done that

almost one month i have been on the road now, so it's high time to drop a few lines here.
not that there is nothing to tell. but there is so much to tell, that i sometimes just prefer sitting back and relax, or hop on my bike and ride. it's so much more obvious, and there is little risk of wasting a lot of money while riding, while the use of computers has become rediculously expensive again.

there was my culture shock in darwin in the first place, i wanted to write about. how i had been desperately looking for locals, and how it was just a little difficult to get used to the idea, that locals can be white-faced, while in just about every shop in Darwin i bumped into some swissgerman speaking couple.

then there is this thing about the helmet. in australia, wearing a helmet while cycling is compulsory, at least while cycling on the main roads. the fact, that more than half the cyclists in darwin were riding around without a helmet brought me to the tourist information first. but they were not informed about the legal situation, surprisingly. at the police station they were a bit better informed, and it seems, that this helmet-obligation still exists, even though i had physically proven, that my cycling around the world was in average not more a risk than walking on a 1.3m (4ft) high wall. Walking down a staircase should be more dangerous, crossing a street on foot just as dangerous. anyway, the woman police officer was french, just around the corner from basel, which had me pop in there a second time to drop off one of my travel cards.

then i could have written about my try to get me stamped out of indonesia at the indonesian embassy. the immigration officer in timor had thought, leaving indonesia by boat is illegal and wanted 300 dollars for the exit stamp. but the indonesian embassy in darwin is probably more often dealing with people asking for entry permits, rather than exit stamps. but they promised me, to fax a copy of my passport to the immigration officer in kupang, to clear the bureaucracy there. maybe it works that way...

anyway, i was glad to get going from darwin, and headed off for kakadu national park. but on the 40 odd kilometers to the turnoff i didn't only weer off to discover two more geocaches, i also had plenty of time to chance my plans all together and decided to head straight for katherine, saving me thereby up to four days. however a nasty easterly wind that was blowing was the real reason for changing my itinery in the last moment.

i had already 96km on my counter, and i was 75km out of darwin, when the twisting and turning of my thoughts finally brought me to my t-shirts in my bag. a picture of a red and a white t-shirt in my bag came up my mind, as i had packed them the day before. and suddenly i realized, there should be a second red one and a blue one. with the thought of those two t-shirts, suddenly a picture of the washing line showed up. very clear, too. i tried it with the bag-picture again, mentally applied all sorts of photoshop effects onto it, but just couldn't make those other two t-shirts show up. no need checking, i was sure, i had forgotten two t-shirts, a couple of undies and a pair of socks on the washing line behind the backpackers in darwin. great!

i muddled through all options, from cycling back, hitchhiking back, emailing a german couple to send them ahead of me or just to leave them rot on the line until somebody takes them off.

that's how i finally decided to stop in coomalie creek already (about 90km from darwin), instead of going on to adelaide river, set up my tent and hitchhike back. a short fruitless try made me realize, that it would be impossible to hitch out here in the dark, so i postponed the hiking business for the day after and set off to cooking some dinner instead.

wishful thinking. instead of cooking my dinner i started taking my burner apart, as it just wouldn't want to get going, until an hour later it was dark, but i was finally certain, that the problem must be the indonsian fuel, that was still in it. at least, i could get myself some proper camping fuel (shellite) at the camping shop, while i was in darwin the next day, and put up with a cheese sandwich for that night.

the hitchhiking went surprisingly smooth the next morning. by 11am i had picked up my laundry, explained myself to some surprised guests at the backpackers, bought some fuel, a little gasbottle as an alternative and fresh bread and was back in coomalie creek. i cooked myself up some pasta before packing up, and at half past noon i was on the road. an alternative scenic route took me along my anniversary creek and the robin falls, and just after dark i finally reached the roadhouse and caravanpark of hayes creek, were i spoilt myself with a schnitzel and chips instead of a birthday cake before finding a camping spot and setting up my tent. it was dark already anyway.

the next three days had me cycling down more casually towards Katherine, weering off the Stuart Highway twice. first for Umbrawarra Gorge, a nice little gorge at the end of a 22km gravelroad. the purpose of that visit was mainly to test how gravelproof I was.
secondly for the edith falls, 19km along a sealed road, where i had the pleasure of a nice refreshing swimm in the pool of a pretty waterfall.

