One cannot begin to process the feeling of packing up an entire life and getting on a plane to live a life as a nomad with only three nights of accomodation booked in a year long expedition. Walking through the Auckland International Departure lounge sapped all the excitement we should have felt and in its place stood genuine fear. It's good to feel fear. That's when you really know you are living.
After the initial drama of packing and repacking the bikes at the airport (the boxes were too heavy) we said our goodbyes to a select group of friends and family before heading on our way. As a group we had never felt more alone on that plane ride. The fear of the unknown had us well and truly in its grip. Words cannot begin to describe that flight.
Travelling is stressful enough without adding oversized and impossibly clumsy bike boxes to one's checked in luggage. Arriving at Denpasar International Airport we were nervous to say the least. Had the bikes survived the flight? Were the derailleurs in one piece? Had the boxes become the perfect target for Schapelle Corby style hijacking? Getting to our Airbnb in Ubud and being welcomed with an iced tea was relieving to say the least.
The next few days were spent walking the streets, taking photos, acclimatising to the heat, and preparing with a diet of Bintang and bravado. We met up with cousin Richard, a pilot for Cathay Pacific, who very kindly kept us very well watered before our first day on the road.
The first day dawned. We, rather ambitiously, planned to ride 75kms from Ubud to Singaraja. What we hadn't mastered was the process of using Map My Run to work out the exact elevation of the next days ride. At 2pm we found ourselves half way up a 1400m mountain pass, bodies completely sapped by the heat and exertion, wondering what we were doing with our lives. We were moving at crawling pace and tackling gradients that would make a Tour de France cyclist wince. We had a brief spill on a hairpin corner as the gradient kicked and Sean's legs couldn't. He fell fortunately at such low speed we weren't faced with our first medical disaster of the trip. That would come later that evening.
Terrified we weren't going to get to Singaraja before nightfall we pressed on, Arthur and Freddie carrying Sean's bags. He was having a particularly bad day but never once considered giving up short of our target. The beginning of the descent brought tears to our eyes.
We rode in to Singaraja in the late afternoon sun and shortly pulled up at Hardy's Pop Hotel, a place we hope we never have to see again. The beach was glorious but filthy. You couldn't swim without getting some form of plastic on you. The endless stream of rubbish in the waterways and roadsides has been a constant theme here in Indonesia and has heightened our awareness of the seriousness of the global climate crisis.
We had a nice dinner on the waterfront, still completely unable to process our predicament. None of us could believe our life long dream and adventure had finally started. The Bintang tasted so good after what we would come to appreciate was one of the most difficult days of the trip thus far.
Retiring to our tiny room the relief set in. That was until about 12am when Freddie had an emergency visit to the bathroom...
