Saturday, 26 April 2014

Traffic and Temples - Western Java

We didn't do much in Krui other than laze around in the garden of our hotel. We had eaten at a decidedly dodgy roadside restaurant the previous day, and whilst it hadn't actually made me ill, I was definitely not feeling 100%. Thankfully my nausea faded by the afternoon, and I felt up to a slow wander down to the beach. It would have been a shame to stay so close and not venture down to the sea.

As with most of the rest of the South Sumatra coastline, this was one stunning stretch of beach. The tide was just starting to come in as the sun began to set, glassy still water sitting in the rock pools. Huge waves rolled and crashed a little further out, and the low sun cast a dramatic and atmospheric glow over everything. The beauty of the scene was slightly compromised by me managing to stand in a nest of very territorial ants shortly after arriving, but once I stopped leaping about and shrieking in pain it was a lovely time indeed. We strolled home in the dark, and spent the evening chatting to a couple of surfer dudes also staying at our guest house.


We started the next day with a hearty breakfast. Thankfully I was feeling a lot better, and my food showed no signs of wanting to reappear. Our aim was to get as close to the ferry port as possible, and hopefully to make it past the large city of Bandar Lampung. The road was horrendous for the first section of the drive, but luckily it did level out eventually. The route skirted the coastline, and the beaches were incredible, causing us to lament the fact that we had to leave so soon.


All was going well. Progress was good, until we hit a particularly rough section and the bike just cut out. It did start again, but our first reaction (after the Laos problems) was to double check the battery terminals. They were completely fine, and head-scratching ensued as we tried to work out exactly what the problem might be. We were pretty sure it was an electrical issue, but were not keen to start taking the bike apart in the middle of nowhere, so decided to try and limp on.

We drove on for a few hours without any major problems, then pulled in for petrol. As we went to drive off, the bike once again sputtered and died. We quickly realised that it cut out whenever Oli moved the steering at a certain angle, so knew that something must be pulling on a pretty crucial connection. It turned out that the ignition wiring is a solder connection rather than a terminal, and the rough roads combined with the routing having shifted had pulled the wire out entirely. With the diagnosis no longer a concern, we knew exactly how to fix it, but alas we did not have the correct tools.

It was a frustrating situation, and Oli and I were just trying to work out how we would explain “solder iron” with mimes, when a man showed up and asked us if we were okay. Mercifully he spoke good English, and before we knew it he informed us that an electrician was on his way with the goods. We quickly drew a crowd, and the problem was easily fixed. The only pain was the teenage boys, who kept staring at me and being a bit creepy. They asked if they could have a photo with me, and I said sure, but only if my husband is in it too. They didn't want it then.

Oli was a bit distracted whilst all this was going on, but we were just so grateful to the man who had helped us, especially when he insisted on paying the mechanic on our behalf. Our saviour Mahri asked if we would come back to his house for some refreshments and a rest. Although we needed to make progress and crunch some more miles, it is always nice to meet and talk with people, so we happily agreed. We enjoyed a lovely break, drinking tea, chatting and meeting the family. We were invited to stay, and would have loved to take up the offer. However, once again the 60 day visas were looming in our minds, so we got back on the road.


Unfortunately from this point the quiet Sumatra roads were a thing of the past. It was like a taster of the fabled Java traffic, and we battled our way through dust, fumes, lorries and scooters. Progress was slow and very dangerous, and although the surface was mostly good quality we found ourselves longing for the quiet, broken rural roads. Getting through Bandar Lampung itself was absolute hell, and by the time we arrived in Kalianda we were mentally exhausted and blackened by soot.  We picked the least depressing looking hotel (still rather depressing), and got an early night.

The next morning we were up early and ready for a new island. It was just a short ride to the ferry, and we managed to navigate the ticket buying process and find the ferry relatively easily, despite the fact that it was not at all obvious where to go. It was an easy crossing, and happily the crowd that gathered around us got bored quickly, and we were left to drink coffee in peace as we watched the sea go by. We started to think that we would get to Java in very good time, but as we reached the shore the captain switched off the engines. There we sat and drifted about for over an hour, before eventually docking and being allowed to disembark. Interestingly they carried out loading simultaneously with unloading, which caused the ship to rock alarmingly. This made u-turning the heavy bike very difficult, especially with all the blokes trying to “help” by pushing and pulling it around.


