April 30, 2015
Getting very lost: Life is never boring with Tom
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If we felt like we were lost the previous day it was really nothing to how we soon felt in the morning. Just 500 metres after re-joining the road we came to a fork in it and a barrier manned by a couple of security men. These barricades were quite frequent and were something to do with the plantations and monitoring the trucks. We asked the men for the way to Ulungbatu-Julu which of course received blank looks, so we tried asking for Langapayung, a bigger town on our route. “No, no, no” was the predictable response. So we waited until a man on a motorcycle came and we asked him. He gave a more confident response and indicated to us that we should take the right turn, which we did. Almost immediately a truck that was coming from that direction pulled up to tell us “no, no, no” with a shake of the hand out of the cab window. Well we had to go somewhere, so we kept going for another 500 metres until we came to another barrier. “Langapayung?” we asked the security men. “Yes, yes” they waved us straight through. It seemed like we might be on the right track. At least it did until the road dead-ended at a palm oil mill about 200 metres later. Back we retreated.
“Why did you tell us this was the way to Langapayung?”
“Yes, yes.”
Even though all of this was naturally quite stressful it was also a tremendously enjoyable adventure to be lost on the back-roads. After we went back to the original fork in the road and took the left turn instead we soon came to a rural schoolyard where we were spotted across the field and 30 or 40 young children stampeded across towards us. What they were planning on doing when they got to us I wasn’t sure, and I don’t think any of them were either, because when they got to the edge of the field they all came to a skidding halt and stared down at us. Tom took this as an invitation to turn children’s entertainer and pulled up in the muddy road next to them and turned on a performance of clapping and waving and cheering and pulling funny faces. Being in such a poor part of the world I suspected that this was probably the first time that many of these youngsters had ever seen a clown perform before, and it went down very well. So well, in fact, that when we left many of them abandoned the school grounds completely and followed us down the street. It was lovely.
Next we passed a small shop and were told that we were on the right road to Langapayung, which seemed strange when a short while later we came to another fork in the road where everyone told us that neither option would lead us to Langapayung and that we should turn back. Well turning back wasn’t an option, so we ignored everyone at the junction and just kept going straight on until we came to another shop in a small village. We stopped here to cook and eat some eggs, which of course meant that we were soon surrounded by the entire village. The people were really nice and one woman could speak a bit of English. Tom got out his guitar this time and played some songs and there was a great deal of happiness and joy, and it was the slightly odd looking stranger I was riding along with who was spreading it through these remote backwaters.
Fortunately everyone at the shop seemed quite sure that we were on the correct road to get to Langapayung and we were told that all that we had to do was keep going straight. With such a unanimous vote of confidence it seemed like we were at long last going the right way as we waved goodbye and continued. This inevitably soon proved an extremely naïve thought and no sooner had we had it than we came to another turn which a woman who had followed us from the village by motorcycle said we should take. The turn was a little track, even smaller than the straight-on road, and seemed to me, if my Bear Grylls inspired sun compass reading was to be believed, to be going in the wrong direction. The woman seemed quite confident that this turn was the way that we needed to go, but I remained unconvinced, and when a security man pulled up on a motorcycle we sought a second opinion. He didn’t know anything, but tried to call someone on his phone. When that didn’t work he told us to follow him straight on along the bigger road. I use the word ‘road’ tentatively, by the way; it was a muddy, sandy track with deep ruts and steep scree-like climbs.
We followed the security man on his motorcycle for a few kilometres until we came to yet another barrier and security post where, surprise, surprise, nobody had any clue which was the way to Langapayung. I looked again at the map and realised I’d been mistaken about which direction we needed to go in. “Actually, Tom, I think we should have just taken that turn. Blame Bear Grylls.”
So we cycled all the way back along the bad road until we were back at the junction, the security man still with us, and another lady that had appeared on yet another motorcycle. She seemed to actually know what was going on, but her English skills were non-existent. I got her a pen and paper and asked her to draw us a map. She paused, thought about it for a while, and then drew two parallel straight lines. Not the best map in the world, but it seemed like the consensus was for us to take this turn anyway, so we did.
Our saviour arrived shortly after. A little short man of middle age who was completely bare chested called out to us as we struggled up another steep climb. It certainly wasn’t unusual for someone to call out to us, but it was unusual for it to be in perfect English. Ali soon explained that he was building a house here and owned some of the surrounding palm trees. He also explained, in very clear and simple terms, exactly where we now needed to go. Not only were we going the right way, he confirmed, but in twelve kilometres we would reach a proper paved road. It was music to our ears. Wonderful news. Finally we knew we were on the right track. Possibly.
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Ali, perhaps sensing how useful he had been to us, rather boldly asked if there was anything that we could give him as a gift. I thought about it for a moment and then remembered that I had a playboy t-shirt which had been given to me as a gift in China. I didn’t like to give away a present, but truth be told I didn’t wear it that much, mostly because it had a picture of the playboy bunny on it. Now it also had some irremovable marks on it and it wasn’t much of a gift to offer really, but it somehow seemed perfect for this guy, who, after all, had no shirt at all. I pulled it out of my pannier and handed it to Ali, pointing out the playboy bunny with the expectation that he would love it.
“What is this? It’s too big for me!” he complained, “I can’t wear this!”
The shirt was returned to me. Oh well, never mind. Tom dug into his handlebar bag and pulled out a leatherman tool. He handed it to Ali saying, “I never use this. Maybe it will be some use to you.”
“Wow, this is amazing, thank you!” Ali loved it.
“No problem, man.”
“I will remember this for all time” he gushed. I stuffed my playboy shirt sheepishly back into my pannier.
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We hoped to reach the village that Ali said marked the start of the paved road before nightfall but the condition of the track was getting worse and worse all the time until it became so narrow that nothing bigger than bikes could get through. No wonder nobody really knew the way, this wasn’t even a road anymore, just a dirt track for bikes. Another concern was that very dark clouds had formed overhead. It was already getting late and I suggested that we stop and make camp, but Tom wanted to continue. A few minutes later the heavens burst and we were faced with a downpour of biblical proportions that made cycling any further quite impossible. I came to a stop next to Tom.
“I’ve got a puncture!” he cried out. It was certainly not very good timing.
“Good luck with that,” I replied, “I’m going to put up my tent!!!”
I ran into the palm trees and rushed around as fast as I could in the pounding rain to get my tent up. The rain was so heavy that there was a big puddle inside by the time I got the flysheet over the top, but I made it and climbed inside to escape any more punishment.
“Tom,” I shouted out to him, “just come in my tent until the rain stops.”
“Yeah man, in a minute. I’m taking a shower.”
Tom stayed outside in the pouring rain for several more minutes, in fact, before deciding to accept the invitation, at which point he climbed into my tent next to me completely drenched. I’d pushed the initial puddle of water into the corner, but now I had another puddle forming very quickly beneath my companion. What was even worse than that was the smell – Tom certainly was a bit whiffy for a man who had just taken a shower. It wasn’t the most comfortable hour as we waited for the rain to stop, me doing my best to discreetly hold my t-shirt over my mouth and nose to prevent me from gagging.
The rain did eventually cease and I was able to escape out into the fresh air, much more appreciative of it than ever before. I emptied the water out of my tent and found a better location for it. Tom put up his own tent and then cooked a delicious dinner for the both of us. He was a good cook actually, and enjoyed making proper meals on his stove in the evenings. I was grateful to be traveling with such an interesting character. He was great with the people, and was evidently a good guy, and a useful and resourceful one too. Heck, I just wished he owned some soap.
Today's ride: 26 km (16 miles)
Total: 40,239 km (24,988 miles)
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