Coral triangle

Ten of us shared the cost of motoring out to Hatta Island this morning, an hour east under cloudy skies.

When we glided to a stop just offshore I looked over the boat into a huge coral drop-off descending into the blue abyss. The water is so transparent the visibility must have been at least 30 or 40 feet down. Under the water a school of Napolean wrasse lumber by like buffalo on the reef edge. Shimmering neon blue schools of trigger fish dance in the open water beyond. And the wavy lines and fantastic designs of so many coral species hypnotizes the eye.

Over this drop off I cannot help gawking in amazement at the geologic wonder of the islands, risen up from great depths. Like an immense volcanic pimple jutting from the Earth's crust and breaking the sea surface. Along these drop offs I was lucky enough to glimpse sea turtles gliding slowly by, big snappers, wrasse, and bright green parrotfish munching the corals. Schools of delicate yellow tipped angel fish, damsel fish, bright colored gobies, and innumerable other curiosities crowded my swim mask. In the shallow waters over the reef I saw many wonders also, including bright green mandarin fish, some of the most flamboyantly colored fish on the reef.

I think my favorite though was chancing upon a wrasse "cleaning station". These small neon blue fish dart here and there at passing fish who willingly open their mouths and expand their gills. The small wrasse then gives them a good cleaning, picking off dead scales and ridding them of parasites. In biology this sort of relationship is called a mutualism and both species involved benefit. Until now I had only seen such things on nature documentaries on the distant comfort of a couch. Wow!

Returning to the surface I climbed on board the top railing of the boat to laze in the sun. The sea all around us is dead calm. I used to read about sailors who would navigate these latitudes long ago and the days, weeks, or months that would sometimes pass stuck in these calms. Here in the so called horse latitudes they call those calms "the doldrums". During that wind driven era of sea travel such calms could mean death. The many sailing stories of old come to life for me here now as the boat rocks gently on these sleepy, torpid waters.

Pulling up on a fine sandy beach for lunch I met a local man and his son harvesting nut-meg in their forest grove. He invited me over and offered me a clove cigarette. I tried to communicate in the little Indonesian I know and though poor, he seemed to appreciate the effort and smiled. He showed me their nutmegs and motioned back along the beach to show me the direction of his home. I invited him to join us and he stayed on the beach with us for a while talking with the Dutch - Muluku expat couple who spoke Bahasa fluently.

Later I tiptoed through the shallows of the beach testing the buoyancy of the sea water and hunting for shells with my toes in the sand. Soon some of the others joined me and we had a beautiful collection of unusual shells. Chancing on a small drifting tree branch I peered closer to discover a small, perfectly camofluaged green sea horse! He blended in so well he was nearly invisible, clutching the branch with his tail and slowly swimming with it in tow with tiny whirly back fins. I was awed - I can't stop saying it, but everything about the Banda Islands was pure magic.

When we returned to Allan's later that afternoon I felt so blessed and happy for being here. Another fine dinner followed, cooked by Allan's wife. My friend Abu came to join us along with Ayu and Chinta, two new friends from the local school. We ate four fresh tuna that Abu and I had haggled for that morning at the fish market. Along with egglplants, rice, and plenty of sambal chili it was again, delicious. After dinner Ayu helped us practice with our Indonesia, and Chinta asked Stevie to help him learn French. I think Ayu has a crush on me. It is all very sweet and lovely here.