After navigating a considerable urban sprawl we found ourselves on some beautiful back roads. We both started to hope that all the stories about Java traffic were exaggerated, as this didn't seem so bad at all. Sadly this hope flickered and died rather quickly, as the road started to pass through small town after small town. The traffic was utter carnage. Imagine the volume of traffic from say, the A1, but transplanted into small country lanes with no town bypasses whatsoever. Add to the mix mini-busses dropping passengers off at inappropriate places, grumbling lorries belching black smoke, and thousands of scooters, and you are some way to picturing what this was like. We had invested in dust-masks from Alfamart in preparation for this, and are pleased to confirm that this was most definitely a smart move.

Every now and then we would get glimpses of beautiful mountain scenery, but this was mostly obscured by buildings lining the roadside.  The going was slow, and we laboured into the outskirts of Bogor as the sun was starting to go down. It was actually an incredible sun set, a glow of vibrant oranges and pinks, complimented by a rainbow and occasionally lit by bright flashes of lightning. If we had been anywhere else it would have been spectacular, but it was hard to appreciate it whilst trying to fight our way through heavy city traffic. By the time we found a hotel and settled in it was too late to really see or do anything in the city. However, we passed a very comfortable night and enjoyed super-hot showers, so it was a worthwhile stop after all.


We had no real plans for the next day other than to push as far east as possible. Our hotel was a cut above what we were used to, and offered free breakfast out in a peaceful courtyard. We sat enjoying a tasty nasi goreng, and I watched the fish drifting about in the tank nearby. As I watched them merrily swimming about, one that looked like a small pike suddenly lunged and grabbed a goldfish. It was far too large for its mouth, and both of them looked a little helpless, not sure what to do next. After a while the pike started trying to swallow its prey, eventually dropping it when one of the bigger fish approached. We watched with car-crash like fascination, wondering if the hotel owners realised that keeping these species together was perhaps not the best of ideas.

The traffic from Bogor to Bandung was horrendous, seeming to confirm the worst of our Java fears. From this point I have most definitely been upgraded from passenger to co-pilot. Indicator lights in Indonesia tend to mean anything other than “I am about to move to the left/right”, and hence are ignored by almost everyone. Luckily a hand signal seems to do the trick far better, so it is now my job to back up any change of course with a gesture. People seem to pay attention to this far better than anything else, and I quite enjoy the feeling of being able to halt a truck by just extending an arm.

Once we passed Bandung the traffic hell continued. The mountain roads twisted and turned their way up steep slopes, and we were pretty much constantly overtaking. It was very tiring for me, let alone for Oli as the driver, so when the bike once again sputtered and died just as we reached the peak of the hill, we were not happy at all. To make things even better it began to rain, so we pushed the bike across the busy road and under a shelter. Sometimes life is just not fair.

We were soon surrounded by people keen to help us out. A solder iron was fetched, but unfortunately it was pretty ancient. The tip just would not heat up adequately, which made fixing the connection impossible. Our assistants were convinced that Oli was not doing it properly, taking the tools and only succeeding in wasting all the solder. Protests were futile, so Oli just let them get on with it, whilst I chatted to one of the ladies and a friendly police officer. Eventually accepting that the soldering iron was not going to work, somebody went off on a scooter to fetch an electrician with a proper soldering iron. Once he arrived it was easily fixed, and the sum of his labour came to around £1. The people who had run around trying to find him also asked for a bit of money for their transport, which we were happy to give. They said we were welcome to sleep in the police station, but we decided to go on our way.


We stopped a few hundred metres down the road to double check that the routing of the cable was definitely now okay. As we were engaged with this a scooter rider pulled up, and told us that he had seen us on television. This was the second time that day that we had been informed of this, and assured him that we didn't think it could be us. Not minding this, he invited us to stay at his house. We hesitated slightly, as with the breakdown we didn't feel we had done enough miles. Still, meeting people and being spontaneous is one of the great things about travelling, so we decided to take him up on his offer.

