2013 Tour de Bali - Rest day 1

Tulamben

Remote luxury

After being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, and the soft caress of the tropical night air we find ourselves on our first rest day with nothing to do, and plenty of time to do it. After breakfast we head into town to check out the local scene… there is no local scene!

The coast road splits Tulamben down the middle into a strip about one building deep on either side, and the main and possibly only industry is SCUBA diving and its associated services. There is a market every third day a little to the west of the town, which services the locals. When we rode past it yesterday it was finished and looked dry, dusty and rudimentary.

After scoping out somewhere for tonight's dinner, we went back to the hotel complex for the day's activities. By renting snorkelling gear: mask, snorkel, booties and fins, for the princely sum of $5 each for the day, we have set us ourselves up nicely for a day of exploring the undersea world at our doorstep.

I head off to check out the wreck of the USS Liberty, while he has his second massage in a little over 12 hours.

As I swim out toward the wreck, the sea floor littered with black volcanic boulders drops away and disappears just before the hulking wreck looms up from the inky depths. The feeling is quite bizarre; one moment you are floating adrift from all that is safe and normal in your world, yet when you see the stern of the wreck only a few metres below the surface you feel re-connected, a little safer. You can't rest on it, and it would be no use to you if you were floundering, (do you see what I did there?) but you do feel strangely safer. If you lift your head above the surface you can be alone in the big sea and the shore even though only 50 metres away, seems to be no help at all. Two completely different worlds, separated by the surface of the sea.

When I head back to the hotel exhausted from the exhilaration and physical effort, I find him still being oiled and rubbed by his nuggetty masseuse. Upon completion of his daily ritual we both head out to the wreck again. This time there are dozens of SCUBA divers on the shore preparing to swap this world for the ocean depths. I know you can't survive for more than a few seconds under water without some external assistance, so I find it interesting you can capture a little of the airy world, strap it to your back, and use it to survive in the watery world.

This time as we swim out to the USS Liberty wreck we float above some divers, their air bubbles released from the high pressure purgatory of the tank desperately racing to the surface. Some bubbles are few and large, like silver jellyfish; others are small and many like mercury spilled from a broken thermometer. Either way, while floating above the void, you can intercept their mad dash to the surface in some kind of weird reverse gravity air shower. We head back for lunch and a rest.

On the third dive of the day we forego the beauty of the wreck for the famous drop-off. Because the sea is calmer closer to the drop-off, we walk most of the way around the curve of the little Tulamben bay before plunging into the briny. The walk is difficult for westerners with soft namby-pamby feet as the beach is littered with black volcanic rocks varying in size from peas to basketballs. It is a pleasure to flop into the water and take the weight off. As we approach the drop-off and the sea floor steepens, we swim through a school of fish - maybe 300 in number - unperturbed by our presence, calm with their safety in numbers defence.

Above the drop-off, coral encrusted lava harbour an almost infinite variety of spectacular fish. Every time you look there is another with more vivid colouring and bizarre markings than the previous. It is like they all took LSD before playing with their mother's makeup. When you get to the drop-off, the feeling is like approaching the USS Liberty in reverse, at first you feel safe in the knowledge that the sea floor is only 3 metres below you, then it is gone and you are floating above an indigo abyss, pierced by shafts of sunlight which never reach anything solid. There are divers down there somewhere, because again I am bathed in their bubbles.

I forego the rough beach walk to the hotel, deciding to swim the whole way back. Thankfully it is not a trudge, but full of unexpected pleasures. I see more and varied sea life, Red Lionfish, Philippine Butterfly fish, Pipefish, and Angelfish, tiny 3 phase electric blue fish, Bump-head Wrasse, fish with uranium yellow markings, most tripping out of their tiny pesce little minds in their crazy makeup. I notice a trio of Clown fish hiding in a sea anemone and make a mental note to call Pixar. I found Nemo!

For reference, there is a coral garden in front of the Mata Hari Hotel well worth a view.

When I get back to our digs he is again in the clutches of his masseuse, manipulated by her strong little hands. That's three massages inside 24 hours!

Before dinner we head to the temple on the headland at the end of the bay. We had seen it from the water when we were diving at the drop-off, and were keen to check it out. Inside there are a couple cutting grass for their cattle. Their hard, twisted, leathery-skinned bodies tell the story of a life of hard graft for little reward. They nod and grunt at us as we take a few photos of the temple, headland, and sweep of the bay. The irony is not lost on us.