RAMBLING BEARS

Java

Traffic jam- leaving the Tollroad at Bogor

Timber mill, Bogor

Road-workers are the same everywhere!

After arriving in Jakarta we quickly availed ourselves of a very expensive taxi and headed south along the tollway towards Cimaja. The traffic at this time of the afternoon was not yet intense, despite it being Friday, so the trip to Bogor (approximately the halfway point between Jakarta and Cimaja) was relatively painless. However, it never serves you well to become complacent. As four lanes converged into one, the traffic ground to a standstill. After an hour and a half of snail crawling for the next kilometre we found the hindrance to be a broken down cement truck.

Once past the truck the traffic was now in weekend mode and congested for the remainder of the journey. A single lane each way winds along the mountain ridges and down into the valleys towards the south of the island. The road greets the Indian Ocean in Pelabuhan Ratu, a fishing village, local business hub and regional capital. Once reached, it is comfortable to know that although we are not there yet, Cimaja is only another fifteen minutes away.

Cimaja looking east towards Pelabuhan Ratu.

Cimaja.

Cimaja near 'Indicators'.

Rice Paddies - Cimaja.

Fishing platform common in Pelabuhan region.

Love this photo! Could be anywhere but was taken in village of Cimaja.

Approaching Cimaja we had our fingers crossed that we would be able to get a room at our chosen accommodation. The Quiksilver West Java Pro was in full swing and the village was bursting at the seams. Fortunately for us, but not so for the young lady concerned, one of the young female competitors got knocked out of the competition early and had returned home. The room had been saved for us.

‘Nurda’s at Cimajapoint’, our choice of accommodation, consists of three rooms on the ground floor and a large dormitory upstairs in the original family home of Nurda and Evan. This year we lodged in the back room. We didn’t have the beautiful views across the lawn to the ocean that we had last time but we did have our own little private courtyard surrounded by tropical gardens. There is also ‘the honeymoon suite’, Nadia’s room in the loft of the new family home and restaurant. This beautiful room with stunning views is available when Nadia is away from home. Nowadays, Nadia (the daughter) often is away as she has scored herself a job with Billabong in Bali. Bordered on one side by rice farms and the other by a small river then banana and vegetable plots Nurda’s place is on an enormous block of land that leads through gardens and across lawn down to the beach. The guesthouse and workshed are up the back and the new family home with restaurant underneath is positioned closer to the water and creek. Monkeys, ducks, chooks, dogs turtles, carp and Chocolate the goat, complete the menagerie at Nurda’s

Nurda and her mother man the kitchen and cook the best food in Cimaja if not all of Java! The menu has a great range of Thai, surfer staples and Indonesian food. The only downside – it is not a good destination if weight loss is of primary concern. All the meals are delicious and all meals are super-sized for hungry surfers!! The waitress with the mostest, and a gifted singing voice to match, is the beautiful young Isha.

Our accommodation left, the workshed on the right.

Neil outside our room, out the back.

Our courtyard.

From our courtyard. Restaurant entry through the trees.

From the back of the property looking down through the gardens to the ocean.

Pretty flower in the garden.

Who would have thought - a Hillshoist in Cimaja!. The only one in Indonesia?

One of the quackers.

A very sad Rosco.

Mama, Astro (the naughty boy) and baby.

Juno, our security guard, and moi.

Vegetable farm near the surf break.

Our walk along the river to the beach. Our accommodation was just on the other side of the small river. A local style fishing net in the water.

We watched the final two days of the West Java Pro and I practiced my photography skills on the young Indonesian stars of the ocean. The surf photographer pros probably do not have a lot to worry about my presence on the scene, but I am improving and my new travelling camera is a little beauty, despite me trying to drown it in Sumbawa (well.... I wasn’t trying. A freak set came out of no-where and the third wave drenched me despite the fact that I was not on the beach but up on the bank. I was devastated but everything now seems to be OK with the camera – touch wood).

Our regular walk to the beach - during the surf contest.

Gerry, a local contestant.

Another contestant.

And the winner is .........

.............. Lee Wilson

The professionals at work. I had no-one holding an umbrella for me!

Once the surf contest was over the contestants gradually left and village life returned to its normal pace. With less people out in the water, Neil donned the boardies and sunscreen and hit the water. Entry and exit from the surf at Cimaja can be a little tricky as the beach is not of the golden sand variety but huge boulders that roll backwards and forwards with the surge of the waves. The locals are fleet of foot and extremely nimble as they skip across the often slippery boulders. Bules and older surf god types tend to be a little more hesitant when approaching the water’s edge from either direction and squashed tootsies and multiple foot cuts and abrasions are often all part of the total Cimaja surf experience. But regardless of the downfalls, Neil’s enjoyment of the Cimaja waves most likely scored a 9 out of 10.

Neil negotiating his entry into the surf.

Neil in action!

Playing in the surf, Cimaja style.

Sandcastles, Cimaja style. Watch the toes!

Look dad!

Dinner's organised. Time for a surf.

On our final night, after partaking in our last supper, Neil and I ventured to the Desa to enjoy the vocal talents of Isha and Nurda supported by a highly enjoyable local band. It was a wonderful way to end our stay, an evening with our friends and neighbours in Cimaja.

At the Desa, looking down on the band. Isha singing.

Isha in full rock mode!

Isha.

Nurda and Isha.

