Eastward ho

Our road trip was getting a touch predictable as we stuck to the main roads for fear of the ‘dreaded potholed village road, I think it’s this way shortcuts’ Funny we never had this kinda problem when cycling, as well, when cycling villagers seem more friendly are more open to ‘let’s help the poor silly touris suffering on their bicycles’ Not that driving was that bad really. It was just getting to be ‘same same’ (a Thai invented phrase actually)

Heck we have two foldies in the back enjoying the bumps and views too. After a week, the car did 715 kms and my tikit did 208 kms (100ks of which, after the car was returned) The Cappu, well, does not have an odometer.

Onwards to Bali’s far east are a string of fishing villages lining the coast on the driest part of the island. A small broken road circles the half blown off top and massif of Gunung Seraya, with dizzying views of the Straits of Lombok. This is a great 50 kms road to cycle across, and yes I did it in both directions during my lifetime.

Almost a decade ago there was pretty much nothing here, except for the Vienna Beach Bungalows and restaurant, a most unBalinese operation that catered to those wanting to get away from it all. The attraction along this coast was and is like Pemuteran 140 km in the west coast, snorkelling, diving and sailing. The area is as lost as one can get in Bali without heading out on a jukung/outrigger to Lombok.

As usual we had no reservations. With new resorts popping up like mushrooms after heavy rains, we soon deduced that the going rate for a newish place, plus AC, hot showers and breakfast for 2, was about Rp 200 K (US $25) and highly negotiable in this low season.

These were in season and I had to succumb after 7.5 days

Fleeing the dreaded dark cloud of moisture

Da beach of black volcanic sand

Where we stayed, they have just 2 rooms, with No 3 under construction

The usual places to stay were becoming ‘too famous’ with rave reviews from travel websites and the all knowing Looney Planet. Sadly some were suffering the ill effects of being too well known and service and standards were not up to par with their ever increasing room rates. Well they had a good run and had a lot of my custom especially  when we show up with a group of 10 perpetually hungry mountain bikers in tow. With the popular spots in Bali, there’s always a new hotel or restaurant to try out. It all depends on how much effort you put in to find them.

With your own transport/AC car, it’s a miniscule malady. Park car and ask wife to go out and check rooms/prices. On a bike trip, wife hides in the shade while, after many many kms, hubby climbs more stairs in SPD shoes to make enquiries. Can’t win them all, I guess.

View from the balcony

Cloud watching (great alternative to slow/no wifi)

As we were 30 minutes too early for lunch at 12 noon, a kiasu S'porean coyly copied 10 jazz remixed CDs into I tunes.

Sails Restaurant along Lean Beach is the place where other hotel and restaurant bigwigs come to dine, http://restaurantamedbali.com  We spent many a daylight hour there, and one rain soaked dinner (a first for us) after which we had to drive back in the dark through flooded streets and across one river bed, which was not there a few hours ago. It was after all the ‘dry season’ of late April. In retrospect, it was better that the car got soaked than our bicycles.

3 cars = 15 diners, quick run !

Over polarized restaurant views

Boss wife and boss lady of restaurant

His

Hers (it's fishy)

His again, obviously (mucho porky)

New World Tourists (those are the bike models from Bike Friday) The couple from England were almost dehydrated

Leaving the highlands

A fully loaded tourer enjoying his 30 kms of down hills

Mrs :  ”Wow, 2 guys on touring bikes and rolling downhill at that ! Aren’t you jealous ??”

Me :    ”Do you have to rub it in ??”

Mrs :  ”What happened to your plan of cycling down hill while I drive ?”

Me :    ”You didn’t offer to drive?”

Mrs :   “You didn’t ask enough”

Me  :    ”I thought I did !”

Mrs :   “Yes but you said that the clutch was ‘low or loose’ and the hand brake’s broken and………that I navigate well since  you can’t read the small small prints on the map”

Me :     “Don’t really need a map yeh, it’s all in here (points to head)

Mrs :     “Don’t trust my driving??”

Me  :      (very softly) “Uh huh”

In retrospect we’ve done all the down hills we’ve cared to do on other trips, but as I wonder now, with a tinge of regret, how fast would a Bike Friday tikit roll before I am reminded of my mortality ? I guess we will never know…..

Lazy mammals

Not too shabby a view from our porch. Pity the sunshine was in short supply, then again it was just 7.30 am

My new big toy. The place does not have fans or air conditioning, as the sea breezes always blow in once the sun is up, our host reassured us. Boy was he right, we checked out at a very late 1.00 pm after my kite felt tired. In the next bungalow, there's a Japanese tourist sweeping the floor with a broom that comes with each room. Wonder if she'll do ours ?

Far off the beaten track lies a little gem, best reached with your own transport or much nicer on a touring bicycle, http://www.geriasemalung.com/english/index.html

We wanted to stay 2 nights, but alas, our room was booked for the second day and we had to scoot ;-( (we did stay 2 nights back in 2008)  They have a constant flow of Japanese clientele to fill their 4 rooms, as the Balinese owner’s wife is Japanese. That explains the Zen like touches in the lush garden and a black volcanic stone hot tub in a corner, and a large manga collection in their library.  GS is in Desa (village) Ababi and we passed through Desa Budakeling (an as the crow flies short cut across a few semi dry river beds)  In Malay, those names are quite funny.

