Succour for Sukamade
However relaxed Yogyakarta may have been, it was still a relief to leave. The train there had passed through a lot of green and fertile land, and I do love watching the peasants up to their knees in mud, hard at work in their conical hats. This time the backdrop was mountain peaks shrouded in mist, or I should really say volcanic peaks. Unfortunately it was mist not sulfurous outpourings, that would have added a touch of excitement eh? Yet again I was impressed by the enormous variety of crops grown in any one place. Whilst I can recognize many of the crops I’m by no means an expert, some I thought were beans from a distance turned out to be cucumbers close up. At least my sometimes pitiful attempts do manage to give an indication of the diversity in agriculture here. Flat land is invariably dominated by rice, but only just in East Java, and large areas are by no means flat. (Photo: Dracula out in daylight - Suragang, East Java)
A jumbled uneven land limited distant views within a short time of leaving the city. It was too rough to create sweeping terraces of rice, what was grown was in small flat plots, between lumpy mounds. Not much land was wasted though, however rough the land became someone was managing to grow something there, if anything there was even more diversification. Smallholdings seemed the order of the day, wooden homes nurtured individual compounds, growing such a wide ranging assortment of fruit and veg it’s hard to see how they could fail to have a rich and healthy diet. However rough the terrain became someone was successfully growing one form of food or another. OK, there were more natural areas of woodland, which in itself is quite valuable. Wood is the main source of fuel to cook with, so a local supply is essential; it gets to be prohibitively expensive if shipped into the area. There was no evidence of wholesale clearing of the woodland though, everything appeared well balanced. (Photo: Caught in the open - Merubetiri National Park
, East Java)
Before too long the land settled down, becoming either flatter or more uniformly hilly, therefore more suitable for rice terracing. There were large areas of paddy but it didn’t dominate to the extent it generally does, maize and sugar cane were grown a few acres at a time. Rarely did I see unbroken swathes of mature rice heavy with grain, always a significant part of the arable scene featured corn or cane. Little of the work is yet mechanised, and there was no sign of animals either. It’s the wrong time of year to see oxen ploughing, but I saw a tiny tractor harvesting rice. There were a a lot groups of peasants cropping huge areas by hand, that was being done communally, so I assume they help each other out. Depending on which country, or even which region, the ethics of harvesting change. Of course in the farming collectives of China everyone pitches in for everything, there is no private ownership, of land or the produce. That isn’t the case in Java, it could be a case of receiving a portion of what you help harvest, or giving others the same sort of help they give you. (Photo: Heading back to sea - Sukamade, East Java)
For the first time the concept of a modern housing estate has been spotted. Modern as in western looking, and of uniform construction, row upon row of them, each group may have been slightly different but within their immediate environs exactly the same. More individual, bigger, and more elaborate houses flanked these. Like in the UK, where exclusivity wants to make a show of that privilege, which it can do really well by being within sight of the mundane and boring. And then there are the newly built village houses; rough and ready, of sloppy construction with no paint or even render. They’re not made to look good or impress anyone, they’re made to live in, fullstop. Which is a vast improvement on the shitholes many others live in, the railtrack dwellers, in their unbroken chain of grubby, grimey hovels. Coming into Surabaya city are some of the worst I’ve seen, it is terraced housing at it’s most terrible, if you lean out the train door you could almost knock on their windows. (Photo: Second nest of eggs for the night - Sukamade, East Java)
