Text by Ian Lloyd Neubauer.
Pictures by Ian Lloyd Neubauer and Courtesy of FreeFlow Diving.

The French had Devil’s Island and The Spanish had El Matorral – island prisons used by the colonial powers of their day to incarcerate criminals, dissidents and the like. The Portuguese, who ruled East Timor for 450 years, dispatched problem-makers to Atauro Island, a pimple in the sea set directly in front of Dili, 30km across the Wetar Strait.

Today Atauro attracts a different kind of exile – expats based in Dili looking to get away from the once-sleepy capital. It’s also the destination of choice for President José Ramos-Horta and Prime Minister Xanana Gusmão, and the phalanx of bodyguards that follow them around.

But getting to Atauro is easier said than done. Until recently, the only way to do so was on a seafaring ferry that departed from Dili every Saturday morning and spent three hours at Atauro before turning home. Visitors were forced to stay for an afternoon or a whole week, or hitch a ride home on a rickety fishing boat and pray for calm seas. But East Timor is quietly changing. The country has enjoyed relative peace and security since civil strife last struck in 2006, fostering an environment conducive to investment and growth and a new wave of expats are now making their presence felt here – entrepreneurs keen to capitalise on the country’s enormous eco-tourism potential.

“The water is a perfect translucent blue, affording uninterrupted glimpses of a coral shelf that I’m told is 60 metres wide.”

Among them is Australian Kym Miller, co-owner of one of two charter companies now operating out of Dili. With five vessels on inventory, Kym and her crew offer a variety of day and overnight trips, as well as transport to Atauro. Aimed at high-end, short-stay tourists flying in from Darwin and Bali, the service doesn’t come cheap, though the experience is unique.
“When you go to the Barrier Reef, the dive spots are full of boats,” Miller says. “But here, nobody else is doing the same thing you are. And most of the reefs are pristine, and by that I mean they may only see five or six dive groups every year.”

Two hours after departing from Dili, we are anchored off Arturo’s sparsely populated west coast. A small village marks the only human presence in the area, where naked brown children run along a palm-fringed beach. The water is a perfect translucent blue, affording uninterrupted glimpses of a coral shelf that I’m told is 60 metres wide and begins just three metres offshore.

“The visibility here is excellent because there’s no runoff,” Miller says, referring to Atauro having no river systems. And while I later learn that the absence of groundwater is a cause of great hardship for the island’s 10,000-odd residents, it’s a boon for marine life. Within moments of diving in, I see a sea snake, thousands of reef fish displaying every colour of the rainbow, and a turtle bigger than me.

But the most dramatic spectacle is yet to come, when we cruise to a spot off the southern point of the island and start coasting around in circles as though we are lost.

“What are we doing?” I ask the skipper.
“Trying to get them to come out.”
“Trying to get who to…”

Before I finish my sentence, I see a group of hazy grey shadows dancing across the surface. Suddenly we are surrounded by them, hundreds upon hundreds of bottlenose dolphins, racing alongside us and catapulting themselves through the air. The performance is spellbinding as it is relentless; Seaworld doesn’t even compare to this.

It’s late in the afternoon by the time we circumnavigate the island and pull into Beloi, where another Australian, Barry Hinton, runs a small eco-resort. Comprising four communal, double-story bungalows and a series of open-air huts fitted with daybeds, it’s as low-key as you get but surprisingly well-equipped. Solar panels provide electricity at night, internet is available on request, and bicycles and snorkelling gear are lent out for free.

“It’s extremely isolated but very comfortable,” says Australian Ben Kildea, the only other guest I meet during my three-day stint at Atauro. “Life can get pretty crazy in Dili. Here there’s just piece and quiet.” I spend the rest of the day lying in a hammock, peering across the straight, until Barry’s wife calls us in for the evening meal: a veritable feast of fresh garden greens, coconut fish curry, cassava chips and topical fruits for dessert.