Next stop. Amed by the Straits of Lombok, and a scenic and shady down hill section that goes on forever…..sigh…

The line's maxed out at 800 metres (and my camera's zoom at 210 mm)

Tirtagangga's endless rice fields

The straits of Lombok in bad weather

Turn on your speakers, courtesy of the Geria Semalung folks, http://www.geriasemalung.com/page/s_gal/cnddsa.html

So much better light in the afternoon

Day 9: A long, hot and flat ride from Tulamben to Singaraja and Lovina

Monday May 15, 2006, 98 km (61 miles) – Total so far: 388 km (241 miles)

Rising with the sun is one of the reasons for my instant need for a mid day siesta, but it’s worth it. I’ll just have to sample black coffee at every rest stop today.

Sunrise at Tulamben

Our choice of rooms at the Bali Koral Bungalows paid off and the views of Mt Agung look almost moon like from the second floor balconies.

I had cycled in the opposite direction in 1992 and was looking forward to see if it was any different doing the nearly 100 kms from Tulamben to Sinagaraja and Lovina beach. While knowing what to expect at day’s end might take some romance and joy of discovery out of the travel equation, today’s flat roads even surprised Coleen. It’s one beautiful word. Tailwind! which meant pedalling up to 40 kmph plus was effortless. ‘Sup sup suey’ in Cantonese/Chinese or something like ‘Piece of cake’ The traffic got heavier as we reached the outskirts of Singaraja, Bali’s second largest town. Speaking of cakes, Coleen has the uncanny ability to sniff out one in the busiest part of town, so a pit stop was made for today’s and tomorrow’s over sweetened quota of pastries and pies. I spoke to a Chinese lady/chief baker/cashier at the shop who had no idea where/what Tulamben was/is despite being born here, but I bet she knew the best places to shop in Hong Kong or Shanghai.

Getting separated out on the open road often meant playing a quick catch up. Most times I’ll stop for a few pictures while Coleen carried on. The road’s quite shady with big cotton trees but I saw a motorcycle make a U turn towards Col and follow her for some time. I sprinted up behind the Honda who was obviously trying to taunt a girl on a bicycle, quickly overtaking the surprised motorcyclist who eventually backed off. Some guys will pull up along side at 30 kmph with questions like Where you going? or Where your husband? (Right behind your smoky exhaust, fool) In the meantime there might be a black truck heading the other way in the middle of the shady road. Most motorcycle rear view mirrors, if not cracked, broken or missing are used by men to check on their hair or pimples. The both of us were stopped twice by a guy who whipped out the business card of a friend who had a homestay by the beach. He was persistent and showed up in Singaraja town 20 kms later pushing the same card and offering to direct us there. Boy, business must be really slow, his petrol free or his commission really huge. We took refuge in a restaurant hoping he would disappear. We had better reservations at Nurini’s Hotel, well a simple homestay that in 15 years blossomed into a beach hotel.

A few days before in Bangli I remembered Coleen being tailed by a m/cycle as she circled a round about twice to see if she was being followed. After she exited and stopped, so did the two guys on the bike. A second bike came along and the first hastily took off. It was a sharp eyed off duty policeman who could just be one of Daddy’s (from Batur’s Lakeside) relatives. (:-) Most times these fellows are just curious, but I’d rather be cautious.

We’ve never had so many swimming pools on any of our cycling trips. Well Bali’s pretty tropical and just 8 degress south of the equator, and as many places start to upgrade, a pool is top on the list and gives any homestay an instant upmarket staus as well a reason to increase rates sometimes to the detriment of room quality. Some pools are salt water ones, not sea salt water but salt added into the system.

Poolside at Rini's

Lovina is the generic name given to this 7 km black grey beach on the island’s north coast 10 kms from Bali’s old capital of Singaraja. Like Candidasa, it was a 70s backpackers hangout and has seen better days. Early morning is the best time for a beach stroll or to hire an outrigger for snorkelling or dolphin taunting. Taunting? Yes since the offshore lagoon is calm and relatively wave free, pods of dolphins sometimes surface and flip over to the delight of those above water. If you havent been pestered into a pre dawn dolphin taunting expedition yesterday, you will be approached this morning or any other. Dozens of motorized outriggers patrol the calm waters in search of any fins breaking the water. Once some are spotted there’s a mad rush to get as close as possible to Flipper and company lest they start to dive and disappear, as they always do. The hide and seek goes on for a few hours until one by one the outriggers head back to shore. If you’ve not caught sight of a single dolphin there’s a gigantic concrete dolphin monument right by the beach parking lot to look at, or buy a carved wooden dolphin or two and zip tie it to your handlebar or seat post as a mojo. Tacky but true as I’m writing from experience of days gone by here.

Dinner was a low key affair at a new New Zealand themed restaurant called Tiki. Surprisingly it only had Italian food, and which cyclist is going to refuse pasta? I sort of missed the final demise of a long time favourite bar, restaurant plus bandstand place called Malibu, another victim to a downturn in tourism here.

