Stranded on a Deserted Island...Sort of....

For me, there has always been an undeniable draw to life on a deserted island. The pure, untouched beauty of being the only person on that entire piece of land, free to roam, explore and discover, as well as to simply relax with absolutely no one else around has always fascinated me. Though Pasir Panjang was almost the realization of that dream, a few dots on the horizon, visible from my pondok, were beckoning me to be explored. I spoke with Mr. Beny about getting to the island, but he didn't really see the attraction. Fortunately, while relaxing in my hut one morning, one of the locals who spoke a bit of English began talking to me, and it turns out that he is a fisherman with a boat there. I eventually asked him about getting to the islands, and he said he'd take me someday when he wasn't fishing. After he came back from fishing for the day, he stopped by again for a quick chat and even invited me to come back to his house for a minute while he picked up a few things. I obviously had nothing to do, so I took the chance to venture into the local village of Ngur Bloat, just South of the beach. It was a small town with one road and a few dirt tracks running off to the sides, with maybe 20 or so small houses and a few small shops. Mr. Edos' (his first name) house was nothing special, just a one story concrete box type with a steel roof and a small patio. Walking inside, I found that he had the openings and even panes for windows, but he didn't actually have any glass there, so the breeze came and went as we sat in the two chairs that furnished the barren living room. Beyond a cloth sheet serving as a door was the kitchen and bedroom, where his wife was taking care of his young kid. It wasn't extravagant, nor was it poverty, but I love the chance to be able to actually see a local home and the way the people in the town live.

So before I left for the day, Edos and I made a plan for a trip to the islands. As is sometimes the case, I wasn't sure if he was doing this out of pure friendship or was trying to make a bit of money, but I decided not to ask, and we arranged a trip to see the two main islands just off the coast. At 9 am the next morning, I heard the noisy outboard motor coming towards my hut, and made out the dark, curly haired figure of Edos on the back. He beached the 'boat', and I saw what I was in for - it was basically a wooden bathtub with attached supports on each side to keep it from tipping, along with an unbelievably tiny motor and propeller. The two little propeller blades looked to create a diameter about the size of my outstretched hand, and the thin wooden board perched across the hull that would be my seat was not too assuring, though I figured that if he used it as a fishing boat, it could surely handle my day trip. The previous day, I had scouted out the islands, walking South past the end of the beach to some exposed coral at low tide, gazing in awe at the small island nearest to the shore, covered on one side with greenery and palm trees and on the other side with a bright white stretch of beach, ending in a narrow point, contrasting nicely with the blue water. I dreamt of walking in solitude along the fringe of the island, exploring every corner of the small dot of land poking out of the tropical water, and all night I couldn't stop thinking of how the experience would be, still excited as I boarded the tiny wooden boat with Edos.

Our first stop was just at the end of the beach where we walked back into town with a few big water bottles and found the one man in town that has gasoline, storing a massive barrel of it on his front porch, scooping out just enough to fill our two 2 liter bottles. We walked back into the light green water and hopped in the boat, and I couldn't wait to reach the island. I was told that it is called Hoi Eu by the locals, though that's the Kei language, so I have no idea what that might mean. The white beach was quickly in our line of sight, getting closer and closer by the minute. A long, skinny hook of sand jutted out into the water, forming the beach that I had seen from the shore the day before. Moments before landing on the beach, I saw that it was certainly white, though the sand wasn't nearly as fine as I had pictured in my dreams, picking up a bit of debris and shells from the surrounding water. Even so, I hopped off the boat and got ready, though apparently Edos had misunderstood my plan or else I had miscommunicated it. I had thought he would just drop me off and come back to pick me up 8 hours later, but he anchored the boat and came along with me, which turned out to be helpful, as we walked down the first beach, and he then navigated me through the dense brush, leading to the other side of the island in about 5 minutes. Another clearing here revealed the second beach of the island, a half moon shaped bay backed by one or two palms and a few other small trees. Edos told me that he sometimes liked to come here after fishing and just lay out, leaving the world behind. Then, he left me, going back to get the boat and giving me about 30 minutes to sit in the shade and cherish my time on this island. The beaches and scenery weren't quite as perfect as on Pasir Panjang but just knowing that I (and Edos) was the only person on the entire island was a really special feeling.

