Leg Two

I write from Reggae Mansion in Kuala Lumpur (capital of Malaysia), our swag downtown hostel for the next three nights. We are taking a brief Internet break so this will be a short post, but I thought I'd quickly post our travel schedule for the second leg of our journey: DG -> Singapore -> Kuala Lumpur -> Bali

Friday, October 28, 3:15am (DG time): Fly military C17 Diego Garcia - Paya Lebar Air Force Base, Singapore, arriving 10:15am Singapore time
Saturday, October 29, 8:45am (Sing. time): Board train Singapore - Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, arriving 3:00pm KL time (same as Sing.)
Tuesday, November 1, 11:00pm: Board overnight sleeper train KL - Singapore, arriving Sing. next day at 6:45am
Wednesday, November 2, 4:20pm: AirAsia flight Singapore - Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia, arriving around 7pm I think

We are about to head out into KL to check out a few quick sites and grab some local chow. Then our hostel is having a Halloween fajesta tonight, so we'll check that out. New currency is Malaysian Ringgits. We will see what the next three days here bring us... nothing planned for now save a list of some interesting places to check out (e.g. Petronas Towers, Batu Caves, orchid gardens) and a courtyard full of people to meet. Let the games begin.

Hostel beds in 16-bed dorm.. Adam bottom right, me bottom left, James in the penthouse

View from rooftop bar

-Gavin

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

Yes, I did steal that quote. And no, we did not eat any fish. Yes, there is seafood on Diego Garcia, but no, it is not locally caught (so we’re told).

Where to begin...

fun in the sun after being bumped a day (10/3)

I think that we’ve bragged enough about our enchanted coconut forests, the magical lagoons, daily doses of windsurfing, haunted plantations, the boss crabs with their swag, and the chatty Kathy birds, who apparently don’t go to sleep. So I’ll curb mention of ray chasing by paddleboard, shark scouting from the island depths of Turtle Cove, and feral sterile donkey riding (if you have to ask, you can’t afford it).

Well, it went very, very fast, and in the best ways possible. We’ve basked in the joys of being disconnected from society (mostly – at least no cell phones ringing). Knowing what we were getting ourselves into, we embraced rolling out of bed, fixing a quick cup, and getting out and comfortable with nothing but the milky way lighting the road (and a Jupiter here and there to help out). The shift work was great, and we all took on the duty of DYNAMO balloon launcher like it was our own little experiment. We experienced a good deluge, Seattle-style spray with nothing but grey, and the ever-sought-after blue with as much blue coming from above as from below our feet. And though we usually had the water beneath us, we were ALWAYS thinking about our thesis work, we promise.

hanging out with the Fodies

Many a balloon was launched and many a Pam was sprayed. I think a little explanation is called for here. So, if you go high enough, even down here at hot and humid 7°S, you get to the freezing point – usually around 4 or 5 km up. What happens there (pretend you’re a weather balloon): provided there are rain droplets (AKA cloud), you get iced up, iced up some more, until you become heavy enough that the buoyancy of the helium can’t keep you afloat and you begin to sink back down. But wait, it’s warm down here, so yes, the ice melts off, and finally you can begin to ascend again. We’ve watched at the computer as balloons bobbed around this “freezing level” (clever, isn’t it?) some 5 times before it either harvests the courage to break on through and continue on up or succumbs to the stresses of the cold world above and bursts.

I told you this place was enchanted!

Now, back to the Pam. It was rumored before we departed the department that Pam spray – yep, the cooking oil – could be used for its hate-of-water-ness (hydrophybia) to prevent icing on balloons. Diego Garcia clerk: “No Pam here, Bill of New Zealand.” Bill of New Zealand: “No Pam?! Ouy, let’s try some olive oil. Cheers!” So extra virgin olive oil it was. Starting from early failed attempts of boringly applying with a paper towel (me), all the way to getting down and dirty with the bare hands to “assure that it was completely lathered up like a greased pig” (Gavin), to “I’m just going to try letting the balloon go without the instrument pack this time.” (Won’t name names here, I don’t want to get Gavin in trouble.) We tried it all. We called it Field Olive Oil Deployment (FOOD), and boy, what a delicious campaign it was. Let’s get some professors out here next time for these fun activities!

