on the road again
Day 13 – 13/03/15
Start - Bingin Beach, Bali Finish - Floor of roadside hut, eastern Java jungle Distance traveled – ~ 330 km Words by - Swells |
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Leaving our hostel at Bingin beach we raced our scooters into the morning traffic. Like salmon we slipped into the flowing school of scooters around us, ducking and weaving between slow moving cars, trucks, rickshaws', tuk-tuks, bicycles, pedestrians and anything else which had fallen into the constant stream of traffic. Squeezing the throttle wide open I aim for a small gap which was opening on the gutter side of a large truck. My hired helmet - which was held to my head with a simple granny knot as the buckles had long ago given up - moved by acceleration slipped to the back of my head threatening to fall off and exaggerating the sense of speed. Shooting out the other side of the truck I moved over allowing the following scooters room and eased back on the throttle. Undertaking on the inside had now become a comfortable maneuver and more than that - it was common road etiquette. As I squeezed down hard on the throttle again I contemplated the practically of this adapted riding style on my own bike, which reminded me that I was already perhaps a little anxious about seeing my bike.
Arriving at the freight depot right on time we met with Agung our freight agent who was excited and positive. Luke slipped into professional mode and in less than 5 minutes Dan’s bike arrived in the car park in a small truck. Soon we all had our bikes - the anxiety of missing bikes, bribes and police squads evaporating as the excitement of putting our bikes back together took over. Hoping to leave quickly (to make the easy 136 k ride to the ferry which would take us off Bail and onto Java by night fall) we had planned a one hour bike build time... three hours later we rolled onto the Kuta streets broken but not beaten.
My bike with panniers either side that stuck out just past the width of my handle bars felt large and cumbersome. Finding my gears in the slow moving traffic was a stark contrast to any type of riding we had done in Australia. My clutch leaver now occasionally doubled as a phantom break as muscle memory of the break location on the scooter was slowly wearing off with each loud rev.
In a prior team chat we had decided we would ride as if we were cars, not dodging and weaving like we were nimble scooters... It started at first with standard outside overtaking, then lane splitting, then quickly after that the whole gambit of recently learnt riding techniques snuck back into our riding repertoire - within 50k's our bikes had mentally shrunk to the size of scooters and with the added acceleration we were going places. Taking turns at the lead we were pace setters amongst the throng of scooters, until a young girl came through the crowd and caught us all in her slip stream. Following behind for 50 something k's she led the way out of Kuta. Finally, falling away from our local knowledge escort we pulled in for a rest and some street food. Choosing a random food cart and failing at any type of communication as to what was what we simply pointed at what looked good. The language barrier was getting difficult when a giggling girl standing nearby kindly acted as a translator for our transaction, a moment of recognition later I realised that is was the girl who cut our path out of Kuta.
Leaving Kuta we expected the terrain to open up, the roads to get quieter and our speed to increase. This did not happen. The "easy" 136 km's we had to ride to the ferry took us 5 grueling hours. Arriving at the ferry terminal in darkness complicated the already difficult task of navigation amongst the multiple small roads, toll booths and Indonesian direction signs. Finding help was easy though as the friendly locals pointed the way which they suspected we should be going. Parking on the ferry (which had multiple health and safety violations) we headed upstairs for some fresh air hoping we were on our planned course. After a quick look at our maps we found a target camp destination at what looked like a quiet area just outside the town the ferry landed at. Upon arrival we were relieved to see we had caught the right ferry and rolled off into the night.
