In Sengiggi we had purchased a through ticket from there on the west coast of Lombok all the way to Labuan Bajo on the island of Flores. It was the cheap and local way to do it, and though we would miss out on three days of coastal views, saltwater bucket showers and sleeping on a mattress on the deck of a wooden boat with 15 or so others, we thought we might see some scenery of the islands interiors. We estimated the trip would take about 25 hours.

For some unexplained reason, we had to get a shuttle van to the bus terminal an hour or so away at 10:30 am. We were dropped in front of a bank, then loaded into a taxi with a French tourist going to a totally different destination. At the Mataram bus terminal, we were told by Lil’, a thuggish young handler, apparently assigned to us by the ticketing company, that our bus wouldn’t leave until three rather than two as we’d been told. He also estimated the trip to be 27 hours, and that was from when the bus left this terminal, not the city we had been in in the morning. We spent the next three hours or so reading and people watching.  Lil’ returned once in a while to tell us rumors about people coming down with Dengue at our destination but to watch out for scammers trying to sell mosquito nets or fake malaria pills. Thanks.

The bus did, in fact, leave around three. There were four other tourists on the bus, a Swedish couple and two girls from Spain, along with mostly Indonesian men, and a few women and kids. It was surprisingly fast to get to Labuan Lombok, the eastern port, but it was there we came to a standstill. The next 4-5 hours were spent waiting for the ferry, watching buses, cars and people in front of us board, and seeing it sail again. The sun set, we got on and off the bus a few times, as did vendors. People bought water and fruit, snacks, or packets of chicken and rice wrapped in banana leaves.  At last, around 8, we were herded onto the ferry and the bus was loaded. The ferry was decent but basic, with a welcomed bathroom. The ride to Sumbawa Island took a little over an hour. A vendor on board gave a lengthy speech on the high quality of the belts, light-up rubber balls and flip-flops he had for sale.

Back on the bus it was clear the driver felt he needed to make up some time. He drove so fast it felt the bus might flip over around each turn. The other issue with the turns was the brownish water flying down from the ceiling vent if they were too sharp. Donny, on the aisle, only got wet feet, but the folks on either side in the row in front of us were not happy at all. The driver’s assistant tried unsuccessfully to hold a towel to the vent as we drove into the night. Sleep wasn’t easy, but at least we could recline a bit, unlike the Swedish couple behind us, who had a motorbike loaded in the space behind them, locking their seats in position. We awoke to a slapping on the side of the bus. The driver’s assistant was motioning about something to eat. It was just before 2 am. Must have been our promised included dinner. We had a plate of rice and spicy greens, reboarded and went back to sleep.

In the early morning hours we saw the fields, terraces and villages of Sumbawa fly by. Around 7 the bus came to a stop on the side of the road. Unfortunately it wasn’t a bathroom break, and no one wanted to get off. The bus wouldn’t start. They banged underneath, tried to push-start it, but no luck. Someone unloaded the scooter and rode off in search of a part. Still nothing. We saw an airport in the distance, and after a couple of hours in the sun, in desperation Donny and Jonas, the Swedish guy set off to see if they could get any info. No one on the bus could fill us in even as to where we were.

Unfortunately, before they returned people had decided to abandon ship. A few flagged down a passing car or motorbike. The rest were unloading their bags and putting them on another bus that had finally stopped. We refused to get on without the boys, so off they went. Minutes later they arrived in the back of a small pickup truck, no airline ticket, so we jumped in and tried to catch up with the new bus. We passed it 15 minutes later at the Bima bus terminal. Someone claiming to be able to speak for the bus company said that this is where the bus would have terminated anyway, and we would now take a minibus the rest of the two hour trip to Sape harbor. We also learned that this minibus was broken down as well, but it didn’t matter since the once-a-day ferry was long gone.

Once we arrived at Sape harbor we were greeted by a young man claiming to have the “cutest” hotel in town. We were forewarned about missing the daily ferry and having to hole up in Sape. We were told that there was absolutely nothing to do there and that was right on target.

After seeing the young man’s cute-enough-in-a-pinch hotel we dropped our bags and were way overdue for a meal. We were then shown to the “nicest” restaurant in Sape, a local warung. This building also housed a small convenience store and a newly established internet cafe. After seeing the number of flies on the meat parts and other unidentifiables in the glass case, we decided to order simply and went for some Indonesian favs, nasi campur and mie goreng. Oh, I almost forgot there was no beer to be had (the island of Sumbawa being pretty conservative Muslim), though we were so looking forward to a few after the journey thusfar.

We won the competition with the flies and finished our plates minus a few scraps and a couple chicken organs. After getting up to pay we finally realized why the old man outside had been watching us so intently. It wasn’t because we were “bule” and were strange looking. When we went to pay, he promptly sprang to life and finished the aforementioned scraps!

Bright and early we were on the ferry, bound at last for Labuan Bajo, the port on Flores Island. We sat in the first room we came to after the steep stairs from the vehicle hold below. It didn’t take long before a ship’s mate came by requesting an additional fee for “business class.” The room we were in, though basic, was a world apart from the open deck at the rear, where many ended up on the floor. We splurged and paid the extra $2 or so for a bench seat with a torn vinyl cushion rather than the excessive smoke and dirty chaos of steerage. It was worth every rupiah.

Nine very long hours later, we pulled into port. The journey ended up a total of 57 hours, one of those exhausting, trying experiences that softens with time and eventually (hopefully?) makes a good story…