We ended up being so glad we had gone for it. Kemal and his family were such wonderful, welcoming people, and we immediately felt at home. As a bonus, the house was made lively by three excitable kittens, which Oli and I just loved seeing as we had been quoting this at each other for the past week. We went out for a tasty dinner, slept well, and were very sad to leave everyone behind in the morning.


The roads were busy, but far, far better than our first two Java days. Whilst we still had to overtake endless lorries we encountered nothing like the gridlock of Bandung. It appeared that we may have gotten through the worst of it. The roads straightened out and were good quality, which allowed us to make pretty good progress. Even the rain didn't stop us. We popped into Alfamart and I purchased a full rain suit for the grand price of £3. I gave Oli the jacket as my motorbike top is already very waterproof, and I wore the pants, which made us look like a bizarre husband/wife team. The roads remained busy but good, and we arrived in Yogyakarta in the late afternoon.


We had done no research, but drove around until we found the main hotel area. We asked around at a few places, being a bit fussy as we would be here for a few days. Eventually we decided on the first place, and negotiated the one-way system to get back there. On arriving, they told us that actually they had nowhere to park the big bike, and that we couldn't leave it on the street outside. Feeling a bit annoyed, we left and continued our search. On reflection, we are really glad we couldn't stay there. The place we have ended up in is newly renovated, has a swimming pool, a decent cafe and fast wi-fi. We don't even care that the bathroom is cold water, as it is brand new and beautiful.

As we were planning to spend three nights in Yogyakarta (or Jogja as the locals call it), we thought we would give buying a 19 litre water a go. Unfortunately the shop refused to sell it to us, as we didn't have an empty bottle to trade in. It was a bit of a catch-22 situation, but when I tried to question the paradox, all we received were blank looks and a statement that it was “the rules”. Unperturbed, we instead bought wasteful plastic bottles, and returned home for a tasty dinner.

Our main planned activity for Jogja was to visit the ancient Buddhist temple of Borobudur. We were too lazy to get there for sunrise, but nevertheless got on our way early, keen to avoid the crowds and the intense heat of the day. On arriving, we headed for the car park, only to be told by the security guards that motorbikes weren't allowed in that area. Instead, we had to go leave it at a paid private parking spot over the road. No amount of begging was going to convince them, so we grudgingly turned around.

Once we had parked up, we made our way over to the ticket office. Entry for Indonesian nationals is a bargainous 30,000 rupiah (about £1.50), but foreigners are evidently seen as lucrative cash cows. We were smilingly directed to the International Ticketing Office, which was a plush, air-conditioned building with the fanciest toilets we have seen in Indonesia (or indeed almost anywhere). We handed over an excruciating $20 each, and in return received tokens for welcome drinks. We picked coffee tokens, then realised that actually we had to have the drink straight away. I asked if we could take water instead, and was told that this was not possible as my token was for coffee. Thankfully this was resolved by going back to the ticket desk two meters away and swapping it, but it seemed a little pointless. This slavish following of the rules in Jogja was definitely freaking us out.

Borobudur is an imposing structure, and the largest Buddhist temple in the world. Originally constructed in the 9th Century, it was unknown to the international community until 1814. Hidden under layers of volcanic ash and consumed by jungle, it was duly cleared, then subsequently heavily raided for artifacts and souvenirs. Major renovations were undertaken in the mid 1970s. Today it is not only a UNESCO world heritage site, but the most visited tourist attraction in all of Indonesia.


With this in mind, we decided to beat the crowds and heat by heading to the top first, then work our way slowly down. Technically this is the wrong way to read and understand the place, but we knew we would appreciate things more if there were fewer people and if the temperature was relatively cool. This turned out to be a good tactic, as even though it was early in the day the top tier was by far the busiest. We were approached by several local tourists and school groups for the obligatory photo-shoots, but did manage to find quiet corners. The views over the surrounding countryside were fabulous, with several enormous volcanoes dominating the horizon. Within the domes were Buddha statues. Some were intact, others missing their heads. They were surprisingly difficult to see from the outside, sitting secretively within their protective walls.


