The run to Flores

After a few days in the port city of Bima it was time to get back on the bike and cycle up the slopes of Tambora Volcano.  It was only 50 km to the ferry port of Sape where I would catch a boat to Flores but I knew that there were many switchbacks to be cycled along the way.

The last few days in Bima had been really nice.  There is absolutely nothing to see in the city from a tourist viewpoint, it was just nice to be surrounded by hustle and bustle for a few days.

I also took advantage of being in the city by having a trim of the hair and beard.  Without doubt, the best bit about being in a city was the selection of food that was on offer and I snacked at least 5 times a day:

Worryingly though, I came out in a rash on my chest that I have no idea what is was.

If it had been bed bugs I would have expected it to be on my back too but it was only on my front.  I just put it down to heat rash and it went away after 4 days .

I did precisely nothing during my time in Bima and it was great but then the itchy feet start twitching and it was time to get back cycling.  My plan when I set off from Bima was to get to Sape in time to catch the afternoon ferry to Flores.  The ferry departed at 4pm and I had given myself 6 hours to get there as it was 10am by the time I got my stuff together and departed.  I really am bad at getting going in a morning and would rather cycle slowly through the heat of the day then get up at the crack of dawn and race to be done by lunchtime.  Each to their own I suppose.

This part of Sumbawa is relatively well populated when compared to the rest of the 500km that I had cycled through the island, and for most of the day I would cycle through hill villages on my way up the slopes of Tambora.

The first part of the route was a gentle uphill section as I followed a river valley.  On both sides of the river the locals were growing rice and spring onions.  The smell wafting down the valley was amazing.  The air was definitely fresh on Flores.

All along the roadside and in peoples gardens the locals had spread tarpaulins and were busy drying the crops in the heat of the midday sun.

Ahead of me at the end of the river valley there was a wall of a mountain and I could see the road snaking its way up the slopes and this is where the hard work started.  For the next 10km I would be stuck in the ‘granny gear’ as I crawled up the mountain and rounded the switchbacks.  My pace was good though and I enjoyed the challenge of the hills.

The payoff for grinding your way up a mountainside is the view of the valley that you have just cycled up.  I have found that you don’t always get this in hills as the hills tend to be rolling but in mountains the view are more spectacular as the roads tend to cling precariously to the side of the slope.

The monsoon rains in this area start in November and all up the road they were still repairing the road from last year and putting in new drainage channels to try to prevent further erosion this coming season.  The power of the water cascading down the mountain must be staggering as all along the valley whole sections of the road had been washed away.

As usual, I was cycling through the hottest part of the day and I had run out of water so pulled into the next house that I saw.  Without question they filled my bottle for me and waved me on my way.  I’m not sure what they must think but one time when I was cycling through Cambodia a woman asked me if I was that poor I couldn’t afford the bus which still makes me laugh today.

I had now come over the summit of the hill and was in an area of terraced padi fields.  Seeing terraced fields is always a good sign that the road was about to flatten out.

For the next 10km or so I was rolling through hill villages. As I was pushing to catch the afternoon ferry I skipped a lunch stop and continued on towards Sape.

After another hour it was time to “cash in” my climbing token as I headed out of the mountains and could free wheel the last 15km down towards the ferry port.

As usual I had picked up a ‘tail’ as two lads on a motorbike stayed with me on the downhill.  Sometimes they would pass ahead of me with a wave and then fall back behind but never really said anything to me the whole time.

I was once again following a river valley as I sped east for the final time.  The smell of spring onions was again pungent in the air as on this side of the hill farmers were busy harvesting their crops.

At the bottom of he hill lay Sape where I was expecting to find the sea but instead I found a very dusty town. I asked for directions to the port and people held up 4 fingers and pointed down the road. I took this to mean 4 kilometers and headed off in the direction that they indicated.

After exactly 4km the road narrowed and led me to the ferry port.  It was only 2.30pm and I was happy as it meant that I had made good time and would make the 4pm ferry.  I went to the ticket office to but my ticket but found it shut and people just waved me away saying no.  I asked somebody who spoke English where the ferry was and they explained that the 9am and 4pm ferries has been cancelled that day, so no sailing to Flores.

Here is a video that I shot to record my final cycle through the beautiful island of Sumbawa:

I sat there for 20 mins watching people do exactly what I had done as they too arrived for the 4pm ferry only to find the ticket office shut.  Their reaction was the same as mine as everyone just shrugged their shoulders and accepted that these things happen. Not one person got angry as there was nothing that could be done except come back in the morning for the 9am ferry.  Hopefully it would run.

As I had skipped lunch I went in search of food and pulled into the first warung I passed as I cycled away from the ticket office. As I pulled in there was a mountain bike parked outside and sat just inside the door was a Kiwi guy called Wayne.  He too had been hoping to catch the 4pm ferry.

After eating we sat and chatted over ice tea and swapped ‘war’ stories and highlights of our respective trips.  Wayne said that he had started in Java before cycling through Bali, Lombok and Sumbawa.  Apparently, in Java he nearly quit everyday as the traffic and pollution were horrendous and he said that the whole experience was not good especially when you have to take your life in your hands everyday.  I had heard similar stories from other riders and that is why I wasn’t too concerned when I skipped cycling through Java.

After a couple of hours chatting I headed off to find a cheap place for the night.  There were a few choices along the road and so I chose a losmen over something with hotel in its name as they tend to double the price.

What I found was Losmen Mustika; it had a bed, a fan, running water and electricity.  I even found a place selling beer around the corner so missing the ferry wasn’t all that bad.

