Island Exploring in East Java

By Esther Sainsbury, s22
Australian National University

Before the workload in Malang got too busy, I took the opportunity to explore some of the natural environment found along the coastline to the south of Malang - about two and a half hours by car from the centre of the city.

I had read about a particular beach called Sedangbiru, located near a small fishing community and was interested in doing a walk in the area. I had also heard that this particular beach looked out onto an island known for its beautiful wilderness and a secluded lagoon about an hour's walk into the interior.

Calling a few other students, a group of five including myself was up for the challenge of reaching the lagoon and taking a day trip to the seaside. Hiring a car was not a problem in Malang, and a small van turned up at 8am the next morning to take us to the small fishing community at Sedangbiru, where we would then look for passage to the island, hopefully assisted by one of the boats resting between sea runs.

The trip itself was picturesque and I was glad to leave the smog of the city behind and break out into the green flat lands of the padi fields, and then the more uneven highlands with dense tropical forest that is broken only by small village communities on the way to the coast.

Seeing the villages and small towns in the Malang District (Kabupaten Malang) by car was a great way to see the areas outside of the city of Malang (Malang Kota) and snippets of the varying lifestyles found along the roads. Small fresh produce markets were already a whirl of action at that time of the morning, trading most likely would have been active since the early morning.

Babies on laps, in slings, toddlers tottering around the shop fronts newly bathed in singlets or nothing at all, sometimes looking up to watch us pass. Many motorcycles out and about too, as is usual all along Indonesian roads.

Getting closer to the coastline, the roads quietened and the communities became smaller. The landscape was still cultivated but farm houses were built further apart, on individual plots of land from materials of bamboo, thatch, reed and wood. In between these communities and the gentle hills that separated them we caught the first glimpses of the glistening coastal waters.

The van pulled off the small sealed road onto a dirt path and after about ten minutes pulled up at the shores of Sedangbiru. The fishing community, although small and looking a little unoccupied in comparison to the cityscape we had left a few hours earlier, was vibrant with colourful boats lining the shore painted in yellows, blues, greens with various private names and slogans.

We spoke to the head of the community, registered as tourists and paid the local levy that applied to any foreigner wanting to enter the area for leisure purposes. After a long talk about the price regarding crossing the channel to the island in one of the local fishing boats, we became well aware of the monopoly a middle-aged gentleman had above all the other individual boats owners. When asked about the price to cross the channel in their boats they became uneasy and said privately that we already have a boat and pointed back to our original gentleman.

Two students that had gone in search of another option as the remaining three continued with the original gentleman saying no; that we had not agreed to go with that gentleman yet and were still looking. But they all shied away on his approach and walked back to their boats. As one departed he did tell us the price that would be normal for foreigners but that we had to work with our original guy and that our patronage had already been reserved.

The domination of this man above the other kind fishermen was infuriating and so was his smug manner. After all had agreed how much we didn't like the governing style or character of this guy, we finally came to a financial agreement and were lead down to the shore to a boat.

The task of our passage across was then delegated to one of the timid and smiling fishermen called over from a local warung. Thankful to leave the shore and get on with our explorations unhindered by negotiations with the seaside commanding officer, we all maneuvered ourselves into the boat one by one and waited for the motor to kick over and seal our departure.

The water was a deep green and the sea salt air was refreshing after our weeks in Malang Kota. The small fishing boat, guided skillfully by our local fisherman, glided through the maze of channels offshore, cutting the waters propelled by the humming motor. The view was lovely.

Lining the shores we could see several fishing communities; their bright boats also lining the shore from cove to cove. Some larger boats were moored in the waters offshore and many people were going about their daily business cleaning, washing clothes and fixing lines in the sun on the decks.

After only a short time - about ten minutes - we arrived at a cove covered in what looked like mangrove swamp and low-lining shrubs. Our boat entered the waters of the small cove and we spoke amongst ourselves about whether this muddy drop off point was indicative of a larger adventure ahead than first thought. The fisherman dropped his ladder into the shallow waters and we all got off and waded to shore.

