Category Archives: posted by Florian

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Day 84 – Road. Works?

I am not sure why I mostly enjoyed myself on the road today. On paper, there was really not much reason for it. Maybe it was going well prepared, or the lighter bike, or just that the worst pain from the sunburn has worn off. The goal for the day was simple enough: Head 106km into the mountains and be there early enough to have a good long rest for a nightly hike up Tatamailau.

This is one of the better bits, no stopping at the bad ones

This is one of the better bits, no stopping at the bad ones

The first obstacle was an easy but annoying challenge to get through morning rush hour Dili. To get to the foot of the road going south into the mountains, we had to pretty much go through the city centre. Sweating but unscratched, we arrived at challenge number two: The entire first 800m climb is currently an 8 km long road works. Don’t get me, roads are in dire need of works, but they remain in full use while being torn to shreds.

The seal is gone where they work on the roads, leaving a talcum like dust with rocks strewn in between in its place. All is constantly churned up by the lorries and busses going along, seldom compacted and moderately slippery. That is until it is combined with water – then it becomes a soap-like mud. To keep the dust down somewhat, the road is of course watered. To add some fun to this mudslide, the road itself is an obstacle course of workers, concrete, building materials, lorries, houses, people, gaping holes and a good dose of pure anarchy. At least, everyone is reasonably polite about it.

Somewhere along the road

Somewhere along the road

The mountain road from here to within 20 km of Maubisse allows for great views (and gaping drops) but is of moderate to bad state, with the seal gone from 5-10% of the surface in ever changing pot hole and gap patterns. With little traffic it is mostly an exercise in “find the continuous seal” slalom, but every so often one has to come off the seal, 5-10 cm drops included, and then “bump-bump” back on again.

Before Maubisse, there are another 20 km of road works. These feature much the same, but somewhat less chaotic, which is appreciated. Even the dirt and gravel surface seems mostly compacted, except in the corners where the lorries made a powder of it again. In Maubisse (70 km from Dili) we stopped for lunch at a guest house and restaurant next to a big old church / nunnery. The food was good, affordable and they even got me good strong coffee at the end.

The last 50 km would take us another 2.5 hrs. First along the inter-district road south, again much the same as the road to Maubisse, maybe a bit worse. Here, on a steeper section where the seal has been washed out I stalled the bike going over a boulder and we dropped it, sliding a bit downhill afterwards. Nothing much happened, but I am thinking about reinforcing the Touratech pannier mounts where they bent a little.

Everyting shakes.

Everyting shakes.

The final obstacle of the day was another cracker. Turning off the main road, we would go up the mountains to a village / valley called Hato Builico. 18 km on a side road. In its defence, the road was not in too much disrepair – it just has always been terrible to begin with. Basically the entire length, it is a cobble stone road made up from about fist sized jagged rocks. Even with some air let out of the tires, going over 20 km/h would have shaken us and the bike to pieces. So we went, 18 km in first gear up the mountain, over passes 2120m high. My only worry was the clutch at some points, getting used extensively when even 1st gear was too much.

And thus we arrived, at 3pm, after a day of riding. To give you a little perspective on the roads: In New Zealand, our average speed in motion was 72km/h, in Australia it was 85 km/h (both including gravel sections). In Timor-Leste, it has been 32 km/h!

We booked into a guest house at the foot of the mountain we are keen to climb. Ronaldo, called Aldo, the 12 year old son of the shopkeeper was our English interpreter. We got a room, a very basic dinner and a guide for tomorrow. Mountain here we come!

Day 83 – The shortest post

Rocinante and feet

Chilling before the hike

Well, this post is actually written ‘tomorrow’, sitting on the porch of our Pousada and written on our phone instead of the surface.

Today’s motto was rest and prepare. Late night rugby meant that we were keen to sleep in and take it slow. A vague plan to go up the hill to Dare to visit the cafe and museum but never eventuated.

Most of the activity today was about investigating how we could go about climbing Tatamailau (Mount Ramelau) and then preparing for it. It is pretty remote, so we wanted to take some things with us just in case. Most importantly, we needed to break down some of our fresh $20 notes. Even if you can buy stuff, most places will not have more than $1-3 in change to hand out. Plus, Rocinante needed to be fueled up for the 120km journey.

The rest was sleeping, blogging, watching “Monster University” and reading. I picked up some public domain works for the Kindle in Darwin and am now enjoying Mark Twain’s “The Innocents Abroad” about his pilgramage boat trip to the Holy Land. Apart from being hilariously funny, I am blown away how relevant and current the book still is for the serious traveller. Go check it out if you are looking for some light reading, it is out there for free!

