Unfortunately, soon after we lost sight of the island of Bali, we found ourselves on 'Lake Indonesia.' Our forecasted winds were nowhere to be found. Hundreds of miles from land in all directions, and there wasn't a wave, swell, or even ripple to be seen. The Java Sea was a sheet of glass, and we crossed almost all of it with our engine running.
One afternoon, we took a swim break. We stopped the engine, came to a stop, and jumped in (with someone on the boat at all times). It was very refreshing.
After another day of no wind, we decided to swim again. As Alan, Halley, Amanda, and I jumped in the water, Matt stayed on the boat. He went down below, but little did the rest of the crew know that he went to use the head (our toilet).
We have a pump that flushes the head holding tank into the water outside the boat (called the macerator). Hearing it turn on while in the water next to the boat is rather unpleasant.
As those in the water were all screaming 'Matt no!!' someone noticed two sea snakes swimming nearby, which made the mad dash for the ladder even madder. On top of that, the first person out saw a shark while there were still people in the water.
The shark turned out to be a remora and although sea snakes are poisonous, their mouths are tiny and they're just curious, so it was ok. Matt now knows not to macerate when people are swimming, and he was quick to point out that he did, in fact, save our lives.
With less than 100 miles to go in a crossing, we usually get antsy and excited to step on shore the next day. On this crossing, with 100 miles to go, little did we know that we wouldn't touch dry land for another three days.
Our windless 'Lake Indonesia' suddenly turned into the land of lightning squalls. Each afternoon, we would watch the tops of puffy cumulus clouds soar upwards and form the definitive anvil tops of cumulo-nimbus clouds. The bottoms of these clouds became dark, bands of rain developed, wind began to blow, and by nightfall, the lightning would begin. Sometimes the tops of the clouds would glow bright orange; other times impressive bolts would streak down to the water.
But all of them were silent; without any thunder.
We carefully watched each cloud and successfully (yet anxiously) plotted courses of avoidance. The lightning would continue until 1:00 AM, and then pick up again at 4:00 AM until sunrise.
On our final afternoon, the wind filled in with coming squalls, but being within 40 miles of our anchorage, we pressed on and thankfully were able to navigate the river at night and set our anchor at a reasonable hour.
We are all relieved to be in Kumai. However, our most recent crossing is a bold reminder of the old saying: "Calm seas do not make a skilled sailor."
In a few days we'll have to leave again. There's a weather window a week away that should be free of lightning squalls; however, another old saying comes to mind: "A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are for."