For travel tips and country facts: Indonesia
MURRAY'S DIARY for the complete story, INDONESIA:
Part I: Jakarta to Dieng Plateau Central Java
How to collect your bicycle at an airport
We arrange a small van to
take us from Ali's Nest guesthouse in Singapore to Shangi airport. Kuwait
Airlines brings us to Jakarta in less than two hours, crossing the equator.
Arriving in Jakarta we see the preparations for the Visa On Arrival obligation
valid from 1 February. Not for us, we have just managed to get into the country
three days before. Otherwise we would have to apply for a visa even before
entering the country and the application process would have taken ten days.
Awaiting our panniers at the
conveyer Raymond is seeking for the bicycles that sometimes are put on a
separate conveyer as 'odd baggage'. Knowing the Indonesians, he walks over to
the rubber curtain that separates us from the cargo area, pulls away the rubber
strips and looks into the cargo area where, as expected, he sees five employees
staring and touching at the bicycles. "They are mine", Raymond says,
pointing to his chest. Quickly they are placed on the conveyer, accompanied by
the everlasting Asian smile.
We push our bicycles and
panniers into the arrivals hall and bargain for a small van to take us to Jalan
Jaksa, the touristy street where most guesthouses are located. After all the
horror stories we've heard about cycling in Indonesia, we study the road
behaviour on our way to Jakarta's centre. We conclude that cycling aside the
highway, using the emergency lane, should be okay here. One minute later we
notice that the emergency lane we had in mind for cycling, is also used heavily
as an extra lane for cars. The more we get into the centre, the more dense the
traffic becomes; this should be fun, cycling out of Jakarta. On the other hand,
we are quite used to dense traffic like in Phnom Penh, Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur.
Batavia
| We spend a couple of days in
Jakarta and visit the old 'Dutch' regions formerly known as Batavia. It includes
a 'draw bridge' from the 17th century. It looks familiar.... don't we have those
in Amsterdam nowadays? Meanwhile, the Indonesian government finally admits it
didn't mention the bird flu that is spreading over the country. The major issue
in Southeast Asia is to prevent spreading it to and between humans. This is the
first country where we are reminded that we are in a Muslim area. Five times a
day the three mosques surrounding our guesthouse try to overrule each other in
Decibels, using four speakers each. We can't decide who wins. Muslims pray five
times a day and the large speakers reminds them, starting at 4:30 in the morning. |
 |
The Jakarta History Museum
Cycling veterans - Jakarta
Sacrifice day
Today it is the 1st of
February and that wouldn't have meant anything special if we weren't in a Muslim
country. Since midnight the mosque speakers have performed praying for us that
sounds more like moaning and complaining.
Cycling out of Jakarta's city centre
(7/2/2004) We cycle out of
Indonesia’s capitol with 9,5 million inhabitants. The traffic represents this
quantity, especially the motorcycles and Baja’s (three wheeled scooter taxis
for two people). As in Bangkok and other large city centres, the trick for
cycling out of Jakarta is... just stay on your own lane and cycle in the middle
of it, not on the side so that somebody can push you off. Just adopt speed and
copy the behaviour of the motorcyclists. We are getting even better in this than
locals. It's all a game of 'being there first', wherever there is. Expect people
to be so surprised to see a foreigner on a bicycle that they don't watch the
traffic themselves. As a principle, busses will always stop abruptly in front of
you after they've passed you. Sometimes we see a lonesome police officer trying
to regulate the traffic. Nobody listens to their whistles. I notice a very small
officer amidst a U-turn. After looking carefully it appears he is so small
because he doesn't have under legs and underarms. His length is no higher than
an average car. All due to the traffic?
The monsoon decides in the end - Jakarta to
Sindangbarang (south coast)
Some turnoffs outside of
Jakarta's city centre, the traffic becomes less dense. At 13:00 we stop for a
noodle soup and wait for the monsoon rain to stop. It keeps on pouring down the
whole day and our day 'target' rains away as well. We ask the owner for a
sleeping place in the area and she answers that we can stay at the restaurant.