 

 

Day 8: Amed to Tulamben

Sunday May 14, 2006, 40 km (25 miles) – Total so far: 290 km (180 miles)

Today, while Coleen was rearing to go, I saw no hurry to leave one of the nicest rooms we’ve had in Bali. After all the next stop was just 40 kms away at yes, another beach in north Bali. Besides, lying spread eagled in bed, gazing at our slowly turning wooden fan, I’ve always wondered if some bright spark could come up with a mini air conditioner built into a bike helmet. It’s just a matter of time. Maybe yesterday’s circle trip was too hot.

We left at almost high noon on a ride punctuated by many look sees at new rooms along the way (thank you Anda for being full, it was very tempting indeed) and 2 ice cream stops. We were at this view point above Lipah Bay when a motor cycle screeched to a halt and we heard a resounding ‘Kerisss!!’ Who could it be then? It was Wayan, one of the girls who worked at the old Bayu and was doing the same at the new Bayu, hence the source of all the updated news. She proudly showed us her new wheels, a Yamaha scooter no less which was essential in these parts and for some reason wanted us to know that the minimum wage in Bali had risen to $65 a month. In these small villages everyone knows everyone else. So in no time we had 3 other scooters stopping right behind Wayan’s, all friends asking the same questions to which Wayan has to give the same answer of who we were, from where and other earth shattering news. She was also parked on a crest around a blind corner which was none too safe. We enjoyed our not so brief encounter with Wayan, and the promise that Made and Anik e-mail us, someday.

( It’s been some five years since we last met and this husband and wife team, plus some siblings who are doing real well in their new whitewashed, high ceiling minimalist restaurant overlooking the Straits of Lombok. No more slogging though late nights all week long, for someone else, as they did the last decade.

They have a new deal to run and operate this restaurant and bar, keeping all the profits, while paying off the loan of Rp 600 million (or US$65,000 ) it cost to build it. It’ll be theirs lock stock and barrel after 10 years. On our two nights here we saw managers from surrounding hotels, as well as parties of six to eight diners here, so they must be doing something right. They’ll be even more blessed with good stress when a luxury ‘villas only’ resort opens up on the hill behind them )

We got to Tulamben round 3 pm heading straight for the latest new fangled restaurant cum dive shop here. Tulamben is just a 200 meter row of small buildings which might not exist if not for World War 2. About a mile off shore on the sea bed lies the wreck of the USS Liberty, a merchant ship which was torpedoed in 1942 by Japanese forces based on Bali. I think the parking lot for divers on day trips from Bali’s south must be the single biggest developed piece of real estate here. We spent a lazy afternoon looking at expensive scuba gear in the dive shops and beach combing, the highlight of which was a German adult magazine basking on the rocks. We didnt understand any of the words but the artsy black and white pictures were interesting if not instructional.

 

 

Day 7: Amed and the Mt Seraya solo circle trip

Saturday May 13, 2006, 55 km (34 miles) – Total so far: 250 km (155 miles)

Bali’s far east is fast becoming the place to tour. If fishermen are making wooden toy replicas of their fishing boats and small plastic packets of sea salt are being sold by the road side the white tour busses will soon follow. Thankfully the narrow roads and steep inclines limit their numbers and to small minivans of scuba divers at that. It’s the driest part of Bali and across the deep blue straits lies the island Lombok. I must add that the largest village of Amed is just the first of six or so other villages tucked away in hidden bays strung out over 10 kms of narrow coastline. Sometimes the whole area is mistakenly referred to as Amed.

The straits form the Wallace Line, an invisible demarcation where noted British zoologist Sir Alfred Russell Wallace claims that this is where Asia ends and Australia begins. While the Indonesian government will most certainly object, Wallace was referring to flora and fauna. Larger mammals and lush greenery found in Bali are scarce in neighbouring Lombok which has many smaller marsupials common in Australia but dont count on seeing any kangaroos in Lombok. East Bali in the long dry season is a hot and parched landscape of eucalyptus shrubs and elephant grass. Some of the bone dry and barren off road trails we rode here in October were unrecognizable in May, shrouded in a canopy of green. Though we are 4 months past the wet season greenery still abounds and its quite pleasant until the sun starts beating down after 10 in the morning.

This trip to Bali seemed to be one with the unfinished business of cycling routes that were abandoned before or just cycling in a different direction. Do I need another reason? Oh yes, I was suffering like a dog riding anti clockwise fully loaded around Mt Seraya in 1991 when the ‘road’ was just a rocky dirt trail. Come 2006 it’s a smooth black top with dotted white lines, drink stops and wide sweeping bends. I figured 5 hours to ride 50 kms but many stops extended my ETA and saw me riding home in the sunset. I started quite late at 9 in the morning delayed by Bayu’s spectacular breakfast of fruit, toast, bacon and eggs over easy and lots of steaming black coffee. Coleen opted to stay in and give her bike a break from all the intense UV rays today. In fact, she had ordered breakfast at 11 am and had it at 2 pm in the afternoon. Talk about a slow day.

