Sumbawa, Indonesia. September 2015. I leant the KLX over just slightly as I reached the apex of the garden variety uphill sweeper. "BANG!" I'm on the deck still hanging on to the bars! WTF! Dumbfounded, I took a quick look at my bleeding forearm; rich red blood, mixed with fine particles of black sand, stared back at me from an open slash. My mind kicked into gear. Kill the engine, get the bike off the road, get to safety.

That done, I took stock. Bike was okay. I was ok apart from my forearm, grazed knee and a sore hip. I'd simply failed to see the fine coating of black sand, that trucks from a nearby pit had deposited over the very black, newly-laid asphalt.

https://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hu...8f326b96d4.jpg














































But that was four years ago. And there was a happy ending.
A lot of people stopped to help patch me up. I took myself off the the Dompu Hospital I met some great people there who cleaned me up, stitched me up and buoyed me up and a few hours later I was on my way. I rode on to Sumbawa Besar and spent the night at Kencana Beach Hotel prior to heading home to Lombok the next day.













I hope this has whet your appetite for what's to come for I'm back in Indonesia - a country I first visited in 1970 - for the next few months and I want to share the ride with you.



Day 1

Serah and I flew into Bali from Melbourne. We spent a night at a hotel close to the airport as we had a flight to Lombok the following evening. I felt pretty second hand as I was coming out the other side from a bout of flu. We basically flaked and whiled away the time watching AFL.



I forced myself to go for a run next morning. I was still coughing and harking like a wheezing steam engine but I’ve always believed in the therapeutic benefits of exercise.

It was still dark. I started jogging but soon thought better of it. Bali might be the Island of the Gods but it’s also the Island of Broken Footpaths and Potholes that Hide in the Dark. So, I walked until night’s curtain lifted and my way was eased.

Jogging slowly, I made my way past Discovery Mall and through empty Kuta Square. Before long I was padding along the sand of Kuta Beach. Hard packed sand, and gently sloped, this beach is to a runner what a full bottle in a brown paper bag is to a wino. From 2008 to 2010 I must have run a thousand repetition 400s there in preparation for another running season in Australia.

The Balinese were up and about paying homage to their Gods or frolicking in the shallows. I plodded on heading for the last lights kilometers away. The occasional dog joined me for a gallop until losing interest. I saw just a couple of Western tourists - the bulk of them were still tucked up in bed racking up the zedz.

I reached my goal, turned around and saw that I'd covered 5km. "Oh well, head down, bum up. You can do it." Runners' talk.

I made it back to the hotel and had the best swim to cool off. Met a young Indonesian with an interesting tale. His Mum was from Java, His dad from New Guinea and he worked on a fishing trawler out of Fremantle, week on week off going after Red Emperor. He was enjoying a spot of R&R before returning to work.

After breakfast Serah and I slipped across the road to a phone kiosk. To my delight my SIM card was still active after being dormant for nine months so I loaded up and we took off for a stroll chancing our luck with the broken pavers, shattered concrete and occasional missing man-hole cover.

It was a thirst-inducing stroll and when we came to a food court beneath an awning we stopped for a juice. I ordered an orange and lemon. It was icy and just belted my thirst right out of the park - sensational. Serah opted for avocado and coconut - equally good.

We got talking to the young waitress. It turned out she was from Sumba, an island I’d visited in 2016. We spent some time looking at photos on my phone It also transpired, that like Serah she had worked in Saudi Arabia as part of the millions-strong army of Indonesian women who display incredible courage, leave their families and all that is familiar and leap into the unknown, taking the chance to exchange their labour for money in the far off lands of the Middle East

The remarkable thing about this young woman was that she had lied about her age. She was only 13 when she landed in Jeddah and she spent 20 years, alongside three other Indonesian women, doing the donkey work for a couple who had ten children. It is beyond the comprehension of most people in the West, but it is not an exceptional story in Indonesia though I imagine she was at the very youngest end of the scale.

