You're Too Old Not To Throw It All to the Wind...in Indonesia

You're Too Old to Spend the Rest of Your Life on the Couch: Let's Adventure!

Our ship at sunset

If you can’t let it all hang out here, then where?

The sunset had been spectacular. They always are, barring big typhoons that is, out on the Bali Sea. Some 17,500 islands glitter like casually-scattered gems in all directions, all part of the island nation coveted by the entire world.

I was the travel writer on board a Balinese sailing ship, there to experience and write about the ten-day adventure for the owners.

By our second day, the other passengers had finally relinquished their phones and started to immerse themselves in the stunning beauty that is Indonesia. We were aboard a pinisi, the traditional, engineless trading vessel that was typically built and sailed by South Sulawesi's seafaring cultures in the 20th century.

The history of ships in this largely aquatic country goes back to 1412, when they were used to ferry over followers of the Buddha who were seeking enlightenment.

Our ship was a luxury affair, two-masted and engine-powered. If the winds failed us we could still putter through the turquoise waters to the next reef, the next island. Our talented chefs served up island fare and freshly-caught seafood.

Most of the people on the trip were older, somewhat staid. Most refused to join the local island kids when they grabbed a rope, swung way out and landed in the cooling waters of a local pond. They stood back and watched.

I swung out and landed hard, sputtering, surrounded by giggling kids. Finally one other man joined in. When did we choose to watch others have all the fun, instead of joining in ourselves?

That was the whole point, right? To be playful and live differently, even for a while. Way out here, lost among thousands of islands, who cares?

We would anchor off an island, then visit whatever awaited.

The majority of the folks on my trip were far more interested in the food than hiking the islands, leaping into the waters and finding reasons to laugh with the locals, who enjoyed our visits. We bought lots of their art, and that provided an income.

We follow a local child to the swimming hole

Finally it happened.

I think it was our third night. All I remember was that my bunk felt claustrophobic. I’d taken to watching each sunset from start to finish. The display was so lovely that I didn’t want it to end by going belowdecks into a closed room with no cross breeze.

It was too far away from all the magic. I wanted to immerse myself in it as much as possible.

Typical sunset on tropical waters

A closed room shut away the beauty of the night. What a statement that is about our willingness to experience all the awesomeness that surrounded us.

At night the Southern Cross blazed overhead. The clear, inky night sky suffered no light pollution. Every tiny asteroid, every circling satellite was part of the light show. We passed no other boats and the islands were hours and hours away.

Tonight’s the night.

Armed with a pillow and a light blanket, I constructed a little nest on the top deck. The main mast towered over my head. The mains’l was snugly wrapped for the journey.

Temperature was in the seventies. The boat’s constant movement prevented bugs from biting.

Belowdecks in the cockpit, the night captain had the ship on autopilot. The weather report was calm and balmy, so he found a book and a cup of tea. It might not have been tea. Then he quietly dozed off.

I checked, just to make sure.

I napped to the gentle rocking of the boat, the slight song of the wind in the shrouds.

Around 1 am, I woke up, as planned. Above, the main mast swayed gently with the movement of the great ship. On either side of the mast, ladders ran from the gunwale to the crosstree, nearly the at the top of the mast.

At the base of each ladder were signs with stern warnings to stay off.

Danger, they said. Well of course. What idiot wants to climb up that high on a moving ship, if you’re not crew?

Waves slapped softly against the hull. Fish leapt in pursuit or being pursued.

No islands, no boats, nobody around. Just the endless, eternal ocean, starlight winking off the waves.

Now or never.

Quickly I skinned off my bathing suit. The wind swirled across my bare breasts, raising goosebumps. I set my hands and feet on the ladder and climbed.

As the boat swayed, so did I. Slowly I climbed to the crosstree. The ladder twisted until I learned how to climb. At the top of the ladder I looped one leg around the main mast and found a comfortable position.

Breezes were blowing where breezes most assuredly don’t typically blow. I grinned, then stifled a giggle.

If the night captain decided to check the boat now, well… Depending on what was in that tea cup he might not believe his eyes.

As a guest of the company, if I’d been discovered, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

At that point I didn’t give a damn. My legs were securely placed. I leaned my upper body out and away from the mast, outstretched hands catching the winds, my hair flowing free.

I was sixty-five years old. Bare-ass naked, one leg wrapped around a sturdy mast, hanging my breasts out in the breeze. One-fifteen a.m. local time, somewhere on the Bali sea.

If not me, who? If not now, when?

Every so often I’d change position if my legs got tired. Once a curious gull flew close in, then disappeared.

I don’t honestly remember how long I stayed on top of the world. My world, at least, a fine pinisi ship cutting quietly through the crystalline waters of the Bali Sea, back in 2018.

Tears of pure joy streamed over my face, chased over my ears by winds which caressed paradise. I grinned until my cheeks hurt.

“Who gets to do this?,” I wondered. What a gift.

Suddenly I sensed a shadow move across the front of the deck. Movement in the cockpit. I unwound myself gently from the main mast, locked my hands and feet on the ladder and carefully made my way down.

By the time the night captain made his rounds on deck, I was curled up under my blanket, blinking back the tears.

The next day, our adventure continued, no one the wiser. But I had been transformed.

Not a family pet

We visited Komodo dragons, the final vestige of true dinosaur life on earth. Explored more islands. Saw where the pinisi ships were being built, an ancient art continued today for tourist trade, not the trade winds.

I suspect that many of my fellow travelers on that trip had a lovely time. After all, the food was great, the scenery stunning, the sun warm and restful. Still, they were over the moon to be back in port and back on their phones.

I’d have preferred to spend more time under the moon, high above the deck, wind ruffling my hair both above and below.

Out pinisi in the distance, heaven close up

Justin S. Bailey

writes Those Who Wander. He makes the argument for heading out, being curious and being committed to expanding our horizons.

Not all who wander are lost, writes Gandalf in a poem about Aragorn, or Strider. There is often great purpose at the heart of those of us who insist on chasing horizons, pushing boundaries.

Not all who take chances and push their boundaries are crazy, either. You and I can adventure. Some explore. Some stay close to the smorgasbord.

I know people who missed out on seeing the African animals they paid thousands to observe because they refused to skip breakfast. Then complained that they didn’t see the animals.

Others explore to scout the outer edges of their comfort zones deep within.

Not for everyone.

But it is for those who truly wander.

The world awaits us all. Where will you go next?

Let’s play.

the author, our ship in the bay in the distance

As we wind down 2024 and look towards 2025, what horizon do you want to explore? I am well aware that many of us are facing headwinds, myself included. That said, what part of that can we turn into a thrilling tale?

What horizons do you need to explore? Where do you need to feel the winds?

I hope you got pleasure out of this bit of memory. I sure did. If my work pleases you please support it. Thank you.