BORNEO: Maratua, part 1, by @marc-allaria (translated from French)

vcelier (74)in #travel • 7 years ago

This is an authorized translation in English of a post in French by @marc-allaria: BORNEO - Stop #6 - Maratua part1...!

^{As my primary language is not English, there are probably some mistakes in my translation.}

Remember that the person who speaks here is NOT me, Vincent Celier (@vcelier), but Marc Allaria (@marc-allaria), a French guy.

MARATUA

Piroguier with baton

At the approach of Maratua, an Indonesian atoll located a hundred kilometers from the coast of Borneo, a small smile of satisfaction comes to me after a quick glance at my navigation instruments. Finally my charts are fake! I have been waiting for this moment since I left Papua New Guinea, where the charts had more than 5 km of error in the most remote places of the country. Since then, Asian charts are very often of irreproachable accuracy. A necessity due to the over-frequentation of its waters. This little piece of data, which would annoy more than one sailor, is for me the harbinger of a return to a remote corner where men might have left a footprint less visible than their neighbors to the north. The pass, unknown on my nautical charts, is in the place indicated on the pictures of Google Earth! It's time to re-enter the rhythm of a forgotten daily life since Melanesia.

Local mosque

The Approach

A little early, Aurora has been waiting off Maratua since the end of the night, waiting for the sun to light her way to the heart of the atoll. It is perched at the top of the mast, that I finally distinguish the pass, unknown of the charts. The current is worthy of that of a torrent, creating beautiful waves while the wind is nonexistent. In such moments, one would come to have faith, praying that the engine has not the bad idea to let go, here, now ... Without motor, Aurora would be thrown against the first reef like a vulgar drifting trunk. It is to wonder how the ancients did, at a time when pistons and rods did not exist yet ... The tranquility of the place gives me the feeling of having passed the threshold of a door, and to be returned in a perfectly relaxing room. A bed of soft sand has been erected to welcome the anchor, and the body of water assures me of nights without roll. Finally! A quick tour allows me to discover 3 small villages and some isolated islets on one of which a hotel seems to have been established. On both sides, I will find an adorable welcome and a precious help for my refueling and food.

* * * * *

A village of the world

Fishermen in action

The color of the flag changes, the language also, the shape of the boats is not quite the same, but in these remote villages, life remains the same whether one is in the Hermit Islands in Papua, the Cagayan Islands in the Philippines, or here in Maratua. The main activity is fishing. Some of the fishermen leave at night in the biggest boats, others, tightrope walkers, are specialists of the flats while standing on frail boats, the traditionalists start to row oar, and some opportunists try the net, trying to fling the fish with sticks in the water. In the village, the fish dries on the pontoon, the women are busy in the kitchens, some shops offer the necessities and the school transport boat comes back from the other end of the atoll where the only primary school is located. Which gives me my weekly dose of "hello!" in less than 5 minutes! Conversations revolve around my journey, the lonely condition of which astonishes everyone, and the atoll that I seek to know. These encounters are now legion in my journey, but I'm still not tired of them.