Although it was not yet 10:00am, the heat was already intense and the crowds were building. The photo-shoot requests were getting rather frequent, which was a bit much given the relentless sun. We decided to bail out before we got unreasonably irritated, and began to make our way down. Surprisingly, the lower tiers were almost completely empty of visitors. We slowly worked our way through the shady, narrow corridors. Both sides were covered with carved reliefs, intricate and detailed. With the right knowledge I am sure it tells a fascinating story, but as it was, Oli and I were happy to enjoy them as works of art. Whilst the top of the temple is unarguably spectacular and iconic, we really liked the peace and quiet of the lower levels.


Feeling like we had almost got our $20 worth, we decided to call it a day and head for the exit. The entrance steps were actually much closer to where the bike was parked, so with the intense heat we thought we would just go that way. We were about half way down when an attendant told us that we couldn't go in that direction, and that we needed to walk around to the other side of the temple grounds. He told us this through a megaphone, despite the fact that we were less than six feet away. We argued politely, and he was then going to let us through, but we thought last minute that maybe we would miss something if we didn't exit the official way. It turned out that the purpose of this was only to funnel us through a very long corridor of hawkers. It was a long, hot and unnecessary walk, and we were not too amused.


Whilst the temple itself was amazing, we had mixed feelings about Borobudur. Considering the entrance fee was the same price as for Angkor, it was definitely a bit steep. We also didn't like the way that people weren't expected to respect the space. Fair enough it is no longer a working temple, but quiet is important in Buddhism, so the fact that there were huge groups of visitors and school kids running around, shrieking, shouting, and posing all over the place for cheesy photos definitely took something away from it. We are really glad we went, but are even more pleased that we made the effort to get there early, as we still got a chance to enjoy it with a little tranquility. The views from the top level were outstanding, and we do feel very lucky to have had the chance to see them.

Annoyances and grumbles aside, it had been a good visit. We rode back to town, took very much needed showers, ate a good lunch, then installed ourselves in the hotel cafe. As we were sat, we saw a familiar face approach the bike. It turned out to be Alex, one of the surfer dudes we had met in Krui. It was great to bump into him again, and we sat for a while chatting. We went our separate ways for dinner, then met again in the evening for a beer. It was the closest thing we have had to a social life for a while, and we had a very enjoyable evening. It was a late night for us, and we eventually crashed out, looking forward to beginning our lazy day off in the morning.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

The Long Road South - Sumatra

We were up and ready to leave our lake retreat bright and early. We had no real plan other than to drive as far south as possible before night fell, so knew we had better be on our way. As well as the ferry crossing, Samosir island is also connected to the mainland via a bridge, so we decided to use this instead. We hadn't really achieved much in the way of getting out and about whilst at Toba, so thought the drive to the bridge would give us an opportunity to see more of the island. The drive was beautiful, and the road surprisingly good. Interestingly, Christianity seems to have been blended with local traditions. The churches had a decidedly batak feel, and we saw what we presumed were graves everywhere. These combined Christian iconography with model batak houses. We have never seen anything like this before, and we were very intrigued.


Over the day the road quality varied from excellent, to bad, to bloody awful, seemingly with no logic dictating the state of each section. We progressed as best we could, following the road through stunning mountain vistas. Needing a break, we pulled over for lunch at a random roadside restaurant. The owners and customers were so shocked to see us that for a minute or so they just stood around giggling. Eventually somebody plucked up the courage to bring us food, and all was well. Before leaving however, I decided to use the facilities. Now I have seen a lot on our travels, but this was way outside of my comfort zone. Instead of just a toilet, there was a row of six, separated only by dividers around two feet high. Call me a prude, but I got Oli to hold the main door whilst I was in there. People do like to stare at us in this country, so I was happier doing my thing in peace.


Whilst we were on the minor roads the going wasn't bad. Major roads don't necessarily mean better surfaces in Sumatra, but they definitely mean more traffic. Sadly it was necessary to join a busier road. We were by no means stuck in endless jams, but overtaking countless lorries, slow scooters and dithering cars was exhausting. We decided to call it a day at around five, and commenced the search for hotels. The first one we asked at was way outside of our budget, and the one next door was hideously filthy. We decided to push on, which is always risky in Sumatra, as places to stay can be decidedly few and far between.

