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KALABAHI, ALOR - INDONESIA
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August 1 We left Kupang about noon with a light breeze that allowed us to sail for several hours. Then the wind died completely and we motored all day and through the night. It was a slow trip against a strong current but the seas were flat and I took an extended watch (because Gord was not feeling well) under a spectacular starry sky with lots of meteors. We really did not encounter any fish boats or hazards and the 5 other lights around us provided a sense of security and comfort. |
| There was much discussion about entering the pass with the strong tide against us. It was necessary to do some fancy calculations to determine the flow and strength but in the end it is all just a guess. When we reached the entrance to the pass beside Alor Island, we had 3 knots against us but once we moved along the shoreline the current subsided and was actually with us all the way to the anchorage. The topography had changed dramatically from that of Timor as now huge rugged steep hills emerged from the sea along little narrow strips of beach here and there covered with palm trees. Alor is located between Timor and Flores and is often refered to as "The island of Magic" since it is steeped in myths and mystery. |
| Sailing through the maze of bamboo traps were dugout canoes, powered with sails made from all sorts of materials but the sailcloth of choice seemed to be brightly colored tarpaulin |
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An overloaded sampan (Indonesian fishing boat) motored by us, the locals very excitedly waving and welcoming us. |
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KALABAHI We reached the anchorage, already crowded with yachts, all surrounded by dugouts containing loadfuls of kids anxious about the arrival of visitors. We anchored very close to the wall covered in SailAsia banners where all the activity seemed to be happening. |
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| The entire anchorage was very deep and the holding a slippery mud but we managed to hook securely. We watched a brilliant sunset as the water became peacefully calm. We desperately needed sleep so had supper and went to bed at 7:30pm. It was hard to sleep with the noise from the blaring horns, music, laughter and chanting from shore.
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An Early Morn
August 2 We were awoken by the Call to Prayer at 4 am and the haunting Muslin wailing began blaring from the loudspeakers, lasting until daybreak. Then a cacophony of rooster calls. After that, a huge ferry pulled into the dock only feet from us and blew his horn
ear-splitting loud, repeatedly. No need for an alarm clock here! (I remember when we complained about the roosters and dog barking waking us, which pales in comparison to the deafening sound of the ferry). We looked out to see an official looking fellow, dressed in proper trousers and a long sleeved white shirt, making the rounds to the boats in his dugout canoe. It was 7 am! So I hurriedly dressed in my Muslin attire (over the shoulders, over the knees) and quickly grabbed my laundry, knickers first, off the life lines and tidied up the cabin.
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| | | | | Over the course of the morning we were visited by many friendly faces, mostly coming by to say hello in their dugout canoes. All sorts of interesting fishing boats went by as well. | |
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Excited Kids |
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