Magnificent Muna

Muna Island, South East Sulawesi, Indonesia

I could not believe my luck. I was at last traveling on the midnight boat from Kendari, South East Sulawesi’s dour capital, to the islands of Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim: Muna and Beton. We left at midnight. Initially the boat passed through very rough seas as it made its way onto open waters before turning south to where a sheltered strait separated the islands of Beton and Muna.

I had elected to sit up on the prow. The decks were barely one and a half meters high. Those who knew—the locals—had all bought their mats and rolled them out to sleep on the long journey south to Raha and Bau Bau, the main ports on the two islands.

I love traveling on boats – as long as the sea is calm. Once we got into the lee of the island, the ship glided through the water as if it was hovering on a silken carpet. The phosphorescence from its wake wafted on either side. The full moon shone with so much light that I could read my book had I wanted to, but I did not want to read or sleep.

The whole scene was surreally beautiful as we quietly floated towards Bau Bau.

At least that was my destination, but when we pulled in to Raha just before dawn, for some reason, I decided to get off and look around Muna Island instead. While drinking some coffee at a warung, I asked about some caves I had heard about on the island. Muna Island is a massive limestone formation, over one hundred kilometers long.

On the eastern coast, huge caves have been formed by a combination of erosion and collapse as the sea clawed its way under the surface of the island.

About fifteen kilometers south of Raha is Napabale Lake. I had heard that it was connected to the ocean through a tunnel.  I had also heard that it was dangerous to try and swim between the lake and the sea as the high tide leaves very little breathing space if you get caught en route! Anyway, I thought they could be anywhere up to a kilometer apart, so I had no intention of swimming. But nonetheless, a quick look would not hurt me.

I left my bags at a local hotel and said I would be back that evening. I asked around and found out where to catch a bemo to the lake. In Indonesia, if you ask for transport, it usually appears! It did. Within minutes! The bemo dropped me outside a rural house and the driver nodded at a path. (Indonesians do not point: they indicate!) I followed the path.

As is so often the case in Indonesia, a person emerged and demanded money to allow me in. What choice did I have?

When he discovered I spoke Indonesian he waived the charges and we chatted away as if we had always been friends. He offered to take me to the lake. I wondered at the cost but he assured me it would be free. That was fine with me, but I have heard that story before.

I was proved wrong on this occasion. He took me to the lake, untied his canoe, which was barely fifty centimeters wide and about three or four meters long and paddled towards a cliff face.

Just when I thought we were going to crash into the rock wall of the sunken lake I saw a low cave. The top of it provided less than a meter between the surface of the water and the top of the cave.

We entered the cave. We kept entering the cave! I realized that we were in one of the tunnels I had heard about. The more we paddled in to the tunnel the lower the ceiling became.

My guide paddled, I fended off the tunnel! I was largely successful but I did get a nasty bang at one point! The tunnel was barely a hundred meters long, but to burst out at the other end into a pristine bay was spectacular indeed. The ocean rolled gently in through scalloped headlands and the round bay was ringed with a sandy beach. It was truly beautiful.

We got out of the canoe and my guide collected a couple of coconuts. No! I did not have to pay for them! This was the early 1980s, remember? Few knew about the place and the locals had not yet worked out how much they could really get out of the tourists.

We relaxed and chatted on the beautiful beach when he suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted.

‘Quickly! We must get back. The tide is coming in!’

It was indeed! I looked at the tunnel. The gap was now far less than a meter. I hoped he could paddle quickly. As he was going with the tide, we made it.

I had to lie flat down in the canoe! I was slightly alarmed. Not overly. Just slightly! Visions of being drowned in a tunnel in Muna flashed through my mind.

But then, I have always been one for visions!