This
is part two of my posts on Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia. You can read
part one here.
Alright, so three days into what was supposed to be a short stay on
the island of Nusa Lembongan turned out be a bit longer than we had
planned. If you haven't read part one, let me quickly summarize it
for you: Nathalie and I went to Nusa Lembongan, a small island off
of the southeastern coast of Bali, mainly to do a few dives, check
the place out and continue on our way. We liked our first two dives
enough that we decided to stay another day to do a few more, which as
it would turn out, was just enough time for the island to suck us
into its vortex.
After extending our second hotel for two more nights, we set out an
agenda for the next couple of days: we would take a day off from
diving to give our bodies a break and go from there. We would
probably rent a motorbike and explore the tiny island for a little
bit and, after that, leave back to Bali to continue our journey.
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| The Devil's Tear, Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia |
Sleeping in until the ripe hour of 07:45, we lazily hung out in bed
until around 09:30 when we decided to put on our swim suits, head to
the hotel's beachfront restaurant and have some breakfast. Sitting
lazily watching the diving boats leave, surfers riding waves, and the
tide slowly move out, we tried in vain to discuss where we would go
next. The island was intoxicating us, and we were helpless to do
anything but enjoy doing nothing. By the time I had finished my
third coffee, Nathalie and I, hopelessly indecisive by that point,
agreed that the only movement we would make the next day would be
underwater and once we mustered up the willpower, we headed over to
the dive center, now only a slow one-minute walk from our hotel, and
asked to be put on the list for the next day. We spent the rest of
the day much like the beginning: doing nothing (although we did wind
up walking a whole ten minutes to a nearby restaurant for lunch).
Drifting Away
The next day, we again went over to Drift Divers, loaded up onto the
boat and headed out to sea, off to another nearby dive site. As I
mentioned in the first article, Lembongan is known for it's diving,
mainly for the chance to see mola-molas. However, it's also a bit
notorious for its currents as different bodies of water converge
here, creating sometimes risky diving conditions. As luck would have
it, we were in for a first-hand lesson as to how rough they could be.
Dropping
into the water for our first dive, we began our descent to our agreed
max depth (in diving, you always want to hit your max depth as early
as possible so you can slowly shallow up and give your body enough
time to properly decompress). Everything was fine for the first
minute or so. Then, once we got below 12 meters/40 feet, the water
temperature started to drop. Normally, we would dive in
27-29°C/84-88°F
water. As we got lower and lower, our instruments began telling us a
different story. By the time we got down to depth, the water had
cooled off to a crisp 21°C/72°F. This might not seem all that
unpleasant on
the surface, but when you're in the water, only wearing a thin
wet suit, it felt like jumping out naked into the snow. A current had
pushed cold water much closer to the surface.
After spending a good 30 minutes
trying to stay warm and enjoy the dive, the water finally started to
warm up. This would've been a welcome change, except the warm water
was coming from above, where the current had changed directions.
Before we knew it, we were being pushed down and descending fast.
Not good. Looking at our instruments, we had gone from 14m/45ft to
22m/68ft in under a minute. Looking at our guide, who had taken
shelter next to a large rock, she signaled for us to grab on to
whatever rock we could find and slowly make our way up. Holding on
for dear life, we began to climb and kick our way up to the guide.
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| Diving kits looking out onto the beach in Lembongan |
To
make matters more 'interesting,' our instruments were telling us that
we had approximately two minutes to go up before we would be forced
to take a decompression stop before ending the dive as we had made a
sudden and profound drop in depth. Recreational scuba diving frowns
on making these types of stops (commonly referred to as decompression
stops. The idea is that by avoiding having to make mandatory stops,
you can surface quickly should an emergency arise while underwater).
So with that in mind, we moved as quickly as we could to reach our
guide. I'll admit: I was scared. This was my 60th
or so dive and was the first time I had ever experienced a situation
where I felt in danger. The effort to kick against
the current, climb
and remain calm was tiring. By the time we reached Marianne, our
guide, I was exhausted. Nathalie followed shortly behind. We took
a minute to slow down our breathing and, checking our gauges, had
successfully burned through 10% of our air in two minutes. We
usually go through that much in ten. On the flip side, I was no
longer frozen, so I guess it wasn't so bad.