Carlos earning his Balloon Launch Merit Badge

Well, the newbies are in, and the torch has been passed. All of yesterday was spent watching the new folks rig up the balloons themselves, from start to finish, with us being there only to provide tips. They’re already rolling on their own, and taking care of business. Today was our day of relaxation, which included some racquet ball, ping pong, a special celebratory din-din at the local fine dining spot, and a final goodbye to our good friend Carlos, or Charlos, or Charlie, who many of you will fortunately get to meet in the near future.

a couple of sunrise shots on our way out

Happy to say that I’m writing you from my comfy seat in the skeletal, infamous, surreal USAF C-17, as Gavin and Adam sleep the soundest of soundly to the hum of the engines (find videographic evidence below). It’s 4:45 a.m., our time, so I guess that means I have to start calling tomorrow today.

Now for our highly anticipated backpacking leg of the journey. We’re off to find this restaurant we hear of at the end of the universe. With that I leave you to the soothing sounds of the C-17 and some sleeping beauties.

- Jame’s R, the band (coming to an island near you)

P.S. The bit about the sterile feral donkey riding was just a tease, but we hear it's a riot.

Plantation

As we discussed in a previous post, Diego Garcia's original inhabitants were here until the late 1960's. From the mid-1800's up until then, they (with a French initiative) ran a peaceful and successful coconut industry on the island, exporting as many as four million coconuts per year. Yesterday, with the permission of the British Representative on the island, we were lent the key to the gates of the dirt road that leads to the abandoned remains of what used to be a thriving plantation community of 1,100 Chagosians.

The paved road ends about 19 miles outside of town, and from there it's another three gates and 11 miles of bumpy trails. We went in one of our field project's pickup trucks, and were also accompanied by our friend Carlos, the one who works as a linguist here, who was able to show us what he knew about the plantation. If the atoll were a clock, the plantation would be at about three. We traveled counter-clockwise from the eleven o'clock position to get there. We were hoping to make it all 37 miles to the other tip of the island too, but the trail became impassable about 4 miles from the end.

The road

On the way there we passed the feral donkeys and massive coconut crabs, and at times the atoll was so narrow that you could easily see both the lagoon on your left and the ocean on your right.

 

Entering the plantation

The plantation was utterly mystifying. Almost all that remains is concrete, and all is silent and overgrown. It was made especially haunting by the fact that we were the only ones there; I've toured other ruins before, but they were overrun with tourists just as eager as me to try to understand a forgotten culture. The jungle and whispering breeze breathed in on us as we walked through building after mossy building, many now entirely canopied.

Capra drying house

Anonymous jungle residence

Another

Plantation manager's house

Inside

Coconut/palm processing facility of some kind

"Gaol"

Plane crash from WWII

The old pier and loading dock

It would be hard to describe the sort of sobering fascination this experience gave us. I could've spent hours strolling through the lost columns and walls, imagining an era. It's possible to camp out there as well, although we were regrettably short on time left on the island. It would be a truly incredible experience I think, to lay among the palms and pillars and look up at a piercing deck of stars and the soupy stripe of the Milky Way, completely unadulterated by light pollution.

Also during our time on this side of the island we checked out the military's R&R site, which utilized another old plantation cabana-type building farther north as shelter and had a pavilion, barbecue pit, and (submerged) volleyball court for groups to take time off from the other side of the island to enjoy. We also stopped at Turtle Cove before reaching all the gates, which is an area at the southern terminus of the island where the ebb and flow of tides in the lagoon leads to veritable rivers of seawater moving inland and back, much like the Bay of Fundy. From the little wooden platform there we saw sea turtles, crabs, and all kinds of fish. Adam had put his sandals behind the truck when we parked, and then when we returned thirty minutes later the incoming high tide had washed them "upriver".

Platform at Turtle Cove

Our faithful steed newly encompassed by water when we returned, Carlos laughing, and Adam somewhere behind the cameraman searching for his flip-flops

Carlos told us that all over the island the effects of the rising sea-level are being noticed. There are no more deep expanses of beach to use, just thin strips along each side. The volleyball court at the R&R site was partially underwater. The dirt trail we were on near the plantation was practically below sea level at some points, kept from complete flooding only by narrow banks of dense growth. And Turtle Cove continues to ebb farther and farther inland, around palm trees, old signs, the road.

Volleyball posts at the R&R site

The island will suffer one of two fates. Either the sea level will continue to rise at such a pace that eventually it will be too much to combat, and the island will succumb to the new climate man has created... or, the sea level will remain manageable, the American military will choose not to renew its contract on the island, and it will likely become commercialized. After having really gotten to know the island and its history, especially after yesterday's experience at the plantation, I think that either would be a truly sad fate.