That is it for today, really 😉

Day 81 – Jaco the ripper

Flo was up for the sunrise

Flo was up for the sunrise

It was time to dare. We were warned about this road, but no one can really tell you what you can ride in the end. So we decided to lighten our bike and give it a try, ready to stop or turn around if necessary. It turns out, we could have thought this through a lot better, but so is life.

After we pimped our included breakfast of canned butter and buns with some of our jam we felt ready to go. The caretakers of the mansion turned hotel were nice enough to allow us to store our gear in their living room and just with the two of us and a backpack, we felt as prepared as we could have been.

This is where we stopped. The track only got worse and we didn't wanna push it too much. Hiking along, we realized that we had stopped just in the right moment

This is where we stopped. The track only got worse and we didn’t wanna push it too much. Hiking along, we realized that we had stopped just in the right moment

The trip was downhill for as much of the 8 km trip as we managed to get down. The road was bad, fist sized rocks buried in dusty silt on a 20 degree angle. But the real deal breaker was when the road stared going a bit uphill again from a lower part of Tutuala maybe 2 km in: The bed of a mountain stream looks as much like a road as this. We made the call, asked a family to park our bike there and walk down. We forgot to take anything to secure our gear, so we took a leap of faith in them (nothing has been touched even 7 hrs later). Further, we left our hiking shoes with the rest of the gear, so we started walking in motorcycle boots …

It took us two and a half hours to get all the way down from the plateau to the water. The decision to leave the bike was definitively the right one. The “road” is for Hilluxs and trail bikes, or one could smash a local 125 with no care for tomorrow down there. What did we find at the end of the world? Three more Germans, waiting on the fishermen to be ferried over as well …

Knowing that the way we left our things would make it necessary to get out again today (estimated 3 hrs hike), we tried to communicate to the fisherman that we wanted to get picked up again by 1pm. This was made harder by the others who wanted to stay all day. Needs must, a $10 return ride in a fishermen’s boat is the only way to get to and from the uninhabited island.

That looks like a postcard

That looks like a postcard

Ah, so you may ask why do all that? Well, Jaco has the most beautiful beach I have been on in my life. And we had to share it with mere 3 other humans, which could be considered bad luck on a weekday. Plus, the marine life around here is supposed to be stunning as well – which was a bit hampered by our lack of gear. We got to borrow one set in the end and got to chase big fish in the pristine aquamarine water.

Our pick up came in the end, but maybe ¾ of an hour later than we would have hoped for, leaving us waiting desperate for shade on the beach. We used Nina’s sarong for some cover, which turned out to be a life saver.

Back on Timor proper we found a nun awaiting the return of her volunteers from the island. They had a ride, but she was unsure when they would go back, so we bit the bullet and started walking again – no lunch, one banana and 1.2 litres of water from the generous fishermen between us. Not the best of prerequisites for a 6 km hike climbing about 800m …

Hitching a ride on the back of a truck. By this point, Flo already realized how sun burnt he is

Hitching a ride on the back of a truck. By this point, Flo already realized how sun burnt he is

I started showing signs of a bad sunburn on my arms and legs, even though we used 30+ sunscreen at regular intervals. Only later that day I realised that this is another known side effect of the doxycycline we are using as malaria prophylaxis. I therefor walked covered up with Nina’s sarong as a sort of chador. About two thirds up came our much needed boost: The nun arrived with her wards in a Hillux, and we got a lift the last third of the way on the back of the truck.

After picking up our gear at 4:30 pm, getting my phone back that I forgot in our room that morning (the ladies of the house were soo lovely and brought it out first thing when we came back) it was time to get on the road once more with one final goal for the day: Find cheap accommodation. How cheap? Well, it also turned out that we were a bit low on cash. To have enough money for fuel back, we could not spend more than $20 US. We had heard of guest houses on the beach in Com, about 50 km from Tutuala on the direct route, or 80 km along “proper” roads.

I felt adventurous, so we stocked up on 50c instant noodles and bananas sold at a cock fight we passed and took the direct route. The unsealed track was a rollercoaster ride through smoothed ruts up to 50cm deep, but actually quite nice. Until we hit a small step in the landscape and the road went up a coral limestone cliff. Nina got off and I managed the 50m over jutting limestone of up to head sizes. We almost gave up at the second such step when I saw on the GPS that the road would turn “sealed” right around the corner. One last solo balance act later we were on top of the plateau on a good sealed track.