We continued on our dive and
finished off near the 60 minute mark. Back on the surface, Marianne
had told us we did an excellent job managing the situation and that,
to our mild astonishment, learned that the currents could be much
worse. While that wasn't exactly reassuring, we wound up doing our
second dive, and our collective relief, it went much better than the
first.
Back on the shore, Nathalie and
I were both a little bit shaken up. Despite this, we were determined
to not let us set us back. We signed up for another day of diving,
eager to put what we had learned to practice. The rest of day was as
mellow as the others. We stuck around the restaurant adjacent to the
dive center for a couple of hours after the dive. I normally don't
drink right after a dive, but after our little lesson in currents, I
really had no qualms about ordering a beer. While we were sitting
on some lounge chairs, a large western man came up to us and
introduced himself. He said his name was Peter (not his real name),
that he was from Denmark, and that he had 250 dives. This was before
Nathalie and I even uttered one word back. Yikes. As it would turn
out, he would be diving with us the next day.
Morning
rolled around and we had checked out of our hotel. The night
before, we decided we were ready to start moving on, or at least to
change hotels. The one we were in wasn't particularly bad, but the
bed wasn't the most comfortable. We thought we would either find
another hotel or take the evening boat back to Sanur and continue on
our way. We even mentioned this to Taissa, to which she smirked back
in a look of playful disbelief. We
dropped our bags at the dive center, grabbed our gear and headed out
to the boat. This
day, we would be doing our first dive at one of the more notorious
sites around the island renowned for it's turbulent current yet
unique landscape.
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| Sleepy Lembongan |
Jumping
off of the boat, we dropped immediately to avoid losing each other on
the surface. We were again diving with Taissa and were joined with
Peter and another diver. Dropping down, we had to struggle against
a strong upwards current to reach depth. While physically it was a
minor challenge, Nathalie and I immediately remembered our dives from
the day before and played it cool. We reached depth and immediately
hit a channel. Part of being a proficient diver is being
able to maintain your buoyancy, i.e. keeping your body stable and at
a constant depth. Once Nathalie and I found our equilibrium, we
were able to sit back and be pushed along by the current. It's
actually pretty fun because you wind up flying over the terrain below
you and you're free to do your best superhero impression (you know
you're doing it right when the fish start looking at you funny).
By
contrast, the last thing you want to do is start fighting the current
and kicking wildly. Peter, having claimed the day before that he had
250 dives, told us right before we got in the water that he had a
problem lying flat (i.e. maintaining his buoyancy). Given this
inability to streamline, he wound up fighting the current and after
20 minutes, he signaled that he had an ¼ of a tank left. As per our
briefing, that meant that we'd end the dive. We had to kick a bit to
get out of the channel, but as soon as we hit 5 meters/15 feet, we
began our three-minute safety stop. Not
more than 30 seconds in, Peter rushes over to Taissa and takes her
back up regulator. As it would turn out, Peter had burned through
all of his air and needed to use hers while we finished the stop.
In the end, we had an 29 minute dive, which is the shortest I have on
record in my logbook.
The second dive was a bit
better, having less current. We did hit a point where we got a nasty
down current pushing us out, but, learning from the day before, I
just calmly kicked, stayed close to the coral, and rode it out.
Easy. We wound up making an 43 minute dive, which, while short, was
still better than the first.
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| Even more Lembognan |
We returned back to the dive
shop, had lunch and again were left trying to figure out what to do.
A bit tired from the diving, Nathalie and were hesitating to leave
or to stay one more night, rest up, and go in the morning. So it
would happen, the forces that be would keep us on the island a little
longer.
What Volcano?
While we were busy diving and doing nothing, the planet below us was
keeping busy. Indonesia, like most of the countries dotting the edge
of the Pacific, are flush with volcanoes. One volcano on the nearby
island of Java started erupting somewhere in between our 2nd
and 3rd diving days. This, as it would turn out, wreaked
havoc on Bali as flights all throughout the region got canceled due
to airports and airspace getting closed. July is the beginning of
the tourist high season and as such, resulted in previously
fully-booked hotels having suddenly vacant rooms. Could this be a
sign?