Starting from Bayu which is actually in Lipah Bay the road twists and turn for 18 kms before reaching the largest hamlet here, Seraya. Another road climbs even steeper before turning back to the coast. I’m sure the views at the turnoff on a day like this will be stunning. Somehow the 38 degree C temperatures put a damper on that idea and I decided to claim my reward, a 7 km downhill to another water palace right by the sea side. Totally destroyed in the 1963 eruption of Agung and subsequent earthquakes, it has been rebuilt many times and then left to flounder. With many shady trees and secluded pavilions, it makes for a real make out spot as I found out, stumbling upon or rather almost riding over two teenagers who did not quite head home after school.

Soon enough my breakfast was gone and after 30 kms I reached the town of Amlapura circling it twice before finding lunch. Nothing much seemed to be moving in the blistering heat and I had to end this matron’s siesta to get some fried noodles and a coffee. It was just one of two shops open for lunch. Bayu was just a 20 km ride away but I decided to take a short cut which by passed Tirtagangga. As short cuts go, this was shorter but steeper into the hills which did not go well with a recent lunch at all. The dirt track behind town climbed steeply for 3 kms and with my lunch defying gravity and wanting to come out the wrong way, I stopped to walk my bike and chat with two village girls heading to their riverside bath. They told me that a lycra clad foreigner on a bicycle was a rare sight. I returned the complement by saying that if they were to stroll on a Singapore street barefooted in their tightly wrapped batik sarongs with a pail of toiletries in hand, I’d fall off my bike too.

While coasting down hill on the same road in two days, I came across a blue road bike in the shade. Coleen is always surprised at me being able to spot a bicycle and the type of components it had from, say riding in a bus or train on a rainy day or cycling by at 40 kmph. I stopped to chat with Cameron from Aberdeen who was taking a ‘breather’ from climbing uphill for most of the day. Yeah, its tough going when you’re cycling uphill with Mr Marlboro for company, so I showed him the road towards Tirtagangga and its maiden-less royal pools.

 

 

Day 6: Candidasa to Amed, 2 beaches in a day and more to come

Friday May 12, 2006, 65 km (40 miles) – Total so far: 195 km (121 miles)

The little kilometer long beach strip of a village called Candidasa is as old as tourism in Bali itself. Old as in some of the businesses here date back to the seventies. Some still look like they belong in the seventies. That was in its heyday when finding a room in the high season was difficult for those who had enough of Kuta in the south. As tourism grew, someone had this grand idea of pillaging all the coral offshore to be used as building material. Soon enough without a reef, the beach became heavily eroded and in some parts right up to the one and only road here. The locals got their building boom but the white sandy beach was gone. What remains today are a dozen or so T shaped concrete breakers that deflect the thundering waves. The village has had its share of boom and bust times, mostly bust. Some big hotels have been boarded up for years. Smaller operations like the 10 room Golden Coconut seem more resilient and have rebuilt most of their beachside bungalows and we had a restful fan cooled night snoozing to the sounds of nearby waves. Like most other guesthouses here, the bath rooms are open roofed and you can enjoy a shower or two with a towering coconut tree and blue skies above.

The elusive summit of Mt Agung 3712 m, is a choice address for Balinese Gods. We will see more of it in the coming days cycling around its base

Gunung Agung can be seen along most of the ride to Amed at least before noon when the high clouds roll in. We rode by small little cross road towns nestled in the foot hills of Bali’s highest mountain for the next 30 kms. The sleepy district capital of Amlapura was all but levelled during a1963 eruption that left half the island in shambles and thousands dead. In the remoter villages ruins from that year can still be seen among the undergrowth. Before we knew it the long, slow incline we were on had climbed almost up to 300 metres from sea level. By now I think we were conditioned to cycling longer distances and as with most roads in Bali what goes up, will certainly go down.That would come after lunch. Under the shade of lush road side trees even the false flats seemed easy. We were even carrying less water as every few kms we could find a warung with a chiller of cold drinks or ice cream.

I had timed our lunch stop just outside one of East Bali’s must see attractions, meaning having to navigate through a parking lot, souvenir shops and paying to see a bunch of decorated pools at the Tirtagangga Water Palace. The Rajas or previous kings of East Bali had a penchant for building these large ornate pools presumably for their many wives and harem to cool off in. There’s another Romanesque looking one near the sea at Ujung. An extra clean tourist pool with changing rooms has icy cold water fed from a nearby mountain spring, making it is a good way to spend a long, lazy afternoon. Just watch out for its resident freshwater crab and shrimp waiting to nibble on your toes. A few guesthouses are spread out among the rice paddies if water palaces are your thing but life generally shuts down by 9.00 pm here. Life in the real Bali is an endless cycle of early to bed and early to rise. Might as well have a bicycle handy.

We spent almost two hours on lunch and chilling under the shade of the trees by the royal pools.It wasnt easy getting on our bikes with eyes half opened or closed, yawning as we rode off. It was time to descend the 300 meters we had climbed earlier and that was an eye opener. All we could do for the next 15 kms was to overtake slower cattle, cars and motorcycles along the winding road down the other side of Tirtagangga braking and stopping for a while when greeted by scenes like these.

