Mimbi Mimbi Mu

'Hello' I greeted a passing old lady.

'Hello, Andy is dead!' She replied.

'I've just been diving with Andy?' I pointed to the dive centre.

'No, from Germany, two weeks ago I think...'

'Oh, how sad'

I smiled and kept walking to the shops, not knowing who Andy was or indeed why this topic had even surfaced...

I've spent most of my time doing a couple of dives a day, seeing all sorts of interesting things in much a much more challenging environment than in Thailand. I've explored a tugboat at a depth of about 16 metres aboslutely teeming with life that has claimed the vessel as their own. On the same dive we visited some underwater hot springs, where hot sulphuric volcanic gas excapes from the sandy bottom and unfortunate boiled crabs litter the sea floor.

I almost ended my diving permanently whilst drift diving in a current when I was using the rocky bottom to slow myself. I grabbed a rock a few inches away from an unexploded bomb from the Second World War still equipped with its triggering device and most definately not defused...

One evening I went fishing with Mandy from the UK and Assim from the mainland. It was extremely serene bobbing in the sunset whilst the boatman smoked local 'Aceh Tobacco'. 'Wobbly and Wavey - Good Combination' he explained. We saw a turtle flapping about on the surface eating his dinner and as it got dark the phosphorescing plankton illuminated the line as it disappeared into the depths whilst the perfect night sky lay above us, unspoilt by any unnatural lights.

I was the only one who managed to catch any fish. The first I didn't know I had even caught, the second, the skipper had already predicted what colour it was as I was reeling it in. A small yellow wrasse that went to the skipper for his tea as per an old tradition or charter or something...

I have to credit the photos to Mandy since I was too busy trying to hook a monster.
When we returned ashore the local lads played guitar. La Bamba with the famous alternative lyrics 'You look like an Orangutan from Bukit Lawang' was the popular choice.

Since I had only managed to get a 30 day visa on arrival I headed to the local immigration office to get some information about extending. After a heated argument with the head honcho he was adamant that I could not extend and extremely uncaring about what I should do. I left rather annoyed and whilst searching for coconuts on an abandoned beach was approached by a local man, Yusop, who took me back to his house for some better coconuts and fresh fruit from his trees.

Later that day the immigration officer found me on the street and apologised saying that yes, there were new rules now in place and that I could extend. I was the first person who had enquired about the new laws and knew more than they did.

I popped along to the prophesied 'kilometre zero'. It is indeed the Northern most point of Indonesia accessible by road. I dicked about taking silly photos of myself and annoying the local monkey populous.

After I had finished my set number of dives I headed down to another beach to meet with Roel from Holland on his Africa Twin. He was doing his Dive Master Training with Lumba Lumba dive school and camping to keep the costs down. Since I had spent the day doing nothing I was pretty restless and started to make arrangements to head south as quickly as possible to extend my visa as late as possible.

I spent the day before my planned departure at Lumba Lumba meditating on the epic solo journey ahead. I had already purchased camping supplies and was mentally preparing myself. After 5 minutes in their newly washed hammock - It turns out that it's blue after washing, I had an epiphany. 'F*ck it' I exclaimed, 'I'll do my Dive Master Training'.

So I'll be here for another month at least, living in my tent to keep the costs down, doing what I enjoy, learning. I'll have to do a first aid course and a rescue diver course then will end up teaching and guiding other divers whilst I complete my training. At the end of the course I will become a professional with the letters DM after my name - I like adding letters to my name!

If there's one thing that I've learnt on the trip, it's that I love learning. That PhD opportunity back in the UK is still tempting... one day maybe.

And 'Mimbi Mimbi Mu?' is some of the little Bahasa Indonesia I have learnt, it means 'Your Dreams', 'Mimbi Mimbi Pu' means 'My Dreams'. I think it sounds like a character from a book by T.S. Elliot. It may even be a character from the Moomins...

Freak of Nature

The Ferry from Malaysia to Indonesia took about 4 hours. On the other side I aquired a 30 day visa, extendable by another 30 days. I had previously attempted to get a 60 day visa from the Consulate in Georgetown but they weren't very helpful there, asking for an onward travel ticket from Indonesia - which I explained that I obviously did not have and could not get since I would be crossing the border from Timor to Timor Leste. They didn't care.

