By PHIL JARRATT
STRANGELY unable to sleep in this most peaceful of places, I got out of bed in the middle of the still night and stared into the night sky above the terraced rice paddies, listening to the soundtrack of frogs standing sentry over the gurgling waterways beneath the simple bungalow.
As if the starry sky, unimpeded by man-made light, was not beautiful enough, I saw, for the first time in perhaps 40 years, the dance of the fireflies above the sawah, first a loner, then a couple, then a group carving graceful arcs before flying too high and blending into the starscape. I was mesmerised, and I thought immediately of our friend Lelia Lewis’s poetic description of the rustic heaven she found here in the 1950s: “It was a peaceful, beautiful island. You didn’t have the malls or the hotels back then. The flutes that you’d hear at night, those liquid notes … and oh, the fireflies! We’d go out walking in the dark night, knowing each of the few vehicles that might come by, and you’d just see fireflies and the stars.”
You would still see fireflies in Bali when I arrived 20 years later, but today there is almost nowhere far enough away from the sprawl to detect the island’s secret, magical, natural world. Johnny and Cath Blundstone’s Bali Eco Stay, high in the foothills of Mount Batukaru, is “almost nowhere”.
I have waxed lyrical about the Blundstones’ little piece of paradise in these pages before, but five years since Noosa’s friendliest waiter, his bride and young son Huey came to rest at the end of the road, and four years since I first wrote about them for the Australian media, I am back for a progress report for the new edition of my Bali book, to see how the Swiss Family Blundstone is coping with the splendid isolation.
The short answer is very well, thankyou, but before we get into that, for the benefit of readers who may have only recently discovered the extraordinary sensory once-a-week delight of this space that masquerades as a surfing column, let me recap on the Blundstones. About eight or nine years ago, Johnny felt the need to dramatically change his lifestyle and lit out for the Outback to see what the next chapter might hold. Over a campfire in Kakadu one night, Norm and Linda vant Hoff told Johnny, Cath and Huey about their mountain in Bali, and the jungle plot where they shared their experiment in sustainable living with a small number of interested tourists. “Why don’t you come over and take a look,” said Norm. “You might find something for yourself.”
The Blundstones found plenty of interest, but nothing that might change their lives, other than Norm and Linda’s own Sarinbuana Lodge, which wasn’t for sale. On their last day in Bali, the lodge’s cook, Mini, showed them a plot of her family’s land nearby, which she said might be leased. But surely there couldn’t be room on the mountain for two eco-lodges? Over dinner that night, Norm shrugged and said: “The more people running sustainable businesses on the mountain, the better it will be for all of us.”
Bali Eco Stay opened in 2010, with Mini running the small restaurant and just a few bungalows scattered around the rice terraces. As I reported back then, the biggest single investment in this resort was not the infinity pool with floating bar but a Pelton wheel hydro-electric generator to enable the Blundstones to power most of the lodge from the adjacent waterfall. Since then the generator has been upgraded, a few bungalows have been added, Cath’s permaculture farm has flourished, the fish farm has struggled a bit and termites ate the family’s own home in 18 months, a setback that Johnny says would have killed the business in Australia, but in Bali there is always a way around every problem. The lodge is still not quite totally off the grid, but the new generation of solar that doesn’t require direct sun should get them over that hump. Huey has discovered that being Jungle Boy is not always all that he had hoped, but he is coping well, and enjoying home schooling with an English tutor. All in all, life on the mountain is good, very good. And quiet, very quiet. In the small party I took up the mountain last week was architect Judy Bray, a friend of ours who has spent a lot of time designing boutique resort properties in Thailand. She could not believe what the Blundstones had achieved in just five years, nor how well they had engineered the tricky slope to blend their structures so perfectly into the natural environment. With a sketch pad and a traveller’s paint set, she documented the place from every angle, and refused to leave our Harvest Bungalow or Mini’s incredible cooking until I organised for us to make the descent to the coast on mountain bikes, with plenty of photo stops along the way.
Bali Eco Stay is simply exquisite, and exquisitely simple. I’m going back in a few weeks to sit in a corner and write all day, then watch the fireflies all night. Can’t wait. For more info visit baliecostay.com
