The whale shark anchorage wasn’t great, which had become a recurring theme along this stretch of Indonesia, so we upped anchor again and continued west. We had our sights set on a number of different places along the coast, but encountered problems in nearly every one, so for the next few days we just kept hopping along, unhappy with one anchorage after another. The settings themselves were nice enough, but the coral and rubble bottoms, and very sharply shelving contours left us with tenuous holding at each one.

As I sat here working one morning we received a call on the VHF from a friend’s boat, “Bumfuzzle, are you dragging?” The onshore winds of the night before had shifted offshore and while our anchor had probably been clinging on to a coral head in one direction, it had floated free in the other direction. It was so steep that we’d gone from a 60′ anchorage to dangling a couple hundred feet of chain and anchor as we floated out to sea. Surprisingly, the windlass handled the weight and brought the whole thing back up without us having to drive it back into shallower water first. Good thing, too, because snagging and getting caught up in coral at over 100′ would have been really problematic.

We continued on and found an anchorage in the middle of nowhere. Anchored hundreds of meters from shore in a vast flat expanse full of seagrass and surrounded by mangroves. We were happy to have the anchor set in sand again.

Snorkeling in the shallow waters revealed all sorts of interesting creatures. The sea urchins all glowed in neon colors.

This frogfish (correct me if I’m wrong on my identification) was so well camouflaged we could hardly see him from five feet away.

Creepy looking white eel (white ribbon eel, perhaps). Eels are the grumpiest creatures in the sea—just always pissed off at everyone.

From there we crossed the rather notorious strait between Sumbawa and Lombok. Here the currents can rip through at over 5 knots. We timed it so we’d catch a north flowing current for our northwest passage across, which meant doing so just after dark. First we had to battle our way south about five miles before we could emerge between islands into the strait. It became a wild ride almost immediately. Along with the current came the wind funneling through the same place. We were racing along in 30 knots of wind with a cross current of over two knots. Fortunately it was only about a three hour crossing before we disappeared behind Lombok and the wind and seas abruptly dropped to zero.

The rest of the night we spent motoring slowly amongst the fishermen. They sit quietly in the dark until they determine you are headed into their vicinity, at which point they give you a brief flash from their flashlight. We return the favor so they know we see them, and then we adjust a few degrees if necessary. They seem to move or reel in whatever they may be dragging behind them, so that all we have to do is avoid running over their small boat. The entire night was spent flashing lights at each other.

In the morning we arrived in Teluk Tembobor along the NW coast of Lombok. We were happy to find a nice sandy bottom to anchor in as well as having access to a number of different beachside restaurants.

The snorkeling was nice, too.

It’d been a while since we’d gotten fresh fruit and veg, so Ali and Ouest headed off with friends to see what they could find.

The sign reads: Grilled Meatball Sausage.

In the bay around the corner from us was a bit of a surprising sight—a marina, of sorts. Good sized boats were hauled out in the small yard getting work done, and the bay was filled with heavy-duty moorings. They had a good restaurant, a dinghy dock, a garbage, and could get diesel and propane—pretty much everything one could need in this part of the world if you live on a boat.

A couple of weeks earlier Ouest had dinged her toe on some coral while surfing. It had been a growing concern as it definitely wasn’t healing up properly. She had taken to skipping the flippers and wearing a sock on that foot to try and minimize any contact with it. We had a friend who is a nurse have a look at it and poke around a bit, but she seemed a bit worried by it as well. It was becoming clear this wasn’t going to heal on its own. Time to find a hospital/doctor.

On one of our outings we stumbled across this headless statue.

The guys at Cafe Yoman were awesome. They seemed thrilled to have some playmates and were immediately jumping in for volleyball. They even gathered up some long sticks and a rope to construct a makeshift net.

Gili Air is a very touristy island just a couple of short miles away from where we had anchored the previous couple of nights. We found that there were a couple of different clinics there with doctors on duty, so we motored over one afternoon. Unfortunately, the anchorage was wide open to the seas and it was virtually untenable. We launched the dinghy and Lowe took me and Ouest ashore. It was so rough we had to do a drive-by to the pitching dock with Lowe driving and the two of us leaping off onto the dock. We pulled off the maneuver flawlessly and Lowe raced away as a tour boat that was attempting to dock pointed and smiled at the young professional dinghy driver.

We left our flip-flops at the door and walked into the clinic where we were greeted by a smiling nurse who had us sit on the couch in the waiting room. A doctor came right out and explained that there were no rooms available (I think there were three, and all were in use), but he would take care of Ouest right there. So, as she sat on the couch with her foot up on the coffee table, the doctor went to work.

The toe required cutting off a large hunk of skin, sort of like a giant blood blister, that had developed over the nail. He explained the procedure. Me and Ouest looked at each other and I knew what she was thinking. I asked, “Can you give her a shot of anesthetic?”

He gave her one shot that didn’t quite do the trick. The next shot numbed her to her knee and it was time to get cutting.

Here we were, the four of us barefooted in the waiting room with blood absolutely gushing out of Ouest’s toe (nobody else was in there, thank goodness). Blood was on the floor, the table, and had filled a garbage bag full of gauze pads. At one point a girl walked out of her room holding onto an IV stand. She took one look at the scene and spun right back around into her room.

I’d love to share the picture I took of the room at this point, but Ouest would kill me.

After about thirty minutes, with the blood not stopping, the doctor said he’d need to stitch it up. The anesthesia was wearing off a bit by this point, but Ouest gave him the go ahead anyway. She is so tough.

The stitch did the trick. They wrapped her toe up carefully, and told us we could come back as many times as we liked to have them clean and wrap it again. They gave her a series of antibiotics, as well as gauze, tape, saline solution, and a bunch of other stuff, and then presented us with the bill of $45.

Our Canadian friends had seen that this island had a poutine restaurant and they were extremely excited by the prospect of a meal there. They were only half-joking about the sad state of Canadian “cuisine.” The weather, however, wasn’t going to allow them to visit. But, seeing as me and Ouest were already there, we thought it was important that we give this Canadian specialty a try. We were a bit disappointed that they were out of cheese curds, but settled on mozzarella and gravy. And for good measure we ordered up a beaver tail with ice cream. Poutine. You have to laugh. Fries with cheese and gravy. Tastes exactly like one would expect. Oh, Canada.

We left Gili Air a bit disappointed that we couldn’t stay longer. It was extremely touristy, but in a fun way. There’s no cars on the island, just donkey carts and bikes. And the major draw seems to be nothing more than eating and drinking (and maybe going on scuba diving tours). But overall it seems like it’d be a fun place to spend a couple of days.

Lowe picked us up and we immediately left again, bouncing our way out of the unprotected anchorage back to where we’d come from.