Lovely little farms in the evening light on our way to Com

Lovely little farms in the evening light on our way to Com

The last hurdle was the drop back down from the plateau to the coast. The road surface was 50-70% gone, but the beautiful village stretching the hill from the escarpment down to the sea made up for the bumpy ride. Villages in limestone cliffs, with springs and ancient trees growing over the rocks are just stunning.

We got to camp for $16 in the empty Com Beach Resort after waving our $20 note and putting on the sad puppy face. This place was bizarre. A proper resort style complex, with no staff or customers in sight. Just the buildings and furniture. I wonder who thought this would work out here …

In the evening we got to treat our sunburn (Nina’s back is burnt as well) with proper gel for burns and had a taste of the instant noodles. They didn’t taste too bad but something in them made the gum of your mouth hurt like a bruise you might get at a dentist’s…weird.

Day 80 – Back on the roa-wooha-d

The road was still good and lorries just honk politely to let you know that they are passing

The road was still good and lorries just honk politely to let you know that they are passing

This is it, I think this is what we came for. Everything is packed, devices charged, breakfast had, and we are back on the road. Still feels right, though as always it took me a moment to fully come to grips with how heavy this behemoth that is us in travel model really is.

Dili was crossed without incident and we left familiar roads on the eastern beach to climb up and across the hill to come down on the other side and the beach road. The potholes don’t hide for long, but on this section they are mere backbreakers anyway (compared to the “rip your panniers off”-craters in the road after Baucau). Better still, traffic is calm and everyone from motorcycle to lorry driver is relaxed and respectful.

We were taking it very slow: to get a feel for the road, to acclimatise and to look out for whatever wonder may lay on the road side. Thus, we made it to Baucau by 12:30, in time for lunch. We went to a Portuguese restaurant recommended by Joris. The food was good if not maybe a bit uptown for us.

When we came back from lunch Rocinante had company. They were all sitting politely next to the bike but the seat was covered in tiny barefoot footprints that are not Flo's...

When we came back from lunch Rocinante had company. They were all sitting politely next to the bike but the seat was covered in tiny barefoot footprints that are not Flo’s…

The restaurant was down from the road a bit on a terrace overlooking the school below. As we came back, a little group of boys was hard at work inspecting our bike. One of them was frantically trying to remove dusty footprints from the seat with a comically small tissue 🙂

This should become a theme though. The bike with the two of us on it is about as inconspicuous as an ice cream truck playing heavy metal. Shouts of “malae” and “mister, mister” plus a hundred things unrecognised follow our every footstep. Wherever we stop, the bike is like a magnet sucking in everyone within 10m. It turns out the world map is a great conversation starter.

View from "our" mansion onto the mountains

View from “our” mansion onto the mountains

The road further east was substantially worse, but still manageable. Sometimes whole sections were missing or had potholes the size of cars. So 60km/h is the absolute maximum, because at any moment there could be a 10 cm drop in the tarmac. My brand new rear tyre has so much thread left that it touched the crossbar of the luggage rack a couple of time in particularly deep drops.

We pushed on through many villages and ended up at the “end of the road” in Tutuala, 8km from our final destination in the east, Jaco Island. I would not dare to try the road from the plateau to the beach fully loaded and tired after hearing many horror stories about it. Thus, we ended up in the colonial mansion turned hotel on top of the village. It is a little above our price range, but it is the only option up here it seems. At least we have power, reception and a shower. Oh, and marvellous views over the town and the east to west seaside cliffs.

 

 

Day 79 – Liberation day!

Finally, after 25 days of waiting, cursing and hoping, Rocinante is free. As of 10:30 today, she is officially back on the (East Timorese) road! Too long. Never again container shipping!

Am i in the way?

Am i in the way?

It took us a bit to decide what we were to do now. Go now? Take our time and leave tomorrow morning? In the end, we decided for the more relaxed version. After nearly 3 weeks without the bike and our gear all over the place, packing took a bit of time.

Around 2ish, we were mostly done. We needed to stock up on a couple of things and, of course, get more fuel than what was left in the tank after shipping. Heading out to refill our tyres with air was a little adventure in itself. Flo had seen a tiny shop that had air. Stopping there, we caused a little uproar. People are not used to such big bikes and would stop on the street, just to look at us. The shop owners on the other hand were delighted that we came to them and asked all sorts of questions. The most popular ones seem to be “how big is the engine?” and “where do you come from?”. We left with much waving and headed for the backpackers to say

good bye to the travellers we met there. Hubert and Alex were still cleaning their bikes for the shipping and were easily spotted. Marten and Reed said hi as well while we were parked in the yard.

