Bicycling
Bali Indonesia
“After four days preparation and recovery from jet lag, our journey tugged at us to get moving.
I spied our Specialized Rock Hopper Mountain bikes, as they stood in the corner of our room like proud steeds eager to challenge all comers and prove themselves the all-around champions they dreamed they could be. It was time to prepare them to meet their destiny. Born in 1996, they were shiny, scratch less, new, youthfully spirited, but barely tested. A few trial runs around the home track boasted their potential, but they were too quickly incarcerated in boxes, flown to Bali as part of our baggage, bumped and thrown about with careless abandon before being set free in our room. After such an arduous journey and before another could begin, they needed special attention.
We chose Triple crank sets with granny gears to help my 53-year-old legs pump up all the hills in their future. Thumb and first finger shifters replaced the rotator style that under bumpy conditions and endless hours of riding aggravated my wrists. Though we would be traveling south to north, against the prevailing winds, we kept the mountain bike style handlebars so my back could remain upright and even added extensions that allowed us to change our hand and arm positions throughout long cycling days. Then we padded the handlebars with black slip-on, extra thick foam grips and attached a bell to ring pedestrians out of harm’s way as well as adjustable handlebar mirrors to help us stay out of harm’s way.
We had hauled six pounds of spare parts and tools through South America and never needed to use them. For this trip, we decided to rely on the local’s inventiveness and take only three spare tubes and one spare tire for the both of us
I pared down my camera equipment to one body and lens system: my Canon A2 with Tamron 28-200mm zoom lens, an extender, a close up lens set, one polarizer, cloudy-bright, and neutral density filter. Fifty rolls of a mix of Sensia 100, 200, 400, and Velvia 50 in a waterproof bag weighted down one side of Mike’s front panniers. I did not expect to be able to buy such film along our route.
Travel guides, maps and language books posed the biggest weight problem. We needed information and language help for five different countries.
Toilet paper (never leave home without it!) toothbrush, sunscreen and basic toiletries, vitamins and some electrolyte drinks to help me adjust to the heat, spare reading glasses, small gifts of cigarette lighters, needles, thread, buttons, handmade silk flowers to give in appreciation to people along the way, spare tubes and pannier rain covers all went into the other rear baggage. We did not take raincoats for ourselves. We hoped the rain would be warm enough to appreciate. It was.
The piles disappeared off the bed into the bike baggage as planned. It was a light load as cycle touring goes. We carried no camping gear, no heavy clothes and minimal spare parts, but the books, film and mailers made up the difference. Mike’s bags weighed in at fifty pounds. Mine came to thirty.
It was time. All the dreams, all the planning, the preparation had no place further to go. Our steeds, saddled and pawing anxiously, knew their momentous journey waited outside the gates. Tomorrow the portals would open and a road would lead us somewhere we had never been; exultation, fear, amazement, uncertainty would tap us on the shoulder and demand we acknowledge their presence. Our steeds would take us so slowly along this road we would taste, smell and touch and be touched by its variety. We would smile and be smiled at, frown and be frowned at; we would learn something of ourselves and of others along the way. Let it begin.”
Excerpt from On Our Own A Bicycling Adventure in South East Asia
By Anne & Mike Poe
Mount Agung
Home to Besakih Temple
“Besakin Temple is a splendid residence for the gods. Sixty temples, slender black pagodas like fingers pointing to the heavens, rise towards the sky on successive terraces. The peak of Mount Agung stands dead center in the view. The ceremonial promenade draws a straight line through the complex to the peak. Worshiper’s eyes are instantly drawn upward.”
“To the right of the promenade, on the lowest terrace level, a temple courtyard exploded with sound and color. Balinese dancers were telling the sixteen-hour long Hindu story of Ramayana (Prince Rama’s expedition to rescue his wife Siva from the kidnapper demon-prince Rawana). Dance in Bali is an expression of worship and
appeasement as well as entertainment. The Balinese believe the god Indra, Lord of the Heavens, mandated earthly dancing when he created heavenly nymphs to dance for the pleasure of the gods.”
“A bigger temple with bigger courtyard occupied the second level terrace. A high priest sat cross-legged in the shade of an elaborately carved pavilion. His sarong, blouse, and turban-like hat were white as fresh snow. A slightly off-white fragile beard drooped on his chest. Incense spiraled about his meditative figure as fog kisses the morning air. He blessed a bowl of water with an upward wave of his hand through the incense and transformed the liquid’s worldly nature to holy. He rang a tiny silver bell in his left hand for each lotus blossom that he took from a tray on his right. The bell tinkled again as he dipped each blossom in the holy water. A mantra flowed from his lips like a slow meandering river. Pilgrims dipped flowers petals in the holy water and offered prayers to the gods. They stuck rice grains dipped in the holy water to their foreheads and around their eyes. The glue-like starch held the grains in place for days.”
We spent a month bicycling Bali
Enchanted by the people and the joyous culture, we savored each day as special…never hurrying…but flowing within the current of everyday Balinese life. It was to be the most peaceful experience of our entire journey. When we arrived in Gilimanuk and boarded the ferry to Java, the tenor of our trip changed from peaceful contemplation to challenging mayhem.
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