Jan. 27, 1942 (Tuesday)

SS President Polk, Bali Straits

Started through the Bali Straits (between Bali and Java) about 0630. They proved to be much narrower than I ever imagined — in fact, as we near the northern end, that increasingly resembled a wide river. Hope I shall never forget them as they the straits are truly beautiful. Deep blue water dotted with little outrigger fishing boats. On each side, extending down to the waters edge, are glistening green copra plantations — the whole keynote of the land is a rich, vibrant, green. Higher up on the surrounding mountains are rows of sugar cane — still higher comes the darker green of the jungle forests. The mountains are old volcanic cones steeply sloped and girdled midway up by a chain of white fleecy little puffs of mist. Crowning each top is a small cloud, bits of which stream away in the upper air currents. Dominating the whole northern end of the straight is one tremendous Fujiyama-like, cone whose uppermost crags are buried in the clouds.

Clearing the straits we headed on northward until late at night (to set the Japs off?)

José came up with drinks and reminisces.

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