A last shopping stop at Timor Plaza with more questions later, we were done. Smaller chores still had to be done and Flo hopped back on the bike to organize dinner and get our flash drives back which we had lend to Joris.

In the evening, we watched “No” with Gael García Bernal, which felt oddly right in Timor-Leste.

Day 78 – Communities

Musings

“Hi, the ship has arrived, can you come in for the paperwork tomorrow?” that was last night– by 7:50 am today I found myself walking through the bed of the Comoro River. ANL open at 8 am, at least on paper. I am not desperate at all …

The dwellings on the bank do not appear to be strictly "legal"

The dwellings on the bank do not appear to be strictly “legal”

But back to the river: There is only one road bridge over the Comoro River, about 2 km north of where we live, a suburb under the unofficial name Delta. ANL is about as far away from the bridge again, so all in all a 5 km drive. On the other hand, it is maybe 1 km west from here as the crow flies. Luckily for me, it is still the dry season, so there currently is no Comoro River, just a free for all gravel pit buzzing with lorries, diggers and sorting sieves. That is how a gold rush must look like …

8:06 am, I am at the office, the staff is not yet in full strength. I apologize in Tetum for being so impolitely on time. Once the staff arrived, it was all a matter of maybe 5 minutes and another $50 US and all that is left is for the container to arrive and for me to pick up the bike sometime in the next 2 days. As quick as that I was out in the dust again, finding my way through the illegal buildings hugging the riverbanks and back on my way. Continue reading →

Day 75 – Beep, beep, beep…

Twice in one week, the alarm clock went off before sunrise. This time, the diabolical sound put an end to our peaceful slumber at 4am. I must admit that it was a small solace to know that Herman would break the peaceful slumber with us to drive us to the wharf.

Crowd waiting at the gate to embark

Crowd waiting at the gate to embark

At the waterfront we found that a crowd had already gathered, sleep drunken, in the dark in front of the closed gate. Our tickets stated 4:30am, it was 5am now and nothing but goods was allowed through the gate – no reason to worry in Dili.

We shuffled through the gate at about 6am in the end, which was all well for us. The wait gave us a chance to get to talk to a group of malae waiting there with us. It turned out they had another motorcycle traveller in their midst. Chantal, recently from Australia, originally from the Netherlands, is on a very similar route to ours. Continue reading →

Day 73 – the good life

We could be happy. We should, shouldn’t we? I mean, we are in a tropical wonderland, the sea, good food, nice people and sunshine all day and all of it on a budget that is less than our rent back home. And we are enjoying it. If only I could convince my gut of the fact. Being separated from the bike for so long, plus the uncertainty of when exactly we will get it back creates this constant presence in the back of my mind. “This is not the trip, this is an interlude” – “Everything will be alright once you have the bike back”. For the most part, this was the first day where I could quiet that little voice enough to just enjoy myself and relax.

After four days in Dili, we had to do some washing. Even that proved to be an adventure as the washing machine was like nothing I have ever used and had to be filled with water from the hose. It worked amazingly well though and is much quicker than washing everything in a sink.

After four days in Dili, we had to do some washing. Even that proved to be an adventure as the washing machine was like nothing I have ever used and had to be filled with water from the hose. It worked amazingly well though and is much quicker than washing everything in a sink.

That is, until it all came rushing back to me. The VSA volunteers are an amazing bunch, but waves of doubt and terror washed over me when two of them started smirking at my expected timeline for getting the bike. The words “it might take weeks” were used and my heart skipped a beat. But no. They know a lot and were full of great advice for Dili, but when it comes to shipping bikes, I know my stuff, I have done my research. Only 3 more steps. The ship arrived in Darwin today, so the container (I know the number) needs to go onto the ANL Darwin trader; the ship needs to come to Dili, docking and unloading is scheduled for Monday, but might be delayed by up to 3 days due to traffic. Final step: The container goes to the bond yard, we pay and pick up our bike. Once it is in the bond yard, I can pester the shipping agent until they let me to my bike, so the only other delay may be getting the container from the wharf to the bond yard. A week in total, maybe, but not “weeks”.

So goes my mantra, and with that, I have managed to relax a bit. We spend the day reading, blogging and researching our next steps. The plan is for now to catch the cheap ferry to Atauro Island on Saturday and come back on Monday to sort out the bike.