To get to the next town we needed to negotiate a mountain pass. The light was failing quickly, and storm clouds were brewing ominously over the hills. Still, as terrible as riding in the dark would have been, it would have been better than that grim hotel, so we still felt like it was a good decision.  The area seemed to be quite religious. As we had ridden southwards the churches had gradually given way to mosques, and over this twenty mile section we saw many new ones under construction. We also passed what must have been a school, as the village seemed to be almost exclusively populated by teenage boys in conservative religious dress. All along the roadside were crowded together basic sheds, which seemed to be their accommodation. In the fading light it seemed a strange but atmospheric place.

Thankfully our gamble paid off, and the next town was home to one single hotel. It was sort of a dump, but very cheap, and the family running it were kind and welcoming. We had a tasty dinner for £1 between us at a local restaurant, watched a film in bed, and crashed out early. We slept surprisingly well, and were up and ready to go before 07:30. After the obligatory photo-shoot with the owners we were free to go, and were back on the road, ready for another monster day.

It was a long ride, made bearable by the beautiful scenery. Sumatra is always worth getting up early for, and this morning was no exception. The vibrant green of the rice paddies was set off beautifully by the morning mist, and the road was relatively traffic free until we reached the town of Bukittinggi. Before arriving in town, we hit a major milestone on our trip - crossing the equator. We had feared it would be an anti-climax, but it was actually an awesome feeling. Once we arrived in Bukittinggi, we took a lunch break there at a surprisingly excellent restaurant. A local man chatted to us a bit, expressing surprise to see us eating Indonesian food. This is not the first time this has happened, which seems a bit odd. What exactly do people think we have been eating? Do they think we've come all this way to only eat Western food? We actually love the food here, but it's not like there are many other options.


We left the restaurant, then began our battle with the crush of solid traffic barring the way out of the city. Indonesian towns can honestly make a traffic jam out of nothing. Sometimes we pass through a tiny place, pretty much just one street and a market, and will be stuck for ages. The cause usually turns out to be nothing more than two lorries trying to pass each other on a narrow section, made worse by all the scooters determined on filling every tiny gap available.

The driving here really is terrible, which is hardly surprising as we are fairly convinced that a lot of people don't have licenses, especially in rural areas. It is not uncommon at all to see kids that can't be older than ten driving themselves and their siblings to school. Our theory is that as soon as they can reach the floor they are allowed by their parents to ride the scooter. Every now and then we pass a police road block, the first warning of which is always a queue of car drivers and scooter riders waiting on the road side just around the corner, with the same thing happening the other side of it. Surely the police must know that everyone is there, so we couldn't work out why they don't just go and ask people if they can see their licenses. Maybe they don't think that's fair.

Thankfully after Bukittinggi the road opened up again, and we were heading towards Lake Diatas. The scenery had morphed from rice paddies to mountains, the main crop changing to tea. We stopped to snap a picture, and were joined by a guy on a 125cc bike. Unusually for Indonesia, he was not only wearing a helmet but also a proper jacket and boots. He spoke no English and we spoke no Indonesian, but we managed to communicate, and discovered we were heading the same way. He rode with us for a while, always right on our back wheel. It emerged that he was determined to help us find a hotel. The first one he took us to was way out of our budget, and the second seemed expensive for what was on offer. We decided to see what lay ahead, and waved goodbye.


After about twenty minutes we realised this was a stupid idea, as we were firmly heading into the middle of nowhere. We did a quick u-turn, and bashfully returned to the cheaper of the two hotels. It turned out that this town had a small street food scene. We spotted a stand selling something tasty looking (Martabak Mesir), causing everyone to do a double-take when we sat down and ordered. Whilst we were waiting we spotted this genius contraption. We weren't quite sure if it was functioning as a petrol tank or just an alcohol supply:


After a good sleep, we were up and off again, ready for a third day on challenging roads. Rather than following the Trans-Sumatran highway, our planned route was along more minor roads. After the first two days, we have accepted that it is difficult to do much over 200 miles in one day, so were aiming to get as only far as Mukomuko. We rode without a break until lunch, then exhaustedly pulled over at a grotty roadside restaurant for some much needed sustenance.


As we were packing up and getting ready to move on, we were joined by a man on a Yamaha Vixion. He spoke good English, and told us that he was a member of the Qincai Yamaha bike club. He invited us to come back to their headquarters for a drink and to meet some of the others. We hesitated for a bit, as we still had a long way to go, but eventually decided that opportunities like this were too good to pass up.

