so transparent that a school of silvery fish could be spotted from above, swimming close to the edge of the sandy beach.

We felt like the only visitors to the island, and as if we owned all the beach, fish and sunshine.

Underwater we could see huge brightly colored starfish and enormous sea cucumbers scattered here and there. One of the fish had an amazingly beautiful combination of colors like that of a parrot over its small body.

When the sky started to turn cloudy in the afternoon, Heri told Yosi and Wayan to weigh anchor and we sailed for Nusa Lembongan en route to Nusa Penida.

The six-hour trip to Lembongan was a bit rough, with small strong waves buffeting Sri Noa Noa. Scared that the rolling would get worse, I went on deck to finish reading a book.

Seeing my worried face, Heri and Yosi, both friends since they were small boys on Flores Island, smiled at me.

“It’s OK,” they said almost at the same time. I felt safer seeing their calm faces in any situation.

Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the evening, talking and drinking while Cuban music played in the background.

The rolling continued and I began to feel seasick. I skipped the dinner Wayan had prepared for us that night although it looked delicious — salad with cucumber, tomato and other vegetables topped with avocado, marinated tuna and bakwan jagung , an Indonesian fried dish made of flour and sweet corn.

Stefan told me to put a slice of ginger under my tongue to help reduce my nausea. I did as he said and although not sure that it was the ginger’s power, I began to feel sleepy as the Cuban music was fading.

We did not stay long in Lembongan the next day. It is a spot well-known for its surf and attracts many visitors. However, having been on an island as quiet and beautiful as Gili Nanggu, we did not find Lembongan inviting.

Pulling up anchor, we sailed past Nusa Ceningan before arriving at the hilly island of Nusa Penida. The crew lowered anchor in Crystal Bay, named for its pristine waters.

Unfortunately the waves made it unsuitable for snorkeling so we decided to explore inland instead.

Made, a Balinese man also visiting the island, told us that the nearest village was one and a half kilometers away, and offered to show us around there.

It was a nice walk under shady trees to reach the village. I had never seen so many pigs, and there were also cows, chickens and dogs to the right and left as we walked. I asked Made why there were so many cows as Balinese Hindus consider them holy and do not consume the meat.

“They’re going to sell the cows to [buyers from] Java for the coming Idul Adha [Muslim festival],” he said.

We came across Sati and Asti, two elderly women, preparing canang , offerings of colorful flowers put in sampian , tiny baskets made of young coconut leaves.

Sara and I were fascinated by how quickly their old hands wove the beautiful baskets and took the chance to learn to prepare the offerings.

We also met Luh Rumi, a woman who looked to be in her late 30s who was standing with her 7-month-old baby outside her house. She called in Balinese and her husband came out holding necklaces made of tiny seashells.

Luh said that most villagers earned their living making handicrafts from seashells and cooking oil from the coconuts that grow in abundance in the village.

“We sell the coconuts for Rp 700 each and the oil for Rp 6,000 per medium-sized Aqua [600 milliliter mineral water] bottle,” Luh said. “We don’t earn enough to make ends meet.”

Despite that, she brought out a small basket of mangoes a neighbor had given her family and invited us to eat some and take the rest back to the boat.

After a day on the island, we went back on board and pulled the anchor up for our final sail back to Benoa.

The four days had been an amazing journey that went by all too quickly. Although not totally over my fear of water, I would happily board Sri Noa Noa for another such trip.