The customs officials seemed to delight in making me constantly remove all 4 pieces of baggage - helmet, boots, tankbag and ruchsack, for frisking. I had never felt so initially welcomed into a country...

Once I had exited immigration I was accosted by numerous taxi drivers. I shook them off but one persisted whilst I figured out how to get to Customs such that I could get the paperwork started for when my bike arrived the next day.

We agreed a price since it was a fair way to walk in the heat and he took me to the customs office where I could get my carnet stamped before the bike had even landed in Indonesia.

The taxi driver wanted even more money to take me to the main town, Medan, about 15km away. I argued with him since I was under the impression that we had agreed a price. I ended up just haggling him down.

He gave me his mobile number so I could call him the next day to get back to the port to recover my bike.

At the guesthouse I enquired about the price I had paid. It was 3x as much, despite haggling down, what I could pay there to go to the port the next day. I elected to do that instead.

Once I got to the agent at the port I had to pay for the bike to be released and wait for an hour whilst they unloaded the boat.

Typically the taxi driver from the previous day turned up, demanding why I hadn't called him. I explained that I wasn't in the habit of being ripped off twice. He demanded more money for some unexplainable reason - something to do with oil. I told him to get bent and walked off. I try not to form impressions of a country from the people I first meet but the Indonesians are not making it easy, always demanding money from me. A few people had told me that corruption is rife. Border towns seem to be like that though...

I got a lift on a scooter to the boat where I met the captain, a very friendly man for whom it was important that my bike arrived safely. Sure enough she was right where I had left her, unmolested. The crew were unloading bags of something from the opposite side of the hold via crane. As soon as they saw me they asked for cigarettes. I've gotten into the habit of carrying a pack of smokes around - good for pacifying policemen and in this case bribing dockworkers. Sure enough the next item that appeared dangling from a rope was my bike. I thanked everyone and headed off to try to get back to my guesthouse in Medan.

The main road to Medan was a toll road. I had no idea where the other road was nor the inclination to find it since I was not looking forwards to the traffic and the toll looked clear, so I ignored the guys who tried to stop me going on - surprise surprise bikes aren't allowed! At the other end I played the stupid lost tourist game and they pointed me in the right direction to the town centre, which I knew anyway. Stupid lost tourist is my favourite persona for getting away with cheeky things.

The next day I set off early. My destination was the most northerly point of Sumatra and the location of the devastating earthquake and resulting Tsunami on Boxing Day in 2004. I knew that I would not be able to make it in one day and that there would probably be no guesthouses so picked up some provisions to camp.

I managed to waste a whole hour by taking the wrong road and ending up back at the port via the small road festooned with crazy scooter riders. I annoyed the toll road guys once again by taking it back to the city again.

The road was in good condition for most of the way with only the occasional pothole. Suicidal scooter riders made things interesting but I could mainly outrun them. There were the typical pillocks in 4x4's who thought they owned the road. I think I witnessed the aftermath of at least 3 accidents. People stood in the middle of the road every few kilometers with fishing nets for drivers to throw money it. I'm not sure what it was, maybe some unnoffical toll system.

Late afternoon I decided to stop for a break in a convenient hut at the side of the road next to a massive rice paddy. Storm clouds were brewing and I needed to find somewhere to camp. Despite being right at the side of the road it was as good a place as any and would keep me dry and meant I would not have to dry my tent. I lay down for a nap and various curious locals appeared on scooters to take photos of the strange bearded white man lying on the floor and to generally annoy me.

As it got dark they dissappeared and I was left alone save for a cat who looked at the sky rather apprehensively. I started to cook my tea whilst it started to 'right royally piddle it down'. I was soon joined over the next couple of hours by about 20 scooter travellers seeking shelter. They eyed me suspiciously in the dark whilst I ate my noodles. Once it had stopped raining they also went off on their way and I set up my mosquito net and attempted to get some kip. During the night someone on a scooter pulled up, shouted something angrily at me, then rode off.

Exactly 12 hours after it got dark the sun rose at 6:30am. I was already up having had not much sleep and set off once again. I stopped frequently for sugary energy drinks to keep me going the remaining 300km. I got to the port in Bandar Aceh 15 minutes too late to catch the ferry to the island of Pulau Weh, an apparently pristine and uncrowded diving spot when compared to Ko Tao, Thailand.

