Woes & Joys of Kartini Harbour

HEMMED IN

Starboard forward view

Aft view

When we first sailed Calypso into Kartini Harbour, there were a handful of small fishing boats but, generally speaking, it was really quite empty.  Oh my but how things have changed.

The bad weather during the monsoon season found dozens of huge fishing boats with mega-huge bowsprits, scurrying into the harbour for protection leaving poor Calypso lost in their midst.  Sadly, she has suffered a fair amount of damage from these manoeuvres.  The davits were the first to go when a boat must have hit us and bent the stabilising rail.  Next was a smashed solar panel, a badly mutilated radar arch and, too, the stainless steel railings supporting these are bent and broken.  One stanchion base has been ripped out from the deck and our Danbuoy is no more, presumed broken and sunk.  In addition, we had to surround ourselves with tires for protection and, despite the fact that we wrapped them all in heavy plastic, this has worn away leaving hideous black marks all along the hull.

None of this is irretrievable but they're just more set-backs and, instead of our job list getting shorter, it's progressively getting longer and longer.  Until such time as the majority of these vessels depart for the dry season, there seems little point in getting stuck into fixing everything lest it just gets damaged again.  

Hindsight being what it is, we should never have put her there; we had no idea it would be this bad.  Unfortunately, Indonesia is not geared up for cruisers so there are literally no adequate facilities available.  We would have had to take her up to Malaysia and stored her on the hard there but then how could we have performed the necessary maintenance?

We can't really blame the fishing boats other than it would have been nice for some of them to come forward by admitting they were responsible for the damage.  Conditions were so horrendous at times and, with literally dozens upon dozens of these large boats vying for space in rough circumstances, something going awry was inevitable. They do genuinely try to avoid us but....

The harbour is a major hive of activity with not only fishing boats but delivery boats carrying their wares between the islands.  Truckloads of furniture go out, loads of fish come in, landfill is a common cargo, as are coconuts destined for the markets.  We see huge blocks of ice being loaded and barrels galore of whatever.  

Indonesia is a country consisting of over 17,000 islands and the majority are far too small to have an air strip therefore everything gets moved in and out by sea.  It's quite fascinating to watch the hubbub of activity each day.

PHOTO ALBUM:

Loading teak furniture

Fishing baskets

Unloading the catch

Some of the attractive fishing boats

And the not so attractive

Strolling around

During the monsoon season here in Indonesia, everything is so green - and WET.   Very wet!  I sometimes feel that I should strap a kayak to my back when going out for a walk.

I, along with Leonie, the other South African lady who lives in the same complex we're currently bunked in, have tried to get some semblance of exercise by going for a walk when the weather looks a tad brighter.  We can no longer stroll along the beach as the flotsam and jetsam (read that as plastic and rubbish) is just so thick as to allow no clear path other than at the lowest tide.  As an alternative, we have braved the road in an attempt to find routes away from traffic and into the fields beyond.

Not pleasant.  The roads are narrow strips of potholes with occasional bits of Tarmac trying to hold them together.  No sidewalks, no dry patches other than right smack in the middle and certainly no escape from the cars who seem to deliberately head for the water-filled potholes to give you your morning shower. 

During the wet season, these so-called 'roads' are thick with mud and rubble hidden beneath slimy waters which, in turn, are doing their damnedest to disguise the abyss beneath their surfaces; deep dark slushy caverns awaiting the unsuspecting pedestrian and heaven help the myriad of motor bikes venturing down these treacherous paths.  I wonder if there are statistics of missing, presumed drowned, cyclists?

Once away from this nightmare, it's really rather pretty.  We've walked through miles of lush green (but sometimes drowned) rice paddies and come across dozens and dozens of tiny factories producing what Jepara is famous for: teak furniture.  

It's quite incredible but literally in the middle of a forest, we found tiny dwellings, all of them sawing, carving, sanding and assembling furniture.  There are so many factories that during the dry season, the air was thick with fine sawdust and the sky was never clear.  At least the constant rain of late has washed a bit of that away.

Workshops everywhere

En route, everyone is so friendly, waving and curious.  I think the sight of two European women strolling through these remote locations must be strange, an absolute novelty in their eyes.  On the whole, they really are the most delightful people.

Thankfully, it appears that the wet season is finally drawing to a close.  It has put a bit of a damper (no pun intended) on external boat projects and we really need to press on with these tasks.

PHOTO GALLERY:

All these 'factories' are hidden in the woods:

A charming ivy covered home along the way

The roads throughout Jepara are literally lined with yards filled with teak logs