One of the very enjoyable things I am lucky enough to do in Simeulue is
take a kayak out on the bay on the weekends. My previous boss Paul left
his kayak behind for me to use. It’s an aluminium-framed, canvas and
rubber, kit kayak. A few months ago, Anna (another expat here) bought
herself one so that we could kayak together. Along with Chigusa (working
for Japanese Red Cross), she lives out of town in a little village
called Lugu, in a beautiful wooden house overlooking the water on its
own little bay. It’s such a tranquil place. At night all you can hear
are the frogs croaking, the crickets and geckos chirping, and the
buffalo tramping across the grass. Oh and the asphalt factory rumbling
away up the road (but forget I said that). It’s been the location of
many bule gatherings, and for good reason.
From Lugu, Anna and I
take our kayaks out and paddle around the little (and not-so-little)
islands that dot the bay. The first challenge is carting the kayaks down
the hill from the house, through the fence and across the grass, then
along some dodgy wooden planks and bamboo bridges that aid you in your
quest to reach the water. Once you reach the water’s edge, depending on
the tide, you encounter rocky coral or thick, squelchy mud in which you
sink halfway up to your shins. It’s an effort just to get the kayaks out
into the water!
But once we’re out there, it’s great. We can
cruise around to our hearts’ content. On days when the weather is good
to us, it’s absolutely beautiful. The water is like glass, and our
kayaks glide over it as we make our way around the mangrove-covered,
rocky coastline. The mangroves are an amazing shade of green. We always
see fish jumping out of the water. One morning we saw what seemed like
hundreds of black devils leaping around in a seething mass, either in
pursuit or being pursued by something under the water. The shoreline is
regularly dotted with a multitude of little mud towers, the works of art
of the millions of crabs that inhabit it. They are curious little
creatures, with one, oversized, yellow, red or white claw that they wave
around at you as they retreat back into their burrows.
We have
kayaked around some of islands, out into the open sea, and also right
across the bay that shelters the town of Sinabang. It’s a nice
perspective of the town; you can see the shiny, silver towers of
Sinabang’s waterside mosques glittering in the sunshine and watch the
bustling activity at the port.
Unfortunately, our long breakfasts
on the balcony mean we often don’t get out on the water early enough,
and by then the wind has sprung up and the clear, sunny day is already
partially clouded over. The wind is what kills us. Particularly when we
emerge from the shelter of the mangrove forest and out into the open
channel, the wind picks up and makes it very difficult to go anywhere.
It’s a little scary at times when the water is choppy, the wind is
blowing you all over the place and you’re struggling to stay upright. I
wouldn’t want to tip over in one of these things. They are great for
calm conditions, but if you were to fall over, you couldn’t just do an
Eskimo roll and right yourself. The kayak would fill with water and
you’d be hard pressed to get it to move anywhere. They are a dead weight
when they get water inside them!
We’ve been caught in downpours a
few times, which hasn’t been a fun experience; battling waves and wind
as well as rain! Especially when you’re constantly worried about whether
you’ll tip over and whether you’ll be able to find your way back again.
All the little coves and bays start to look the same after a while, and
in heavy rain, it’s hard to make out the landmarks that were so trusty
just a few minutes before…
We have quite a few big plans for our
kayaking trips; following the coastline down to the popular beachside
location of Ganting, which is about a half hour journey by road, to meet
up with other, equally keen friends who are happy to share a mie goreng
and then help us get back with their vehicles. Anna is keen to try to
paddle out to Pulau Siumat, but it’s an hour by boat on the open sea and
I’m not so keen! I think it would take us a lot longer than we think…
I
have taken my kayak a bit further afield in the past when solo, carting
it to various locations by car. There is a really beautiful spot on the
south-eastern end of the island called Labuhan Bajau, which is a maze
of waterways, islands, shallow mangrove forests and rocky outcrops. It’s
also a good place to snorkel and swim, so a few friends have
accompanied me there. I’ve launched the kayak from various port
locations dotted around Sinabang, always to the curiosity of the locals
sitting around on docked boats, hacking down bushy coastal land for
timber, or just hanging by the waterside. Taking the kayaks up the
little rivers is also great – providing you stay away from the toilets
dotted along the more ‘urban’ rivers, and the wallowing buffaloes! The
trees close in around you and you often disturb egrets and other wading
birds foraging for their lunch.
It’s a really enjoyable way to
experience Simeulue, and being out on the water, away from everything,
when you’ve managed to rustle up a bit of speed and are gliding along
with nothing behind you but the wind, is definitely one of my favourite
ways to spend my time.
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