Bali’s far eastern coast is dominated by Mount Seraya, a baby compared to Mt Agung. The narrow coast is a series of steep hilly ridges and ravines jutting out into the Straits of Lombok. In the secluded coves and bays local fishermen eke out a living from their colourful outriggers. A dozen or so hidden bays are now home to little boutique hotels which in recent years have out numbered the backpacker beach huts that initially made the area popular. As the clear blue waters here are popular scuba diving spots, I’ve seen more and more hotels like the Anda ( which means ‘Yours’ yes if only) mushroom over a span of 12 months. And the more enterprising of the fishermen here are now running snorkelling or just plain sailing trips for visitors while still bringing home small catches for the family.

We settled into an old favourite with friendlier rate www.bayucottages.com

The new owners and management at Bayu Cottages seem to have their work cut out for them. The cottages were well maintained and luxurious for this part of Bali and were full even in the rainy season. Other choices in the area were charging $60 or more. Truth be told, running a 6 room B & B in the boondocks requires an almost constant hands on presence. That presence leaves 5 rooms to rent out, and we booked the last one a month ago. I had known the past management, a young couple from Singaraja town in north Bali since 1998. They were quite laid back, since the Californian owners were teachers in Japan staying in their patch of paradise just 3 weeks a year. Made and Anik are great hosts and cooks even sitting down to dine with guests and plunging into the pool fully clothed, which depending on one’s mood might seem too intrusive. Most Balinese are naturally curious as to what lies beyond their shores and the world’s fascination with their island so long chats into the night are de rigueur here. With the demand rising for small hotels in the craggy hillsides here, Bayu was put up for sale in 05 for $315,000. We didnt meet up with Made and Anik this time but found out that they were starting a new guesthouse and restaurant up the road with a partner from New Zealand. Meanwhile our new hosts were kept very busy pumping out a clogged kitchen outlet pipe way past midnight.

 

Day 5: Cycling from the mountains to the sea, Batur to Candidasa

Thursday May 11, 2006, 70 km (43 miles) – Total so far: 130 km (81 miles)

Gossip

We ride much longer distances today and some of it doesnt even involve pedalling. Today’s ride from the mountains to the sea is a mix of 10 rolling kms on a crater road, 3 kms hitching a ride out of the main crater, 20 kms downhill, 25 km cross country, another 10 km down hill to sea level and 5 kms to the beach at Candidasa.

We rode out on the 10 kms on the winding road carved out from the lava beds of Mt Batur to the next village of Kedisan. It’s here that the road starts it’s steep 3 km climb out of the main crater to Penelokan. From the crater’s rim you have a choice of cycling or rather freewheeling downhill one of 5 roads to the south of Bali. All too soon I heard a familiar voice shout out ‘Transport!’ It looked like one of Daddy’s relatives, a mechanic who got a bunch of kids to push start his pick up. After we loaded up, 3 kids jumped in. There was a 2 week school break and today’s lesson in economics is, there’s money to be made when you convince bike tourists that the road is long and steep. I know. The speedometer goes up to 60 km per hour on the longest straight here, going downhill that is. We didnt start off that early today so some cheating was in order. Besides it is not much fun cycling next to those dump trucks belching black smoke each time they change gears passing you by. For $3.50, we can get our own fresh exhaust fumes sitting in our pick up. On one nasty switchback, most vehicles will be spinning their rear wheels, crawling uphill a few feet at a time. When an engine stalls, I’ve seen some drivers hop out, large rock in hand ready to be stuffed behind a rear wheel. The process repeats itself until they reach a flat spot and gun their engines again for the final few metres. The lifespans of engines are quite short here.

This is the harbour (well they call it a harbour) where boats go to Trunyan It didnt take long before someone came by, expounding the wonders of the village and its odourless corpses. From the general state of the boats here, it looked like business was as flat as the lake’s surface. We had our clearest views of Mt Batur and its smaller cones thus far and we were glad that we did all our mountain climbing in previous years. It takes about 2 to 3 hours to reach the summit where the views are nothing short of spectacular. Guides will prepare a breakfast of boiled eggs and steamed bananas. Just find a hissing, steaming vent and put in the eggs and bananas and wait a few ninutes. The mountain does the rest. I like to climb just after daybreak as I like to see where I’m going.

Usually a few village kids will tag along and soon enough there’s a platoon of villagers ‘guiding’ two or three foreigners on an open trail where you ‘might get lost’ and all will expect something from you. Some will carry a pail full of bottled drinks and bottled water where the price at the summit reaches new heights. How do you not buy a drink from a 5 year old shoeless kid who does this every other day? Whip out your Camelbak and offer him a drink for his efforts. Opening a wallet just creates a mob scene. I usually fold some Rupiah and pass it on quietly. If you buy bottled water look closely at the seal and bottom of the bottle. Some crafty buggers are real good at quickly opening the plastic seal with a covered hand and if the clear water tastes funny, you’ve just paid $2 for water, fresh from the lake. If you need to deal with officialdom like the Association of Mt Batur Trekking Guides, a big name for the local trekking mafia, stick to your guns and bargain hard. Rates range from $30 to $200 per person! depending on how rich you look. They’ve got all the trailheads covered, scuffles have broken out and parked rental cars damaged if you decide to climb unguided. According to Daddy with all the bad press from Looney Planet guidebooks (yes I know it’s Lonely P, but Looney sounds more accurate) and the many bad experiences from climbers in the last few years, the trekking mafia have actually mellowed. No more verbal threats and rates in US dollars. Yesterday I saw camera flashes going off from the hundred or so climbers at the summit of Batur.

