Sail Away, Sail Away

Experiencing the journey of sailing on a ship, with all the human stories within.

Amidst the chorus of voices, a symphony of sound resonates. It emanates from the exterior of the Motor Ship (KM) Bukit Raya, currently nestled in Kijang Port on Bintan Island, approximately 27 kilometers from Tanjungpinang, Riau Islands.

As I stepped into the wheelhouse—with the captain’s permission, of course—the clamor intensified. “Turn left! Slowly forward on the left! Right, go slow! Full speed ahead!,” and various calls that, for the most part, eluded my complete understanding. It appeared that the KM Bukit Raya was in the process of maneuvering to exit the harbor.

Earlier, this 1,000-type vessel (with a capacity for 1,000 people) arrived at Kijang Port more than 12 hours behind schedule, owing to barnacles affixed to the propeller blades, causing a slowdown in rotation. According to the crew, the barnacles clung to it because the ship had been docked for an extended period.

To clear the barnacles, three divers took turns descending to the stern’s lower part, submerging themselves while brandishing sticks with sharp knife-like ends, equipped with makeshift diving gear. The shouted instructions from the dinghy added a dramatic and suspenseful atmosphere to the scene.

The divers took approximately an hour to rid the propeller of those barnacles. Passengers waited, leaning against the deck railing — whether with annoyance or perhaps enthusiasm, as the divers’ actions left them, and myself, in awe. Consider it entertainment after the disappointment of the delay, perhaps that’s how they saw it. Some passengers even chose to disembark and observe the cleaning process from the edge of the dock.

As the siren sounded three times, it was time for the ship to depart. I, too, had the chance to witness the process of the ship maneuvering out of the harbor, right alongside the crew on the bridge. The level of complexity in this process never crossed my mind before, despite having been on ships of this size several times.

The one who shouted the most, of course, was the captain, Captain Ridwan Wijayanto. Each time, the captain’s friendly command was echoed by the mates, perhaps as a form of reconfirmation. Every command from the captain was then noted by a cadet (who also echoed the captain’s commands). It was quite a clamor!

Occasionally, the captain steps out onto the bridge to assess the situation ahead of the ship, then returns to the wheelhouse, examining various position indicators through an array of instruments. It’s not uncommon for him to reach for binoculars to ensure the safety of the ship under his command.

Meanwhile, behind the wheel, the helmsman — though appearing to maintain a casual demeanor — follows the captain’s instructions with a slightly tense expression. If instructed to turn right by a certain degree or given engine commands (full, half, slow, and so forth), he must comply. Obediently. No other option. In my thoughts, I contemplate that the fate of this ship — and its passengers — also rests in the hands of the man behind the wheel.

After about half an hour, the German-made ship, crafted in 1994, finally managed to navigate its way out of Kijang Harbor. The day was edging towards dusk. The cluster of islands in the distance slowly faded into the darkness. The sea breeze began to whisper, growing brisk. Chilly.

Captain Ridwan continued to guide the ship until the path ahead was declared safe. “The ship can also be on autopilot, just following the route we’ve previously taken,” he said, pointing to a monitor screen displaying the plotted course. I was fascinated.

I and around 500 passengers at that time were en route to Tarempa, Matak Island, in the Anambas Islands Regency. Some were disembarking at Letung Port, but the majority were headed towards Natuna Island. This is the route of KM Bukit Raya: Tanjung Priok Port-Belinyu-Kijang-Letung-Tarempa-Natuna-Midai-Serasan-Pontianak, finally docking at Tanjung Perak (Surabaya). It’s indeed a lengthy route. Under normal conditions, without obstacles like barnacles, the journey takes about two weeks.

From Kijang to Tarempa, my destination, the journey takes approximately 15 hours. I had envisioned various worst-case scenarios for this trip and the boredom I would face on the ship. Moreover, mobile phone signals were sure to be nonexistent. In such situations, I usually resign myself to the circumstances, choosing to move closer to the cafeteria area to watch television, nibble on snacks, and succumb to drowsiness.