Next to it is a sleeping room that connects to the restaurant with a curtain.
The next day we notice that lots of restaurant offer sleeping places
since a lot of trucks are parked just in front of restaurants along the road.
The hills start to get steeper and higher as we cycle on. After 54 kilometres it starts raining (again). We search for a noodle shop and wait until the rain stops (it doesn’t).
We end
up in Cebeber village, 15 kilometres south of Cianjur. Cycling in waterproof
gear on a flat road is okay, but when it's 29 degrees Celsius, high humidity, no
waterproof shoe covers and the chance of rain everyday, the decision is made
easy. There seems to be a hotel in the village but we except the offer of a
sleeping place at an Indonesian family of which only the son-in-law (Public
Health student in Jakarta, visiting his girlfriend in this village) speaks
English. The Indonesian phrasebook and the Dutch postcards come in handy to keep
the communication alive.
For the first time in a week we don't wake up from the enthusiastic mosques. This time it's the Imam on the television that is on volume 7 and is turned on louder when the family notices we are awake. After eating another Mie Baso (noodle soup) with a lot of fish balls, which is offered to us after we have already a full stomach from the deep-fried bananas that were offered first, we are on the road again at 6:30.
Today we really start to get into the mountains south of Bandung. The road climbs to 1000 meters and curves between beautiful tea estates where harvesting is in full process.
Halfway we have to make a decision about our route. The idea
was to turn of here and head east. But again clouds are rolling in from the
north-west and we imagine that on the south coast we will find less monsoon (the
rain might start later in the day) and the chance of getting stuck during a
steep climb just when the water basin is opened, will be smaller. We are not
making enough progress if we are stopped by rain everyday, we have another 1500
kilometres to go until Bali in four and a half weeks and we are in the peak of
the monsoon. Great. Planning is out of the question, we just see how far we get
everyday.
Tidak Jalan? (No road?)
(10/2/2004) One of our road maps shows very clear the terrain we are about to cycle (Nelles), the other shows more villages and roads (Periplus).
 |
There is a nice road heading along the
coast and we hope to reach Paneumpeuk in a day. The road is tarred, potholed,
has some small steep climbs and beautiful scenery of rice fields along the coast.
At 8:00 we have our first meal since breakfast existed out of cookies with
coffee. Fresh fish and fried chicken with rice is a good filling for steep
climbs. Just after Cidaun we miss the turn off, or in other words, the main roads leads into the mountains rather than heading along the coast. It doesn't really matter because this road will head back to the coastal road in the end. If only this road wasn't so steep... after two kilometres we have to push the bicycles. Java has 30 volcanoes (most of them active) which shape the countryside. Steep mountain ridges from the volcano create the steep roads we climb, it's almost like cycling on the roots of an enormous tree. The views are getting more and more scenic from above. After another kilometre of climbing we turn right, descending steep this time, heading back to our coastal road. Then the road suddenly stops. The asphalt ends, decorated with a wooden gate, rice is drying on large plaited rattan mats. |
Raymond asks a farmer where the road is to Bandarwaru since the previous people we've asked all pointed that we are heading in the right direction. After the man has overcome the surprise of seeing cyclists in this region, his second surprise is that we want to go to Bandarwaru at the coast. The man points to a dirt road next to his house where, in the meanwhile, several motorcyclists climb up with three large bags of rice on each motor (two on the back and one between the legs). The bags of rice are about 30 kilo's each and the motors slip their way up to the asphalt. Now we have to overcome a surprise. We go down, of course. At the end of the first slope we find a rope bridge where motorcycles are queuing to cross.