For now, we will sit, watch, and absorb the island's beauty in the here and now. Departure in two days. We may never return, but if and when we do, Diego Garcia will not be the same.

- Gavin

Launch Lapse

Time lapse of one of our balloon launches: http://youtu.be/RBUc0V7v8f4

Patrons

I watched tonight's sunset from the "Short Pier" just west of our barracks on the Indian Ocean. It was particularly stunning due to its inclusion of nearly every type of cloud. Even gravity waves. And Jupiter right before the cut. YouTube link: http://youtu.be/Pb6s-vKwFKw (pardon the switch to the low-light setting at the very end)

We continue to check out new places on the island, including Mene Gene's Burgers, the cannons, the 300-seat pavilion where they show a different movie every night at 2000 (and 2200 on weekends), and the Officer's Club for brunch. There are usually exactly zero people at each of these places (we have yet to see a single other person at MGB, only ever seen one other guy watching the movie, etc.). It's even rare to see someone else at the pool, or at the marina wanting to sail, snorkel, or windsurf. This leads to a strange aura of maintained abandonment about the village part of the island. Perhaps sort of like an overzealous and under-frequented Great Plains roadside attraction. We posit that the Navy (specifically the MWR Office as Adam discussed in the previous post) keeps these places open and staffed regardless of patronage. Intriguing...

And now for your biweekly installment of semi-relevant photos:

The pool (and oddly enough, one of the highest points on the island - they built up the land instead of digging it out to diving board regulation depth)

Public transportation for the contractors

The Navy's "Ship Store", the large general store with better business ethics than Walmart

British Police HQ

A typical Golden-Corral-style meal at the Mess Hall

-Gavin

Shred the Gnar

During our residence on the island, the favored downtime pastime has been windsurfing.  According to the locals, we are presently exiting the "windy" season.  Given the past couple days, this does not appear to be the case.  The trade winds have steadily gained strength in proportion to our windsurfing skills. 

Let's start at the beginning.  Upon entering Diego Garcia, we were informed that on the Indian Ocean sides of the island (the entire outside border of the island), the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) police strongly restricts getting anything above your knees submerged.  If caught you are fined in the unavailable currency of pounds.  Our hopes of board enabled water sports were initially crushed considering the only waves of decent period and swell height (the two most important factors when considering surf-able waves) are in the Indian Ocean.  We are restricted to the lagoon for all water activities.

An Athlete and a Scholar

We then discovered that the Navy Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Division (MWR) operates a Marina containing windsurf equipment, ocean kayaks, and stand up paddle boards to use in the lagoon.   Even better, the windsurf equipment costs $2 per day to rent.

Using the smallest sails of the windsurfing fleet, we started carefully with the 3.5 sail (3.5 refers to the surface area of the sail in units of meters squared).  Windsurfing is different from regular surfing.  You must counter balance much more because you are essentially holding an aluminum baseball bat that is 10 feet tall and referred to as the mast.  Aside from the added weight of the sail, the extra pressure created by the wind against the sail is potent.  A falling mast placed correctly on the cranium could easily concuss a grown man.

We progressed quickly to the surprise of the instructors and fellow windsurfer-ers and have since upgraded our sails to those of much large surface areas.  We have even begun the process of using a harness to attach ourselves to the sails.  This creates a new and veritable cornucopia of hazards that serves to heighten our "stoke" for the sport.

Celebratory Swim

We've even become proficient at the art of tacking.  For those unfamiliar, tacking is the process by which you turn the front of the board so that the wind pushes from one side of the sail and then quickly to the other.  Since windsurf boards don't have a reverse, you must change the board's trajectory by changing the direction in which the wind is pushing the sail.  Furthermore, since you can't change the direction of the wind, you must change the orientation of the sail.  Anyway, it's hard.

Pinning It

Our intuition and skill for the sport is growing daily and soon enough we will be "Shredding the Gnar".  If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand.

Videos:
Gavin
James
Adam

-Adam

Brewskis and Olive Oil

Yesterday the shifts worked out just right so that I finished up the 12Z launch, headed back to the hotel, and then we donned our mandatory bike lights and helmets (after a brief flat tire issue with James' Diamondback) to go check out a few of the bars on a Diego Garcia Friday night.

