RTW Leg 63 
4 Hours before Dusk. 
RPVM-WAMM 541 nm. 
Cebu-Manado. Philippine Archipelago, Mindanao, Sellawasi. 
ETE: 3 1/2 Hours.
Departure Terminal and Arrival Terminal (Terrain NOTAMS).

NARRATIVE

Endangered  Monkey-Eating Eagle

After a quick bite to eat and a refueling session, you are ready to go again. Bob and Hillary return from their meeting, having made arrangements for diving equipment and a boat in Manado. All through this, you exchange glances with your passenger, perhaps catching a bit of a shy smile. But this is mostly a hard business and neither one is willing to talk at all. You ask no questions.

Back to work. Head south, flying over Mindanao and the rugged hills and mountains on the southern edge of the island.  Because of its large expanses of undeveloped fertile land, Mindanao has been considered the nation's "pioneer frontier."  Just west of Davao City, you can pick out Mount Apo, an active volcano, which is the highest point in the Philippines, rising to 9,690 ft (2,954 m).  Part of the Cordillera Central, it is covered by a forest of tall, tropical hardwoods; two subsidiary peaks nearly match its height. The forests of  Mt. Apo serve as  the home of the Monkey-Eating Eagle, unique to Mindanao, which nests in the treetops and hunts monkeys for a living.  It is now an endangered species.  

Then follow the airways past General Santos and over the Celebes Sea.  Take care on the approach into Manado, lest you get a closer look a the surrounding volcanoes than you want.  A later tourist trip via ground transport might be more agreeable.

Manado's capital is situated in its bay. The northern and central part of the city is composed of a land structure of wavy slopes and hills, while the southern is made up of mountain foot of volcanoes in central Minahasa and other plateaus.

Cuscus,  a marsupial "monkey"  happy to be miles  away from Mindanao.

The area has a tropical climate, with temperatures that vary from 28-31°C and a seasonal deviation from 24-33°C (nights can be cooler especially in the highlands). Sea water temperature approximates 28-30°C. The majority of the population of North Sulawesi are Christians.  At the moment, the city and countryside are relatively peaceful—especially in comparison with other parts of Indonesia and even South Sulawesi.  The area offers world-class tropical dive sites like the famous Bunaken Island which possesses unbelievable varieties of the most colorful fishes imaginable.  The surrounding coral reefs are superb.  For all this, Manado has been "discovered" as a marvelous diving phenomenon and now attracts a regular clientele from as far away as Germany.  Apart from the world's best dive areas, North Sulawesi offers tropical primeval national rainforests with its unique wildlife like the 10 cm. high Tarsius spectrum, the big black tailless monkeys they call Macaca nigra, the magnificent Hornbills, the Cuscus, and a wide variety of colorful butterflies.

 The airport at Manado is smallish and fully functional in good weather. The commercial flights to the Philippines and to Jakarta run a couple of times a week, but are not absolutely dependable.  On arrival, your passengers jump into the waiting rental Land Cruiser, a bit rusty around the edges, checking their equipment with the driver. You hitch a ride to the city to see the harbor and its waiting boats. Obviously something is afoot. Bob asks you to stay over until the next afternoon—and having no schedule you agree dutifully.

You rent a car and, after getting some advice, head south along the coast to the Gangga Resort for the night. The expat manager turns out to be plenty interesting and gives you the lowdown on life in Manado (see below).

The next morning is all yours. If you want some adventure, and who doesn't, take a look at the Mahawu Lokon volcanoes. But be careful, as both are now rumbling.

Noisy Lokon

Flight planning and narrative by
Mike MacKuen
RTW Pilot #039

ADDITIONAL SCENERY AND ADD-ONS.

None.

INSIGHTS INTO LIFE IN MANADO, NORTH SULAWESI 
Fabrizio Ratti  ( http://www.expat.or.id/info/manado.html )

Manado's Harbor

Manado is a funny town, like a little village of "cartoonia". The people make the town seem like that. The people of Manado are interesting ... generations of mixed bloods ... Portuguese, Dutch, Japanese, Indian, Chinese and many others, make the local population very different looking from other Asian people. Additional influence comes from the not-far-away Philippines. In some ways, the Manadonese look more Latino than Asian with dark skin, curly hair, brown eyes and colleric characteristics. But they are also an easy-going, emotional, sympathetic and happy people. 80 % of the population of Manado is Christian (Protestant). The remaining 20% are, of course, Muslim. Recently, due to the economic crisis, the Muslim community has been quickly increasing, migrating to Manado from South Sulawesi or Java. However, until now these transmigrations are occurring without tensions.

