Flores, Moni to Labuan Bajo

With the East of Flores behind me I slowly made my to the West coast of the island, from Moni I rode to the town of Ende, I was lucky to be passing through the harbour city during market day, the markets were full of colour and people lining the street in a hive of activity. Negotiating what seemed to be a maze of one way streets was quite the challenge however it gave me the chance to explore the market place and meet some of the locals, the city seems to be surrounded by volcanoes and the ride out of town along the beach offered some spectacular views. I was becoming quite peckish and I stumbled along a small street café as I climbed into the mountains, the views from their outside eating area took me totally by surprise, it was a 180 degree panorama of the bay and its islands. I continued on through the hills until I reached the beachside town of Riung, which boasted 17 islands and promised some world class snorkelling.

I was lucky to bump into a tour operator that told me about the Tamri guesthouse, which was run by the nicest local guy and his family and only charged Rupiah 90,000 per night with food included, this was 3 times less than the other hotels in town and the accommodation was just as good. I arrived in Riung feeling a little under the weather and had planned to snorkel the next day, unfortunately I got progressively sicker until the whole night was spent either running to the toilet or moaning in pain in my bed. With zero sleep from the night before I cancelled the island cruise and spent the day recovering in bed, I declined the offers from my host to see a doctor deciding to rely on a handful of gastrostop and some stomacheze. It’s generally the case that you miss home the most when your ill and this was no exception, it was 2 days until Christmas and all I wanted from Santa was a solid bowel movement …… perhaps even a hot shower and some Banana Boat 50+ sunscreen, as sunblock was hard to find in Indonesia and often cost more than a night’s accommodation. After a day of misery I felt well enough to rebook my island cruise and spent the day soaking up some sun on white beaches and snorkelling amongst some magnificent coral reef, the gastrostop was working well although a few emergency pit stops were still required.

One thing I noticed on the beaches of Riung’s islands was the sheer amount of rubbish that is lying around everywhere, it’s not only limited to Riung, it seems to be the same at most tourist attractions I’ve visited so far. The sad thing is that it seems to be the locals that are the ones doing all the littering, I’ve watched tour guides finish a bottle of water and simply throw it on the path as they’ve kept on walking. I was relaxing on the beach while my tour guide cooked a freshly caught fish for lunch when 2 families arrived on a different boat. It was great that they had made the trip from Jakarta to Flores to see the natural beauty that this island has to offer, I was shocked that when they left they simply threw their water bottles and a used nappy on the beach with absolutely no regard for preserving the area for the future.

I’d spent 3 days recovering in Riung and was getting itchy feet so I got back on the bike and headed for Bajawa, I was still feeling a little worse for wear and road condition was some of the worst I had seen Flores, I was a bit wobbly on the bike but it was great to be moving again. I was quite motivated to get to Bajawa as it was Christmas eve and I hadn’t had WIFI for a while so I was keen to call my family for Chrissy. I managed to make all the calls and send all the messages that I needed to so I went and explored the traditional village of Bena and its surrounding hot springs. The little village showcased some of the locals doing traditional ikat weaving but for some reason it kept reminding me of the Gaul village from the Astrix and Obelix comics, I half expected the chief to be arguing with a fish monger over the quality of his fish, like in the comic books.

Bajawa is predominantly Roman Catholic so it was a nice atmosphere on Christmas morning, I wasn’t getting any presents though so I decided to spend the day riding and tackled the hilly stretch of road to Labuan Bajo. I was warned that the stretch of road would be wet but I wasn’t expecting the downpour that I was in for. The road between Bajawa and Ruteng had more switchbacks than I had ever seen, combined with the steep downhills and pouring rain meant that the road soon became dangerously slippery. More than once the bike lost traction around a corner forcing me to straighten up, only managing to stop the bike a few centimeters from a sheer cliff and wondering if anyone would even realise if I had gone over the edge. The Beemer has Automatic Stability Control which usually works fantastically, the problem was that the water rushing along the road from uphill was covering the road with dirt and debris forcing me to turn it off at times. With no end to the rain in sight I decided to push on, albeit very conservatively and kept riding to Ruteng. Ruteng is famous for being the home of “the Flores Hobbit”, 7 remains of adult skeletons the size of a 3 y/o child were found in a cave in 2003 and date back to only 12,000 years ago. Apparently there isn’t much to see in the cave and the weather was only getting worse so I decided to push on, checking out the very impressive terraced rice fields in the Ruteng area on the way.