However, slowly, there were a few hopes that this sea journey might prove enjoyable. First, I spotted a door with a sign that read “Mini Theater.” Eager for information, I intercepted a crew member (ABK) who happened to be passing by. “It opens at 7:00 PM, sir,” he said. That was good news. There isn’t much to enjoy in the middle of the sea during the night. It’s just pitch black. Quite different from the evening or morning, when you can marvel at the beauty of the horizon and the sunset.

As dinner time approached, just after Maghrib, passengers patiently lined up for their packed meals, neatly arranged in styrofoam boxes. The attendants in the pantry were bustling and efficient. I, traveling in 2nd Class, received my meal in the saloon (restaurant), alongside First Class passengers.

Andilan Samuel is the person in charge of the meal menu on KM Bukit Raya. He’s the ship’s culinary maestro (jenang). “Interior, cleaning, that’s my responsibility, sort of like the head of the ship’s household,” said the friendly man who was accompanying dinner at that moment.

Andilan, a graduate of a hospitality school, explained that the menu choices are rolled out every three months. This is done to combat boredom, especially for the crew on the ship. Raw materials are usually sourced from Surabaya or, depending on the situation, from wherever the ship is docked. “So, if we run out of ingredients, we go shopping. We just bought tomatoes here [in Kijang],” said Andilan.

In the kitchen, Andilan employs six cooks, all male. Unlike airplane menus, on Bukit Raya and similar large ships, meals are served fresh, cooked directly from the kitchen located at the rear of the restaurant. “We have a standard taste for the menu. But don’t expect us to serve sirloin steak or barbecue. We don’t have those.”

As the culinary maestro, Andilan also has to ensure that general services on the ship, including the condition of the rooms, are running smoothly. On this ship owned by PT Pelni (Persero), First Class rooms consist of one bedroom for two people and one bathroom.

Travelers looking to save money but still wanting a relatively quiet atmosphere can opt for 2nd Class, which consists of four beds in the form of two bunk beds and one bathroom. This is in contrast to the economy class, which comprises rows of beds in a large room with shared bathrooms.

On KM Bukit Raya, despite its apparent cleanliness, the toilets for economy-class passengers still retain an unpleasant odor. Additionally, the interiors appear somewhat dated. In the Class 2 cabin I occupied, the shower tap was broken, requiring me to use the tap from the toilet to fill a bucket for bathing. I also frequently encountered cockroaches on the beds — a task that remains on the to-do list for the ship’s culinary maestro.

After dinner, I wasted no time heading to the cinema. Inside, there were already about five people. Like any other cinema, it was pitch dark inside, with approximately 12 seats arranged in two rows. At the front, right in front of the 40-inch flat-screen TV, there were also mattresses. I wondered to myself, with a wry smile, what those mattresses were actually for. Perhaps for VIP viewers?

As I entered, the show was already underway. I was a bit late. The movie being screened was “3 Cewek Petualang” starring Julia Perez and Aura Kasih! Inside the cinema, the cool night on the ship turned into a “hot” one. I observed the faces of other viewers who were either seriously watching the film or perhaps just watching Julia? Only God knows.

The cinema is indeed one of the entertainment facilities on KM Bukit Raya. Passengers from 1st and 2nd Classes who enjoy singing — and are not shy to showcase their talents — can also enjoy another form of entertainment with karaoke in a room (restaurant). On some larger ships, live music entertainment is provided.

Do you enjoy sports? A ping pong table is available on the deck above the restaurant. “Actually, this is for the crew, sir. But if passengers want to play, they’re welcome,” said a crew member who was currently playing against a colleague.

On the deck stairs, two siblings were waiting their turn to try out the ping pong table. In their hands were ping pong paddles.

“Did you intentionally bring paddles onto the ship?” I asked.

The younger sister, an 11-year-old girl named Lesti Salsabila Rahma, nodded shyly. “She brings paddles everywhere,” Charles Manvel, her father, interjected. Upon further inquiry, it turned out that Lesti, affectionately called Acha, is a genuine table tennis athlete. Last year, she clinched the title of table tennis champion throughout the Riau Islands. In that championship, she even defeated opponents from age groups far above hers.