LIFESTYLES OF THE LOCALS Manado is a rich town. Rich, not in the western way of thinking, even far from the standards of Jakarta, but still rich. The fortunes come from the old coconut, vanilla and clove plantations. But also from rich fishing resources, mining, as well as trade with Central Sulawesi, the Sanghie Islands (a get away for Filipinos,) and the Moluccas. The economic elite are primarily of Chinese origin, just like in many other Asian countries. The only difference with the local Chinese community is that in Manado there are not many racial tensions. All of the communities are quite well integrated. Multiracial families (Chinese and Manadonese) are quite common.

You ask why I think Manado is funny. Well, Manado is funny because here it seems as if time stopped fifty years ago. Business is still based not on contracts but on hand shakes. The bureaucracy is easy bypassed with good personal relations and problems are managed through old respected family chiefs.

Cars, equipment, machinery and banking affairs are more expensive (10% to 15 %) than in Jakarta or Surabaya, but nobody cares. More important to the locals is that coconut oil, rice, fish and chilli peppers are not expensive, but are easy to find and buy.

As soon as a little money is in the pocket of most Manadonese, you can be sure that the money will run out in one day. He or she will run to the local Matahari department store and buy whatever attracts his or her attention. Or if there is a bit more money, it will be spent in restaurants (there are many), discos, and other forms of nightlife.

The Manadonese guide their lives by stories they hear of the lifestyles in Singapore and Jakarta. Fashions come here a couple of years later than in the rest of the world. For example, recently thousands of hand phones have been sold. 90 % of them are not in use anymore, because the owners have used up all their money to pay the phone bills or in many cases even borrow money so that they can show off to their friends that they have a hand phone.

Most middle class people live in town, or live within 5-10 kilometres of the town of Manado. Poorer people live around the river that divides the town in two. Nicer neighborhoods are up in the hills, where the politicians and government officials live. Most of the middle and upper class Manadonese have relatives in the villages near the plantations. The plantation-based relatives hold most of the family wealth and all Manadonese, from time to time, have to visit their relative's village for money refuelling.

EXPAT LIFESTYLE Newly arrived expatriates usually live near the airport, were the golf club is. The airport residential area is about 20 kilometres from town, which is 20 to 30 minutes by car because of the heavy traffic. Expatriates who have been around longer tend to live in town.

There is not much public transportation other than the Kota buses (Micro-lab 6 or 8 seats). Taxis are rare, and often taxi drivers do not want to drive you to destinations outside the town of Manado. Cars are easy to rent and not too expensive. At the local market it is possible to rent a Kijang for Rp 100,000/day (including fuel) or for Rp 2 million/month.

There are only a few cultural activities in Manado. There is one multi-show cinema, no theatres and no concert hall. Most of the activities are organised by churches, so it is quite common to attend a Gospel service on Sunday mornings. More common entertainment for locals are cars races and animal fights. The best activity in Manado is what the locals call "carlotta" which means to talk and talk about each other.

The expatriate community in Manado is not big. There are very few expats, but occasionally you can meet somebody who says they have lived in Manado for years. Most expats are in Manado because of new tourism-related businesses. Most are in the diving field. Others are in the hotel business, as Hotel Managers. Others are in mining, based in Manado, but working in the jungle camps. The rest of the expatriate community, working in different sectors totals not more than 10 people. Australians have the largest segment of the community, but there are also Americans, Singaporeans, Dutch, and French.

Expatriates spend most of their free time on the weekends diving or fishing. The diving is really fantastic, one of the best places I have ever seen. Golf is also a common activity. Tennis, jogging, cycling and climbing the volcanic mountains are also popular.

Night life options are poor. There are Karaoke bars, restaurants, a few night clubs, and a couple of discos. One of the most favoured spots for expats is the Novotel Hotel, in the Boulevard area. Novotel has the best western restaurant, the best accommodations, the best disco, the best swimming pool and the highest prices. Locals move in the evenings from the disco at the Novotel to other discos. The most activity is on Saturday nights, when the night life lovers get drunk and excited by other matters.

When my family lived in Manado they enjoyed the new adventures, but after a few months they started to be bothered by the frequent water outages (at least twice a week the water supply is cut off), the power cuts (at least one day per week), and the lack of western facilities.

Ratti's Gangga Resort.   Pull up a chair, pour a drink,  and sit a spell.

I enjoy living in Manado as life is much simpler. I find Manado uncorrupted, far from what I have experienced elsewhere. Manado may not have a lot of facilities, but the area is really nice. The islands surrounding the area are really a tropical island paradise, with white beaches. Only one hour away from Manado, but really a different world. But when I need to go into Manado, I find that I really like this funny, different, crazy town.