A few Km of flat road along with a break in the rain just outside of Ruteng was a welcome sight, I gave the throttle a twist and picked up a little speed, unfortunately it was short lived and the winding roads and rain soon reappeared. These are usually the type of roads that you would go out of your way to ride but in the huge downpour of rain they were turned into a wet and slippery twisting mess that was both mentally and physically draining to ride. I was very relieved when I finally reached Labuan Bajo with no incident, the afternoon was late and I grabbed the first hotel I could find for a very solid night’s sleep.

Labuan Bajo is the gate way to Komodo national park so I spent 5 days exploring the city and its surrounds. The area offers some of the worlds best diving, the currents were crazy but it meant that I got to do some really good drift dives and see a few Manta Rays along the way, some of the wall dives were exceptional too, they were like diving in an aquarium with all the best sea life thrown in. I was very excited about seeing the famous Komodo Dragons so a trip to Rinca island was also on the cards, once again I was totally blown away, we hiked the island and saw plenty of the HUGE lizards, along with some monkeys and buffalo, both of with are apparently a food source for the Dragons. Labuan Bajo is nestled in a beautiful harbour, filled with wooden boats and ships used for dive charters and liveaboards, it reminded me of something out of Pirates of the Caribbean, It wouldn’t of surprised me if the Black Pearl sailed around one of the many islands. I also spent a day checking out some of the waterfalls and caves that are dotted in the hills around the city. The limestone cave called Batu Cremin was my favourite, not only was it spectacular but they let me go without a guide, lucky I had a good torch because I soon found myself alone crawling through one tight cave after another until it opened into a large chamber filled with bats. I spent plenty of time alone there feeling like quite the adventurer but I was pretty happy to hear the voices and lights of a tour group eventually crawling their way into the cave.

Flores delivered everything I expected and much, much more, this has to be one of the world’s most beautiful islands and no doubt will eventually be overrun with tourists. I couldn’t think of a nicer surrounding to travel through on motorbike and the people have been exceptionally friendly, now it’s time to catch a ferry and see what the island of Sumbawa has to offer.

 

Flores, Larantuka to Moni

I was told that the ferry from Kupang to Larantuka would take 16 -18 hours, thankfully it was only a 13 hour trip and the seas were reasonably calm, the highlight was when they were topping the ferry up with fuel and I counted 4 people smoking within a few meters. I had the option of travelling on the upstairs seated section, however I chose to roll my sleeping mat out on the floor of the cargo area and sleep next to the bike, there were plenty of others doing the same thing next to their vehicles.  I was able to get a good 8 hours sleep and no doubt would have got a few more if I hadn’t consumed a pack of Kopiko extra shot coffee lollies at the start of the voyage. I rolled off the Ferry at 6am without any dramas and set out to start exploring Larantuka. The natural beauty of Flores blew me away immediately, it’s covered in thick rainforest and surrounded by picture perfect beaches overlooking tropical islands and somehow the view just kept getting better around every corner I passed.

 After a short stay in Larantuka I made my way to the city of Maumere, Once gain the road was a motorcyclists dream, one turn just rolled into the next and the scenery was spectacular, I enjoyed the ride so much I had to remind myself to slow down to enjoy the view. I stayed at a lovely place just out of town called sunset cottages, they were traditional bamboo huts with an ensuite, right on the beach with a million dollar view and only cost 90,000 Rupiah (approximately $9. AU) per night. The Owner Henderikus and his family were really friendly, the view over the beach was amazing, they cooked some delicious Indonesian food and he was also kind enough to organise a bottle of Aruk for me to drink on the beach. The main attraction in the area was mount Egon, an active volcano that vented gas and had a small coloured lake in its crater. The 2 hour hike to the top was reasonably hard but somehow my young Indonesian guide was able to spend the whole trip talking nonstop about girls and bikes. The view from the top of the crater was amazing, this was the first volcano I had seen and it was on a list of 11 volcanos in Indonesia on the highest alert level, I was suitably impressed. There were some hot springs on the way down, which was a great way to relax and wind down, especially since the cottages I was staying in didn’t have hot water. My guide Marlino was really into bikes and offered to take me to the local motocross championships, he explained that most of the guys raced slightly modified 2 stroke scooters, which I definitely had to see. This was like no racing I’d seen before, the track was located in a storm water channel in the center of town and was totally lined with people to the point where the police had to close off the block to allow for the masses of people watching. As promised there were some very basic bikes, a few guys rode newer motocross bikes but the biggest cheers from the crowd and myself went to those that raced the underpowered backyard modified scooters.