Following the road outside of town east Java proved the same as Bali; in that there was no break in built up establishment alongside the main roads. There was the occasional break where a farm would border the the road for a short distance but no areas presented themselves for safe and secure free camping. We quickly past our targeted camp destination and began searching for another. Approaching 11 pm I was tired and sore and ready to sleep anywhere. The last thing I felt like doing was a steep winding pot holed surprisingly traffic filled mountain pass, but it was just that which I found myself doing. Winding our way up the mountain the air thinned, blasting a chill through my summer weight riding jacket. The Bluetooth communication devices we each have on our helmets served us well, calling out road conditions and traffic advice around blind corners made the riding easier and debatably safer. Each tight blind corner had a small structure built of bamboo and palm fronds standing proud, the inhabitants of which stood on the corner with small flash lights indicating a safe passage around the bend for a small donation thrown from passing travelers. Or at least this is our conclusion from the curious practice. Tired, sore and close to all adventured out, we pulled into a small open shop on the side of a flat section of road...
Arriving at the freight depot right on time we met with Agung our freight agent who was excited and positive. Luke slipped into professional mode and in less than 5 minutes Dan’s bike arrived in the car park in a small truck. Soon we all had our bikes - the anxiety of missing bikes, bribes and police squads evaporating as the excitement of putting our bikes back together took over. Hoping to leave quickly (to make the easy 136 k ride to the ferry which would take us off Bail and onto Java by night fall) we had planned a one hour bike build time... three hours later we rolled onto the Kuta streets broken but not beaten.
My bike with panniers either side that stuck out just past the width of my handle bars felt large and cumbersome. Finding my gears in the slow moving traffic was a stark contrast to any type of riding we had done in Australia. My clutch leaver now occasionally doubled as a phantom break as muscle memory of the break location on the scooter was slowly wearing off with each loud rev.
In a prior team chat we had decided we would ride as if we were cars, not dodging and weaving like we were nimble scooters... It started at first with standard outside overtaking, then lane splitting, then quickly after that the whole gambit of recently learnt riding techniques snuck back into our riding repertoire - within 50k's our bikes had mentally shrunk to the size of scooters and with the added acceleration we were going places. Taking turns at the lead we were pace setters amongst the throng of scooters, until a young girl came through the crowd and caught us all in her slip stream. Following behind for 50 something k's she led the way out of Kuta. Finally, falling away from our local knowledge escort we pulled in for a rest and some street food. Choosing a random food cart and failing at any type of communication as to what was what we simply pointed at what looked good. The language barrier was getting difficult when a giggling girl standing nearby kindly acted as a translator for our transaction, a moment of recognition later I realised that is was the girl who cut our path out of Kuta.
Leaving Kuta we expected the terrain to open up, the roads to get quieter and our speed to increase. This did not happen. The "easy" 136 km's we had to ride to the ferry took us 5 grueling hours. Arriving at the ferry terminal in darkness complicated the already difficult task of navigation amongst the multiple small roads, toll booths and Indonesian direction signs. Finding help was easy though as the friendly locals pointed the way which they suspected we should be going. Parking on the ferry (which had multiple health and safety violations) we headed upstairs for some fresh air hoping we were on our planned course. After a quick look at our maps we found a target camp destination at what looked like a quiet area just outside the town the ferry landed at. Upon arrival we were relieved to see we had caught the right ferry and rolled off into the night.
Following the road outside of town east Java proved the same as Bali; in that there was no break in built up establishment alongside the main roads. There was the occasional break where a farm would border the the road for a short distance but no areas presented themselves for safe and secure free camping. We quickly past our targeted camp destination and began searching for another. Approaching 11 pm I was tired and sore and ready to sleep anywhere. The last thing I felt like doing was a steep winding pot holed surprisingly traffic filled mountain pass, but it was just that which I found myself doing. Winding our way up the mountain the air thinned, blasting a chill through my summer weight riding jacket. The Bluetooth communication devices we each have on our helmets served us well, calling out road conditions and traffic advice around blind corners made the riding easier and debatably safer. Each tight blind corner had a small structure built of bamboo and palm fronds standing proud, the inhabitants of which stood on the corner with small flash lights indicating a safe passage around the bend for a small donation thrown from passing travelers. Or at least this is our conclusion from the curious practice. Tired, sore and close to all adventured out, we pulled into a small open shop on the side of a flat section of road...
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