Kijana Page 15

I could make out Dave’s face by the glow of the fire. He appeared to be lost in a world of sopi, staring blankly into the fire. His eyes broke from their stare as a burning stick snapped and a stream of cinders floated into the air above. As I too stared into the hottest coals of the fire, I remembered something Dave had mentioned to me the day before.

  He’d told me of a group of men and women living as God had intended – unashamedly naked and freely roaming among thousands of square kilometres of virgin forest. They were not figures of folklore, for they really did exist, Dave assured me. They were known as the Punan tribe and lived in the forests of Kalimantan on the island of Borneo. Little was known of them, for sightings were few, but they were mountain dwellers, living in small groups and constantly moving through impenetrable rainforest. They were both feared and revered as the ultimate jungle dwellers. What interested me was that they were able to live the life they wanted, without any of the crap of modern life. They represented everything I yearned to be.

  As soon as Dave told me about the Punans, I decided the Kijana mission would be to film these people and let others know that it was possible to live life the way they chose to live. Also, if we could capture them on film then surely our documetaries would be sold. And that ultimately would mean Maya could join us on board Kijana. Dave had influenced us more than he probably ever imagined.

  The following day, Ronny gave me a lift on his motorbike to the nearest major town to get some money to pay for the goats. Unfortunately, all the banks were shut, forcing me to return to Nembrala with only enough money to pay for one goat. Dave kindly lent me the A$20 to pay for the remaining goat, which I promised to repay by posting the amount to him. I thanked Dave, Samuel and his family for everything they’d done, then said goodbye and returned to Kijana.

  It was sad to leave our new friends but we had to keep moving.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DRAGONS

  WE SAILED THROUGH THE NIGHT AND MOST OF the next day. The wind came steadily from behind and we made good progress. Maria was handling the watches well and she was over her seasickness. Only when the wind got above 25 knots, which was rare, did she start to feel queasy.

  The wind, while generally lighter as we got closer to the equator, always seemed to be enough to keep the sails raised and the engine off. This was a blessing for those in the rear cabin. Being so close to the engine room, it was extremely noisy and stinking hot when we had the motor running.

  Crew morale was great. We’d had a lot of fun since we left Darwin. But beneath the surface I continued to feel the pressure of expectation on me, the feeling that I could never have too much fun because there was always more work to do, more to film, another update to write and, of course, boat maintenance. There was constant pressure from the office to make quality films to pay for the adventure.

  I hoped to solve that problem at our next stop, Pulau Rinca, the island home of the infamous komodo dragon. We sailed for three days, past the low-lying tropical islands around Roti, which made way for the more volcanic and visually stunning island of Sumba. Our challenge when we arrived at Rinca was to capture the komodo dragons on film close-up. In fact, just getting close to such reclusive beasts would be a major achievement.

  I was excited about the assignment, but also a bit frightened. We’d heard varying reports about the komodos. They ranged in size from a large lizard to crocodile sized. And they could run – fast! If bitten by a komodo, it was said, the victim would eventually die. Even if one could wrestle with the lizard and get away, the bacteria from the komodo’s teeth would eventually poison its prey.

  It was hard to tell how much of these stories to believe. I could hardly believe anything could contain enough bacteria to kill a human. Nonetheless, to help us get the required close-up shots of the dragons we decided to use live chickens as bait to attract the hungry lizards. We weren’t sure how this would work, but it had to be better than nothing. We had to capture them on film or our visit would be a waste of time.

  We anchored Kijana in the small harbour of Waingapu on Sumba and made our way to the market where we purchased two chickens and a flimsy cage to keep them in.

  Rather than stay in port, we weighed anchor before it got dark and sailed through the night. The chickens made a hell of a noise as they sat on deck, but once the sun went down they thankfully stopped clucking. We made such good progress over the 60-odd miles to Rinca that we were forced to slow down so we didn’t arrive before the sun rose.

