Paddlers explore the Queen of the Southern Sea

Text and photo by D. Iswandono

YOGYAKARTA (JP): As mankind's quest for new sensations grow, canoeing has turned spectacular. The southern shore along the coast of Java facing the Indian Ocean, with its mountainous beaches and threatening waves, offers a perfect setting for a canoe adventure.

Some amateur paddlers recently attempted what seemed like a meeting between two people's legends - that of the belief among Javanese of the Queen of the Southern Sea, Nyai Loro Kidul, and a French legend about the canoe itself, regarding the tale of men who made a pact with the devil to travel through the night sky.

So residents along Parangtritis beach in Bantul, Yogyakarta, were astonished one day in late January when a host of young men approached the beach with strange-looking equipment.

When one of them said they were planning to paddle 17.7 miles offshore in three and four-meter-long kayaks, the onlookers stared at the young men as if they were about to commit suicide.

However local authorities, though cautious about water sports in the dangerous waters, were eager to promote tourism, and had found it necessary to support the plan by the six members of the Yogyakarta Canoeing Club.

The expedition consisted of three to four hours of paddling from the Parangtritis coast to Baron Bay in Gunung Kidul regency, also in Yogyakarta.

Experts say paddling in the ocean can be compared to riding a wild animal - the canoe will buck, run, turn around - though paddling through waves can be fun once the proper technique is mastered.

The power of the waves is often underrated and most paddlers think they can just pierce through them - which is possible, but results in a total loss of momentum each time as the boat loses all its speed and needs to be accelerated again.

A paddler in the waves should take great care - when the bow pierces the thin top layer of water it will be stopped by the stationary water underneath which acts like a giant hand grabbing the bow, while waves keep coming, causing the boat to somersault, do an end-over-end and other stunts that paddlers enjoy.

Modification

The challenges faced by the Yogyakarta paddlers were obvious - the lone team member with adequate ocean paddling experience was the leader, Arief E. Rahmanto, and the kayaks were designed for rough river waters.

Arief said necessary modifications were performed by gluing a sheet of aluminum on certain parts of the kayaks to act as fins, to pierce breaking waves of four to five meters in height.

Arief said the best time to pierce the breaking wave zone is at noon, the time of the ebb tide.

Rip currents, he stressed, are what paddlers should worry about, and knowing how to recognize them, and when and where to expect them was vital to avoiding their dangerous strength.

The trip commenced at noon on Jan. 31, and included local rescue team personnel, three reserve paddlers and two photographers, including myself, in the leading landing craft rubber boat.

With great difficulty this first group of paddlers, led by Sugiono, succeeded in passing the first breaking waves, and about one mile from the shoreline they looked back.

The three impatient, kayaks following were soon seen bobbing up and down among waves, continuously surging at them in the opposite direction, while winds and a dark-colored sky marred the beginning of their venture.

In his blue kayak, Arief tried to paddle between Wewed in the red one and Gulis in the yellow, watching them with great care.

After a seemingly endless 10 minutes, the three canoes were past their first-ever waves and strained faces disappeared, together with a pleasant, comfortable-for-paddling breeze of nine to 11 knots.

But the dark clouds still hung over them, pushing the kayaks forward slowly.

Then, a few miles east of the starting point, one of the paddlers discovered his kayak couldn't move. In vain he tried to paddle faster to catch up with the others, who eventually waited.

It turned out they had underestimated the course of the current. The wind was blowing along with them but the current was in the opposite direction.

An examination of the kayak also revealed a broken fin - a time-consuming repair job, more so to the others who were beginning to feel dizzy.

The paddlers then began to vomit and the atmosphere turned sour. A quarrel broke out, albeit a short one, and we proceeded slowly to the finish line of Baron Bay.

We finally crossed it at 6:15 p.m., and the paddlers felt sure that their initial estimate of three hours less than the actual six hours was mainly due to incorrectly forecasting the current.

Not long afterward a host of Parangtritis residents arrived. They were relatives of the rescue team personnel, a carefully selected and well-trained group of men.

Obviously they did not know that, or did not trust the training - because for all their wonder at the suicidal young paddlers, now happy though dizzy, the locals said, "We came by motorbike to see if our relatives were safe."

It was understandable, however, given the fear and respect accorded the mysterious Queen of the Southern Sea, known to snatch sailors and swimmers at whim.