Before that, though, I met a few of the local Filipino weather service guys who came out to Tent City (official name Thunder Cove) to see the 09Z launch. The non-Aretha-Franklin-backup-singer-looking guy in the photo below had never launched a weather balloon before, so he got a kick out of doing that. Their weather office, as mentioned already by Adam, is rather procedurally- and instrumentally-paltry, e.g. their surface obs station doesn't work, so they do temperature and humidity measurements with a handheld Kestrel and air pressure measurements with (get this) an antique barometer in the office (just give it a little tappy), and of course their Doppler is fully functioning but "is not broadcast, accessible, or archived." Tremendous.

Anyway, back to the bars - we first went to Jake's Place, an open-air, pavilionesque place with ample deck seating, a blindingly-illuminated lagoonfront, and even a Filipino cover band (covering Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Rihanna... you get the picture). It was definitely the weekend place to go for all the local contractors. Beers were only $2, and you could choose from MGD, Coors Light, San Miguel (a slightly jarring Filipino brew), Budweiser, Heineken, and of course your requisite Corona for only a dollar more.

After shouting/miming over the amps for about an hour at Jake's we decided to make our way to the Brit Club, a stone's southward-directed throw from the Marina. This place was also open-air but resembled more of an unfinished church basement than a pavilion. Plenty o' concrete. We encountered many more people of our age (five or ten years older instead of thirty) and hemisphere though, which was cool. We even met one of the Control Tower guys from whom we telephonically request air clearance before each balloon launch. We also met this dude Carlos who's working intelligence/translating here on the island - grew up in Spain, lives in Norway, has lived in South Africa, Italy, Houston, etc. and has all the languages to show for it, plus Portuguese. We now have a place to stay in Norway and another friend to join us for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil!

Today was the sunniest day yet we've experienced on the island. The pool was quite the paradise this afternoon, despite "No Flips" off the diving board. James was on day shift, but out at the site we have a reclining beach chair we found by our secret lagoon that we dragged over and utilize in between sunny daytime launches, so he wasn't suffering that much. I'm currently on the midnight shift listening to Another Saturday Night by Cat Stevens and watching the distant lightning out the portal window. I'm hoping that the rains hold off until after the 2:15am launch; otherwise I have to rub olive oil all over the inflated balloon so that it will continue to rise through the freezing layer of the troposphere without water clinging to it and freezing, thereby making the balloon heavier and causing it to sink (and then melt, rise, freeze, sink, etc.). I imagine this awkward, windy oil application being just slightly easier than a greased pig competition. But I wouldn't know.

-Gavin

Midnight view from the launch site's beach; the lights are ships stationed in the lagoon.

It's Always Sunny in Diego Garcia

Well, not quite... But without the bitter, the sweet ain't so sweet. And without clouds, what would sunny really be like? Clearly not as sweet!

When it IS sunny out here, we're quick to get on our bikes, to head for the water, to explore this majestic island, or perhaps to wander the countless streets of DG in search of an MJO - we hear they like to hang around these parts.


Like they say in Seattle (probably), the grey weather always helps you appreciate the sun, and that has certainly been the case for us. The sunny weather as of late brought Gavin and I a bike ride around the island (see references to "Lost" in earlier post), and brought Adam and I a sunny nap out on a floating dock to the tranquilizing rock of the strong trade winds that blew in yesterday afternoon. From there we were able to watch Gavin shred up the waves windsurfing.


The pictures you're seeing have been gathered over the recent days of sun we've had. Standby for footage and photography from our windy day water play.

A crab amid the ropes

Side-note on Justin Beiber to follow up on recent blog comments:

When we are traveling around Malaysia and Indo, we're planning on using Gavin's stark resemblance to Justin Beiber to reap some unfair benefits. Perhaps he has earned a few special perks for putting up with all the remarks from everyone, but we'll still call them unfair since Adam and I will surely be riding his coattail all the way into VIP rooms, black-tie parties, and many other closed-door events that we'd otherwise be shooed away from. We'll probably rent a stretch limo to take us around everywhere to make this happen a little bit more effectively.

-james

Sunrise

Time lapse of sunrise at the balloon launch site this morning (10/13/11):  

http://youtu.be/V5k55xN08eg

Resemblances

Tonight James and I ran a Moonlight 5K race southward out of town (it's the full moon tonight, and also this afternoon the sun passed 90 degrees directly overhead of us here at about 7 degrees south (time lapse of disappearing shadows coming soon!)). Toward the end of the race I passed two Filipino guys who looked about 20, and after I passed them I heard them say something resembling "Siya kahawig Justin Beiber!!" I paused to collect myself for about five seconds to make sure that's what I really heard, and then turned around and was just like "Haha yeah!" to which they just laughed back. So yeah, even foreign kids are calling me the J-word. I may or may not have mock sung "Baby, baby, baby" too... I'll leave that for you to decide, just as you have the true intentions of my coiffure. But I thought you Fort Colanders especially would enjoy that.

