Roads of Sumba: On the beach

The road is laterally on the beach just before Tawui on the southern coast of Sumba.


Around Tawui it's possible to cycle on the beach, and go for a swim if it gets too hot.

Roads of Sumba: To the beach!

The main coastal road in south-eastern Sumba follows the beach just before the village of Tawui.

East Timor - Under UN Occupation

The beach road east of Dili, on the way to the Jesus statue at Cape Fatucama.

Arriving in East Timor is like arriving in an occupied country, but it's not occupied by one single country. The United Nations have occupied the country and it's hard to ignore their presence. Big white SUV:s travel up and down the streets of the Capital (Dili), and the main highway along the northern coast (fewer venture into the mountainous interior and the southern coast).

I cycled across the border at Motain/Batugade, and camped and continued slowly along the coast on the way to Dili. There are some beautiful white sand beaches with nothing else than the locals fishing canoes and huts.

In the Capital i got my new Indonesian visa at the embassy, then cycled across the mountains to the southern coast. Roads are ok between major towns, but the Atsabe road was in a terrible state, with hardly any asphalt left, steep inclines, bathtub sized potholes, and hardly any facilities. The road goes through a few small villages, but only one or two has a warung (food stall or cheap resturant). There is simply not enough of a local economy to justify it. Small kiosks exist where there may be some instantt noodles, coffee sachets and washing powder. Life is very traditional, which means that men get drunk and play cards, while women work in the small, dry pathches of soil.

Timor Leste is an interesting, young little country, but I hope they can get rid of the NGO:s and the UN soon, and be free to create their own economy.

The Boardwalks of Tarakan

Traveling from Tawau in Sabah (Malaysian Borneo) to Tarakan on the Indonesian side of the border involves a long boat trip, and a significant culture shock. In Tawau you're left alone, and most people act as if they have met westerners before and make not big fuss about it. In Tarakan on the other hand, the situation for a white foreigner is very different. As soon as you step onto the pier in the harbor, you are bombarded by cheerful and excited "Hello Mister!", and questions about nationality, name, and what not. Few speak any English beyond the standard phrases or questions, and do not understand or care to try to understand an answer.

I've been in the town for three days now, and only today did I meet the first westerner here - a French journalist writing about refugees in this border area.

There is not much to do here except waiting for a boat to Borneo proper, or destinations further away, like Sulawesi, Java, or Papua.

There are however some interesting thins to see. Forget about the "swimming beach" mentioned in a popular (and infamous) guidebook. It's a mud field on the shore, with a couple resturants. No sober and sane person would even consider going for a swim there. And calling it a good beach would be considered a bad joke.

Then there are some old oil pumps around. They look like they should be in a museum, but still pumping up that black gold day and night. Tankers are filling it up at a pier to take it to Balikpapan or further.

The best part of Tarakan is hidden behind the houses of the main street, and covers a large area all the way out to the proper waterfront. This part of town is flooded twice a day by the tide, and all houses are built on stilts in the mud. It's a poor part of town and it's all mad accessible by a maze of clunky wooden boardwalks and canals for small colorful boats. Motorbikes run up and down the narrow allies, and all the loose planks make an deafening noise. There is a whole town out here, with small shops, barbers, cell phone and outboard motor workshops, and mini wharfs. The rustic wooden houses are all covered with corrugated sheet metal. Some rustier than others. The boats are colorful, as are the lines of drying laundry and the people.

Photo of the day: Morning Market

Meat, fish, and vegetable market in China Town, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Travel update: Tropical night cycling

Flying Ryanair and Air Asia from Sweden to Kuala Lumpur worked out well. I had a few hours on Stansted, and landed after 9 p.m. in K.L. The humid heat was noticable but not too bad at 29 degrees celcius. There were heavy thunderstorms at the horizon and pitch dark except for lightning and street lights around the airport. I relaxed for a few hours before deciding to ride my bike to the city, 72 kilometers away. The problem was finding a good route at night. The free tourist map had only big motorways, and even on Google Earth it looked difficult to find any other alternatives, because of rivers and few small roads. I started cycling on the freeway. It's in very good condition, and lit up and didn't have much traffic at this time of night (3 a.m.). After 16 kilometers it started raining. I had cycled into a thunderstorm. I stopped under an overpass to get away fron the rain, but the wind soon made it rain both vertically and horizontally. A fine drizzle came blowing in under the overpass making averything wet. I talked to a couple of motorbike drivers who also stopped. When the rain got less extreme I kept cycling. The traffic started to build up as I had a rice breakfast at a truck stop and gas station. The traffic got really crazy around eight, and I had a puncture just half an hour before reaching the city center. I found a good guest house after asking around among some backpackers.

Cycling with skis: To Dalarna on a non-existing road

2008-05-28: Lake Mälaren - Rosshyttan (109 km)

Before Enköping I decide to go on smaller roads. The highways 55 and 70 are too busy and there is even a stretch of proper motorway where cycling is prohibited. Finding good alternatives is not easy. I end up riding quite a few kilometers extra on winding small roads, sometimes without asphalt. After crossing the last bridge across lake Mälaren, I ride past the villages of Teda, Björksta, Kärsta, Tortuna, and Sevalla before I cook lunch on a small meadow next to the road.

The plan for the day is to get to the road through Sätra brunn and Salbohed and camp before Avesta where I will look for a new Goretex jacket at the Haglofs Factory Outlet.

There is a tiny road on my old map that would get me up on highway 56, and on to the Sätra road. I go through Vad where the road should be and end up at a farm. Two guys are building something there and they're not sure if there is a road anymore. They show me on to a small track that leads to the nearby forest. They suggest I give it a try. The path slowly disappears, but I don't want to turn around and cycle a long detour. I end up pushing my bike through a small forest area, a forest clearing and a small bog before I get up on the national highway.



I camp near highway 70 before Avesta.

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