In Borneo you have heat, and you have rain. Today we had both. We also had our flat roads being replaced by an undulating landscape. And Clement passed 33333km, or, as Will puts it ‘tirty tree tousand tree hundred and tirty tree.’
On the road
Passing bird saliva factories is different now that we know what they are.
The bird saliva factory
Today we are locked in to a garage, sheltered from the rain. We have lots of caged dogs and a caged monkey for company.
‘My name is Angela. These are my three sisters Angie, Angelina and Angel. We sat on the floor of the family’s homely tin dwelling on the swampy plains as the mosquitos circled and the shiny rhinosceros beetle watched on from his perch on my pink pannier.
Our lovely friends
What an amazing, beautiful day. I laughed in joy as we cycled in the beautiful, yellow evening light, surrounded by the green of banana palms, dense foliage and beautiful tropical trees, some solitary and thin reaching up into the heavens. The sky was imposing and huge above us – a spectacular array of clouds fading through pink to grey and black as the sun slid below the Borneo horizon. Birds darted above – small black ones, and elegent long-necked white ones, flying up from their perches atop of cows on the side of the road. We were rescued from squatting on the verandah of an empty tin shed in the almost deserted marshy landscape by a car of smiles that had chased us down the road to invite us into their home. We followed them through the river delta plains as the last light faded and we arrived at their house.
Sunset
‘What are these bird houses about?’ I asked. Dotted through the landscape are houses – 10 metres high surrounded by an orchestra of bird sounds. Birds dart in and out in a frenzy of activity in these man-made buildings. We are told they are for harvesting the nests constructed of the delicacy – bird saliva. The saliva is separated from the sticks and other building materials of the nest to make a white jelly which the Chinese use in drinks and soups. Costing several thousand ringgit per kilo, this is an expensive delicacy indeed.
We had a wonderful meal, and then gave gifts of personal post-cards – photos we printed of our travels. The Angel sisters and the family each chose a photo as we ‘brought the world to their home.’ It was a wonderful sharing experience.
The whole day was amazing – cycling on a flat, small road through the low-lying lands, crossing chocolate coloured meandering rivers on small car ferries. Monkeys jumped from tree to tree on the side of the road, and from our safe perch on a bridge, we watched a crocodile swim to the side of the river.
Beware of crocodiles
The river crossing
On the ferry
Through the banana trees
The beautiful sky
Evening cycling
This is how it’s done. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like I was in Sumatra, Will watched as we pulled up to a little village amid the banana trees and found a place to sleep. We spent the evening watching the locals playing baminton before having the hall to ourselves – except for the giant bugs buzzing into walls and the lights.
‘I don’t mind sleeping in bird shit,’ said Will as we decided on a place to set up the mosquito net. Nice one!
The road
Thank-you my friends in Kuching. Thank-you Jammie for inviting us to stay in your place and spending time with us. A huge thanks to Akmal to come all the way from Kuala Lumpur for some special parts bike maintenance. And thank-you to the bike team in Kuching for putting the final touches on my new carbon drive set-up.
Kuching was also our place for getting a second 60-day Indonesian visa.
Finally, Kuching was reuniting with Will – an irregular Irishman I cycled with in Tajikistan. It’s been 17000km since we last cycled together. Back then we were together with Mark and Kim. This time we are a team of three – Clement, Will and me.
Our warm showers host Jammie
Akmal performing magic
The bike team in Kuching
The new cycling team – Will, Clement and me
Using bottled water results in so much plastic waste that pollutes our planet. I try to avoid using bottled water. I also have panic fits of running out of water – I sweat a lot, and if I drink enough I get cramp and cannot go on. Today my panic attack overtook my common sense, creating one more piece of plastic rubbish for the planet.
When it is hot and humid and at low altitude (making it hotter), and when the road is constantly steep, I get cramp. I cannot drink enough water and electrolytes to replace what I am sweating out. In the backblocks, where there is not a village shop every few hundred metres, I can panic, needing to stock up on water when I see it. I have almost run out of water before, and not drinking enough will definitely result in cramp with this weather.
Cycling through the outskirts of the capital of Sarawak province, you can be sure there will be water to be had. I was not happy with only my emergency reserve water, and bought a bottle of water where there was no other drinking water. I regretted having done this – especially when Clement was able to fill up with water without creating extra plastic waste just 2km down the road. I will try to think more and not let panic attacks take over. Lesson learned.
Today we met up with Will who I cycled with in Tajikistan and Krygyzstan. Its been 16000km since I last saw him. It’ll be good to have a third member to the team in Borneo and Sulawesi.
The new cycling team – me, Clement and Will
Thanks Jammie for the great and relaxed hospitality. We are looking forward to a lovely evening and time with you here in Kuching!
This morning I took my bike by the hand, and walked him down the aisle. I could almost hear the wedding march in the background. We have experienced so much together, it is time we tied the knot.
Going down the aisle
Across the border into Malaysia and, yet again, it feels so different. More people are driving cars, the roads are better, it feels more English. The ice tea comes with milk. We took the back road to Kuching, and slogged our way up and down through the steep and beautiful landscape. The mountains rise almost vertically from the road, dense with trees and forest foliage. The crickets and cicadas chirp in the background. We find ourselves sleeping in a town hall 30km from Kuching, the capital of Sarawak province.