A nine hour wait for a connection in Surabaya was a drag, but had to be done; at least it gave me a 5am start from Banyuwangi. From there I was faced with a convoluted journey by minibus, bus, truck and motorbike taxi. At the end of that I’d hoped to finally reach the Merubetiri National Park, and a turtle project at Sukamade. This is off the beaten track, getting there is pretty much a hit and miss affair. At first my luck was in, I managed to find a bus going directly to Pessangaran. The hope from there was for a truck which goes into the national park once a day, and I got there in plenty of time. Trying to jump the gun I found another minibus going half the way there, I figured I could still get the truck from there if nothing else turned up. Sure enough, on reaching Suranang I was still hours ahead of the truck and in a position where I could afford to turn down the extortionate quotes for a bike taxi. With a four hour wait I was too restless to sit still for so long, so decided to start hiking in. (Photo: Odd looking critter - Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
Boy was it hot, and the first 5km was out in the open sun at mid-day. My presence pounding the broken tarmac at the heat of the day raised more than a few eyebrows. It also raised many a smile, and enquiries as to where I was going. They were kind about it, but obviously thought I was mad. A park ranger kindly gave me a lift the last km to the park gates; damn I thought he was going the whole way. He did offer to, but at a rate even more extortionate than the privateers from town. So with my full pack on, and daypack strapped to my front, I stubbornly set off again. It was bloody tough going, and that was at the start. Ironically I couldn’t have chosen a better method to get through the park. Not a single man made sound reached my ears, I heard nothing but the chittering of monkeys, bird calls and various insect noises. Before I ever saw them the monkeys would leap between trees, only the crashing of brush alerted me to their presence. Expert at hide and seek they stay perfectly still behind a cluster of leaves, peeking out now and again to check me out. If I pointed my camera in their direction they were off, as quick as a shot. Often the whole tree would awaken with a flurry of movement as a large troupe took flight. I got to thinking they were merely playing games with me, but in truth they are so shy it seems plain how unused to humans they are. (Photo: Caught in mid-jump - Sukamade, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
By the end of the 20km hike I was fit to drop, my calves were knotted lumps of muscle, my knees creaked in protest, and my hamstrings were as taut as bowstrings. I could barely find the energy to eat I was so knackered, after an unappetising bowl of plain fried rice I slumped and fell fast asleep. Only to be woken at 8.30pm by the guide for the nightly hunt for turtles on the beach. Sukamade is a special place, it’s renowned for high numbers of turtles coming to lay their eggs. There’s an astonishing amount, we sat and watched two excavate a nest and lay their eggs. The following day I wandered the length of the beach and lost count of the trails left by visiting turtles. How well run the project was impressed me, there is plenty of evidence of disturbed nests, but almost every night the staff collect hundreds of eggs for their hatchery. I do have thoughts on whether artificial hatching and release interfere with the natural process for the turtle to imprint the beach’s location and successfully return. No-one knows such things yet, and the crux of the matter is it’s better than leaving them to get predated, whether by animal or thieving poachers. (Photo: Hauling out the boat - Rajegwesi, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
Being an issue so close to my heart I gave a hefty donation when I left after two days. I had a great time there, though the food was atrocious and the facilities basic at best. The whole park is damned near deserted, and a pain to get to, unless you hire private transport. Neither on the way in or on my way out truck never actually turned up. Rain stops play apparently, though in all honesty the track in is so murderous it had me tripping and stumbling on my own two feet. Leaving, two local guys took me, and my overweight pack, out on their bikes. Our combined weight was too much for one bike, it kept bottoming out and lacked power to climb the steep cobbled trail. I’m glad they offered though, their price was so cheap I nearly doubled it, I could hardly believe they’d made it.But they did in amazing style, and dropped me in the very capable hands of a guy called Poer, the co-ordinator of a newly developing eco-tourism project in the village of Rajegwesi, not far into the park. 