I was up early the next morning as I wanted to get to the ticket office early as I wasn’t sure how much of a backlog of traffic there would be having both ferries cancelled the day before.

As I was loading my panniers on the bike an Indonesian guy who had also spent the night at the losmen asked if I wanted to put my bike in the back of his van.  This way I would avoid paying for the bike on he ferry.  As it was only a few dollars I thanked him but declined the offer and cycled off to the ticket office.

The good news when I got there was that the ferry that morning would be running and was scheduled to leave somewhere between 9.00am and 10am.  Departure seemed to be dependent upon when the boat was loaded as many of the trucks waiting to board would just off load their respective cargos onto the boat rather than sailing the trucks across to Flores.

I cycled down the ramp of the ferry onto the car deck and met Wayne who had just chained his bike to the railings and so I chained mine to his.  The chaining was not for security, but more to prevent the bikes being thrown around if it was a rough crossing.

We then headed upstairs to find somewhere to sit.  The layout of the passenger deck was a metal bunk section at the back of the boat where you paid for a foam mattress, then a seating area in the middle with a food bar and a loud TV.

At the front a VIP section with the weakest aircon imaginable.

The VIP section was virtually empty while the others were pretty busy even though the boat was not leaving for another hour or so.  You did not have to pay extra for the VIP but you could not smoke and that is why I think it was empty; Indonesian men are chain smokers through and through.  Time and again I have seen them put out one cigarette and immediately light another.  I asked one man about it and his theory was why prolong your time here on earth when you were poor and couldn’t afford to go anywhere.  I had not heard that argument before but it worked for him. It also worked for me as he VIP  section was empty !!!!

Wayne and I made ourselves comfortable and got set for the 6 hour crossing by watching a man hang off the top rail of the boat while painting it with the other hand. He could get a job in the circus as part of a high wire act.

9 am ticked by with no sign of the boat moving as there was still a line of traffic on the quayside waiting to get on to the boat or just to drop their cargo.  By 10 am the jigsaw had been completed and every centimeter of space had been filled on the car/cargo deck of the boat:

A similar picture was painted on the passenger deck as al of the floor space had been occupied by people aiming to get a sleep during the ferry crossing:

The boat set off just after 10 am and as I had eaten breakfast at 7 am it was time to go and see what the food options were on the boat. It turned out that the only option was pot noodle so my luck was in.  Amazingly, Wayne had not succumbed to the delicacy during his ride so far and so joined me for a snack.

It was then time to sit back and relax as the ferry made its way to Flores.  I needn’t have bothered chaining my bike up as the crossing was smooth as there was no wind to speak of and the waters crystal clear.

Indonesian ferries are the workhorses of the seas.  They pack them to the gills, leave a few hours late and sometimes sink.  That said they are a great experience.  Here is a video to give you an idea of what in Indonesian ferry is like to travel on:

Just before 4pm we pulled into the port town of Lubuan Bajo on Flores and then began the process of unpacking the jigsaw.

The cars and trucks had been parked so close together that the only way I could get to my bike was climbing over the life boats, yes the ferry had two small ones, and then shimming down one of the water pipes to my bike.  As I was one of the first off the boat this meant that my bike was safe from being hit by one of the trucks as it disembarked.

Once Wayne had retrieved his bike we set off to find somewhere to stay. I had heard good things about a hostel from some surfers but couldn’t remember what it was called, but knew that it was named after a colour.  It turned out to be called Orange and we were in luck as they had two rooms.

On the crossing Wayne and I had kind of hatched a plan – the following day we would head off to see the Komodo Dragons together and then I was going to try and get a couple of days kayaking in Komodo National Park.

Once we were  settled into our rooms and showered we headed into town to find a boat to take us out into Komodo National Park the following morning.  After speaking to a few places to get an idea of the price we decided that it would be easier just to hire a whole boat between us for the day rather than join other people on a tour.

This way we could decide when and where the boat stopped instead of being on the ‘clock’ so to speak.

Now that the Komodo trip was sorted I needed to arrange the kayaking.  I had been in touch with Paul from Wicked Diving a couple of days before arriving on Flores as the company he runs advertise kayaking trips on their website.  The bad news when I emailed him for more information was that he would need a minimum of two people to run the trip, and so far there was only me.

When I found their dive shop and spoke to Paul face to face it turned out that the kayaking side of the business was something that they were trying to expand and had not really run specialised trips before.

Paul was from California and was up for a bit of an adventure so he agreed to let me rent a kayak for 2 days as long as a couple of his guides could come along for the experience.  The dive shop runs a permanent dive boat in the National Park which we could use as a base to kayak off,  and at night we could kayak back to the dive boat that and sleep on it as it doubles as a kind of floating hostel. This also meant that I could get a dive in if I wanted.

The other thing that had caught my eye was a visit to a traditional village called Wae Rebo which lay in the mountains about 150km away from Lubuan Bajo. Wayne also fancied cycling out to the village and said that he would wait for me to finish kayaking so that we could cycle there together.

Within 2 hours of arriving in Flores we had a plan – hiking on Komodo to tick another item off my trip bucket list, 2 days kayaking around islands in the national park, a spot of diving and then a two day cycle and trek out to Wae Rebo.

After visiting the village of Wae Rebo Wayne would continue east while I retraced my route for another 2 days back to Lubuan Bajo. Then, sadly, my time cycling in Asia would be up, and I would fly to Bali to meet my wife for a week’s holiday before catching a flight to New Zealand to continue my round the world cycle ride.

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