Beasts in Jungle

May 3rd: Mataram to Bangsal – 40km , Boat Ride from Bangsal to Gili Meno

May 12, 2014

Day 202

Between the direct route through the mountains and a winding road along the coast line, we chose the seemingly more scenic coastal drive, and I was secretly hoping to avoid the steep climbs we experienced in the rest of Indonesia mountain passes.

Senggigi was touristy as expected, with clusters of high-end “Spa and Villa” along the beach. However it appears that there are some budget places in town. As soon as we were out of the town, there was barely any traffic, and the road became a roller coaster ride. Steep uphills followed by steep winding downhills, one after another. Much to Chopper’s surprise, I was very much enjoying the fun ride, rather than dreading the steep climbs in the heat. It was only because we were indeed on a scenic road. It was no doubt hot as hell, but the generous breeze on the downhills always gave us a break from the heat. The sharp turns and quick elevation drops added an extra dramatic element, as if the road was leading us to fly off the cliff and dive into the crystal clear blue water.

A quick Internet search revealed that the public pier in Bangsal is infamous for all kinds of scams and hassles so we mentally prepared ourselves to avoid the deceits and lies. As we reminded ourselves to be on guard, we drove all the way down to the beach and found the official ticket office without anyone trying to divert us or sell us tickets. We found a quiet spot to park our trikes, and Chopper went into the ticket office to get the tickets. Expecting the task to be full of harassment and confusion, I wished him best of luck and hoped he wouldn’t get robbed while I was guarding the trikes outside. Soon he returned, with two thumbs up. He got the tickets for the right price (25,000 IDR each, with no luggage limit) for the right boat, at the right time, on the first try. Chopper commented that buying a ticket was incredibly easy. Not only were the ticket sellers friendly and helpful, there is only one ticket counter and the prices are printed out and displayed.

Soon a teenager found us, and started chatting with us. Seeing him carrying a box of trinkets, we instantly thought he wanted to sell us things. But the sales pitch never came. He was just genuinely curious about our trikes, and told us that he was on school holiday and came here to chat with tourists to improve his English. By the time that our boat was supposed to leave, we were on the first name basis with a group of local loiterers and none of them lived up to the infamous reputation. Instead, they were incredibly generous and helpful and even gave us some packs of shrimp crackers to munch on while we waited.

Our boat was supposed to leave at 2pm. We were told that the ticket office would make an announcement when the boat arrived. However the announcements were all in Indonesian and many times we thought we heard Gili Meno. We waited next to a group of locals taking the same boat, but I was getting more and more anxious as our boat didn’t show up after 2pm. A dread-locked tour operator waiting for his client approached us and started chatting, and reassured us there would be an announcement once the boat came. As I watched people boarding other boats, my suspicion started to grow. Could he be distracting us from getting on the right boat, so he could be our “savior” to ferry us for a higher price? We had read about this happening. Once you miss your boat they get you to charter a boat for 250,00 IDR, instead of telling you that you’ll just have to wait until 2 and pay a bit more. Why did he keep telling us this was not the Gili Meno boat? Why was he so friendly? Half an hour later I learned that my anxious suspicions were unfounded and our boat appeared – it was delayed by the choppy water. We are slowly learning that we may need to let our guard down, which has been hard after a month of being on high alert, otherwise we will be the cynics giving tourists a bad name.

Getting on the boat was a challenge. The boat was barely beached in the choppy water and we had to somehow get our trikes into the rocking boat. Again, I was assigned as the luggage guard while Chopper manhandled the trikes – picking one up, throwing it overboard when the waves went down, and repeating the process for the second one. At this stage we did get some harassment from the porters, who appeared to be friendly and helpful without informing you that they would charge you a fortune for their services. We kindly declined the offer but a girl with a huge backpack wasn’t so lucky. The porter sneaked up on her and took her backpack while she was struggling with the huge waves, and 5 steps away in the boat the porter demanded 100,000 IDR for his 5 seconds of labor and wouldn’t settle for less. We were too occupied by our trike loading operation to help her.

We safely made it across but it was not a relaxing ride. Throwing an anchor off the bow, the ship pivots around its nose until the stern is facing the shore. Attempting to maneuver the boat between the waves the captain misjudged the timing and we were hit several times broad side by the waves. The cargo, a dozen of 19 liter water bottles, along with several crates of beers and other daily supplies, which were sitting on a platform on the stern all shifted from one side to another. There was a quick scramble as passengers rushed to the opposite side to balance the boat. I thought we were going to tip over several times and the water was literaly centimeters from going over the gunwales. Chopper recommended that we make sure to hold onto our small waterproof bag with our passports and cash if the boat capsized. Through it all, only the calm countenance of the captain gave me assurance that we wouldn’t need to swim for shore.

There are no motorized vehicles on Gili Meno, only horse carts, bicycles, and now, tricycles. We unloaded our trikes, and off we went to search for our den for the next 2 weeks. The narrow path was solid enough to ride on in the inland area, but the soft sandy walkways around the beach were not good news for us. At times, we had to got off and push, while all the tourists and locals watched us struggle. Luckily we soon found a cheap little bungalow by the sea, and fulfilled our fantasy of jumping into the clear water after a long hot day of travel.