Leaving Penelokan we took a final look at the whole crater before turning our wheels downhill to the crossroads town of Bangli. This is quite a major road with large white tourist buses heading uphill to Batur. It was still early and we had our lane to ourselves, chatting and overtaking slower traffic at 50 kmph. Most were women on motorcycles coasting in neutral gear presumably to conserve some petrol. Never had that problem with our bicycles. Just numb sleepy legs when the odd incline appeared. We reached Bangli in about 40 minutes and were already more than halfway to the coast as the crow flies. The island’s only mental hospital is in Bangli and the people here are usually the butt many jokes, crazy or otherwise. The cool climate here is supposedly calming for frazzled minds. It was almost mid day and we stopped to get some rubbery hamburger and a hot dog from a bright orange mobile bakery. Dessert was a couple of Lemon Zest Cliff Bars from a dozen or so that I was carrying.

Happy

What lies after the road disappears into a steep ravine? It’ll cross a bridge and the climb out the other side always seem steeper. This went on for about 15 dizzying kms from Bangli to Rendang. I think our tandem (meaning I) would probably under steer into some of the 180 degree hairpin bends here.

A Kodak or rather Canon moment that shows up every time we ride this inland cross country road from Rendang to Amlapura, the district capital on Mt Agung’s southern flanks. 25 kms of the real Bali in different shades of green. This road also passes through a few sleepy villages, but mostly through shady salak (a small, scaly skin custard like fruit) plantations, going downhill with wide sweeping bends almost like a Moto GP racetrack for another 20 kms or so, but we’re turning right at Putung where a more direct and steeper backroad will bring us closer to a small beach village at Candidasa on Bali’s south eastern coast.

There was a little bit of drama when Coleen used the restroom at the Putung guesthouse, a supposedly local government run establishment. While she was in the ladies, she saw an eye peering through the door’s keyhole. Stretching out her hand to cover it and then removing it the eye was still there! She was more amused than shocked at this guys persistence or stupidity, and as I showed up I saw someone running away. Looking through the keyhole I saw nothing more than a narrow view of its rusty insides. Peeping is a minor pastime in some Indonesian hotels. If you happen to see a band aid or crumpled tissue stuck on your bedroom or bath room wall check again. It’s there for a reason! I went in next leaving the door wide open so Coleen could peep all she wanted. The gents just smelt too funky for me. I did say it was a government run/ruined place.

Candidasa

Tonight’s rest stop is the ages old Kelapa Mas or Golden Coconuts Homestay right on the beach or what’s left of it. Boy was it hot and humid here after leaving the cool mountains. It was also our cheapest room thus far at Rp 100,000/$9 with 2 breakfasts. We decided against the Amankila Resort just a few kms before Candidasa. Hillside villas starting at $600 a night before taxes will just get you a private plunge pool, indoor jacuzzi, rose petals on fine thread Egyptian cotton bedsheets, personal butler to polish your bicycle, a spa therapist, all sorts of pampering and  definitely no peepholes.

Sichon to Nakhon Si Thammarat

Sunday May 9, 2010, 88 km (55 miles) – Total so far: 708 km (440 miles)

Leaving the beach at Sichon was easy. Point the bike south. The resort manager seemed surprised that I was checking out without first having breakfast at their restaurant. Didn’t want to trouble them. It looked like BF was going to be long drawn as there was no staff around. Must be their late night at the beach side pub, but everyone left at about 11 pm, late for local standards.

Somehow 3 girls who were hanging around and seemed like trainee waitresses and cooks redeemed the whole place by running up to me with 2 bottles of cold water bidding me good luck, have a nice day and be careful. One message per girl. I left with a good impression and was curious to see what was down the road.

Not much though, as the other resorts were just waking up. No chance of BF until I pulled into a clean looking hut with 4 tables. Had an average dish of fried noodles to get the cylinders firing. It turned out to be a Thai Muslim stall and we had quite a chit chat as the man spoke Malay.

The almost naked chef

Had a great tailwind assisted ride along the beach for about 25 kms before hitting the main highway 401. Lo and behold as I was about to bonk I see a small wooden building, much like a garden shack but with glass walls on all 4 sides and an AC compressor in the corner. A hip coffee joint in the middle of nowhere. OK if you must know 41 kms on the 401. before Nakhon Si Thammarat, heading south. One iced Cappuccino, countless glasses of iced water, and one refill of ice cubes in the bike bottle later, I had to slowly drag myself out of this roadside oasis of cool air and sustenance.