Steep road
Our mosquito net is erected next to the altar of the church in the depths of Borneo. The anchoring point of the net is the heavy altar bible holding down the attached string at one corner. The chocolate-bar sized bugs are zooming around the bright halogen lights with a low drone, bouncing off the walls and then the roof, above the line of pews retreating to the back of the church. Outside the cicadas and crickets are the backdrop to this old Christian missionary place.
Anchor point for the tent
Today the road was easy, and we took it easy, stopping for extended breaks talking and talking. We talked about the cigarette billboards everywhere promising everything to the young – sophistication, boldness, the flavour of a new generation, asking if they dare. Smoking is part of the Javanese culture and part of their identity. It also used to be part of life in Europe – but no more. Advertisements like these were banned in Australia 40 years ago and now almost noone smokes there. I think Indonesia will keep its smoking culture for a while to come.
U bold
Tomorrow we return to country number 29 – Malaysia.
‘Is there jungle there?’ he asked pointing to the centre of Australia on the map.
A big space with nothing on the map must be jungle.
‘No.’
‘Is there snow?’
‘No. It is hot, and there is nothing.’
I showed some photos of the centre of Australia. No. The centre of Australia is definitely not Borneo.
The heart of the palm
We were shown the jungle out the back of the house. It was fascinating – and so rich with food and fascinating plants – most of which I had never seen before. A kind of jelly fruit – a bit like duku. An orange deformed shape that tasted like apricot. A red sphere that, when cracked open, was a lolly to be sucked but not eaten. Another green sphere which tasted like nothing and was hollow on the inside. All this was in the back yard next to the paddy fields. The family chopped off a heart of the palm for us, and the mother prepared it while we swam in the river flowing past.
Squishy fruit
Unknown fruit
Before leaving the village, we had another movie star photo shoot. Clement walked down the road to the place for the photo like the Pied Piper of Hamlyn.
The pied piper of Hamlyn
Today we took a long-cut through the hills, past lots of little villages. It was beautiful and very rural. What a beautiful, huge tropical island.
The country road
We had a nice evening stop with 3 girls Clement met when he was last here, and are sleeping in a huge, empty house. Really cool.
‘Do you want to try dog?’
We were whisked away on a motorbike to the neighbour’s house. Sitting on the floor circling a metal bowl in the dimly lit room was the family.
‘Please sit.’
He took a piece of bone from the top – a paw.
‘This is foot of dog,’ he informed, grinning from ear to ear.
‘What was the dog’s name?’ I asked.
‘Om.’
Signing the guitar with the family
This is the Borneo of my childhood dreaming. We are staying with friends Clement met a week ago in a village in the hills – Dayak people. We approached the village in the dying light and drizzle. We marvelled at the beauty of the road as it wound its way between rice fields with a backdrop of a forested mountain with clouds rising from the side like steam from a hot road. After an amazing dinner, we are shown a tool used in hunting to blow a poisoned dart at the prey. Made of bone, it is carved in the form of a dragon. I held this long tool in my hand. One hundred years ago this very tool was used in the dense forest in Borneo. These people were cannibals in the past, we were told. And they ate all animals – pythons, squirrels, mouse deers.
The whole village came and looked on as we were given t-shirts with images of the traditional shield and sword. We were then asked to sign school bags, t-shirts and other things like we were film stars. The girls giggled with excitement as they had photos taken with us with the photo of the pope watching over us from the photo on the wall. This is a Christian village – converted by the Dutch missionaries in the far past. One after the other, and then in groups, we were photoed with everyone in all possible configurations.
The lovely Dayak family
Clement and I are once more a team.
‘Hello Mister!’ I cried out as I saw him waiting for me in the restaurant at the turnoff. A big hug, and then hours of recounting all our experiences since we parted ways. It’s great to see him again.
The road north from Pontianak along the coast was flat, boring and industrial. From the turnoff, the road passed into the hills. We were entering the real Borneo. Then, out of nowhere, the rain started, and it poured.
Tomorrow I will take some photos of this landscape. The rain prevented me from doing that today.
Every Thursday morning in year 8 at school I felt the dread rising to choke me – my woodwork class. The wooden pencil case I made had holes so big the pencils fell through. My dread is similar in fixing my bike, and today I watched as my bike was dismantled for a flight to Pontinak in Borneo. Will I be able to put it together again?
Dismantling the bike
My plans of going to Borneo are now concrete – a flight to Pontinak in Kalimantan where I will meet Clement to cycle to Kuching in Malaysia. There, we will meet Will, who I cycled with in Tajikistan. This will be a side-trip of a couple of months on two islands in Indonesia I dreamed about when I was a kid – Borneo and Sulawesi. But, first, the bike needs to survive the flight. It now sits, dismantled, in a box. I did a bike maintenance course before embarking on this trip – still, the fear of this technical reassembly exercise is present. ☺
Thanks Cak and all his friends in and on the way to Surabaya. Amazing hospitality and help by everyone! And very interesting conversations. You have made my last days in Java (this time) great!
I think I’ve overdone it. Today I was knackered even though I slept in, celebrated a premature 30000km, and cycled slowly on a flat road. It’s called overtraining, and the only solution is to sleep – so sleep I will. I’ve checked in to a hotel with airconditioning, and I’m going to bed. ☺
Me and Patmo
Nearly 30000km
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