The other members that we met were lovely guys. Some of their children were also about, shyly waving at us but collapsing into giggles and hiding if we tried to talk to them. Sadly we couldn't stay long, but were delighted to be given an escort out of town and to receive a club sticker for the bike. Zen (the guy we had met outside the restaurant) even had a fake police siren instead of a standard horn, which cleared the way for us rather effectively. They rode a short way up the mountain with us, before stopping to bid us goodbye. They advised us that the road ahead was pretty awful, before giving us the standard Indonesia warning to be careful.


They were not wrong about the road, it had obviously been neglected for years and was absolutely terrible. Landslides seemed to be a regular feature, and for the most part the asphalt was long gone. Happily though there were almost no other vehicles around, and we actually enjoyed the challenge immensely. In a regular car it would have been a nightmare, but our bike flew over the difficult bits with relative ease. Oli and I actually quite enjoy bad roads sometimes, as they mean that we go slow enough to have a good chat. As a further bonus, the road passed through dense rain-forest, the trees occasionally thinning out just enough to allow views of the mist cloaked mountains beyond.


Mukomuko was a treat for us, as we had the luxury of a choice of hotels. The first one was pretty awful for what they were charging, but the second was surprisingly nice. The quality of accommodation seems to vary wildly in Indonesia, with price not really being a reliable indicator. Another traveller had warned us that it is always worth looking around where possible, and we can confirm that this was sound advice. Our lodgings were excellent for what we were paying, as we no longer really mind a cold shower. We did have a family of cockroaches dwelling in the bathroom, but after Oli killed three no more appeared. We slept brilliantly, and awoke feeling clean and very rested.

Unfortunately the previous three days had taken their toll, and we tired quickly. We had been riding for a minimum of nine hours on each day, always negotiating difficult conditions. This fourth day was no exception, and we had to deal with the worst roads so far. It was very twisty, and very potholed. This wouldn't have been so bad if not for the fact that the area was dominated by palm oil plantations (a bit of a downer after yesterday's wild forests), and the overloaded lorries all tend to travel in convoy. Overtaking on the bad roads is a risky business, as even when we toot a warning on the horn, the lorries are prone to suddenly swinging into our path to avoid particularly lethal holes. On one particularly bad section we saw that one of them had overturned, spilling its load. Hopefully nobody was hurt.


Needing a rest from the drama of the roads, we pulled over for a lunch stop. It was very much a family run place, and everyone seemed very shocked and excited by the fact that we had showed up. Tourists and foreigners don't seem particularly common in this part of the world, so I suppose our presence was rather unexpected. As soon as we had finished eating, Oli and I were handed a seemingly endless supply of babies for photographs. I was pretty terrified that I might drop one, but luckily no such thing occurred. 


We made it to Bengkulu at around three in the afternoon, and were so tired that we decided to call it a day. It was a large but quiet town, and had the luxury of numerous hotels and guest houses. The first was way out of our budget, and the economy room on offer at the second was basically a damp, grim shed in the car park. Feeling a little disheartened we carried on, and found a guest-house with a peaceful courtyard. They were almost fully booked as it was a Friday night, but had their super-deluxe room available. This was actually only £1.50 more than the economy shed room, and was amazing. It was a done deal, and definitely proved the theory that we should always look around when a choice of lodgings is available.

As well as the bonus of a hot water shower, fast internet and aircon, our room also had a pretty fancy toilet. Foolishly whilst in the shower Oli pulled the bidet lever, watching in fascination as it slowly extended, then panicking when it sprayed water in a powerful arc. He got very much in the way of it, running around the bathroom and shrieking in surprise. It was hilarious, and the image of it had me cracking up all evening and into the next day.

Bengkulu is a seaside town, so we thought it would be fitting to go to the beach to watch the sunset. On the road to the coast were numerous signs pointing to high ground, advising people where to flee in case of tsunamis. We had spotted these along the way as well, but their frequency definitely increased within the town. Apparently Bengkulu is in a high risk zone, and the relatively high population density would mean that any impact could be catastrophic.