I paid a rickshaw driver to show me to the cheapest hotel in town. He also took me to see a big boat that had been washed ashore by the 300km/hr, 20 metre high Tsunami and ended up 4km in the centre of a residential area! The pictures on a memorial there also showed the devastation, although everything appears to have been rebuilt. Incredibly some of the only things to survice the wave were Mosques, hence many locals actually converted from Christianity to Islam shortly afterwards apparently!

There was a reason for it being the cheapest hotel in town. Everything else was twice the price. The place is seemingly the only thing not to have been rebuilt and renovated since the 2004 disaster. You can still see the watermarks on the walls of my room and various bits of the roof are missing. I declined taking a shower once I saw the bathing facilities. Still I only needed one night of sleep and peace and maybe the 'just washed ashore' look is part of the attraction to potential guests?

The ferry the next day to Pulau Weh was at 2pm. I turned up early at 10 to get a ticket. Some other big bikes pulled up not long before the ferry left. They were locals from Medan and the first big bikes I had seen.

I spent the 2 hour crossing chatting to curious locals since I was the only Westerner on the boat. Everyone was friendly and smiling and seemingly glad to see me. A man had a conversation with me in broken English and then gave me a packet of clove flavoured cigarettes.

Imagine a 20metre high wave travelling at 300km/h.

Lots of people told me about 'Kilometre Zero' on Pulau Weh. From what I could make out it's the most northern point of Indonesia.

I made my way to where the 'Lying Planet' said there were the most guesthouses and parked my bike at the end of the road. I had to trek through the jungle for 1km in full gear carrying my luggage to get the the bungalows reccomended by some other tourists. It was worth it. A tranquil setting, my own bungalow on stilts for £4 a night, set off the ground to keep cool and catch the sea breeze. Pristine and diverse coral reefs only metres from the shore and stupidly friendly locals who are ecstatically glad to see tourist. Diving here is 150 Euros for 10 dives so I will be having some of that action.

There are about 50 tourists here on the entire island. It's taken 3 long hard days to get here. I thought there would be trouble in paradise but last night I found somewhere that has beer. I am happy now, especially after my first dive today.

The current was very strong where we wanted to start so we got in next to an island and made our way along a very steep ridge that dropped sharply to silly depths. There were an incredible amount of fish. Huge tuna and trevally, scorpion fish, cuttlefish, puffer fish and lots of tiny jellyfish that sting the lips but can be ignored. They disappear with depth and current. We were down for 54 minutes, my longest dive yet considering the conditions.

I may be here for a while...

The Amazing Flying Motorcycle

Whilst bumming around KL I visited Batu Caves, the location of a Hindu Temple. There were lots of steps up and it was nice and hot. Thankfully someone had the sense to stick a useful sign at the top.

There was also quite a nice view from the top of the KL Menora tower.

Sunny Finally opened after a week of waiting. I could finally get some new tyres, some nice knobbly offroad ones, for the potentially hard slog across Indonesia. There were also some aluminium boxes there which fit my rack perfectly so I snapped them up at a discounted rate and posted my soft panniers home. I like these ones. I'll try to not break them. I discovered my engine was running very rich upon spark plug removal so tweaked my carburettor a bit more but it still ran rough on the way back to the guest house.

At Sunnys I noticed another Uk plated BMW, and recognised it as being Russ' who I met in Pakistan. We bumped into each other at the guest house. He was having engine troubles. Luckily despite the problems my bike has never stopped running and has always managed to get me somewhere (apart from when the valve clearance became massive in Turkey which I could adjust or for that matter when the chain snapped in Northern Thailand.

I figured out that it must be the float in the carb set incorrectly and thus with it being Sunday, and Sunny closed again, I decided to pull the bike apart on the pavement in true 'Yeah it can't be that hard to fix can it?' style. After an hour I was holding various mechanical parts in my hands trying to get to grips with exactly how it worked. One part didn't make sense, something had to be missing, and sure enough I had dropped a tiny important bit on the floor. Thankfully I found it. The bike is now running perfectly again after my confused tinkering.

