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.

Arrvival in Dili, Timor Leste

With my motorbike packed into a shipping container in Darwin I decided to fly into Timor Leste and explore the capital city Dili before the bikes arrival. The beauty of the Country was evident as the plane descended into the airport, Dili is a city bordered by ocean on one side and rugged, green mountain ranges on the other. The city is absolutely chaotic, I was greeted a constant stream of beeping traffic along the main road that seemingly pays no attention to any form of known road rules. The effect of the war is still evident in Dili, as with other towns and villages throughout Timor Leste, so too is the large divide between the wealthy and those living in poverty. Without my bike my main form of transport was by foot, this gave me the opportunity to explore some of the less visited and less well off areas of the city. Even in these areas the people were quite friendly, westerners walking through their neighbourhood was obviously still quite a novelty, it was a sobering sight to see the local people go about their everyday lives in the most basic of conditions and do it with a positive attitude.

I set about seeing the tourist sights of Dili, the Christ statue that sits atop its hill overlooking the city was a great walk, passing the local waterfront fruit markets, harbor and some idyllic beaches on the way. I’d heard the diving surrounding the island was some of the world’s best, so a few dives were definitely on the agenda, because of tides and a broken boat we dived off Dili rock which was interesting but certainly didn’t live up to the areas reputation. The snorkeling on the other hand was absolutely spectacular, the Christ statue back beach and Atauro Island both provided some of the best snorkeling I have ever experienced. I was lucky enough to bump into a few really nice ex pats who gave me a little local info over a few beers, thanks to these guys I discovered he food stalls along a lesser known beach that served flame grilled fish, skewered on a bamboo stick, with rice and chillie sauce, dubbed “fish on a stick”, this was a nightly tradition for myself and some other travelers that I was staying with. I also found out where the local cock fights were held, having never been to one it was quite the experience. The arena where the cocks fought was surrounded by punters all shouting to make bets or cheer their rooster on, it was an amazing atmosphere. I met a local that spoke quite good English who explained how it all worked, I even managed to put in a few bets and walk away with an extra 10 bucks. A few unintentional, classic quotes were spawned when explaining to other travelers how we found the place, the best goes to Shirley with “We just saw this guy walking down the street with his cock in his hand and decided to follow him”.

My bike was delayed by a week and the resulting 8 Days straight in Dilli was probably 4 days too many. To escape from Dili a group of us decided to take the $5 ferry to Atauro Island for 2 days, it was an exceptional few days on what can genuinely be described as an island paradise. The main resort, called “Barry’s” was booked out due to the long weekend so we stayed in some very modest huts that sat right on the beach. The attitude of the people here just seemed much friendlier than those living in the city of Dili, the pace of life was much slower and the locals seemed much happier. The Saturday markets were a must see, the stalls are sprawled along the beach and it was definitely worth soaking up the atmosphere sipping on a coconut juice. We walked to most places that we visited, the village of Villa was a really nice place to explore, with fishing boats lined up along its beach. We hired an outrigger canoe for $1.50 a day and attempted to catch fish for dinner, much to the amusement of the others we made it about 20 meters before flipping and then having to franticly swim after our possession as they almost floated away. Needless to say, we went to Barry’s restaurant for meals after that, this ended up being a highlight, not only was the food good and the beer cold but Barry was a really interesting guy to talk too, a genuine person that seemed to have the best interests of the local people in mind. After mastering the outrigger and managing to stay balanced we were able to use it to get us to some remarkable snorkeling locations, I think the others were a little disappointed that they were no longer able to have a laugh at our expense because of our poor canoeing skills. The Ferry only sails on a Saturday so we paid $10 to catch a ride back on a smallish fishing boat, these leave at 4am in the morning and take 2 ½ hours to get to Dili, it was a great experience as was watching the sunrise from the water. The only regret I have about Atauro was that I couldn’t stay longer and explore the mountains on the island, having said that my bike was due to arrive the next day and I was very keen to start exploring Timor Leste on Motorbike.

The next 2 days were spent travelling between the Toll office and the Customs office on the wharf, frustratingly on opposite sides of the city, to get my paperwork sorted before I could pick the bike up. When I was finally told I could take possession of the bike on the afternoon of the second day I was more than a little nervous, I had chosen to ship the bike without a crate and I was more than a little concerned that it may have been damaged in transit. In the end my fears were unwarranted, the guys at “”””” in Darwin did a great job tying the bike done and it arrived in perfect condition. After a 5 minute inspection from customs I reconnected the battery, Even though it was a simple task I seemed to have every worker within the Toll yard overseeing the process and providing advice. With the bike started I rode out of the Toll Yard and into the streets of Dili for the start of my international motorcycle adventure.