And it’s not only women who gamble everything. Countless men venture forth each year to the Middle East, Malaysia, South Korea and Japan. I’ve lost count of the abandoned womren I’ve met in Flores and the Solor islands who’s husbands left to labour overseas and never returned. How many people in the West truly appreciate that the privileged lives they lead are simply down, to a large extent, to the luck of the draw.



Day 2

The flight from Bali to Lombok only takes 45 minutes on a Garuda Turbo-Prop. As soon as we were airborne the cabin staff distributed boxes containing 600 ml of water and a snack. I think it must have been dreamed up by a committee. I ate it but could not identify it. It was pastry but the filling was indeterminate - mock turtle maybe.

Back in Lombok after a nine month absence in Australia. In the interim Serah’s Homestay had been well cared for by Beng, Bandar. Atam and Ketim who greeted us warmly. We had a couple of rooms accommodating long term guests so was good to finally put faces to names. Lombok was hit by two earthquakes in July/August 2018 and since then tourist arrivals have dropped off a cliff. Thanks lazy reporters. Thanks for making no distinction between the areas that suffered damage and those that didn’t. The south suffered no damage and the other major tourist area, Senggigi, only suffered minor damage. The Gilli islands were evacuated for fear of a tsunami but none occurred and there was little damage.

However, global reporting made no distinctions and overnight tourist numbers went in to free fall and ten months later are far from recovered. Lots of people have lost their jobs and lots of businesses have closed. It’s very sad and was to a large extent avoidable.

Day 3

I rose just after sunrise and went for a run. It was unsurprisingly humid and I was soon in a lather. The village dogs barked and a few of the bolder ones approached from the rear causing me to stop abruptly and make like I was picking up a stone - they scattered. Dogs are not on the radar in this part of the world but they pe4form a valuable service. In the absence of any municipal garbage disposal service they step up to the plate. It’s a pity their contribution is not more widely appreciated. For the most part though they are in fair condition as there are plenty of restaurants in town and the dogs know where to get a feed.

I breezed past the market. A few old dears were setting up for the day their produce laid out on mats behind which they sat cross-legged. No doubt Alfred Russel Wallace witnessed the same scene, minus the Suzuki Carry pick-ups and the mobile phones - when he passed through in 1867.



Day 4.

There were two Aussie guys staying with us. Alan was laid up with a virus but Lou was set to go for a ride so we headed off to Telok Mekaki in south-west Lombok. I’d first made it out there when there was just a single track through the scrub - very up and down, very steep and rocky. Twenty km took the best part of 2 hours. The view of the coast, far below, was mostly obscured by the riot of plant life that hugged the trail. But the glimpses spied were spectacular. Take a look at what the new road has revealed.

The beach at Telok Mekaki is quite stunning and in 5 visits there I have only ever seen two people in the water.
Lou and I dropped in on a family I’d met on my first trip through about four years ago. Pak Dahlan and Pak Misbun had been the first settlers on that stretch of coast. Equipped with hope and a chainsaw he fashioned their simple house in the wilderness and now they planted corn and bananas and enjoyed sitting on their veranda taking in the view and the cool breeze.

We said our good byes and headed back to Kuta soaking up the magnificent coastal views, the sweeping bends. The black strip of Macadam plunged and climbed its way east and took us to a roadside stop for a coffee

Attached Thumbnails

 

 

 

 

I love Indonesia and it's people having travelled there twice in the early 1990's.
I'm very much looking forward to your next installment, have fun

Hello there

Yes, have fun I will. I’m having fun trying to work out how to insert photos in the body of the text. No luck so far!

Cheers

Steve

Hello there

Yes, have fun I will. I’m having fun trying to work out how to insert photos in the body of the text. No luck so far!

Cheers

Steve

Oh wow, I have not been to Indonesia since the 1990s. How often did you visit since the 1970s? How much has changed since then? I've always thought of going back, but so far no plan has pushed through.