Beginning our ritual once again, we set out along the beach looking
for a place to stay. Having gone the far distance of two hotels
over, we found a steal of a deal: A beach front, 2nd-floor
room, complete with a giant, sea-facing terrace, and hot water all
for the low low price of 18 EUR/20 USD a night. The guests who were
supposed to be occupying the unit were stuck somewhere between
Australia and Bali and had canceled their reservation. We got the
room for the next four days.
During
the next few days, Nathalie and I sunk even deeper into our island
intoxication. We found ourselves letting go of whatever sense of
time we were holding onto and
getting fully gelled into living life at a much more largo tempo.
“Slowly, slowly,” the broken English phrase so commonly used in
southeast Asia soon became our modus operandi. During our days of
diving and resting, we would
meet people and observe others. My time in Indonesia has been my
first real exposure to groups of Australians. They're fun people,
although I couldn't help but laugh when I'd hear them pronounce
certain words (say 'cream cheese' in your head with an Australian
accent and try not to laugh. See? You can't). As we stayed longer,
we got to meet more of the local expats; the divers and surfers who
were there for the long haul. As we got to talking, it seemed that we
were more than likely destined for the same fate, given our
propensity to stay on Lembongan.
By
the time our last night rolled around (or at least so we thought), we
had some beers with Taissa to say good-bye. We started asking her
questions about how her dive shop worked and how she got there. I'm
not going to go into the details, but as it would turn out, it was a
very interesting story. In short, she got left with the shop after
the previous manager made a few unilateral business decisions and
subsequently got ran out of town on a rail. One of the sticking
points was some of the communication issues (website, documentation,
etc) that was either outdated, wrong or a combination of both.
Wanting to help out, Nathalie and I offered to give a hand and help
her sort through some of the backlog as she dealt with the day-to-day
of the dive shop during peak tourist season. It's not like we had
anywhere to be anyways.
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| The view from the terrace at breakfast |
We
spent the next couple of days alternating between diving and helping
out. We met a very funny and chilled diver named Mike, who had come
all the way from California specifically to see a mola-mola. Mike
was a lot of fun and always entertaining. We had the pleasure of
diving with him one day and on the other days, we'd meet up for a few
drinks in the late afternoon/early evening.
Before
we realized it, we had already burned through our 4-day stay at the
hotel on the beach. We checked out and once again started the tired
decision making process to either stay or go. Sad to leave, we
agreed to try and extend once more. Again, in yet another sign that
the island was sucking us in, our previous hotel, with the
beach-front terrace and hot shower had once again become free due to
volcanic activity. Elated and more than willing to read into the
signs, we took the room, this time for five more nights, and
continued on our stay.
Getting Unstuck
The next five days were a continuation of the past two weeks. We
kept helping around the dive shop, learning the trade, and spent our
down time hanging out, eating food, and, if we felt like it, diving.
One morning, we decided that it would be a waste if we didn't rent a
motor bike so we went out, hired one, and explored the island.
Finally
hitting the end of the fifth day of our second stay at the hotel, we
began to feel a little bit 'off.' This was the longest we've stayed
in one place (other than KL), and were beginning to feel a bit of a
shift in both the way things work and the way we were perceived.
The longer we stayed, the more the local Indonesians and expats would
open up to us. We learned about the rife corruption plaguing the
island and how organized crime, albeit amateur, had a strong grip on
the people of the island. We started to feel as if our welcome was
either wearing out or that our relationship with the island was
changing. No longer were we just tourists passing by. We had
started down the path towards integration and without a specific role
to play in their society, we began to slowly sense that we were a bit
out of place.
We
spent the last night of our five-night stay saying good-bye to the
terrace and hanging around the hotel, soaking up it's relaxed energy.
As it would turn our, the guests expected to arrive the next morning
didn't show and due to a booking snafu, we were temporarily ejected
from the establishment, only to be brought back in and given a room
for the next night a short hour later. This probably was the straw
that broke the camel's back, but in any case, it lead to a chain of
events that caused us to leave, and not in a way that we wanted to.
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| GoPro Fun |
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