Opposite to the entrance of our sunset bar. There are many stray dogs around and we've already seen a couple with puppies.

Opposite to the entrance of our sunset bar. There are many stray dogs around and we’ve already seen a couple with puppies.

We had lunch in a western style vegetarian café near Timor Plaza that Nina got recommended. The pieces and the décor made it clear that this is predominantly a place for malae (foreigners) – a fact highlighted by the two ridiculously out of place American ladies whose conversation on marketing skills would have been more suited to a posh LA café than a place surrounded by stray dogs and accessed via wooden planks over an open drain / stream. The food was good, but about 5x more expensive than our lunch yesterday. I guess, since this is the first place we ate at that handed out receipts, the western businessmen don’t care much about the price.

Half way through our almost customary afternoon nap, Herman came back. His afternoon meeting has fallen apart a bit, so he got spare time to pick us up and drive us around for some more sightseeing. This time, we went east, to the statue of Pope John Paul II, a little bit behind the airport. It tells you something about the level of catholic-ness when the capital city’s coastline is framed by two symbols of faith looking towards it.

Sun is starting to set.

Sun is starting to set.

To round off the day and get the sunset we missed last time, we went to a very posh bar on the eastern beach. Slouched on bean bags with a coke in hand, I was able to push the demon of bikelessness to the back for a while and enjoy the sunset.

Also not without mention should be our dinner, which Nina enjoyed immensely. We went back to the place from last night to check out their sit-down restaurant part serving Indian. The paneer was great. I love how international the food is in Dili, and how easy it is for Nina to find tasty vegetarian food.

So all was well … until the demon returns …

Day 70 – Dili

Leaving Australia

The night was short, very short. To be in good time for our flight and be certain we got time to go to border Australia for the TRS scheme paperwork. TRS stands for tourist refund scheme, a way to get a refund on GST if goods are exported within 60 days of purchase in Australia. Given that we spend several thousand dollars in AUS, were ready to jump through some hoops to get 10% back.

warm, tired and confused

warm, tired and confused

A brief taxi ride later, we found ourselves at the check-in desk for AirNorth at the Darwin airport. Despite my better judgement I believed the check-in staffer when she said that we have to check in our luggage straight away and the only TRS desk is behind the security checks.

With plenty of time and our boarding passes in our hands we went through the checks. I got pulled over once again (my passport seems to have performance issues with the scanners), but nothing came of it. And just after that, we got the cold dark confirmation: People will tell you anything to get rid of you, especially if they know you can’t come back to complain.

“No refund, you have to show the goods!” – “I know, but the lady said …”- “The airlines problem, there was a desk downstairs” – “can I go back?!” – “No …”. I am not ashamed to say that I made a bit of a scene there and then, and when the superior border officer came around, I took my chance to plead our case one more time. She took pity, frowned upon the minion and with a “their story is pretty convincing” ordered for the full amount to be refunded. Wow, a near miss.

We even had time for a hasty breakfast and blog post before we got on board. Turned out, the breakfast was a bit premature, but then again, what about second breakfast?

A day in Dili

Continue reading →

Day 68 – The Fault in our Stars

The plan for this weekend was to lay low and relax and gather as much calm ans strength as we could before what ever would expect us from here on out in the developing world. That, and the thought of the $60 it would cost, was the reason for denying the invitation to tag along to a rodeo that Celia ans some friends were going to.

Celia did manage to break us out of our sloth-like state for a while though: First, we went out to another local market for lunch. Nina and I had Lebanese food and a nice tropical smoothie. Nina got her falafel wrap freshly done just before they closed up, much to the dismay of the stall owners daughter, who was put to work.

After that, we extend our little excursion for some sight seeing to east point. Once again, Celia has proven to be an amazing host. This time as a patient tour guide putting up with my “sign fetish”.

That night we were alone in the house and thought to make use of the large flat screen and watch one of the movies we have been carrying around since day 1. We ended up going for two in the end, because The Fault in our Stars left us so sad that it needed some Brave to get us ready for bed without sobbing in a fetal position.

The Fault in our Stars is the first movie based on a book of the same name by John Green. We have been following and thoroughly enjoying the youtube work of John and Hank Green for a while now.  I especially enjoyed the Crash Course series, and by now we consider ourselves Nerdfighter. The movie was great, but so different that it is almost hard to believe it is of American make. Have a look at the trailer, but be warned: This is some seriously sad stuff.