20,000 Geeks Under the Sea: The Report from Manado

From an account by Will Moss ( http://www.mmmutants.com/files/documents/travelogue/manado.html  )

We flew Silk Air, which is the regional arm of Singapore Airlines, and, as such, is the least likely of the indigenous Southeast Asian airlines to suffer a sudden, midair disintegration or fatal navigational error. Our plane was a tiny, horrendously overpowered Fokker D-70 commuter jet that made the bound over Borneo in just a little over 3 hours. We caught a Thursday midmorning flight, which got us to Manado in the early afternoon. I suffer from 3rd world airport paranoia, so I used a fistful of plastic strip-ties to secure all of the zippers on my dive bag and I hand carried both my Nikonos and my regular camera bag. I was extremely relieved that the Nikonos, in its heavy Pelican case, fit into the overhead compartment because I really didn’t relish the idea of telling the stewardess that I would rather belt the Nikonos into my seat and sit in the luggage compartment myself than check it through.

I knew that we had arrived someplace different. As we were landing, I looked out the window of the airplane and saw goats and dogs foraging on the runway and small plywood and tin shanties just on the far side of the barbed-wire fence separating the airport from the adjacent agricultural land. I just love the animal life that seems to thrive on third world runways. Frankly, I’m surprised that they don’t build cow catchers onto the nosegear of airplanes that have to land at them. The only thing missing was the Mariachi soundtrack that always accompanies scenes of landings at provincial, third-world airports in the movies.

And the Manado airport was most certainly provincial. There were three airplanes at the airport: ours, and two wheezy-looking prop jobs that were apparently used to fly supplies of beer and banana-cream cookies to the outlying islands and isolated mountainside communities. We were ushered off the apron and into the immigration area where there were three lines. With my uncanny sixth sense for such things, I unerringly managed to place Mike and myself in the line staffed by the new guy and moving exactly half the speed of the other two lines. We finally switched to the middle line, but only when it was far too late for it to make any difference.

From immigration, we went to pick up our baggage. There were no carousels at the Manado airport. Instead, our luggage was piled in a hallway next to the immigration area. A troop of porters wearing orange shirts with identification numbers on them would check your baggage claim check, jog over the pile and fish your luggage out, and carry your bag back to you. It was a little like having a soccer team pick up your bags. Ironically, Manado was the only airport at which I have ever actually had to produce my luggage claim check to pick up my bags.

In Indonesia, they like to x-ray your bags as you enter the country. This strikes me as odd, especially with a flight coming from notoriously uptight Singapore, but if it makes them feel good I wasn’t going to stand in their way. Everything went through just fine until they ran the big, semi-airtight Pelican case that houses my Nikonos. The big, metal camera must have raised some eyebrows, because I was politely invited to open the case for inspection by a large customs official. Unfortunately, the pressure in the case had equalized during the flight, sealing the case shut. I had to open the small pressure relief valve under the handle, and there were some worried looks from the guards when a loud hissing noise emanated from my case. The Nikonos is clearly a camera, however, so within moments after I finally pried the case open with a large sucking pop, I was cheerfully waved through. (I was told somewhat later that underwater cameras are technically illegal in Indonesia, but that it is not enforced.) There were vans waiting for us, and moments later we were off on the twenty minute drive to the Nusantara Diving Centre, just outside of town.

The drive was interesting and a little hair raising. It was a bit reminiscent of our taxi ride on Batam on our first visit to Indonesia. The roads are narrow, and the shoulders overgrown. There are periodic obstructions such as oxcarts, children, and other vehicles, which the van drivers weave precariously close to. But a drive is a nice way to look at some of the country. It is ruggedly hilly, with low mountain ranges and volcanic peaks. The land is unbelievably green, with thick, lush vegetation, and large fields of cultivated coconut palms. Near town the houses tend to be concrete or cinder block, a symbol of prosperity in Manado, which is one of the wealthiest areas of Indonesia. Further from the town you are more likely to see tin or plywood shanties occupying small plots set back from the road. Unlike Malaysia, where the houses tend to sit on stilts, the small houses of Indonesia are set at ground level. Chickens and goats are a common sight.

...

Day Two

On our second day we were up bright and early. Our first dive was to be at a site called Batu Kapal, and it was at least a two hour sail away. Over breakfast we discussed how many dives we wanted to do that day, and settled on the lofty number of five (the practical maximum under ideal conditions). There would only be time for four, but that would be plenty.