I set off back to Penang to get boat to Indo. Everything ran perfectly, just as I had hoped for my anticipated island hopping adventure.

Whilst killing time for a change on Penang I met Lene from Norway and we decided to hit a beach for the day. Whilst lazing in the water on a deserted beach I heard a sharp call from an alarmed bird. I glanced up and was convinced I saw a 'dragon type creature' about 1 metre long in the water not far away. I promptly removed myself from the vicinity. Later in the day I saw it again. Possibly it may have been Nessie on her holidays but more likely I think it was a Monitor lizard. Various monkeys also visited us on the beach and I managed to fall asleep on my side in the sun and now have a half bronzed (read burnt) body.

The onion boat to Indonesia arrived on Thursday, so I could head down to Butterworth port to sort out the customs clearance. That afternoon and my bike did its greatest acrobatic trick to date when it was hoisted into the cargo hold of the boat. It was a rather apprehensive experience as she floated a few metres over the wharf whilst I hummed the theme tune from 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. I just hope she doesn't take a dip on the other side.

I now will get a ferry to Medan in the morning. I've been a bit apprehensive about Indonesia, due to the size of the archipelago and the reduced amenities in remote areas. But then again I have been swanning around Thailand etc. for the past couple of months. Now I'm rather excited at the opportunity for adventure in the jungles, and with the bike running well I am confident of few problems, but then again...it is a KTM.

Lost...

Yesterday I decided to visit Sepang, the Malaysian F1 racetrack to see what was going on. My Garmin Etrex Vista HCx GPS directed me there. Not much was happening, just a Kawasaki racing team testing their bike. My GPS couldn't direct me back to the city. It stopped working. Nothing I can do or a technician can do anything about it. The GPS firmware has decided to go bust so I now have a rather nice paperweight which shows some pretty maps but does not tell you where you are. Fantastic.

After spending a night drinking beer and messing around with it on my laptop I am now pretty stressed since I need the thing to find waypoints that Carlos has given me for getting my bike to Indonesia. I also now get lost rather easily, even walking around town. I've spent the day trying to get hold of an equivalent unit but no one has one, thus I'll probably have to fork out for another one, the Garmin 60CSx. Of course I will also need a completely new mounting system for the bike, which I am also not happy with.

This trip is really wearing me down. The bike still isn't running right, the fan has stopped working meaning that the radiator boiled over in traffic enveloping me in a cloud of steam and various bolts have fallen out of the frame. Thanks to the Chinese New Year the mechanic still isn't open yet thus I can't get anything sorted, or the new tyres I need.

If only I could start again with what I've learnt so far...

Welcome To The Jungle

At the KTM dealers for the umpteenth day in a row and I decided to pull the exhaust apart to weld up a hole that had appeared. To get it out easily we had to remove the radiator and upon removal managed to shear yet more rusted bolts requiring some grinding, drilling and tapping. I also decided to clean my sheepskin seat since a colony of ants had decided to make it home.

Eventually the bike was finished so I returned 'Slagathor' to her owners and tried to find the right bus to the dealers. A helpful little Indian man offered me a lift on his scooter and was amazed with my helmet, so much so that he wanted three separate photos in various combinations.

He showed me which bus to get and waited with me, giving me his mobile number and address and asking whether he could come with me to Australia. We waited for about half an hour. Lots of buses came and went, apart from the one that he said I should get. I got bored of his company so jumped on a random bus. The driver told me that I should get another bus, despite the place I wanted to go to being posted on his route. I jumped off and got on the other bus. This driver also told me that he was not going where I wanted to go. I decided to see how not near to where I wanted to go he was going so stayed on. He dropped me off directly outside the dealers.

I was plied with a pretty big bill, which was expected, since some of the KTM parts I wanted only came as part of bigger parts which I didn't need, thus I had to pay for the big bits. The labour charges were minimal despite the amount of work. There was another KTM 640 there on display so I plundered it for bits. I was also given lots of stickers, a t-shirt and other bits of KTM merchandising tat to help me on my journey. I'm not sure how the KTM branded chinese money envelopes will be much use.

Despite the rebuild on my carburettor the bike ran badly and cut a few times on the way back to the guest house. I guessed this was because I had changed the needle location in India so changed it back to where it should have been.