“She’s an overall champion, not just a kids’ level champion,” said the father, with a proud tone. When it was Acha’s turn to play against her older brother (who was also a fan of ping pong), my admiration overflowed. Her movements were relaxed, yet her shots were precise. With her small stature, her smashes were incredibly powerful.

Acha, who was on a sea voyage for the first time, was beyond delighted to discover that there was a ping pong table on the ship. “I didn’t know at first. I stumbled upon it accidentally,” said Manvel, who was heading back to Natuna.

From the CEO of PT Pelni, Sulistyo Wimbo Hardjito, I learned that in the future, sea vessels will not only be used as transportation but also as tourist ships. “The main problems with our maritime tourism right now are twofold: accommodation and accessibility,” he said.

Pelni aims to refurbish as many of their ships as possible to function as floating hotels, complete with more comprehensive entertainment facilities.

Tarempa is a small coastal village. Typically, it serves as a stopover for travelers heading to other small islands, approximately 1–2 hours away by fast boat, such as Penjalin Island, Dermawan Island, and Lansan Strait.

At the Tarempa dock, the water is crystal clear. Small fish, often sold at high prices as ornamental fish in big cities, swim freely here. However, it’s not just the natural beauty that I’m savoring in this village.

“Try entering a coffee shop and strike up a conversation with a few people there. You’ll be welcomed as if you were an old friend,” said Rusdi, a Tarempa resident who also works as the head of tourism promotion at the Tourism Office of the Anambas Islands Regency.

On the evening after we went snorkeling at Penjalin Island, Rusdi shared many insights about the customs of the Malay and Chinese communities in Tarempa. “There’s no sense of suspicion here. We Malays never feel envious of the Chinese newcomers, who are usually more prosperous. They get what they earn, and we get what we work for — that’s the principle of the people here,” Rusdi explained.

It’s not surprising that the crime rate in this village is so low, if not nonexistent. “The locals here are very welcoming to newcomers because perhaps these newcomers can bring benefits,” he added.

Rusdi also mentioned that the key to tourism lies in hospitality and goodwill. I’m not sure about goodwill, but Rusdi’s account of how the community treats newcomers in their village is indeed true.

I felt treated like an old friend.

Sea travel, with all its shortcomings, presents a unique romanticism. A friend once said that sea vessels are only for those who value time, who don’t want to be chased by the ticking hands of the clock.

During my 15-hour journey to Tarempa, I had even forgotten that I would be visiting a beautiful island. I no longer cared much about what I would encounter at the destination. Everything on the ship, including the snippets of life from some passengers and crew members with whom I had conversed, gradually became the destination itself.

The ambition of PT Pelni to revive ship tourism, turning ships into not just transportation but also a form of leisure, seems to echo my yearning for the power of maritime transportation. Indonesia is destined to be an archipelagic country, and that cannot be changed. Therefore, efficient maritime transportation can sew together the fragments of life of communities separated by straits and seas.

I recall the story of Tumisih, a woman I met in the fishing village of Senggarang, Tanjungpinang, a day before setting sail for Tarempa. Her facial expression appeared much older than her 40 years. Her hair had yellowed from the sun, lips were cracked, and her teeth were reddened from betel nut.

Fate brought her to Bintan Island, leaving her eldest son in Kediri, East Java. “It’s been maybe 10 years or more since I last saw Andy, my son. I’ve lost track of exactly how long. I miss him terribly, just want to see his face,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

Although she had her son’s phone number, she could never connect when she tried to call. “I can’t afford to buy a boat ticket, let alone a plane ticket. Kediri is very far from here,” she explained. She then asked me to take her photo and requested that I send it to her son in Kediri. She also entrusted me with her phone number so her son could contact her later. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to fulfill this request due to a lack of contact information for her son.

Tumisih, separated from her child by the sea, serves as an example of how affordable sea transportation not only plays a crucial role in showcasing the diverse potential of Indonesia’s rich maritime tourism but also in connecting lives within its communities.

From Tarempa, KM Bukit Raya slowly departed from the dock, heading towards its next stop. Just as it sailed away at dusk from Kijang Harbor more than a dozen hours ago, from Tarempa, the small ship set sail as the sun dipped below the horizon. I could only watch it move slowly, imagining the bustling activity on its deck.