After a few days relaxing at sunset cottages it was time to head to the islands number one tourist attraction, Mount Kelimutu, near the town of Moni. As always the ride there was great, I arrived in the afternoon and organised some accommodation at the Bintang Lodge. As the name suggests there was a bit of a party atmosphere, having stayed at some very quiet places over the last week it was good to share travelling stories with the other guests over a beer, while the manager Billy did a great job of covering Bob Marely songs. Even though it meant getting up at 4am to see the sunrise, Mount Kelimutu and its 3 lakes lived up to their hype, the views were amazing and I think I racked up about 100 selfies. I spent the whole morning taking photos of the craters and checking out the monkey’s that would come out hoping to get a free feed from the tourists. I had a great couple of days at Moni, there were some other nice sights too see such as waterfalls and swimming holes, the locals were a great bunch and I was lucky to of met some genuinely nice travelers while I was there.

Indonesian Border to Kupang

I had heard a few horror stories about overland border crossings with your own vehicle so I approached the East Timor/ Indonesian border with a little trepidation. I had organised my Indonesian visa at their embassy in Dili so my main concern was the motorcycle paper work. To my surprise it all went quite smoothly, I had to give customs a bit of a hand filling out my Carnet but we got there in the end, I can only speak a few words of the local languages so I just went through grinning at everyone, maybe they just felt sorry for me thinking I was a simple, smiling fool on a big bike. The guys at Indonesian customs welcomed me into their office, they were really interested in the bike and my travels, the process would of taken 10 minutes but I asked the customs guys for a photo in front of the bike and all of a sudden they all grabbed their sunglasses and cameras and we spent the next 20 minutes posing for photos with the Beemer, plenty of laughs all round. I was soon on my way again, with the customs lads telling me if I had any hassles at all to pass on their details and they’d make sure they would sort it out.

There were some noticeable differences once I had crossed the border, the first of which was the excellent condition of the roads and the signage that made navigation much easier. Although village life seemed very similar in both countries the villages were much more closely interspersed in West Timor, one village would end and another would start without me even realising. The cities and major towns had a much livelier feel to them, they were certainly more densely populated than Dili and seemed to be much more colourful and vibrant.

The first major town I came across was Atambua, needless to say I got lost almost immediately, after riding aimlessly through the town and passing the same group of police hanging out at the side of a roundabout 3 times I thought it might be wise to ask for directions. The cops were another shining example of Indonesian hospitality, once they found out I was heading to Kefamenanu they soon assigned 2 cadets on motorcycle to escort me to the right road and once I convinced the officer in charge that him taking my bike for a spin was a bad idea I was off with my police escort. I needed petrol so we took a detour to a service station where we jumped a queue of about 30 vehicles, I was pretty embarrassed but nobody seemed to mind, they just ushered me through and checked out the bike, VIP treatment at its finest. We reached the road to “Kefa” and with many thanks on my behalf I bid my escort goodbye.

I stayed in a hotel in the town of Soe, very happy about the much more affordable cost of travelling and accommodation in Indonesia compared to Timor Leste. The East half of West Timor seems to have an eclectic mix of languages and I was quite surprised that the hotel clerk couldn’t speak Bahassa Indonesian, this certainly was no help in my continuous struggle of communication. The Road from Soe to Kupang was fantastic, the road wound its way from village to village with street vendors lining the roads, I stopped along the way to sample some of the local street food, which was delicious, unfortunately the 110 km stretch to Kupang finished all too soon.

