Sharks, Dragons and dangerous things

Day 157 - The Flores Sea

You can take the ape out of the savanna but you can't take the savanna out of the ape. Our brains still have prey-like reflexes from when we were food for leopards and, as the enormous shape moved at speed in my peripheral vision, I couldn't help but flinch. The animal's mouth opened wider than my whole body and engulfed the bait put out so obligingly for it. This was the second morning of the Komodo tour and I'd almost missed it. It had swiftly become clear that on the tour we would be viewing every sunset...and every sunrise. It has only been 16 days since my last rant about sunrise so I won't re-tread that ground but suffice to say that after a night on a thin mattress sharing a deck with 19 other slightly-washed people I would not be getting up at 5AM. There was something different this morning though. A commotion. We'd already passed the stranded tour boat that had hit a rock a few days previously and we'd seen the video of people being rescued from it. As I raised my head from the understuffed pillow I could see my shipmates throwing themselves off the side and into the water. We didn't seem to be sinking but some people love the drama don't they? Tour review - one star - 'drowned'. Curiously they'd all gone to the trouble of putting on their snorkels. As I turned to a fellow passenger they answered my confused look with a bellowed

WHALE SHARKS!

I don't get out of bed for sunrises, I do for the world's biggest fish.

Several other tour boats were alongside us and the sea was a roiling mass of humanity. It was like when one of those small boats goes down in the channel. Much like those passengers we'd paid a hefty price for being on (and then off) this questionably seaworthy vessel. They wanted to see white cliffs, we wanted to see white whales. Is this comparison in bad taste? If so I apologise unreservedly to any journalists that might dig this blog up in the future and to the voters of Burnham-on-Crouch whose support I would still very much value in the upcoming local election. The whale shark cut through the water with astounding speed speed. I'd been used to seeing them on nature documentaries cruising along without urgency or strife so this was a surprise. I suppose you could put their sudden velocity down to competition. There were probably 6 or 7 of them around the boat and they might have also considered the aquatic apes to be trying to get their share too. It was an incredible scene. It was also an unseemly scene with people desperately jostling for position, unapologetic fins smacking into faces. The whale sharks weren't really the reason I came on the tour. These kind of artificial encounters can disrupt their migration patterns, increase aggression and raise the likelihood of them being harmed by the propellers of boats they now all associate with food. But here I was bobbing alongside everyone else. I'd strayed from the soft, unclear path of ethical travel onto the metal rails of tourism again. It would be easy to judge others as I judge myself but my crewmates were a likeable bunch.

There was a decent scattering of nationalities and ages but I rubbed along best (Alex notwithstanding) with Thierry, a Swiss guy in his early thirties. Our bond was established by the fact we'd both brought hard liquor aboard. I'd gone for cheap but commercially-produced whiskey and he had brought arak in a plastic bottle that was presumably made in someone's bathtub. It tasted better than it looked but the chief fun was playing the game of 'blind or not blind' before each sip. Once everyone else had gone to bed we sat on the top deck drinking, opining and looking at the stars. Apart from the whale sharks there were the aforementioned sunrise hikes (always up a hill), sunset hikes (always up a hill), pink beaches, a spot from where you could see three different beaches at once (up a hill) and, finally, there were dragons. You may have deduced from the name of the tour that's main attraction would be. We landed on Komodo on the second-last day and, after a short walk inland, got our first sight of the world's largest lizard. They saunter around the island like kings. There is nothing here to challenge them except each other. As with most apex predators they will still not tangle with humans, even stupid tourists.

I'm not sure if as a child watching these things on TV I could have imagined ever being on this speck of an island and seeing these monsters in the flesh. I'm not sure, as a child, I could imagine myself doing very much at all in the future. I didn't want to be anything in particular when I grew up or to go anywhere (except Madagascar and I still haven't been there). And I don't know if actually being here makes the world feel more wondrous or less. Maybe it's dreadfully nihilistic but to actually see a thing removes it from the realm of the imagination and turns it into something normal fitted within the mundane system of the real world. Children do better with this, I think, because their lens onto the world is still augmented by a healthy dose of imagination. Ironically the first western expedition to study the dragons in 1926 inspired the film King Kong. The reality of the dragons was not enough. There's also the fact that over the course of my life we have paved more of paradise and put up more parking lots. When we got off the boat at the dock we were straight onto a tarmac path and past the visitor's centre. And, ultimately, that stuff is necessary. Though it changes things it also conserves them. If you aren't going to cordon off a place entirely (which our arrogance tells us is unfair) then you need control. But to take a boat to the other side of the world to investigate tales of giant lizards. To come ashore on a deserted, pristine beach and follow a local into the woods hacking a path as you go. To catch your first glimpse of a vast, armoured skin as a forked tongue flicks the air and tastes your presence. Thrilling.
The last night on the boat was a heady mix of drinking and dancing and everyone let their hair down. The following morning we arrived at town of Labuan Bajo on the west coast of Flores. Just about all my friends from the boat had checked into the La Boheme hostel so we had a reunion in the courtyard about 15 minutes after saying goodbyes. A quiet night was definitely needed so naturally I stayed up drinking with Thierry, Andy and Jo in a bar until closing time. Will I ever learn?