We also got another mistaken band identity yesterday at the gym, when this Air Force guy came over to us while we were doing military press (ironically enough) and said "I don't mean to intrude, but what are you guys doing here on DG?" After we told him, he of course confirmed that he indeed "thought y'all were the band or something, with the shaggy hair."

Balloon launch shifts have continued going well. In our off time we do at least two of the three of windsurfing, ping-pong, and gyming every day. Tomorrow is the Navy's 236th birthday, and there's going to be a huge lunch at the mess hall of steak, shrimp, wings, and corn-on-the-cob.

Finally, I leave you with your picture of the day - baby palm trees (cue Steph Slade's awwww!):

- Gavin

LOST in Translation

For those of you who didn't follow the hit show LOST, this post will still be relevant but not jibing at its full potential. Read on to hear about the sights along our attempted "tip-to-tip" trans-atoll bike ride, or instead catch up on all six seasons and then read on. The extra couple chuckles and epiphanies earned might very well be worth it.

Reasons why Diego Garcia is the closest real-life equivalent to the Island in LOST:

Although before I start with the reasons actually, let me preface by telling you the backstory: that today was to be the day of our heavily-anticipated "Tip-to-Tip" bike ride. This meant biking to the marina at 0700 hours, taking a ferry across the lagoon channel to the pinkie toe of the mostly-digitless right-footprint-shaped island that is DG, and then biking the eastern side's dirt road for 18 miles followed by the western side's paved road for 19 miles all the way around the island until we ended up at the Officer's Club back on the tip of the big toe. It is a biannual event that, once completed, renders you a true "man of the island".

Yesterday it rained and rained and rained... and the event was cancelled this morning due to excessive muddiness on the eastern side. However, that didn't stop us from biking the paved part (in the opposite direction) as far as we could go to check out what wonders the island had in store for us that we had yet to see. Our bags were packed with chocolate and water, we had our mandatory helmets - we were ready to go.

We saw many a strange and non sequitur thing over the course of our three-hour, there-and-back, mountain-bike-on-flat-pavement adventure from here to here (Google Maps link; zoom in for better detail), which leads me again to the Reasons (in my reference-savvy opinion) why Diego Garcia is the closest real-life equivalent to the Island in LOST:

1. Well, right from the get-go, we were brought to the island to launch weather balloons every 3 hours, day and night, as part of a higher purpose... sounds a lot like Desmond pushing the button every 108 minutes, eh brother?

2. Thick jungle and untouched beach. A given, but still mention-worthy.

 3. Mysterious and intrinsically sacred gravesites.

4. Hatches in the middle of the jungle. I was ultra-tempted to lift up the one pictured below (left), and would not have been surprised at all if there were a girded ladder and complex system of mirrors in the gaping maw beneath.

5. The incongruous presence of certain mammals. While the ones we encountered were not polar bears, seeing the feral ancestors of the donkeys left behind by the island's natives after the purge back in the 1970's (ANOTHER parallel) was still quite a weird thing indeed.

 

6.  Evidence of enigmatic (and possibly heuristic?) endeavors in certain parts of the island. "Light sensitive areas", hidden bunkers and strange antennae (see donkey photo), a fiercely-cordoned observatory, potential "radiation danger" along some stretches of road... can you say DHARMA??

 

7. There are no kids on the island, at least none that we have seen. While this betrays Walt's role in LOST, I suspect that if a female Filipino contractor (or even military wife) is pregnant on Diego Garcia and expecting soon, they are flown off the island to ensure that the childbirth happens in a well-supplied hospital in Singapore or elsewhere... and then they don't return to DG. Consequently, this would mean that women on the island can't have children (whether for para-medical or administrative reasons)... call Juliet!

8. We even have our own smoke monster. Granted, it doesn't kill people nor does it sound like cranking chains, but the trash burn pile can sure make its presence known via aromatic aerosols every so often when the wind comes from the south.

Really, the only things missing are a turquoise Volkswagen bus with skeletal cargo, a pair of disused bear cages, and a physically inept sub-in for Hurley. James can be Boone, I'll be Desmond, and Adam will be Sayid - but only because of the hair, not because of any former time spent as an Iraqi interrogator.

Another wonderful, albeit uncanny, day.

Namaste,
Gavin

P.S. WE HAVE TO GO BACK! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!