I had planned to stay in Kupang for just one day and was in luck because the ferry for Larantuka, Flores left the next morning, I went to check out Crystal Cave, a local underground swimming hole and bumped into some locals who spoke English, as always in Indo the bike was a great conversation starter and I was soon invited home for a meal by  a guy called Umbu. Once again the hospitality blew me away, I was soon drinking Aruk (palm wine) and chewing on Betel nut with Umbu’s dad who helped me learn a few simple phrases in Bahassa. It goes to show that it is often the people you meet that make the place what it is, I decided to postpone the Ferry trip to Flores and spend an extra 3 days in Kupang. As with most Indonesian guys, Umbu had a keen interest in bikes so he kindly acted as a bit of a tour guide for me for the next few days, which meant that I got to experience some really interesting local places, people and food. My bike was covered in mud so he took me to a local bike wash and set some kids to work cleaning the big girl, once they got over the shock of the job at hand they had a ball, jostling for position to get a chance to do a little cleaning. At one stage there were seven of them washing the bike at once, they were having a ball and although I had to rely on Umbu to translate I had an entertaining time watching them. They certainly took pride in their work, when they were done it was the cleanest the bike had been for a long time, I paid triple the usual price and it was still dirt cheap. The local kids in Kupang are absolutely hilarious, I’d pass them riding or bump into groups of them when I visited the local waterfalls and caves, it was always guaranteed that I would be followed by yells of “Mister, Mister, Mister”. They were a mischievous bunch and were pretty happy with the fact that a westerner was doing the rock jumps into the water with them, they were easily encouraged to do crazier stunts, especially when I brought the camera or go pro out.

The longer I stayed in Kupang the more I was enjoying it, the city seemed to come to life at night with people and vehicles filling the streets, busy night markets offering freshly cooked street food, neon everywhere and of course the local minibuses decorated in bright colours, loudly playing bass thumping music. I asked Umbu about a guy that rode through a red light and he replied with “Ray, its Sunday man, the police don’t book you on Sunday, that’s why nobody is wearing a helmet”. This was like music to my ears, for the rest of the day the helmet was left at home and I was cruising around in just shorts, thongs and singlet, I passed the local police headquarters and zoomed by an officer on his motorbike, the only response I received was a friendly wave, I was loving it. I’d end up at Umbu’s place at some point every afternoon to chat with his family and friends, on my final evening in Kupang I was even invited to a large family gathering for a visiting relative from the Philippines. I was in a house full of people and only 2 of them could speak English, it didn’t matter though, there was plenty of laughing and I was fed until I couldn’t eat anymore. I spent much of the night chatting to Umbu’s Aunt Teresa in very broken English, this seemed to entertain most of the people at the party with many of them laughing until tears streamed down there cheeks at her attempts at conversation in English. To my surprise Umbu’s mother gave me a locally made scarf as a gift when I left that evening, there were plenty of warm goodbyes and of course a few photos taken on the Beemer.

I left for the ferry terminal the next morning to leave for Larantuka on the island of Flores. Umba hung around for the 3 hour wait and managed to get me a local price for my ferry ticket, he also translated all the announcements that came over the loudspeaker, this made life much easier for me. I was eventually directed on to the ferry and with only an hour delay to the departure time I was on my way to Flores.

 

Balibo

The coastal road west to the Indonesian border was a picturesque ride, it wound its way through beachside villages and at times climbed to offer stunning ocean views. Road works for over a 100 km to the town of Liquicia made the going slow and very dusty, I was extremely happy to check into the Blackrock resort, which offered waterfront tents, great food and most importantly the first shower with hot, running water that I’d seen in days. The road improved from Liquicia to the border town of Batugade, there were still plenty of potholes but at least the huge stretch of dusty road works were at an end. From Batugarde I turned inland and headed to the town of Marobo, a weekend getaway for the local people with natural hot springs. On the way I passed through the town of Balibo, 5 journalists working for Australian T.V networks were massacred here during the Indonesian invasion on 16 October 1975. They painted an Australian flag on the wall of the house where they were staying in the hope that they would be spared by Indonesion forces, the house, with a copy of the painted flag on its wall has been restored by the Australian government and tells the story of the Balibo 5.

