Getting Stuck In Rote

The long story of a failed engine part that delayed us long enough to fall under the spell of a special island.

So just to re-cap: Bryan and I were at the end of a long sail south, two weeks of sailing mainly by day but sometimes at night. We were aiming for Rote.

It was the start of April, towards the end of the cyclone season, which is followed by the SE monsoon. We hoped that SE wind would waft us all the way to Lombok, where I had a mooring reserved for Escapade.

We were within sight of Rote on that last morning at sea, when we sailed past this little uninhabited island. (Photo above). We passed close enough to notice a turquoise sandy patch for our anchor and a deserted right hand reef break. Far too good to sail past. Hook down.

We rested up there for a couple of nights at the end of our voyage. The lights of Rote were twinkling across the water.

I had been hearing the name Rote for years. It was my friend Manu on Maui who first told me about a calm anchorage surrounded by beautiful waves. I made a mental note, in case Escapade ever actually sailed as far as Indonesia. Well here we were at last. The next day a local boat motored by, carrying sunburnt tourists. It was actually a shock to see white people. And bikinis! This was the end of our tripping through the less-visited islands. We knew Rote is on the map these days and we would not be the only Bules in town.

The charming village of Nembrala now welcomes wave hunters from everywhere. For us it seemed we had arrived in a completely different country. The local population is mainly Christian, so this was our first populated anchorage in Indonesia without the call to prayer reaching us over the water. And there were plenty of Bules: Australians, Europeans, all here for the start of the surf season.

The left-hand wave is a gem. Long rides down a wall that just keeps standing up for more.

We adjusted to having other surfers in the water. The taxi boats come and go bringing people out to the wave, but every so often we found ourselves alone, once with a few frolicking manta rays for company.

Then we ventured ashore, dragged the dinghy up the beach and wandered through a coconut grove to the village. Goats and pigs foraging among the palms, cows sitting on the road. An occasional scooter passing by. Children doing wheelies on their bicycles, and a few expats drinking coconuts, or beers.

(Nembrala was the first place we could buy a beer since Sorong, and that was about 1500nm back!)

The first pioneering surfers slung their hammocks here decades ago, some are still here. But now there is everything the travelling surf crew need, comfortable accommodation, good coffee, little beach front bars, and pizza.

But the place is still low key and very charming.

Walking back to the beached dinghy one evening, through the quiet coconut plantation, I had the feeling I could be very happy here. The Rote magic was working on me as I made my way through the many free-range children and livestock, clouds of dragonflies, all lit by another staggering Nembrala sunset.

Bryan and I explored some of the local waves.

But it was not all perfect waves and sunsets. We were still trying to diagnose a problem with the starboard engine cooling system.

And this was still the end of the cyclone season. We were watching one system very closely for a week, before it spun away, well south of us.

That storm risk sent us in to the protected bay of Oeseli, where we met our new friend Julius and first started to consider leaving Escapade there, instead of continuing on to Lombok. Julius is running a new ‘marine services’ operation in Oeseli, really the only one for hundreds of miles in any direction.

Our wives came to visit!

We provisioned at the weekly market, full fridges for a bit of local island hopping. Then we had a wonderful few weeks holidaying with Dawn and Auriane.

By this time we had some boat projects underway, with engine parts to be sourced, imported and fitted. Dawn arrived from Guernsey with a new hot water tank, not a small item of luggage! A heat exchanger was transported from Brisbane to Escapade involving a huge cast of helpful friends but seemed to be jinxed to never arrive. Julius and his team helped us with everything, and in Indonesia we realised we need help! Some detailed local knowledge, language, easing of the wheels of bureaucracy and a bit of lateral thinking, make the impossible achievable. Eventually.

The unlikely saga of the heat exchanger continued, but by now we had fallen for the charms of Rote and by mid May, Escapade was tied to a 100kg anchor under the care of Julius and our friends in Oeseli, so we could fly away for some northern summer.

We would just have to come back to Rote in September. Lombok could wait.