| Some need help by pushing the ropes of the bridge sideways to create more space for the enormous rice bags. On the other side the dirt road climbs up again. The clay has become slippery because of all the motorcycles. Tired after this ascent we reach a small village where children are just leaving for school after their midday break. Because we were certain that we would reach Bandarwaru in 15 minutes (descending on asphalt), we haven't bought any water and are now stuck, thirsty. We stop at the village and take a break on the steps of a small mosque. A man just across the dirt track is chopping a coconut, drinks the contents and drops the empty coconut on the ground. |  |
I walk over to the man and point out that
we would like one as well. Three coconuts later we are mountain biking again on
the dirt track. A long descent brings us finally to Bandarwaru at the coast. We
start wondering... shouldn't we have crossed the main tarred road in the
meanwhile? We are literally at the beach, but where's the road. We can't have
missed it. Bandarwaru is a small village that is located on the side of a 'basin',
in the middle of the basing there are rice fields divided by muddy raised
walkways and surrounded by two rivers.
We cycle through the village and muddy footpaths until we get to the shore of the first river. We take our shoes off and prepare ourselves to cross. The river reaches just under our axels at the deepest point, and while Raymond now has waterproof panniers, I don't. A local teenager is eager to help a wanita (woman). We pay him a small amount and he makes clear that we don't have to put on our shoes again, there will be another river waiting for us. We continue on slippers over the walkways through the rice fields. The second river is wider, deeper and has a stronger current.
 |
A
bamboo raft ferry brings us halfway; the rest is a matter of pushing. After a
short rest and relieve that the monsoon rain starts late in the afternoon at the
south coast, we push our bikes forward to Cipancong, another 10 kilometres to
go. A new road is under construction, but although it is not a weekend day,
there is not much activity on building the road. This must be the one on our
maps, ever seen maps looking in the future? |
 |
We turn right to the 'main road', ... the beach, a combination of fine sand and black volcanic sand. Cycling on sand with a mountain bike and with the right tires is not a problem, although the salt doesn't do anything good to the bikes. The opposite is true for us. We have 25 kilo of luggage each, we have road tires and they are pumped up right to 4 bar and the very fine sand makes it all less easy to 'mountain bike'. But where to go otherwise? We cycle over the beach for another kilometre until the third river that offers a bamboo raft again (20 dollar cent). |
 |
The fourth river is even deeper and wider
than all
three before (25 meters). Even the motorcycles have trouble crossing this
one.
Locals try to make money by helping people cross but we have given away our
small change to the two bamboo ferries and can only pay with amounts of about
ten dollar. Raymond decides to wait until I have successfully crossed in order
to be able to help when I slip or fall. The current is quite strong
at some point, pushing me towards the ocean. It is also quite deep and has big slippery
stones that I can't see. It takes me 5 minutes
but I reach the other side.
Raymond comes next and makes also a successful crossing. |
 |
We keep on going over the
beach. There are still motorcycles coming and going so this must be the right
way to go. After the next smaller river crossing we decide to
walk on. We reach a couple of houses on the beach on the other side of...
another smaller but deep river. We see a motorcycle going almost completely
under and we decide to try our luck a few meters downstream where it is wider
and less deep. |
We park the bicycles on the
one small street between the houses. A dying chicken (bird flu?) and loads of
trash make the pavement. A shop provides the basic products for the nearby
fishing houses we have passed on our way. The atmosphere is more like a pirate
village, all the garbage on the ground, men doing nothing in front of the
houses, their faces wrinkled by the sun and salt. You don't want to wonder around in
this village as a woman on your own with a lot of money in your pocket. We eat a
snack and notice a truck further on at the beach. So in the end there must be a
road where even trucks can go. Energetic again we jump on our bicycles and cycle
another 6 kilometres until the sand turns into a rocky coastline and a tarred
road leads from the beach to a village, this is Cipancong. "We made it
before sunset!". Surprisingly there is a guesthouse right on the beach with
a lovely balcony, friendly staff and colourful fishing boats on the beach.
Impossible scenario!