along the way to Kathrine i had really the opportunity to finally integrate myself, with all those other travellers, many of them socalled 'grey nomads', who were trading in some of there fruits, a tiny (beer) or a snag (sausage) for an appreciative smile of mine.

a day rest in katherine meant basically cycling out 32km to katherine gorges, doing a 12km returnwalk to the butterfly gorge, before setting out for another 6km in a canoe. and then i had to cycle back 32km to katherine.

after this relaxing day and some shopping i set off for my first long stretch of nothing. 198km to Victoria River Road House was announced, and nothing in between.
But I liked the nothing. And there was a couple of restareas, which consisted of not much more than nothing either. one just had a picknicktable without shade, the second at least had a sunsheltered picknicktable and a watertank. after 100km it would have made a reasonable stopover for the night, and i wouldn't have been the only one. but it was too early still, and the wind was good, so i kept going for another 50km and camped on the side of the road. the next day i was at the roadhouse before lunch, had little snack, and continued to timber creek (90km), which i expected to be a village. but it was merely more than a roadhouse, good enough to get some fresh water and food for the next three days. another 12km down the road i found the bushcamping area of big horse creek, just next to victoria river.

before heading into kununurra, i stopped at keep river national park, were i first got to see some fine aboriginal rock art. for this, and for a very scenic walk this little gravel-turnoff was well worth the effort.

50km before kununurra I crossed the border to western australia, where I didn't get a new stamp into my passport, but were they took my honey away from me, and the fruits I didn't have anymore. quarantine regulations within australia are in this area just as bad as getting into australia, or even worse. but in the area of kununurra they don't have the fruit fly, and they don't have the cane toad, and they don't have another number of bugs, which they don't want.

the biggest delight of getting to WA was, however, that the first thing that caught my eyes, was a big solar power station. quite a few dozens of photovoltaics panels were lined up. probably to power the quarantine station. what a nice way to welcome somebody who cycles just for that: human power for solar power!

On Friday, 29th june, at half past one a man finally showed up at my hotel in Kuta with my passport and the visaextension in it, stamped and signed. It looked all fine to me, I would be allowed to stay up to 5th of august. I gave him the money, but then he looked again at the stamp, irritated. I tried to reassure him, that everything is correct, 60 days plus 30 days adds up to 5th of august, when you start on 8th of may. But he obviously was not happy with that explanation, however, he did not tell me, what was wrong. But I was happy, said goodbye, and walked back to my room. On the way to my room I opened up my passport again to look joyfully at the fresh stamp. Suddenly I realise, that they had stamped the date 05 august 2008 instead of 2007. Wow, that's generous! I thought with a smile, knowing, that it was a mistake. The day later I received an SMS from the agent who had organized the extension. Please note, that the extension is only valid up to 5 august 2007...

I had everything packed already, immediatly checked out at the hotel and set off cycling on the same day. I just wanted to get out of Kuta, out of the tourist factory, as Marco had called it, an Italian skipper living in Switzerland whom I had met at Bali Marina. It is indeed interesting. Whereever I go, I meet Swiss sailors. There are Swiss looking out for rides on sailing boats. And after winning America's Cup again, I believe Switzerland has definitely become the sailing nation number one. And with Swissgerman being spoken all over the place, whether in Phuket, Bali or Darwin, we're just about ready to build up our little Commonwealth as well...:)...

So I left Kuta, turned into Legian Street, then I turned left, then left again, then there is a traffic light on red stopping me from turning right (traffic is on the left hand side). While waiting for our turn, suddenly someone was shouting "Hallo Benno!". I was so surprised, I nearly fell off my bike. It was one of the two German women (living in Bali), that participated the Triathlon. By a somewhat improbable coincidence she drove past at that moment and was waving at me. I waved back "Hallo!" and realized, how great it feels, to have friends that come to say good bye.

I went to have another quick look at the Bali Marina on my way east. Another skipper that was busy on his boat, said, that he was probably not going to get far, as he had been here with his boat for 14 years. Then I met another one, he had been here for two years. "But, he said, that big boat over there sometimes steams to Australia", and he pointed to a huge vessel looking like a passenger ferry, moored just off the Bali Marina.