As I left Balibo I was confronted by the bests roads I had seen throughout Timor Leste, they had obviously recently been repaved and there wasn’t a pothole in sight all the way to Mariana. The new roads were short lived though, it seems that as soon as you venture into the inland hills of Timor Leste the roads degrade severely, the ride from Mariana to the towns of Marobo and Bobonaro were no exception, steep, cobbled and full of potholes. As I ventured further into the hills the local people spoke less English, communication reverted back to sign language which I think was amusing to everybody involved but got me to my destination. Once again the tough ride was worth it, the towns and the scenery getting there were spectacular, as much as I was enjoying the offroad adventure I must admit I was looking forward to getting on the smooth roads back to Balibo. On arrival I was advised by a local volunteer worker that the local Nunnery, although a little pricey was a good place to stay, I headed over and on arrival chatted to a few more volunteers and the local parish priest who offered to let me stay in the churches accommodation. He was a little apologetic about the basic accommodation and meals but I thought it was great, it was as good as any guesthouse I had stayed in throughout Timor Leste and I got the chance to meet plenty of locals, it was definitely a different experience. Amazingly when I left and offered to pay he strongly refused saying that he was happy to of had the opportunity to practice his English, It was a great reminder of the generosity of the people I had met in Timor Leste, I headed to the Indonesian border in great spirits, I was a little sad to be leaving but excited to tackle my first border crossing and a new country

South to Mt Ramelau

I was more than happy to venture back out into the country side so a 2 night stopover in Dili was more than enough, I was keen to explore the south and get to the summit of mount Ramelau. My spirits were dampened as I prepared to leave Dili when I realized that the spotlights on my bike had been stolen while it was parked in the “secure” area of the backpacker hostel. Luckily nothing else was stolen and apart from being a little less visible on the road, the bike wasn’t really affected, I taped up the wires where they had been cut to prevent the rain causing an electrical short and did my best to not dwell on it as I headed into the hills once more. Once again the road wound up and out of Dili providing some photo worthy views of the city. My mood improved immediately, I was now back on the winding, pot holed mountain roads that I enjoyed riding so much. I passed through many quaint villages and towns on my way to the small village of Hatubilico at the base of mount Ramelau. The sky opened up again and after the town of Maubisse the rains caused huge puddles that spanned the road, they were a little precarious but great fun to cross nonetheless. A detour off the main road meant an 18km ride to Hatubilico over a very loosely cobbled track, the pace slowed to a crawl and this stretch of road alone took 1 hour. I booked into a guesthouse that was run by the village chief and as with most villages I have visited throughout Timor Leste I was warmly welcomed. It was already 4 pm but a local offered to guide me to the top of Mount Ramelau, assuring me that we would be back before dark. We set off and hiked at a very quick pace, my guide was obviously not in the best shape and required frequent rest stops, as the clouds started rolling in I thought it wise to push on ahead to ensure we’d get back before dark. I made the summit with time to spare and headed back, I bumped into my guide at the ¾ mark having a smoke, he seemed more than happy to be able to turn around and head downhill. I returned to the guesthouse and was met by my motorcycle travel buddies Ankita and John from Tutuala who had arrived late due to some bike problems.

We hiked the mountain together the next morning, this time without a guide to slow us down, I was hoping that the clouds would had cleared to offer some views of the countryside but by the time we reached the top the clouds and rain had once again set in. The power to the town was down due to the rains so although Hatubilico was a lovely place we decided to travel a few hours to the larger town of Maubisse for a little extra comfort. The highlight of Maubisse is an old Portuguese pousada that sits atop one of the larger hills in the area and has sweeping views of the surrounding countryside, a great spot to relax with a beer. We met some friendly locals who kindly took us to a local restaurant for dinner, it was a simple, local place to eat, the food was good and the atmosphere was jovial but I did count at least 3 mice scuttling across the floor. The next morning we headed back to Dili to refuel, from there I parted ways with my travel companions and headed West, it was now time to make my way toward the Indonesian border.