Eternal spring behind that sliding glass door

Rode another shadeless 20 kms before the lure of a 7/11 called for a break at Tha Sala, a small fishing outpost, one of thousands along the Gulf, then back out onto Hwy 401 where I stopped in my tracks. A huge green billboard that read ‘Tesco Lotus’ meaning for me, a cool lunch inside an AC food court and a stroll seeking fresh fruit. Double locked the loaded bike in the m/cycles section and marched inside. As Hwy 401 is quite close to the coast, my attempts at finding smaller side roads closest to the sea were none too successful, most turned into dead ends or at someone’s house, where I was greeted by chasing dogs more than friendly locals.

More oddities along Hwy 41

More flat roads and Thai highway bliss, before reaching Nakhon, a seriously 6 kms long and lengthy town. A Thai friend emails from Singapore to warn me that people in Nakhon ST are more hot headed than usual and some will really shoot first and ask questions later. I reply asking her where the nearest gun shop was at.

Tonight’s hotel is interesting, the place has no connection with fugitive on the run ex Thai Prime Minister, but the poor staff get quizzed a lot. It’s also in the seedier northern part of town. Rows of pubs and bars outside. I avoid all these by walking through the hotel parking lot. There are also 6 shampoo sachets in the bathroom, how generous.

Wifi or wee fee as the Thais say, was a whole Thb 100 for a whopping mind numbing 24 hours at the hotel lobby. Pay up get a slip of paper, rip it open and enter the printed codes and password. I used 10% of it, but didn’t get Thb 90 back.

Big mistake dinner at KFC in the bright lights of Carrefour. Lame fried rice and spongy ‘New Orleans BBQ’ chicken. Right. Should have known better. Never ever go for western fast food in Thailand again. I console myself by getting some chips and a whole melon for in room feeding tonight.  Ah, but the breakfast tomorrow has redeemed all the eateries in this town, maybe the entire province. Stay tuned.

The office for tonight @ www.thaksinhotel.com

Surat Thani to Sichon: On the beach

Saturday May 8, 2010, 75 km (47 miles) – Total so far: 620 km (385 miles)

As much as I like to pack up and leave at the break of dawn, this rarely happens when exploring and photographing a new town in the pre breakfast hours. Riding an unloaded bike is also a nice change before the real plodding begins. If there are some distractions like a nice park around the city shrine or a small island dedicated to recreation, accessed only by a small bridge, then my real departure form Surat Thani is going to be 9 or 10 am. Chinatowns in any Thai city are always an excuse to dawdle some more. Freshly brewed coffee or tea, followed by a breakfast of tim sum while observing the goings on in the streets.

Old roof bridges are handy in case of flooding or escape when caught with a mistress

A slow boat to Ko Samui

Riding east nto the sun this morning almost 40 kms of trying to shield my face with a puny bandana, water soaked for maximum cooling effect. Then a long long break at Kanchanadit, with nice views of the sea and distant Ko Samui Island. And of course, not a day passes by without the familiar, ‘ding dong’ chimes of a 7/11 beckoning me into it’s cool confines. Sichon is actually 3 kms off Hwy 401 and it was nice to turn off into a much quieter road. The highway ‘buzz’ from trucks and trailers was getting a bit irritating, though the shoulders were very wide and shady. Some nice karsts on both sides but none too spectacular as on the west coast. Amazing what a semi rest day makes and I got to Sichon at about 2 pm in time for a late lunch by the sea.

About 38 deg C here

One of the better deals in Sichon is www.kruapoybeachresort.com/aboutus.php?lang=english

The place is about 40 years old but they have maintained it very well. I got a room, # 6 furthest from the bar and restaurant, with brand new bathroom and terrace, looking out to some very sleep inducing palm trees swaying in the wind. Even the bathroom had a view, pull the curtains and shower with blue skies and coconut trees above. I could have been in Bali. There are also larger rooms at Thb 1000, and a 2 storey villa that sleeps 6. No need to ask the going rate, cannot afford it, well actually can, but not without putting a big dent in the daily budget. Their sister resort next door has an exhibit of a complete whale skeleton from 1976. FYI whale bones are very heavy.

Hin Ngam beach 2 minutes from my room

As far as beach resorts go, this was just passing the mark. I judge this by lunch and whether simple variations on the menu can be entertained. Iced Nescafe was priced at Thb 30, the rest being 50 plus. Well I was charged Thb 50, and told a waitress why state 30 when you want to charge 50? Of course, I got my change back. To be fair, things other than F & B were pretty low key and thus quiet, the way I like it.

In as many days, this was the first that I got, being in a room, nourished, washed, cleaned and moisturised by 3 pm. It felt good and sleep came easy. Not much of a walkabout tonight as I am nowhere near a big city, ah but the waves and sea breezes were a refreshing change nonetheless. The bike came in real handy as I explored the village roads and had a 8 km roundtrip in the dark, into the lifeless metropolis of Sichon, just to secure dinner, a so so massage and some supplies.