The two hour steam to Batu Kapal was pretty adventurous. The confluence of tides and currents was producing an area of rather heavy swells at the mouth of the bay. "Rather heavy" is a relative term here. In a substantial, stable, well-powered boat with an experienced man at the helm the little four and five foot rollers would have been a laugh. In our top-heavy, narrow-hulled, wobbly, cow of a bilge-bucket, steered by an Indonesian kid working dual, wheezing forty HP outboards and taking his navigational cues from a buddy sitting at the bow, it was slightly nerve wracking. The outboards had an annoying habit of quitting periodically, which can be disastrous when you need to keep your nose into the swell. Also, one or two big rollers had washed over the bow, soaking the lookout and washing one of Joe’s booties overboard. Jim and Mike and I had been sitting on the roof, clutching onto the narrow, creaky guardrails for stability. I had my terrestrial camera up top, but after the second time our bow went awash, I decided that it might be a good idea to put it in the cabin. Climbing from the roof down to the deck in the pitching swells was an experience that I am not eager to repeat. I did get my camera stowed, but while I was down on the deck I was also treated to the none-too reassuring sight of one of the crew bailing the bilge by hand as fast as he could. At least no one was prone to seasickness.

Eventually we sailed clear of the choppy area, and back into glassy seas. Everyone relaxed. I was sorely disappointed that I had stowed my camera when, soon after emerging into the clear, a pod of small pilot whales swam right by the boat. Still, it is always nice to see dolphins and whales, and we all soaked in the sight as they swam within fifteen feet of the boat, giving us all a good look.

Another hour later, we were anchored at Batu Kapal. This, Stanley informed us, was a steeply sloping reef that headed towards sandy bottom at about 200 feet. We were to follow the reef down and to the right, where we would come upon a valley carved into the slope, and a large rock pinnacle. It was supposed to be a very nice dive.

It was amazing.

Mike and I had had agreed that we didn’t want to go excessively deep on this dive. That plan ended up being abandoned shortly after we hit the water. Stanley and the other dive masters lead us down the steep slope and into some of the clearest water it has ever been my luck to see. The reef stretched away from us, dropping steeply, but sunlit to its deepest extent. Stanley kept dropping, and I watched my computer as the depth gauge ticked off 70 feet, 80 feet, 90 feet, 100 feet. Then, in visibility approaching a glorious 100 feet, the vista unfolded before me. The reef all around was clear and vibrant. Stretching off to our right was a deep valley, carved into the wall and stretching back to the shallows. I could see everything from the surface to the bottom of the valley, 170 feet or deeper. Stretching away from the far wall of the coral lined valley was a narrow, curving rim, at the end of which was a massive, towering pinnacle of rock. Huge schools of jack and banana fish swept by, foraging in the invisible midwater and gliding past the pinnacle. Napoleon wrasse a meter long probed among the coral, keeping a wary eye on the dozen intruders to their realm. In the valley, sea fans waved gently in the current, as schools of fish traced the bottom like a highway. It was, as I described it later, like Neptune’s Magic Kingdom. It was a storybook underwater world of unparalleled beauty.

Into this blue fantasy Stanley kept descending. My computer continued to tick over depth, 120, 130, 140… At about 130 feet I began to get the slight buzz in my head that I recognized as the onset of Nitrogen narcosis. Not wanting to tempt fate, and seeing that my computer was now allowing me only three minutes bottom time, I pulled up. 149 feet. I had surpassed my previous depth mark by 44 feet! And yet the water was still clear and sunlit and warm. I could feel that my concentration was affected by the mild narcosis, and I decided to ascend immediately rather than playing out my bottom time. I was still thinking straight, so I set my camera exposures and took two shots of the pinnacle with the wide angle lens I had mounted for this dive. Then, followed by Mike, my buddy, I began a slow ascent up the valley, watching my bottom time expand as I rose past 120, 110, 100, 90, and 80.

The time at extreme depth had burned a good amount of my air. Mike and I took our time ascending the valley, but we stopped only so that I could take photos of some spectacular gorgonians growing from the wall. Then we followed the wall all the way back up to the shallows at 30 feet, where we relaxed and poked around until our air ran low. The dive was only 28 minutes long, and only 5 minutes of that were spent at great depth. Yet it was still the best dive I have ever been on, and the best underwater vista I have yet encountered. When conditions are good I would recommend that location to anyone comfortable at 120 to 130 feet.

Our other dives that day were nice, but nothing like that first dive. Wary of the residual nitrogen we were carrying from the first dive, none of our other dives that day were deeper than 65 feet. We kept things shallow and light, and did general sightseeing on the walls and in the shallow reef areas where parrot fish and butterfly fish abound. We saw morays and stingrays and other interesting sights, but the memory of that first dive lingered. We made another night dive that evening, and once again there were some great photo opportunities. But what we talked about on the ride back to NDC and over dinner was that spectacular first dive of the day. Batu Kapal.

(Photos from:  http://www.manadodive.com/  )