  I replaced Josh for the last watch and, as the sky in the east began to lighten up, I could make out a channel between two mountainous islands. These were Rinca and Komodo Islands. Irrespective of the island names, we’d been told there were more dragons on Rinca.

  As morning dawned, the wind died and I turned on the engine to motor the last few miles. The engine noise slowly woke the others and by the time Beau and Josh were on deck we had entered the channel. We found a small, protected bay and dropped anchor. No sooner had the engine been cut than Josh had the binoculars aimed at the shore in search of dragons.

  ‘Can they swim?’ Maria asked. It was a good question. I knew the iguanas of the Galapagos Islands could swim.

  ‘Possibly,’ I replied. I’m not sure if it was the answer she was after.

  ‘Well, even if they could,’ Beau reasoned, ‘I doubt they could leap a metre from the water up on deck.’ However, he sounded less than convincing.

  Josh saw some monkeys playing in seaweed and something that looked like a deer sitting in the shade of a tree – but no dragons.

  We spent the morning exploring the island and searching for dragons. It was very dry and hard to believe that anything could survive on it. Only the hardiest of trees prospered while the rest of the vegetation appeared to be dead. The grass was brown and the soil crumbled easily beneath our feet. And it was bloody hot.

  As the midday sun reached its pinnacle we decided to pull the pin and return to the boat for a drink and to formulate a plan.

  ‘Maybe we’re making too much noise,’ I suggested.

  Everyone agreed, so we decided to head out in the cool of the following morning when we could travel more efficiently. We also decided to take along the chickens to try our luck.

  That night I prepared the backpacks for an expedition deep into the island, packing everything necessary for an overnight stay. If we walked as far as we could, then lay in wait, perhaps the komodos would make their way to us.

  We set off early, leaving the dinghy on the beach safely above the high-tide mark. It was a beautiful sight to witness the rays of light creeping over the mountains on Komodo Island and lighting up the peaks on Rinca.

  We picked a point that led into the mountains and began our climb. It was rough terrain and the packs threw us off balance. Also, we were carrying two live chickens. We made it to the top of the first rise only to realise the downward trek into the next valley was heavily bushy. The dry bushes scratched our skin and the packs felt heavier and heavier. At one point the only effective way to get through the twigs was to fall into a bush to clear a path ahead.

  When we hit the bottom of the valley I recognised the bay as the one next along from where Kijana was anchored. Maria looked around, slightly puzzled.

  ‘Weren’t we here yesterday in the dinghy?’

  I was horrified to realise we’d spent one and a half hours bashing through the bush in searing heat, making enough noise to scare any animal within three kilometres, when we could have got to the same place by dinghy in ten minutes.

  We had a short break while I tried to muster up some enthusiasm for the next uphill climb. The sun was now beating down and I had already drunk half my water. Once we got underway we realised this climb was even worse. At times we were on all fours, so steep was the incline.

  I was getting increasingly frustrated at what was turning out to be a foolhardy attempt to find the dragons. The soles of my shoes were slippery and gave no traction on the thick layer of dry grass. I looked around to see everyone els
e seemingly handling the climb better then me. I started to wonder if my pack was heavier than theirs. I came to a large rock in my path. It was about a metre high and there was no practical way around it. I sort of leapt at it in an effort to clear it, pushing off the ground with all my energy only to feel my feet slip out from under me. Like a cartoon character, peddling my feet midair to find a grip, I was thrown off balance and the weight of my pack ensured my chest hit the ground with a thud.

  I wanted to cry with frustration as I lay prone on the ground examining the base of the stupid boulder that was just centimetres from my face. Maybe I should’ve gone around the bastard. My mood was made no better by the fact that Josh had managed to get way ahead of me. He had enough energy to bound back with the camera and film my struggle.

  We eventually got to a clearing and let the chickens roam nearby while we munched on some dry biscuits and cheese for lunch.

  ‘We’re not going to see anything with the amount of noise we’re making,’ Josh commented.