I was going to investigate about it and soon found out, that it was a private boat, belonging to someone in Jakarta, and "Yes, said the lady at the counter, he did sail a few times to Australia, but the boat hadn't moved for a year now." Well, this boat was definitely not going to keep me back in Bali.

Along the road to Padangbai, about 60km from Kuta, there was a geocache. It turned out to be only about 2km off the main road, and as it seemed to be easily accessible, I decided to call in, even though, it was getting late and I risked to ride into dark before getting to Padangbai. The geocache was situated at the studio of Heartline Bali FM, a local radio station, in a small village. The man and the woman in the studio were all enthusiastic about my cycling, and it was really nice to meet them. But unfortunately I couldn't stay too long. After signing the logbook, and exchanging the somewhat anonymous travel bug I had picked up earlier with a little pelikan travel bug, I continued my way to Lombok. Travelbugs are small items that want to be taken from geocache to geocache and who make great company to Johnny.

Half an hour before Padangbai it turned dark. But it didn't matter. I was going to wait around in the port for a little while anyway, as to spend the night on a ferry that would arrive on Lombok by sunrise. The ferry ride should take about 4 to 5 hours I was told. This would not leave me with a lot of sleep, but it would keep me moving on, and that was all I wanted now. I hesitated to take the midnight ferry, but decided then to take the half past one ferry. Sunrise would be around 6am. I had bad luck. When I wanted to buy a ticket at midnight, the counter was closed. Only just before 1am it reopened. In time, I thought, but when I went down to the ferry, they told me it was full, I would have to take the next one. At least the ferry left ahead of schedule, leaving me with a chance, not to have to wait till 3am for the next one. I lay down on the side of the road, and soon fell asleep. 20 minutes later I woke up, a bit confused, and I just realized, that a truck that backed out of the arriving ferry was trying to back into my bicycle, in order to turn around. So I had parked it perfectly not to miss the next ferry. Our ferry departed just after 2am, but it was almost 8am, almost 2 hours after sunrise, by the time I set off cycling in Lembar.

6 hours, 96km, one Nasi Goreng (Fried Rice), and many horse drawn twowheel-carriages, that was Lombok. It should be a nice island though, but I would continue to Sumbawa, which I reached after another two hours on a ferry.

Arriving on Sumbawa I was startled. While its neighbour Lombok is still fairly green and tropical, Sumbawa is all yellow and dry. It was only 4pm when I arrived, so could still cycle a little, at least as far as Alas, the first noticeable town, well... village. The ferry port is merely more than a ferryport and a couple of fisherman's houses.

In Alas I checked into a hotel, to get the opportunity to wash myself, but the manager soon explained to me, that there will be no electricity until 10pm, and brought a candle, as it gets dark sometimes after 6pm already. Indeed, the whole little town does not have electricity until 10pm. Not even the streetlights are working. Some foodstands have battery-powered lights and the motorbikes lit up the streets, where the hardly visible horse carriages were still racing up and down, lit only with a tiny gaslamp.
Very few shops have a generator and are all lit up. One of those shops was selling TVs, and it kept me wondering, if that's good business, given that people do not have electricity at the best TV-times.

The following day took me all the way along the coast to Sumbawa Besar, and further, until I set up my tent a dozen kilometers before Empang. Sumbawa is not very populated. After busy Java and Bali, it felt like cycling towards the end of the world. Together with the rather dry climate it certainly was a good transition to Australia, I thought.

The next day, Monday, had me cycling on a winding road along the coast again, into the hillier Eastern Sumbawa. Arriving in Dompu I tried to call Bob in Darwin, who apparantly runs a fishing boat full of prawns from Kupang to Darwin about once a month, and who has the reputation of accepting passengers and cargo such as motorbikes or bicycles. I had called him from Bali already, where he had told me, that he would not be sailing just yet, as the weather was too rough. When I called him this time he said, that he wanted to set off by the weekend.

My plans were, to cycle also across Flores before heading for Kupang, despite the guidebook warning, that cycling on the tumbling and twisting roads across the volcanic mountains of Flores is only for Tour-de-France trainees with legs of steel.