We must have looked quite amusing, myself turning on the spot taking in the scenery, wearing plastic bath thongs and enormous sunglasses. I also began to note that there were no markers of passage to the lagoon or any real path to reach the interior. The others battled bags on the boat's exit ladder, others watching with amusement and laughter as the sea water saturated their walking pants to the thigh.

All in high spirits, all without an idea whether this was even the cove that we wanted or whether the Sea Commander had in fact stated clear instruction to maroon us in his local dialect. The image of the Sea Commander smiling and waving from the shore came to mind with suspicion.

But no, breaking out the packed snacks to muse this point we stopped as a level-headed member of the troupe spotted a solo sign of continuation. A small red and white flag flapped in the wind, barely visible beyond the mangroves and mud beaconing us into the steaming green wilderness.

We made our way over and found the small trodden trail, just large enough to notice amongst the dense undergrowth that would lead us to the lagoon and to the picturesque goal of our toils. Knowing that the estimated time of beach to lagoon was an hour's walk, we were keen to start so as to have time to enjoy whatever scenery we would find and also calculate the return walk in order to meet with our fisherman at the previously agreed rendezvous time.

Walking away from the mangroves and into the forest, the air became cool as the sound of the lapping shore fell silent and was replaced with forest bird calls and the sound of the wind in the canopy. The moisture of the forest created damp earth under our tread and was a pleasant atmosphere to walk and chatter along in as we made steady progress towards what we hoped would be a lagoon.

The path was littered with leaves, tropical and unfamiliar, some as large as a man's head. We often navigated large fallen trees as they simultaneously rotted and sprung new life, supporting small carpets of new ferny growth and the lives of various small crawly creatures.

The enveloping scent of rain, earth, flora and fauna was truly captivating and my mind wandered to thoughts of others who had explored rich environments such as this: Raffles and his comrades sweeping through such foliage with sword and machete; Kurtz and Marlow perhaps in their struggles against the Heart of Darkness.

And what of the ones that did not find glory and riches on entering this dense and heavy environment? Those who caught the fever at outposts succumbed to jungle disease, rots and madness. What of them that fell or were left behind in places such as these, so far from home and destined for a shallow grave.

Thinking on this, I understood for the first time, walking in a truly intense and encompassing jungle environment unlike any I had experienced before, that the jungle could quickly be perceived as a god-forsaken place if entered under different conditions. A haunted world where men, ill, lost or incapacitated, supporting no hope of a celebrated return to 'civilization', could easily wonder as to whether salvation would find them amongst the steam and the mist.

As the air buzzed with large insects, a mournful and low bird call echoed through the forest and interrupted the sounds of the breeze through the trees. We waded through pools of dark water, stopping to check for leeches on the other side. Several slips and slides in the mud, two short drink breaks and much perspiration later, our front man called to report sights of glistening sea water through the trees ahead.

We quickly picked up our pace and all marveled at the sight of an intoxicating expanse of blue waters, white sands and rock. It was more beautiful than I had imagined and it seemed a rare find of untouched paradise on the densely populated Java mainland.

Along the stretch of small grain sands, we could see another group of about four people at the far side of the beach playing ball games. Aside from their distant company the beach was ours and we quickly set up our towels on the sand and headed in for a swim.

The lagoon held clear, mild waters undisturbed with weeds and dotted with some clumps of rocky outcrop. I wished one of us had brought goggles as I wondered what the lagoon held in terms of sea life. We saw some small schools of fish along the shore shallows and some larger ones near the rock formations.

With white sands on one side, the lagoon was walled with rock on the other and a large hole in the face of the rock shelf revealed a glimpse of the crashing sea tides on the other side. We swam, ate lunch and read in the shade of the forest that quickly rose from the rock encircling the lagoon.

The weather held blue sky and the breeze was cool on the salty skin. We were able to stay about three hours over lunch before packing up to make the trip back to the mangrove cove where we would wait for our passage back to the outside world once again.

The scenery stayed with me that night as we drove back to the city and back to our boarding houses. We were all quiet in the car ride home, tired from the walk and swim, still sandy from our beach explorations. I slept deeply that night. Falling asleep my mind still lulled with the movement of the water, images of the forest and the sun's bright reflection off the sea cap.