Goodbye Sumatra, hello to something else entirely

we accidentally sailed up to an erupting volcano

I was tired when I woke up. It was our last Sumatran morning, the air was thick, canopied skyline and green water. We’d traveled 600 miles in the last week to finally reach the Sunda Strait, the heavily trafficked stretch of water between Sumatra and Java. It had been a long few days of squalls and watches, and I raised the anchor half asleep. Torren steered us out of a small bay where we’d slept the night and set our heading. The kettle whistled as we headed offshore (pandanus growing wildly down cliff edges, fig trees overgrown with fern, broad-leafed keruing, herons), and away from Sumatra for the last time. Sumatra, and I felt suddenly overwhelmed at having to say goodbye. Flashes crossed my sunburnt mind: “Hello mister!” shouted from every corner, sunbeam smiles, huge and honest. Scooter horns blaring, and cold food served on hot plates, with handfuls of rice and coconut and clove. Phosphorescent midnights in the mangroves, watching for crocs. Tiger jungles, mystic daydreams, bua…