Early the next morning, I hear a knock on my door. Barry has arranged a tour of the island provided courtesy of the local constabulary. But when I step out to meet them I see they are Filipinos, part of the United Nations presence in East Timor. After a quick breakfast we’re off, charging along an unsealed road in a gleaming white Landcruiser.

A half-hour drive takes us to the village of Makadadé, home to a shaggy outdoor market. Unlike the animated folk of the mainland, the people of Atauro are reticent and reserved. They also look somewhat sickly and malnourished, chewing betel nut incessantly and drinking rancid palm wine from old water bottles.

“This is the bottom of the food chain,” says Barry, pointing out the meagre produce on offer at the market, with each stallholder offering no more than a few yams, a pineapple or two and hands of tiny bananas. “There are no rivers on the island. The only source of water comes from springs or wells and there’s little arable soil – it’s mostly limestone and sand. Next to nothing grows here and the central government doesn’t do anything to help to help them. In a way, it’s East Timor’s East Timor.”

We jump back in the Landcruiser and continue our tour, crossing grassy hilltops upon which small wild horses run in the wind. We stop near a precipice that falls hundreds of metres to the sea, where turquoise waters intercept the outline of a coral reef. A few kilometres away lie the Indonesian islands of Alor and Pantar, with the more diminutive Kisar and Wetar Islands trailing off to the east.

“Suddenly we are surrounded by hundreds of bottlenose dolphins, racing alongside us and catapulting themselves through the air.”

Barry tells me how he arrived here in 2001 as a volunteer with Palm Australia, a privately funded NGO that delivers grassroots solutions to impoverished communities abroad. He helped build the island’s first eco-resort in the capital Vila, which is owned and run by the local community. He explains how he has to mindful not to be too much of a success, as jealousies can easily flare up on the island. The men he hires for sporadic construction work are banned from working elsewhere to ensure fair distribution of what little employment exists. “This used to be run as a prison camp and the mentality has remained. As simple as life is here, it is very complex,” he says.

The next day, Barry and his extended family begin preparing for an international fishing competition – Atauro’s biggest event to date. Surrounded by deep channels and spared from destructive fishing practices common in Southeast Asia, the Wetar Strait is an angler’s dream. Tuna as big as 80kg have been caught here, while spanish mackerel, swordfish and barracuda are abundant as well.

Held in the last weekend of November each year, the contest also coincides with the whale-watching season. Fourteen different species, including tropical blue whales, beaked whales and humpbacks, traverse the straight during their annual migration from the Antarctic to the Philippines. I am told National Geographic will also arrive here soon to capture the whales for posterity on film. But all these visitors seem a distant dream, and I am left to enjoy the peace and quiet Atauro is renowned for.

“People who come through here say it reminds them of Bali in the 60’s,” Barry says. “There are no bars to get hammered in, the kids don’t ask for money and the traditional way of life is still very much intact. I’m not here to get rich. I’m here for the lifestyle… to bring up my kids in a healthy environment.”

TRAVEL FACTS:
Getting There
The Berlin Nakroma leaves Dili at 8am every Saturday. Tickets are US$20 return and sold at the main wharf. Compass Charters tel: +67 723 0964 or www.compassadventuretours.com charges US$450 for a speedboat from Dili to Atauro, with space for eight passengers. A day trip, including snorkelling on Atauro’s west coast and picnic lunch, costs US$800.

Where to Stay
Barry’s Eco Resort Tel: +67 723 6084 or boyhinton@yahoo.com.au charges US$30 /person /night with all meals included. Tua Ko’in Eco Village Tel: +67 723 605 charges US$25 /person /night.

Diving Instruction and Hire
FreeFlow Diving in Dili Tel: +67 723 4614 or freeflowdiving@gmail.com, offer three-day PADI Open Water Certificate courses for US$350. Alternatively, a one-day dive with equipment, transport and guide is US$40.

Further Information
For more information on Atauro Island visit www.islandofadventure.tl

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