Today is the big day.
The long-awaited, much anticipated, first day of my maiden multiple-day bike trip. Through Java, one of the most populated regions in the world, no less.
My original plan was to leave at 6am to avoid the bulk of the notorious Jakarta traffic. I had my route, more or less, mapped out. Now just to take a deep breath, and take the plunge.
It took less than 45 minutes for my plan to come crashing down around me.
I wanted to go through Bogor, having heard wonderful things of the beautiful parks and Presidential house, and how many of Indonesia’s elite call it home and commute to Jakarta every day, rather than be stuck in the dirty city. However, I missed the turnoff and soon found myself on a vast highway, heading east to the Bekasi Regency. The traffic was bumper to bumper into Jakarta, so I cursed myself and continued on my way, into the empty highway.
I was soon feeling very vulnerable as cars were continuously flying past me, coupled with a suspicious absence of motorbikes. Despite my very strong desire to return home and creep back into bed with Tami, I pushed on.
With these thoughts swirling around my head, it took me a while to notice that an Indonesian man was trying to flag me down. He was about 50, driving in the standard Jakarta car, a Toyota Kijang, with his family. The man was beeping his horn and forming a cross with his arms, in a gesture clearly saying ‘Stop!’
Apparently, as this good Samaritan informed me, I was on a toll road, where motorbikes are forbidden. He told me that I ‘must’ go back. This meant turning around and going along the ‘break-down lane’. That is how I found myself travelling the wrong way, into oncoming traffic, on the biggest highway I’ve ever seen. Cars were continuously beeping at me, presumably thinking that I’d forgotten which side of the road I was supposed to be driving on. I felt, and looked, like a man who had lost his mind.
Of course, as luck would have it, on my life in the wrong lane, I came across a policeman on a motorbike. He was very angry, although I sensed that his anger wasn’t directed at me, but at his job in general. Despite my workable Bahasa Indonesia, he almost refused to talk, and mostly pointed and scowled. He ignored my feeble “Mau ke Bogor”, and insisted I follow him. He personally escorted me, weaving through 2km of backed up traffic. This would have been fantastic, except he was taking me north, in the opposite direction to which I wanted to go. We soon reached an exit ramp, heading down towards Jakarta proper, still heading north. He stopped and pointed me down the road. I tried one last “Tapi, saya mau pergi ke Bogor”. He shook his head and pointed. With my tail between my legs, I complied and continued north.
By this time it was about 8am, and I found myself smack-bang in the middle of peak hour traffic in the centre of Jakarta. Exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
Jakarta traffic. This is not my photo. Original photo from bbc.co.uk
The next two hours of my life were not enjoyable at all. I crawled through Jakarta, made all the more difficult by the fact that my bike would stall if I didn’t keep the revs up. I needed a bengkel, but I really needed was to get out of Jakarta.
Almost 5 hours after I left Annelise and Monty’s apartment in South Jakarta, I was on the outskirts of Bogor, about 60km away. My average speed was about 12km/h. That is my jogging speed. I ran the City2Surf in Sydney at that pace.
Bogor is indeed beautiful. I would love to be able to say that those 5 hours were worth it to see the beauty of Bogor. But for me, Bogor was spoiled somewhat by those two Javanese pastimes; protests and traffic. As such, I couldn’t wait to get out of Bogor! The 500 000IDR and two days to have my bike transported on the train to Bandung was soon starting to look like a bargain.
At last, a saviour (of sorts): “Jalan Alternatif”. Done. Soon I was zooming through rice paddies, hugging the turns, climbing mountains with terraces of rice paddies. This is what I had come to see.
Against my will, I found myself on a “Jalan Alternatif” to my “Jalan Alternatif”. This road led to a market with no road, only loose rocks. Thank god for my wonderful off-road tyres. I pressed on, and emerged onto the main road, which thankfully had undergone a remarkable change of heart and transformed into a beautiful mountain pass around Gunung Gede.
Roadside warungs, Gunung Gede, West Java.
I stopped at a lovely road-side warung, where I ate soto ayam (chicken rice soup) and watched paragliders float past me like snowflakes, buffeted by the gentle breeze, down to the greenery below. Ah, Jawa! I had arrived.
View from a warung at the base of Gunung Gede, West Java.
The rest of the journey was quite enjoyable, with the winding roads, cool air and beautiful scenery. This all started to change the closer I came to Bandung. The traffic started, and I escaped into a bengkel to have my kopling (clutch) looked at. I emerged with new mirrors instead. I braced myself and pushed on into the traffic.
I arrived at my hostel extremely relieved. My gem of a girl had called ahead and booked for me. There were only four other people staying in the hostel, and only one of those was in my room. I wandered down to a lovely open food-court, where I bought some sate kambing and a well-earned beer. Then precious sleep.
The first day was in the books.
Open food court, Bandung, West Java.
Riding time: 10hours
Hours: 6:30am – 4:45pm
Distance: 180kms
Bengkel visits:1
Police stops: 1
Motorbiking Across Java 