Passage to Indonesia — Part 5 Arrival

Leaving Enu, the boat still had issues. 

(Click here if you missed part 4)

Not loud ones, just enough to keep us paying attention. The engine sputtered and cut out shortly after we weighed anchor, a signal that immediately erased any illusion that we were finished troubleshooting. Fortunately, we were still in shallow water. We dropped the anchor, bought ourselves time. We had changed the filters while at anchor, and bled the air, as usual from the fuel lines. Obviously we had not cleared all the air out from both filters. 

Success

Until it happened again.

And again.

Each time, the routine became more practiced: anchor down, engine off, tools out, filters swapped, air bled, hands smelling of diesel. Between attempts, there was patience instead of panic. We had learned that much, at least.

Eventually, the engine settled into a steady rhythm, and this time it stayed there. We were finally on our way.

As the day faded, the sky took over. The sun set cleanly, and beyond the horizon lightning flickered, far enough away to be harmless, close enough to be impressive. Bolts stacked on top of one another in the distance, lighting up entire sections of cloud. It was New Year’s Eve, and having lived through a lightning strike (you can read about it here) I decided to pretend the display was fireworks, celebrating the New Year. 

It was the longest firework display I had ever seen. Ten to twenty miles off to the side the sky lit up. Lightning strike after lightning strike, going on for hours. Fortunately it was far enough away to not cause much additional anxiety.

Thanks to Starlink, I spent part of the evening wishing friends and family a Happy New Year long before midnight reached them. It felt strange and grounding at the same time, hovering between years, between countries, between ocean and land.

By the time we reached the passage leading up to Tual, there was plenty of light. Enough, at least, to see what the charts had warned us about.

Fishing devices were scattered about.

These structures were scattered throughout the waterways, with small boats coming and going from them.

Floats, lines, markers, some obvious, others barely distinguishable from the surrounding water. Even in daylight, it demanded focus and slow progress, eyes constantly scanning, the boat threading carefully through a working landscape that was very much alive.

When the engine faltered again, because of course it did, we found ourselves drifting briefly in the shipping lane, engine silent, watching our distance from shore and other boats while we changed filters yet again. It wasn’t dramatic. It was precise. And once more, it worked.

The first smell of land reached us almost immediately, new and unmistakable. The air itself felt different as we entered the waters of the Spice Islands. There is always a different smell when approaching land after an ocean passage. This smell was a new one to us, sweet and spicy, hinting of new experiences to come.

We anchored in the busy working harbor of Tual, feeling wrung out but steady.

Because we arrived on a holiday, we were required to remain on board for two days, waiting for quarantine, customs, immigration, and the harbor master. The yellow Q flag went up, and with it came a strange pause. We were in a new country, but not yet of it.

We could see local boats passing by. We could hear the call to prayer from a nearby mosque. But the streets, the people, the language, the textures of daily life, all of that would have to wait. Discovery was delayed.

For now, what mattered was stillness.

The anchorage was calm and well protected. The boat didn’t move. The engine stayed quiet. After days of vigilance, problem-solving, and listening closely to what the boat needed, there was nothing left to adjust.

We had crossed to Indonesia from Australia.

And at last, we were still.

Rhapsody flying her new Indonesian courtesy flag

More comes next.

But this part, this long stretch of water, is complete.