But 60km down the road was Bima, and I knew, that there was a monthly boat leaving Bali on Tuesday, passing via Bima, before going to Kupang. So it would arrive to Bima probably on Wednesday, and maybe to Kupang by Friday. Taking that boat I could make it on to Bob's boat.

It was a tough decision. However, after racing down to Bima on Tuesday morning, I opted for the boat and against Flores, against Tour de France. The passenger ferry from Bima would leave on Wednesday afternoon, and arrive in Kupang on Friday morning. That seemed to be perfect.

Even more so, as I still had time enough, to cycle on to Sape, another 46km further east, where the vehicle ferries to Flores would leave. I decided, that I would renounce on Flores for the sake of catching the fishing boat, but I was not going to give away one single kilometer on Sumbawa. Rather I would tackle the the 440m hill between Bima and Sape twice, on the way there and back. And it was worth it. This last bit of honorable cycling on Sumbawa was like big party. Hundreds of people in the villages were waving and smiling at me, shouting "hello mister!", like they had never done before. I tried to answer all those greetings, I was cycling with a big smile, children were jumping joyfully when seeing the mister on his red bicycle and running after him. I knew, this was definitely going to be my last day of cycling in Asia, and it was a great day, it was Asia at its best. I knew I would never get the same attention in Australia or Europe. It was a fantastic experience, the people there are fantastic, and when I was freewheeling down that hill for the second time to get back into Bima just before dusk, I knew, that it was not only the wind, who was pushing tears into my eyes...

Getting onto the boat in Bima was chaotic. A small narrow ladder went up, and people tried to push themselves up and down at the same time. At the back, a gangway had been set up to load tons of onions onto the boat. I managed to convince the staff, that it would be easier to drag my bicycle up there. I parked it temporalily between the ropes and the onions. But once I saw the mess inside the boat, I decided, that I would just leave it there with all the bags on it until Kupang, and that I would roll out my mattress on deck for the following two nights.
The Indian boat that took me from Kolkata to Port Blair was crowded and chaotic compared to European ferries. But it would have been empty and sterile compared to this one. The gangways and decks were full of people, who have installed themselfs with their luggage and blankets, making it almost impossible to walk around. Onion bags were deposited all over the place, and if the boat should sink, I decided, I wouldn't even bother about trying to get to any kind of rescue boat, but just jump into the water and swim until to find out, which parts would remain floating after the ship had gone down...

Luckily, the german made boat didn't sink. But while stopping in the port of Maumere on Flores, on its way to Kupang, it was seized by friendly pirates aged probably between 8 and 18, who were climbing from deck to deck, jumping back down into the water, swimming or canoeing around it. Some passengers would through money out, which they would try to catch and store in their mouth until the ship's departure. A few handful of onions became victims of those pirates as well.

Friday morning we arrived safely in Kupang, where I contacted Yos, the local contact for Bob. He told me, that the boat to Darwin wouldn't be leaving before the following week. It was scheduled for Tuesday, then it was again rescheduled for Thursday. But when it turned out, that the sea just wasn't likely to calm down in the following days, it was decided that we still would leave on Tuesday...

A dream came true! I arrived to Australia by bicycle and ship only. It is thus possible! At times complicated though, at times exhausting, fatiguing, nerve-racking, I admit, but altogether the land and sea route to Australia is a marvelous experience, a fantastic journey. And it is indeed, an extraordinary privilege, if one can undertake such a journey.

But I arrived in Australia, and I am happy, extremely happy. During six years I dreamed about this journey, not really believing, that I'd ever do it. Then, during one year, I believed in it and prepared myself for it. And during another year I was on the way and could watch, how day by day, my dream slowly came to realization while I came closer Australia. It was like watching a big jigsaw puzzle being completed, piece by piece, while you work on it. When you put the first piece on the table, you never think you'll finish it. You keep on going, and suddenly you put the last piece in it, and you look at the beautiful picture. Now I am in Darwin, I have cycled and shipped myself to Australia, and somehow I can hardly believe it, but it is true!

The last passage from Kupang to Darwin across a rough Timor Sea in a fishing boat of about 20m length, steered by an Indonesian three-member crew, was surely an adventure for itself. But I will report about this Odysee at another point, how our boat was dancing across and against the waves, while we were zigzaging our way to Darwin at a speed of sometimes as little as three knots.