  At that point I couldn’t have cared less about the dragons. I’d banged my knee several times and all I wanted to do was sit still and drink the last of my water. Maria suggested we wait there, and hopefully the dragons would smell the chickens and come to us. Everyone was happy to go along with her suggestion. I was particularly enthusiastic about it.

  After we ate, we rigged up a sunshade. The afternoon wore on and the temperature continued to rise, but still there was no sign of any dragons. I stayed under the shade while Josh headed further uphill with the camera, and Beau and Maria went down to the bay for a swim.

  I felt like such an idiot, making the crew walk so far carrying so much stuff. It now seemed such a totally inefficient way to find the dragons. I wondered what the others thought. For me to lead the journey, they had to believe in what I asked them to do. Follies like that wouldn’t help instil much faith in their leader.

  The next thing I knew Josh was waking me. I’d been asleep for a couple of hours. He’d climbed along a ridge as far as he could before it fell away at a cliff face. He’d returned to find me asleep, Beau and Maria still swimming, and the chickens missing.

  It was a disaster. I’d lost the chickens, it was now late afternoon and we were out of water – so much for my expedition planning. I felt like a complete fool, but the crew seemed to be able to get a laugh out of it.

  We decided to head back to the boat before it got dark. The chickens were long gone, probably in the belly of an elusive dragon, so we bade them farewell.

  Josh and I gathered all the packs we could carry and headed for the beach. Beau and Maria would just have to come back for the rest. Once again I was astounded by Josh’s energy. He arrived at the beach and had already told Beau and Maria of the plan well before I arrived. I only had the energy to nod as they passed me on their way up the hill.

  I found Josh sitting under a tree looking out at the water. I dropped the pack from my shoulder and slumped down beside him. He had a strange smile on his face.

  ‘I know, I’m buggered. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,’ I tried to explain.

  ‘Nah, it’s not that,’ he said. ‘I just came down, before you got here and ... don’t say anything ...’

  ‘Nah, I won’t,’ I assured him, intrigued by what he was hiding.

  ‘... and those two were kissing!’

  I looked up the hill to where he nodded, as if I expected to see someone other than Beau and Maria.

  ‘Really!’ I said, trying to understand what he actually meant. It took a while to sink in.

  ‘Did they see you?’

  ‘I dunno, but don’t say anything to them.’

  My brain took the next logical step.

  ‘Where they ... you know ...?’

  He laughed, then began to tell me exactly what he saw. I tried not to smile when they returned and we began the hike back to the boat.

  I woke the next morning from an exhausted sleep to the sound of loud bangs on Kijana’s hull and a woman’s voice I didn’t recognise. I was startled to see that the sun was already up and Kijana was not in the same position as when I went to sleep.

  I went up on deck to find a man and woman in a dinghy holding Kijana’s safety lines.

  ‘Ya anchor’s dragging,’ the woman said matter-of-factly.

  It certainly was. We were in the middle of the channel. The depth sounder revealed we were in 70 metres of water, not the 14 metres we’d been anchored in. I didn’t know what to say back to her. I estimated we’d drifted several hundred metres.

  ‘Ahh, thanks,’ I said, sounding like a twit.

  Beau and Maria emerged to see what was going on just as I reached for the engine key and ordered the anchor to be pulled in.

  Still coming to terms with the situation, I thanked the man and woman again properly.

  ‘We didn’t know if you were leaving or what, then we saw you heading for the rocks over there and knew something must be wrong,’ she said.

  They kindly stayed with us until they were confident we were under control, before wishing us luck and heading back to their yacht.

  ‘Where’s Josh?’ I asked.

  ‘He went ashore to look for dragons.’ Beau replied. Josh was determined to film the dragons, so Beau had dropped him off on the island as the sun was rising.

  We decided to drop anchor in the next bay, closer to another yacht, where we presumed the seabed would do a better job of holding us. As we dropped anchor, I realised Josh was going to return to the beach and find the boat gone.