The next day I set off for cooler climes towards the Cameron Highlands. The bike was not running too well. I figured the carb still needed tweaking. It also tended to runaway to about half throttle a lot, so I also figured that maybe there was dirt in the carb. A spark plug change probably wouldnt go amiss either but that could wait until KL.

I found a nice quiet guest house where I checked in for two days. I went out for one of the best Indian meals I've had. Tandoori Chicken for £1.50 with naan bread and curry sauce and rice. Why can't Indians cook like this in India? It's not hard guys! I don't think I had a single nice meal in India. All the decent cooks must be banished or something. I also discovered this tasty treat... Kickapoo Joy Juice!

I booked myself on a tour for the next day thinking that I should probably do more than laze around and read and tinker with the bike. We set off early first to a butterfly farm, which was just a front for showcasing all the fantastic poisonous jungle critters that we could possibly encounter.

I decided against holding some scorpions after my previous experiences in Turkey oh so long ago.

I probably went a bit overboard with my photos of butterflies.

We continued on our trip in a second Landrover Discovery 110 since the first had broken down. Soon the ride became rather hairy as we started to make our way up a very muddy track. There would have been no way I could have gotten my bike up there. With the absence of seatbelts I almost put my elbow through the window a few times. My action photos don't quite capture the true flavour of the moment as we were rocked from side to side next to a precarious edge.

After trekking through the humid jungle for a couple of hours we arrived at the site of a blooming Rafflesia, or in other words, a big urinal smelling red flower which isn't actually a flower but instead a fungus or mushroom or something apparently. I wasn't really paying attention, I was on the lookout for poisonous things and leeches.

We slid back down the hill to an 'authentic' aboriginal village where they sat around smoking suspicious smelling cigarettes or hid inside watching SKY TV. We had a demonstration of a blowpipe and were allowed a go too. I was tempted to ask to be shot in the leg for the purposes of science but had second thoughts.

We were then carted off to the Boh Tea plantation, where most of Lipton's tea comes from apparently. I had a couple of cuppas and some nice cake whilst enjoying Telly Tubby land.

We finally visited a strawberry farm. Most of the Cameron Highlands seem to be constructed of plastic greenhouses. There were strawberries and cream on sale at the farm, but I had already stuffed myself by sampling the produce directly from the bushes when nobody was watching.

All in all it was a very English day and thoroughly enjoyable. I wasn't looking forwards to Malaysia after the joys of Thailand and had the feeling it would be similar to India, but the Indians here are so friendly and most importantly they have some common sense! They don't drive like idiots!

That night we sat around a camp fire drinking and enjoying the cool mountain air. We stared into the fire and had deep conversations, coming up with meaningful similes for the fire. 'Fire is like the window to your imagination, everyone looks in to see something different', was one guys inspirational offering. After a moments deep contemplation all I could come up with was 'Fire is hot'.

I set off the next day to Kuala Lumpur. I was not looking forwards to the heat of the city but wanted to experience the Chinese New Year. My bike slowly ran better on the way there so I think there may have been a bit of dirt in one of the carb jets.

About 100km from the city there was almost solid traffic heading in the opposite direction. I wondered whether they were fleeing from some natural disaster which I was unaware of but apparently they're just going on holiday for the New Year.

The city itself did not loom out of the distance as I expected. About 10km away I rode over a hill and was greeted with literally a wall of gleaming skyscrapers. It was rather awe inspiring. The city traffic was rather light and the highways were fast and open. The signs were no use to me so I had to rely on my GPS, as always in cities, to guide me to where I though the guest house I wanted was. There were a lot of buses on the streets and people waiting for them. Again I think they were trying to escape at the last minute for the New Year but I may also have just ridden through the bus station by mistake.

I found the guest house and will have to spend a couple of days seeing the sights and lazing around before the shops and embassies open again, either on Tuesday or Wednesday.

On New Years Eve there were lots of firecrackers set off in the streets. It was all rather dangerous but the tourists loved it. To me it sounded like someone having fun with lots of bubble wrap.

I find KL very similar to Angkor surprisingly. They are both jungles within the jungle. KL is a surprisingly green city in places but as always I find large cities pretty lonely places.