After Edos came around with the boat, he told me that we were going to the next island over, known as Hoi Wa. This island was much larger and mostly uninhabited, other than a few small buildings on one tip that are actually the factories for the offshore pearl farms. The blue-green water in between the islands got a little choppy when the wind picked up, but it was a pleasant relief from the warm, tropical sun. As we circled the East coast of the island, we saw a few tiny patches of sand and eventually stopped at a rocky outcrop of hardened coral, relaxing here again and enjoying the views of the expansive ocean. Though I wasn't getting my deserted island experience exactly as I had planned, this impromptu tour turned out to be a great alternative, allowing me to see a lot more of the two islands. Edos told me a few stories about his life while he non-chalantly tied a rope around a fairly large rock that he dug out of the coast. Placing it on the side, I saw that he was using it as a counter-weight, since the boat had been leaning to the left the whole time aboard. I also saw that he had no rudder on the boat and had just been using a tiny wooden paddle that he'd stick in the water out the back of the boat. Along with my crude wooden slat for a seat, this was primitive, but it was all that I needed to get a taste of the islands. As the sun peaked in the sky, some dark clouds came out, and we decided that we'd better head back, content with a half day on the islands. We passed by the pearl farms and headed back for the beach, just as the rain started to come. Fortunately, the rain was fairly light, and it was only about 20 minutes from the little islands back to the main island. Back on shore, I thanked Edos for a great trip, and after a while, he eventually gathered the courage to ask for a bit of money for milk for his baby. Since he had only asked me to pay for the gasoline ($5) before, I was more than happy to give him a few dollars for milk and the wonderful tour.

Interestingly, my island tour was great, though the scenery and beaches were actually better where I was staying, conjuring up more than a few thoughts about always wanting what we can't have and trying to be content with what we do have. Even while I was truly in paradise, I was longing to be on the next island and then the next, based on incomplete images and far off views. So I realized that it was time to just sit back and enjoy my little piece of heaven in Pasir Panjang for a while, not worrying about what may or may not be around the next corner, so that was the extent of my plans for the next few days.

(The view of the South end of the beach from the warm, shallow, beautiful water just in front of my hut.)

(This whole shelf of blue water disappears during low tide, giving way to a huge beach.)

(This is the scenery of my dreams, so I never got tired of looking at it.)

(If you look really closely, you might be able to see a few locals in the otherwise deserted beach.)

(These are the pondoks that Beny made running along the row of palms backing the beach. I spent many days relaxing in these, staring out towards the ocean.)

(The one on the right was my secondary hut, which was nice because it had a bench in the back for support, and the one hidden in the middle of the picture was my preferred one, perfect for laying out and afternoon naps.)

(I made friends with Edos, a local fisherman, and he and I arranged a trip to a few of the surrounding uninhabited islands just off the coast. Here we are just about to arrive at the first stretch of white sand beach at Hoi Eu which didn't turn out to be as nice as it looked.)

(Walking through the forest for a few minutes with Edos' guidance, we came out on the other side, and this beach was absolutely mine for about 30 minutes while Edos went back for the boat, and we were the only two on the whole island.)

(As you can see, our boat wasn't anything fancy, just a wooden hull, two supports and a tiny, loud engine, along with my luxurious wooden plank that I used for a bench.)

(From Hoi Eu, we puttered across the beautiful water to Hoi Wa. Originally, I thought Edos was just going to leave me on one of the islands for most of the day, but it turned out that he wanted to give me a tour of the two islands which worked out quite well.)

(One of the many tiny, secluded coves of Hoi Wa. This island is almost uninhabited, with a few pearl farms on the South side being the exception.)

(Looking out from our boat, there wasn't much to see other than natural splendor.)

(After our second stop, Edos was in the process of tying a rope to a big rock to help balance out the boat on our ride back. The island tour was great, but I eventually realized that the perfect beach back at Pasir Panjang was about as good as you could get, so I'd be content with that for the next few days.)