Spending a few hours there was too little, but gave me enough of a glimpse to see it’s potential for anyone who wants to see a part of unspoilt Java. So far there is no tourism there at all, they’re in the process of preparing their first five Homestays in time for April. The beach is wonderful, it stretches endlessly away from the village. A variety of trips can be arranged and you’re more than welcome to visit the backyard sugar factories, wander through the paddy fields or help the fishermen haul their boats onto the beach (though I wouldn’t expect the same fee as the locals for doing so). I know this place isn’t easy to get to, but I’d recommend it to anyone, it’s worth the effort. Their emphasis is on charging normal prices and opening their arms in welcome to foreign tourists. There is as much or as little as you’d like, the national park is perfect for hikes, distant beaches can be reached by boat, and you can even camp there in total privacy. (Photos: Village life - Rajegwesi, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
However relaxed Yogyakarta may have been, it was still a relief to leave. The train there had passed through a lot of green and fertile land, and I do love watching the peasants up to their knees in mud, hard at work in their conical hats. This time the backdrop was mountain peaks shrouded in mist, or I should really say volcanic peaks. Unfortunately it was mist not sulfurous outpourings, that would have added a touch of excitement eh? Yet again I was impressed by the enormous variety of crops grown in any one place. Whilst I can recognize many of the crops I’m by no means an expert, some I thought were beans from a distance turned out to be cucumbers close up. At least my sometimes pitiful attempts do manage to give an indication of the diversity in agriculture here. Flat land is invariably dominated by rice, but only just in East Java, and large areas are by no means flat. (Photo: Dracula out in daylight - Suragang, East Java)
A jumbled uneven land limited distant views within a short time of leaving the city. It was too rough to create sweeping terraces of rice, what was grown was in small flat plots, between lumpy mounds. Not much land was wasted though, however rough the land became someone was managing to grow something there, if anything there was even more diversification. Smallholdings seemed the order of the day, wooden homes nurtured individual compounds, growing such a wide ranging assortment of fruit and veg it’s hard to see how they could fail to have a rich and healthy diet. However rough the terrain became someone was successfully growing one form of food or another. OK, there were more natural areas of woodland, which in itself is quite valuable. Wood is the main source of fuel to cook with, so a local supply is essential; it gets to be prohibitively expensive if shipped into the area. There was no evidence of wholesale clearing of the woodland though, everything appeared well balanced. (Photo: Caught in the open - Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
Before too long the land settled down, becoming either flatter or more uniformly hilly, therefore more suitable for rice terracing. There were large areas of paddy but it didn’t dominate to the extent it generally does, maize and sugar cane were grown a few acres at a time. Rarely did I see unbroken swathes of mature rice heavy with grain, always a significant part of the arable scene featured corn or cane. Little of the work is yet mechanised, and there was no sign of animals either. It’s the wrong time of year to see oxen ploughing, but I saw a tiny tractor harvesting rice. There were a a lot groups of peasants cropping huge areas by hand, that was being done communally, so I assume they help each other out. Depending on which country, or even which region, the ethics of harvesting change. Of course in the farming collectives of China everyone pitches in for everything, there is no private ownership, of land or the produce. That isn’t the case in Java, it could be a case of receiving a portion of what you help harvest, or giving others the same sort of help they give you. (Photo: Heading back to sea - Sukamade, East Java)
For the first time the concept of a modern housing estate has been spotted. Modern as in western looking, and of uniform construction, row upon row of them, each group may have been slightly different but within their immediate environs exactly the same. More individual, bigger, and more elaborate houses flanked these. Like in the UK, where exclusivity wants to make a show of that privilege, which it can do really well by being within sight of the mundane and boring. And then there are the newly built village houses; rough and ready, of sloppy construction with no paint or even render. They’re not made to look good or impress anyone, they’re made to live in, fullstop. Which is a vast improvement on the shitholes many others live in, the railtrack dwellers, in their unbroken chain of grubby, grimey hovels. Coming into Surabaya city are some of the worst I’ve seen, it is terraced housing at it’s most terrible, if you lean out the train door you could almost knock on their windows. (Photo: Second nest of eggs for the night - Sukamade, East Java)
