Bloody Comforts. Part 3 (14/15)
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“Chaannn!! Its floating away fast!”, I called out again.
“Let it go lahhh! Wa lau ehhh, I am already changed and ready to sleep!”
“Channnn!!”
“Why tell me? Next time don’t tell me lah. KNN, KNS,...wa lau...”
We kept our lights on the kayak adrift, then towards Chan’s tent. No one moved.
“Wah Lau eh...”, came another groan.
~
The next morning, we woke up to a cacophony of bird speak. One birding website listed more than 40 species of birds easily spotted on Waigeo. These included the very talkative ones like cockatoos, lory, parrots, lorikeets, and hornbills. A slight mist had settled. It was cool last night, unlike camping on the beaches where our tents were stuffy. The fernhill campsite turned out to be very comfortable, despite no reservations made.
We were camping between the islands of Gam and Waigeo. It was at the entrance of a 30 meters wide channel popularly called by divers as The Passage. Tropical jungles grew on limestone rocks and cliffs, which lined both banks. The currents in the channel changed with the tides, with a flow through like river. We were surprised by the constant amount of traffic in the morning, more than what we had seen in the past 10 days. There were dive boats, passengers’ boats, and boats from the villages. Their wakes rocked the kayaks and muddied the waters at the earthen banks.
All ears were on Chan’s words this morning. He proclaimed that his devious plan of self-evacuation failed. He also claimed the night swim to get his kayak made him sleep better.
“You should have release Huey’s kayak. Then we can end here and all bloody hell get a free ride back!”, multiple sources said.
~
We ended the day exiting Kabui Bay instead of exploring further into it. The long and short of this decision was not about the distance. We were too long on the water and short on body maintenance. Three hundred islands of Kabui bay beckoned in front of us, packed so densely together these islands created multiple channels and waterways for some really great paddling. But from what we saw, these islets were lumps of limestone rocks without any beaches. We were prepared for sleeping among trees in hammocks. We had the proper equipment. Yet when it comes to putting forth such an idea for consensus, it was hardly enticing.
“Would be great to take one island each, and hang our hammocks above the water.”
“I will go with the flow...”
“We know there is beach at E26. We need a good night’s rest. No more night paddling!”
I knew this was the end of our expedition. There was still 2 more days, just 15km, before we reached Gam, our end point. But when ever was such conventional sequence of time and space applied during expeditions? We ended it when we ended it. With all due respect to plans and linearity, our time flows with the winds and tides.
Just after lunch, we made the long crossing of Kabui Bay to E26.
Sea kayak touring, in its purest form, was a self-supporting endeavor to a place unknown. Our kayaks loaded with enough food, water, and shelter in its holds. On deck, a map and compass aid to navigate to these remote islands. Seeing these places for the first time on a kayak, on our own power, was an amazing experience. Paddling at the edge of our region, now from inside it looking out to our world, threading together fine curve of knows and unknowns, with dramas of movement...was an attempt for a brief glimpse at harmony.
Tomorrow, we look for happy endings. Tonight, sleep with no morning calls!
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