As it was, the waves were impressively large but decidedly nonthreatening. The sun was just starting to go down, but there was no way Oli and I were going to get to watch it in peace. Every time I lifted the camera to photograph the scene, a gang of excited children would run in front and pose. They came to stare at us for a while, but thankfully realised we were boring before our BBQ corn on the cob was ready. Corn is not the most dignified of foods to eat, so I was grateful not to have to do so with an audience. The sunset itself was gorgeous, dramatically complimented by the powerful waves. As we left the beach, lightning started to flash in the distance, completing the wild beauty of the scene.


The next day we simply did not want to leave. Comfort like we had enjoyed at our hotel is not so easy to come by in Sumatra, and we really liked the town itself. Sadly however the sixty day visas are steadily ticking away, so we had to get going. We stopped to buy some lychees and oranges on the way out of town from a cool dude listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers, then continued on our way, all the time declaring to each other that Bengkulu was awesome.

We rode for a few hours without stopping, before eventually deciding to take a break and start munching our fruit. As we were finishing up and getting ready to continue, we saw a man walking along the road, leading a cow that was in turn pulling a cart. As he drew closer, we realised that he also had a monkey sat in the carriage (some people keep them to pick coconuts). He was as surprised to see us as we were by his unusual companions, and was more than happy to let us take his photo. We passed him again a short while later, both him and us waving to each other enthusiastically.


The scenery that day was some of the best yet, which is really saying something seeing as Sumatra has to be one of the most naturally beautiful places in the world. The road negotiated mountains and skirted past deserted wild beaches, huge waves rolling in from an endless blue ocean. We stopped at one that had a few people around, thinking for a moment that we had gotten away with it and hadn't been spotted as foreigners. We were wrong about this, and it didn't take long before we were approached by a couple of teenage girls. We realised that not a day had yet passed where we hadn't had a random photo-shoot with strangers in Sumatra. We don't really mind most of the time, but sometimes it would be nice just to have a bit of peace. It's okay when people ask, but I got a bit annoyed with the group of guys who were not-so-subtly trying to take photos of us on their phones.


The scenery remained incredible, but the road began to deteriorate considerably. These were not just potholes, they were knee-deep truck catchers. We passed one lorry that appeared to have beached itself, and wondered how much worse it could get. The answer to that turned out to be quite a lot worse, as we suddenly found ourselves in a queue of traffic, with everyone struggling to negotiate a road surface that seemed to consist purely of thick or liquid mud. Given the volume of traffic stuck there compared with the amount of vehicles we had seen on the way, some of these people must have been stranded for hours.

We feared that it might have been caused by an over-turned lorry, so when things started moving even by the tiniest amount we were relieved. The problems were caused merely by the terrible state of the road, and even with the police on hand to help manage things we were almost at a standstill. I walked whilst Oli wrestled with the bike. We were lucky that our side was moving, as I don't think the other lane progressed at all whilst we were there. At least we entertained the many people waiting around, shouting back hellos, returning waves, but declining requests that we stop for photos. Eventually we emerged, mud splattered and triumphant. We had started to have visions of being stuck all night, but luckily it moved a lot faster than we anticipated. We later found out that the road had been closed for the previous three days, so we were actually very lucky to get through at all.


Unknown to us, the next town (Krui) turned out to be a spot known by committed surfers. This meant that there was actual accommodation on offer. We originally planned just to crash for the night and then get back on the road, but a combination of tiredness and the fact that today happens to be my birthday meant that we have decided to stay for two nights instead. We are currently chilling out in the garden, and might stretch ourselves to walk to the beach a little later on.

Sumatra has been an amazing experience so far, and we are lamenting the shortness of our visas every day. There is almost no tourist infrastructure here, which can make things a little difficult but also keeps a constant air of discovery. The scenery is varied and almost always stunning, and every single day here has been eventful. After a fortnight we are simply in love with the island. Forget the mental traffic - the green hills, twisty roads, wild beaches, giant waves, the constant smells of roasting coffee and cocoa all make this one amazing place. Tomorrow we should make it to Bandar Lampung, then we will get the ferry to Java the next day. We have been told by a few people that Java is essentially one long traffic jam, so are a little apprehensive. Hopefully it will surprise us, and turn out to be brilliant... updates to follow!