  We’d been at our new mooring for less than 30 minutes when a steel-hulled launch with two big outboard motors sped into the bay heading directly for us. I could see half a dozen Indonesian men sitting on its deck. I was immediately concerned. It wasn’t a typical Indonesian fishing boat and they appeared to have Kijana firmly in their sights. Then, sitting among the men, I could see Josh’s long hair blowing in the wind. My immediate reaction was relief. He’d made some friends, I thought.

  The launch pulled up alongside and Josh stepped onto Kijana, pushing the boat off with his foot at the same time. I searched the men’s faces for an answer as to how they had come to have Josh on board.

  ‘OK, thanks a lot,’ Josh said in an unusually high tone, as if he was stressed. It then struck me that the men were in uniform and, upon further inspection, I realised two of them were carrying automatic rifles.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ Josh said quietly to me. I put on a friendly face and waved to the men, hoping they’d go away. They eventually pulled away and left. The moment they were out of earshot I demanded to know what the hell was going on.

  He explained that not long after Beau had dropped him on the island he had entered the undergrowth and spotted something he thought was a dragon. It quickly disappeared, so he set off in pursuit. After startling an army of monkeys, he finally spotted his quarry, a dragon a couple of metres long. He gave chase but only caught glimpses of it through the viewfinder. Nevertheless, it was a victory. The komodo dragon did exist.

  He’d decided to head back to the boat to tell us the good news, but when he got to the beach he was confronted by a band of young men, two of whom carried rifles. They said they were representatives from the police, National Parks and a few other organisations who wanted to see his permit. When he couldn’t produce one, they accused him of trespassing. The leader began to get aggressive. The other men roamed the beach working out where he had been and accused him of hiding a dinghy.

  Struggling with the language barrier, he tried to explain he’d been dropped off by a friend, but when he went to point out Kijana, which should have been 40 metres offshore, she was gone. It only made the men more suspicious. Josh said he would show them the boat he was from if they would give him a lift.

  One man remained on the shore, apparently trying to find evidence that Josh was a smuggler, while the others escorted him aboard their launch to search for his alleged ‘yacht’. Once they left the bay, Kijana quickly came into view
. Josh gladly pointed her out, which was the point at which we saw them heading for us.

  As Josh began to retell his story to Beau and Maria, I spotted the launch heading towards us again.

  ‘Hide the guns,’ I ordered, ‘and remember, we’re just tourists. Don’t mention anything about filming.’ I suspected these characters would be willing to pin us on any number of legalities, although I wasn’t aware we needed permission to go onto the island or to film.

  Josh grabbed the camera to film the confrontation. ‘Try to be subtle,’ I warned him. ‘Remember, we’re tourists!’

  The launch arrived and we nodded in recognition. Beau and Maria came back on deck after hiding the guns. A short man stood at the bow wearing a bright orange construction worker’s vest. I took the line from him and tied them off. I couldn’t remember seeing him before, so I presumed he was the one who had remained on the beach searching for evidence. He also appeared to be the leader of the troop.

  His English was very bad, made worse by my conscious effort not to understand him. My strategy was to make it so hard for them to do their job that they would leave. I shot curious looks back at my crew, shrugged shoulders and threw in the few Indonesian words I knew. As the man became more frustrated, his voice rose.

  ‘Tourist, tourist,’ I repeated. He understood we were tourists but wanted to see our permit. After much haggling, the angry man turned and spoke to one of his men. A beefy chap jumped to his feet and handed his rifle to a colleague, then prepared to step aboard Kijana.

  I knew that under maritime law a person must request permission from the captain to board his vessel. It was also good manners. But when it came to men in uniforms bearing weapons, none of these points seemed to carry much weight. The man was soon on the deck of Kijana.

  The leader was becoming angry and began to yell at me. I eventually worked out that he wanted us to buy a permit. I knew a man with a gun could ask any price he liked. Maybe it was better just to pay, no matter how exorbitant the price, rather than have them search the boat and find our guns and computer gear.