 

Timor Leste, East of the country

I jumped on my bike in the morning and headed out for a trip to the Eastern most point of Timor Leste (Jaco Island) via the northern coastal roads. I had quite enjoyed riding amongst the chaos of Dili traffic, however I was more than a little excited to take the bike out on its first overseas road trip. The road snaked its way uphill and out of Dili, it was like riding into a different country all together, what I was greeted by was a scenic, winding coastal road with pristine beaches to the left and lush forest to the right. Although not in the best condition the road to Baucau was a pleasure to ride, dodging the potholes and oncoming buses around blind corners just made it feel like more of an adventure and added to the enjoyment of the ride. Heading into the countryside also made it evident that tourism in Timor Leste is still in its infancy, a western tourist is still quite a novelty and one traveling the country on a fully loaded BMW 1200 is something that draws everybody’s attention. The people in the Villages were extremely friendly, to the point that my arm was getting sore from waving back to everybody I passed. Even a short stop to get food would result in a crowd forming to see the Beemer and any local that could speak English would generally wave you over for the opportunity of a chat. The road changes from coastal to mountain passes and back again, passing through many beautiful little villages on the way to Baucau, Timor Leste’s second largest city. Surrounded by forest and with a definite Portuguese influence Baucau was a really interesting place to visit. The bustling markets on the main street is the hub for locals, the ride down to the beach is a few km but well worth it and to my surprise there was a very nice public swimming pool. We stayed at Melita guesthouse and had dinner at Amelia restaurant with a visit to the very upmarket Pousada resort for crème brule for desert, something I didn’t think I would be doing in Timor Leste.

Upon leaving Baucau I headed further East along the coastal road until I reached the very pretty resort town of Com, the beaches I passed on the way were stunning although numerous recent crocodile sightings and advice from locals not to take a dip ensured I stayed well away from the water. There were plenty of very nice guest houses to choose from in Com, however the rain had set in so after sheltering in a restaurant for lunch and meeting a couple travelling on motorcycle to Tutuala Beach I decided to join them for the trip. The road from Com to Tutuala was covered in pot holes or didn’t exist at all, they were certainly the worst roads I had encountered in Timor Leste so far, on the other hand it was just the type of riding I was looking forward to so I enjoyed every km. We arrived at Tutuala and had to decide whether or not to do the 8km downhill stretch (described in the lonely planet guide as “A rough, rocky track strictly for 4wd’s and a test of your wits”), we decided to give it a go. I was only a few km down the track before I was having serious doubts as to whether I would make it down let alone back up again, trying to manhandle a bike the size of the Beemer that weighed around 300kg fully loaded was absolutely exhausting. Somehow we eventually made it to the bottom of that god awful track without dropping the bike once, I got off drenched in sweat to sit on the glorious, flat ground of Tutuala beach and give my aching muscles a rest.

 The nightmare ride down the hill was worth it, we stayed at a locally run tourist village with views of the beach and across to Jaco island. I’d be lying if I said I was totally relaxed in this idyllic setting, lingering in the back of my mind was the thought of whether I’d make it back up the hill and if I didn’t make it what my options would be in this isolated pocket of Timor Leste. We spent the next morning enjoying the surroundings and in the early afternoon we attempted the hill, I approached it with trepidation, I lead the way, followed by my travel companions on a much smaller and lighter bike, ready to provide assistance if needed. In the end my concerns were unfounded, the Beemer lapped up the climb, even the steepest and most technical sections, although challenging we accomplished it with little incident. I was over the moon, not just for making it up the hill without breaking the bike or myself but more for the fact that this was the first real test of serious adventure riding that I had put the Beemer through and it passed with flying colours. We were soon back on the road heading to Baucau with the promise of a celebratory beer on arrival.

It was a short overnight stay in Baucau before heading south to the towns of Ossu and Loi Hunu, this was mountain country and was my first ride into the interior of Timor Leste. My first problem reared its head when I attempted to take money out at Baucau’s only ATM, it was out of cash and there was no other way to get money out in town, this is a common problem in Timor Leste with even the capital Dili often having no cash available in its ATM’s. I pushed on with the few dollars that I had left and had a thoroughly enjoyable ride to Loi Hunu, on the way I passed some Japanese caves from world war II that warranted some exploring. As I climbed into the mountains the higher altitude brought rain with it, as the heavens opened up streams of water flowed down the dirt roads, although I was soaked through and the roads were becoming a little treacherous, it didn’t dampen my spirits for the scenic, mountain ride. I had now seen much of the East so it was with a little disappointment that I headed back along the coastal road to Dili to prepare for a visit to the south of Timor Leste and a climb to the top of Mount Ramelau, the countries highest mountain.