A nine hour wait for a connection in Surabaya was a drag, but had to be done; at least it gave me a 5am start from Banyuwangi. From there I was faced with a convoluted journey by minibus, bus, truck and motorbike taxi. At the end of that I’d hoped to finally reach the Merubetiri National Park, and a turtle project at Sukamade. This is off the beaten track, getting there is pretty much a hit and miss affair. At first my luck was in, I managed to find a bus going directly to Pessangaran. The hope from there was for a truck which goes into the national park once a day, and I got there in plenty of time. Trying to jump the gun I found another minibus going half the way there, I figured I could still get the truck from there if nothing else turned up. Sure enough, on reaching Suranang I was still hours ahead of the truck and in a position where I could afford to turn down the extortionate quotes for a bike taxi. With a four hour wait I was too restless to sit still for so long, so decided to start hiking in. (Photo: Odd looking critter - Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
Boy was it hot, and the first 5km was out in the open sun at mid-day. My presence pounding the broken tarmac at the heat of the day raised more than a few eyebrows. It also raised many a smile, and enquiries as to where I was going. They were kind about it, but obviously thought I was mad. A park ranger kindly gave me a lift the last km to the park gates; damn I thought he was going the whole way. He did offer to, but at a rate even more extortionate than the privateers from town. So with my full pack on, and daypack strapped to my front, I stubbornly set off again. It was bloody tough going, and that was at the start. Ironically I couldn’t have chosen a better method to get through the park. Not a single man made sound reached my ears, I heard nothing but the chittering of monkeys, bird calls and various insect noises. Before I ever saw them the monkeys would leap between trees, only the crashing of brush alerted me to their presence. Expert at hide and seek they stay perfectly still behind a cluster of leaves, peeking out now and again to check me out. If I pointed my camera in their direction they were off, as quick as a shot. Often the whole tree would awaken with a flurry of movement as a large troupe took flight. I got to thinking they were merely playing games with me, but in truth they are so shy it seems plain how unused to humans they are. (Photo: Caught in mid-jump - Sukamade, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
By the end of the 20km hike I was fit to drop, my calves were knotted lumps of muscle, my knees creaked in protest, and my hamstrings were as taut as bowstrings. I could barely find the energy to eat I was so knackered, after an unappetising bowl of plain fried rice I slumped and fell fast asleep. Only to be woken at 8.30pm by the guide for the nightly hunt for turtles on the beach. Sukamade is a special place, it’s renowned for high numbers of turtles coming to lay their eggs. There’s an astonishing amount, we sat and watched two excavate a nest and lay their eggs. The following day I wandered the length of the beach and lost count of the trails left by visiting turtles. How well run the project was impressed me, there is plenty of evidence of disturbed nests, but almost every night the staff collect hundreds of eggs for their hatchery. I do have thoughts on whether artificial hatching and release interfere with the natural process for the turtle to imprint the beach’s location and successfully return. No-one knows such things yet, and the crux of the matter is it’s better than leaving them to get predated, whether by animal or thieving poachers. (Photo: Hauling out the boat - Rajegwesi, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
Being an issue so close to my heart I gave a hefty donation when I left after two days. I had a great time there, though the food was atrocious and the facilities basic at best. The whole park is damned near deserted, and a pain to get to, unless you hire private transport. Neither on the way in or on my way out truck never actually turned up. Rain stops play apparently, though in all honesty the track in is so murderous it had me tripping and stumbling on my own two feet. Leaving, two local guys took me, and my overweight pack, out on their bikes. Our combined weight was too much for one bike, it kept bottoming out and lacked power to climb the steep cobbled trail. I’m glad they offered though, their price was so cheap I nearly doubled it, I could hardly believe they’d made it.But they did in amazing style, and dropped me in the very capable hands of a guy called Poer, the co-ordinator of a newly developing eco-tourism project in the village of Rajegwesi, not far into the park. 
Spending a few hours there was too little, but gave me enough of a glimpse to see it’s potential for anyone who wants to see a part of unspoilt Java. So far there is no tourism there at all, they’re in the process of preparing their first five Homestays in time for April. The beach is wonderful, it stretches endlessly away from the village. A variety of trips can be arranged and you’re more than welcome to visit the backyard sugar factories, wander through the paddy fields or help the fishermen haul their boats onto the beach (though I wouldn’t expect the same fee as the locals for doing so). I know this place isn’t easy to get to, but I’d recommend it to anyone, it’s worth the effort. Their emphasis is on charging normal prices and opening their arms in welcome to foreign tourists. There is as much or as little as you’d like, the national park is perfect for hikes, distant beaches can be reached by boat, and you can even camp there in total privacy. (Photos: Village life - Rajegwesi, Merubetiri National Park, East Java)
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