We wash the salt and sand
from our bicycles and sit down with the owner of the guesthouse. He laughs and
points to the road on both of our maps. "Aaaahhh. Tidak Jalan!"
("NO ROAD!").
Volcanic climbs to Garut
Garut in one day. No more
beach and no more single mountain bike tracks. The owner of the guesthouse in
Cipancong waves us goodbye. As soon as we leave Cipancong we start our first 10
kilometres steep ascent. Amazingly steep to say, mostly between 10-16% with,
luckily, a less steep or short descent now and then. It has all to do with Mount
Papayan, a volcano of 2675 meter and the most active volcano on Java. Up, up, up.
After 28 kilometres (11:30) we stop at a guesthouse in Bungbulang, knowing that
tomorrow will be more of the same but longer (same same but different).
(11/2/2004) The mosque tells
us it's time to get up, no alarm clock needed in Indonesia. A quick breakfast of
coffee and roti (bread, any kind) should give us enough energy for the first
hour of steep hills. We first head down to the bridge that crosses the river.
Our first challenge today exists of crossing a 300-meter landslide that blocks
any vehicle to cross. The road is already 2 months under construction, but every
time it is repaired, another landslide chops of the road. The local economy
plays well with these kind of situations. Food stalls and 15 carriers await you
to take your cargo from the lorry and bring it via a small footpath through
somebody’s rice fields over the landslide. The easiest way is to point to two
carriers to help us rather than to have 15 carriers touch your bike. On the
other side of the landslide it seems the same except for the heavy digging
machinery and the two minibuses to take passengers further to Garut. Difficult
to explain to the carriers that on asphalt one can cycle and they carry our
bicycle about 50 meters over asphalt all the way until we have passed the
machinery.
We continue a steep road up, cycling in our very lowest gear. After about 7 kilometres we are more or less confronted with a wall: a steep road going straight up for about 600 meters, 16%-18% steep. Our muscles heat up and are pushed to the limits. We have learned (trial and error) to cycle just within our limits so that you can keep on going for a longer time. Alike a rotation speed gauge in a car we try to keep ourselves within the green limits. This time we also move into the orange level and we stop frequently to make sure we make it to the top without getting stiff muscles. At the top at an altitude of 750 meter we speed downwards to 280 meter to cross a river (I hate rivers). During our descent we have a very nice scenery over the sharp edged volcanic 'roots' and see Mt Papayan and Mt Cikuray (2850 meter) with its dark black coloured slope. Mt Cikuray is only in the distance but we are going in between the two volcanoes. Another climb of 500 meters and no more than 10 kilometres to Samodra from where it will be an estimated 30 kilometres flat to Garut.
After passing several
smaller villages that are not on one of our maps, we ask around; "Berapa
kilometer to Samodra?". We get different indications which we all take as
being wrong. At 11:00 we arrive in Samodra, a small village. Again we ask around,
just to be sure after so many different indications. It's not fun to cycle
another 10 kilometres up and up if you are already very tired. "8
kilometres", and the restaurant owner points in the direction we are
heading. At least it's the right direction. Our excitement sinks far away. We
eat some chicken and rice and continue. In the meanwhile clouds have emerged
around the volcano and we are close to the foot. It starts raining. We quickly put on our rain gear and our tent ground plastic over the
bicycles. We wait until it stops raining. 15 minutes later we cycle on and make
a steep descent (NO!) for 100 meters over 2 kilometer. Then the expected steep
ascent to the top and there it starts raining again. We find another place to
hide, somebody’s house along the road, and we simply park the bicycles under
the roof and sit on their wooden couch outside, without asking. Do as the locals
do, your roof is my roof. This time the rain doesn't stop and we listen to a
discussion on the BBC World Service. Because the rain doesn't want to stop at
all, we need to continue. Raingear on, only our shoes getting soaked, but from
here on it's only down. 30 kilometres long, slowly down hill: well deserved.