Khao Lak to Khuraburi: Yes it’s raining cats, 3 legged dogs and frogs

 

Tuesday May 4, 2010, 125 km (78 miles) – Total so far: 281 km (175 miles)

The heat and humidity is going to be a recurrent theme during this trip of self discovery and perpetual sweating, unless it’s raining heavily like for the 3 hours in Takua Pa today. The Thai Met Dept, www.tmd.go.th/en predicts, get this says there is a 20 – 60% chance of rain each day this month. At 1.00 pm sharp I got the 40% part. and rode the last 50 kms in a soaking wet stupor.

If it is Blazing Hot, I shall refer to it as BH. Or Bloody Hot, or Balls Busting Hot. Please choose one.

Though a curse and a blessing at the same time, rains are cooling things off a bit. I can’t imagine 125 kms in the blazing sun with my pink bandana under the helmet. Must go find a bluer more ‘manly’ one. Throughout this trip, I try different ways of tying it to cover most of my face. There are Versions 1.0 – 4.0, more later.

Police boat # 813 was washed 2kms inland

Grim reminders of 26th Dec 2004

Got chased by a three legged mutt of all things things, boy was he determined to lose another limb. I drifted into the opposite lane and it worked, it and it’s posse of 3 automatically veered back to the left and gave up. The frog bit was when I walked into a gas station toilet in Takua Pa and a frog decided to leap onto another wall hitting my head in the process. I was too wet, sticky and hungry to offer a response!

I'd like some rain but not 2 hours of torrents

Takua Pa, 30 kms north of Khao Lak, if one has not researched it and looked at Google Earth, is not exactly on Rte 4, that’s just the intersection in which the highway has bypassed the original town, with one crappy hotel behind the Esso Station patronised by many a CGOABer.

So I ask, where? It’s another 7 kms down a riverside road ending at an old tin mining town full of charm and character, well mostly rotting 100 year old shop houses. That’s a 14 kms detour and I have still another 50 kms to make it to Ranong. I do the detour, had a tim sum lunch and wait out a 2 hour thunderstorm.

A SWT / sweet young thing who spoke perfect English offered me a towel and a stool at her restaurant at another sudden rain shelter. After some chit chat, I thanked her and left, she folded the towel and placed it back on a wooden chopping board.When that’s done, it’s past 3 pm and I need to ‘e-va-cuate’ ala Austin Powers, ie. defecate if you’re wondering. A 2 hr sit down lunch does that. Thankfully the toilets at Takua Pa Caltex are new and very tiled, so much so that while squatting, I look up and see the reflections of my locked bike in some wall tiles. Ah, relief in more ways than one.

 

Bucolic Hwy 4

40 kms before Khuraburi, there are some nice looking but fake log cabins with AC of course, on a small lush hillside to the right. I did not stop, but should have. Food might be a bother, given it’s remote location.

15 kms before Khuraburi some hills appear, nothing too drastic but my legs were feeling it as I heroically but foolishly realised that pushing it on a smallish 44T Kooka big ring the last 2 days was taking it’s toll. I get to see some low clouds hugging the karst hills of the vast Khao Sok National Park to my right.

www.khaosok.com

This Park alone is worth a trip to Phangnga Province. A flooded forest and lake with 900 meter high cliffs in Thailand’s oldest evergreen jungles.

It’s getting late, after sundown late, but ah the air is so much cooler, my crotch is still damp and man, the Battlestar Gallactica blinking front and rear lights are startling the rest of the road users.

 

A huge room at the Poomjaivuttichai Guest House in downtown Khuraburi

Tonight’s aborted Presidential Suite http://kuraburiboonpiyaresort.9nha.com is full. Low season weekday night full. What? A diving (scuba) group had it booked out. Woe is me. I got there in the dark at 7.30 pm and was redirected to another place thankfully by a really chubby girl on her m/cycle. She even helped me with the panniers but I felt bad as they were heavy and she struggled upstairs.

I did too but I’m better at silencing my already overworked lungs.

Then she wanted my passport and Thb 650 to finish off her day’s work. I told her I was too dirty and would like to bathe (without her of course) and then go down to check in. Where else am I going? Back to Takua Pa? Got cleaned up and went in search of dinner and the all important internet. Khuraburi is just another town with a 4 lane highway for people to dangerously get across. It’s port is also a jumping off point for the Similan Islands and crystal clear waters.

So I get my street side beef noodles. Then a 7/11 speghetti with Thai basil and pork and a ton of hydration and get beck to my room which is now padlocked from the outside. Clamber down 2 floors again to reception at the back of a grocery store, and get the owner to unlock my double locked door.

Told the woman that after cycling 120 plus kms alone, in the rain, in damp shorts, I shouldn’t have to climb stairs too much. Complimented her on the nice room, but said that without a fridge, nor internet, alas she’ll lose out to the Boon Piya. It was full wasn’t it? I am getting good at this. She sympathized and dropped the rate to Thb 550. Hallelujah, I’ll have to use this same line at each check in.

Internet time was interesting as the cafe owner was an Englishman sitting outside tucking into a fiery and spicy som tam / Thai papaya salad. He spoke to me in perfect Thai and I countered with an Australian accent, just for fun.