On July 1^st we headed off on our journey, homeward bound. Although this step had not been originally intended we decided to return home briefly to catch up with our family, dump the boards and attend to some personal matters before continuing to India. We splurged out on our final night in Indonesia with a flash room in the FM7 resort handy to Jakarta airport.

Our room at the FM7 Airport Resort.

Classy!

Lamp Art.

The restaurant.

As it turned out, it was lucky that we were well rested before the circus (Jakarta Air Asia Terminal) the next day. Neil and I still don’t really know what went on that day. We do know that our plane was delayed many times, that we were rescheduled onto a much later flight, spent twelve and a half hours twiddling our thumbs and drinking lots of coffee and finally arrived in KL at 1:30 in the morning instead of 2:30 the previous afternoon!!!!!!! Once there we and our fellow delayed passengers had a brief panic moment when none of our luggage was on the same flight as us. Fortunately, at that time in the morning it is easy to spot lost and forlorn luggage sitting unwanted in the middle of a large open space. All of our luggage managed to arrive on the much delayed original flight. Pity we hadn’t – we would have been reunited much earlier. I still wonder if there were any passengers on that flight or just the baggage of all the passengers they rescheduled onto three other flights!

Of course the best remedies for such a tiring experience is a bit of retail therapy and a feast of culinary delights. So ...... wasn’t it lucky that our final two days, before our flight home, were in KL where both of those can be achieved!

Outside the Pavilion Shopping Mall.

The fountain changing colours.

KLCC to Bukit Bintang walkway. - about 2 klms long and airconditioned all the way.

Waiting for the lights to change on Bukit Bintang. The monorail above.

Check the shorts!

First stop, Sumbawa.

The flight was delayed an hour but we were on our way soon enough. Six bules on the flight, all of us seated at the tail end of the plane.

The runway at Bima airport is flanked on both sides by fish farms and mud flats. Looking down from a height the narrow strip of tar down the middle does not seem wide enough to land planes, even small ones such as ours. However, we landed safely and quickly found ourselves in the midst of the mayhem of the small arrival terminal. No such thing as a baggage carousel, just a small hole in the wall through which all baggage is passed onto a very short conveyor belt. Our baggage claim tickets were immediately released from my grasp as I was firmly assured by a smiling porter that he had everything under control. With the porters jostling for position along the conveyor there certainly was little room for the passengers to get a look in. So, with matters out of our control temporarily, we took our passports into an office where an official marked down our presence on their island. I left Neil in charge while I checked out the plumbing and in my absence he was given the ‘Do you know Schapelle Corby lecture’ – he must have looked dodgy. Back outside the office the porter had things semi under control – he had the surfboards (there were only three board bags on the plane so that was a relatively easy task) and two black bags ready to haul off to our, as yet, invisible driver. “No, we only had one black bag and neither of those are it.” No problems, ours was soon found and once again disappeared out of our sight as the porter whisked bag and surfboards out the door into the waiting throngs. You’ve got to be quick! All appeared to be chaos but we were soon rounded up and escorted to our pre-arranged driver, the baggage already loaded into the car.

Rice fields between Bima and the mountains.

Salt farming.

Salt farming. Fell in love with the little windmills!

The trip from Bima to Hu’u and Lakey Peak is a pretty one. The road passes the fishing farms, salt flats and paddy fields before winding up into the mountains. Dompu afforded us a short break while our driver did a quick grocery shop and we local watched as they got on with their daily business. After Dompu the reasonable road deteriorated greatly as we headed towards our destination. It was under repair but apparently needs to get a lot worse before it gets better. Motor bikes had a better go of it as they could go around the ditches. Not us! We bumped down into them and rolled back up. But there is always someone worse off than yourself. We had just commenced the horror stretch when we rounded a bend and, low and behold, two bules on heavily ladened pushbikes were pumping the pedals in a massive struggle to master the conditions.

Heading home from school.

Strand Bags Subawa style.

Smoko in Dompu.

Chooks for sale - Dompu.

Looking up into the bay from Hu'u.

The Bay from Hu'u

At the Aman Gati we had a semi-detached bungalow that overlooked a central grassed area and once upon a time (two years ago) looked out to sea - but not anymore. Two storeys of eight luxury rooms now blocked the view. Our room, however, was relatively private, comfortable and had a working hot shower – just as well as ‘I’ had neglected to pack the leatherman. During our previous stay at the Aman Gati the Flick Mixer tap handle broke off and, after multiple attempts to have it fixed, decided that the pliers component would do an adequate job of turning on the water.

Our room at the Aman Gati. There's a bear in there!

Accommodation at Aman Gati.

Front gardens at Aman Gati - Neil heading to the shower.

A bit of middle eastern music and getting into the groove!

Local kids frolicking in our pool.

The shoreline between Nunga’s and Pipe, two of the surf breaks, has perhaps a one kilometre strip of surfer accommodation, restaurants, warungs and small stalls. After sampling the wares at all the eateries along the stretch we opted to lunch at ‘ The Lakey Beach Inn’ and dine at ‘Pumas’. Pumas scored the top rating on this trip. The menu was extensive, varied and delicious. The other bonus of eating at Pumas was that you got to eat the same night that you ordered. Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but, the other eating spots were very, very slow.

The break after which the area is named, Lakey Peak is directly out the front. Neil’s preferred break was Periscopes, a three kilometre, beautiful walk away. However, Nungas, is where Neil had the best surf of the trip.