Instead I would like to thank now everyone, who helped me to let this dream come true. My family and friends for trusting me and letting me go, for supporting me on the way by being with me in their thoughts or otherwise. I would like to thank my friends in Carnamah for patiently waiting for me, my friends in Switzerland for just as patiently waiting for me to come back. Yes, I let you all wait. However, imagine I wouldn't do that. I could only talk to you about the weather, and how I dream about cycling to Australia one day...
I would like to thank particularly to Rico and his crew, as well as Bob and his crew, for making the impossible possible to me, by taking me across the waters from Port Blair to Phuket and from Kupang to Darwin. I was not the only one looking for these passages. But only few found it, while it just sorted itself out for me, without really having to wait. I came, saw, and was jubilant. Many thanks for that!
My biggest and dearest thanks however I would like to address to those people, who will never be able to read this. Those people who helped me along the way by giving me directions, who helped me with their hospitality, by inviting me for a cup of tea, for a meal, of even to stay in their house for the night, even though I was just a foreign traveller. All those people, who greeted me along the way, waved at me, smiled at me, and cheered me up again and again, making it a joy getting up every morning and pack my bicycle to continue. Many of these people have so little and gave me so much, while I have so much - a fully loaded bicycle - and yet could give them so little. Without wanting to get religious, but may God help me that I will be able to pass this generosity on to others just as selflessly.

So now I am in Australia, and yet I still have a long way to go to get to Carnamah. I guess I have at least another 6000 km ahead of me, and about half of it will be on dust roads. Roads across two huge states of Australia, where probably less people live than on Bali alone. It will surely be a very different journey, but not less exciting...

2h 41min 54sec

How does one celebrate, after having been cycling for one year across Europe and Asia?
Opening a bottle of beer open and sit comfortably on the Veranda? No, that is boring.
Head into a tavern and invite everyone around for a round of beer? Even though more sociable, it still is not my thing.
Climbing up the highest mountain of Bali? Yes, sounds already a lot better, but I already celebrated my first 1000 hours in the saddle with climbing the Gunung Penanjakan (2776m) by bicycle. It would be a bit repetitive.
Ok, how about a Marathon? Sounds not too bad an idea, but I must admit that I didn't go jogging more than about three times in the last year, even though I had bought myself a pair of running shoes in India. I doubt if my knees would be happy about a marathon.
Well, how about a Triathlon then? 1,5km swimming, 40km cycling and 10km runing? YES! That's it! I have never done that befor, but I can cycle, and I even have a bicycle with me. I also have running shoes and a swimming trunk. Let's do it!
And since a team from California (thank you Robb & Co.)had the kindness of organising the first International Bali Triathlon for me, I didn't even have to do it by myself.

During exactly 2h 41min and 54sec I was thus celebrating today the first anniversary of my journey, while swimming cycling and running, having reached my goal, to complete it within 3 hours by far. Diplomatically said, my swimming is not the best, but I can stay afloat. But two days before I had swum in an organized group for about 20min. Although I had gone past many beaches on my way, I never really felt to go for a swim, besides never knowing if there are dangerous currents around, and there are quite a few of such beaches in Indonesia.

Anyway, I was glad when after more than 36 minutes I stepped out of the water and hopped onto my bicycle. Without any doubt, it was the heaviest bicycle participating. But what a joy, when I suddenly reached a little climb and see all those cyclist struggling in front of me. After my intensive training on Gunung Penanjakan the week before, this hill was a piece of cake for my unloaded bike. With a smiling face the steel frame flew past the light carbon frames up the hill. But on the flat it was me struggling not to lose too much of my position again. After 78 more minutes I turned in my bicycle, unstrapped Johnny from the steering bar and took him onto the last 10km of running.
And that was where the fun really began. 40km of cycling just didn't make me tired enough. One by one I raced passed the runners ahead of me, to end up 43 minutes later ranked 32 of around 180 participants. Fantastic!

But the celebrating hasn't really finished yet. Tonight, there will be a Cocktail Party to see off all the athletes. That'll certainly make up for the beer...:)...

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