My brain felt cobwebby. What to do? Force it into submission and write? Sometimes that works. Or…
I chose the ‘or’ and plotted an escape. There is a vast mountain area of Bali that I haven’t explored. I got out the map. When Ketut brought breakfast, I ran the idea past him. A few days earlier I’d asked him what he liked best about his job. “Petualangan,” he said. Petualangan, translated, means adventure.
So yesterday, at 6:30 a.m., we left Ubud behind and headed for Mt. Batukaru. I packed bottled water, grabbed a couple of pears, and slipped on my raincoat. It would serve as a windbreaker in the early morning cool, and I had no doubt we would encounter rain at some point in the cloud-covered mountains.
Bali has just completed another three day Galungan celebration so graceful penjors bowed over the streets of the villages we passed through. The elaborate designs, each one different, are a testimony to the unlimited creativity of the Balinese. Snapping photos over the top of Ketut’s helmet, I captured the road ahead.
There are many benefits to getting an early start. Traffic is minimal, and the tour buses aren’t yet on the road. But the morning markets are bustling. There isn’t a more typical Balinese scene than this, a group of vendors selling fruits and vegetables to the local people at sunrise.
Weaving between baskets of produce and the men and women collecting their provisions for the day, we continued on our way.
The countryside sped by with vast stretches of rice fields meeting the horizon on either side. The cobwebs began to blow away. I sucked my lungs full of fresh air and closed my eyes. The wind, the sun, the freedom to be here…what bliss. What blessing.
We were climbing. Every road going north from Ubud ascends toward the mountains. A little to the east, Mt. Agung boasts the highest elevation at 3,142 meters. Mt. Batur, directly north, stands at 1,717 meters, and northwest of Ubud, Batukaru, our destination this morning, is the second highest reaching 2,276 meters.
A picturesque village in the shadow of Batukaru
One of the things I love about Bali is the changing landscape. There are flat rice fields, terraced paddies, timbered mountainsides, tranquil lakes, ocean beaches, black sand, white sand, bumpy lava coasts and rocky cliffs.
As we entered the switchbacks for the serious climb upward, Ketut said, “You want see botanic garden?” I’ve learned that when Ketut says, “You want see,” or “You want go,” the answer should always be an unqualified, “Yes!” No matter what image my mind conjures up, it is bound to be so far off the mark that it’s better not to even imagine. Just say yes and go.
Ketut chats with the vendor while I snap their picture
A few minutes later we pulled into an empty parking lot at the Botanical Garden of Bedugul and dismounted. Ketut ordered two cups of Nescafe. I’ve said it before, but I repeat, nothing tastes better after biking in the chill mountain air, than a cup of hot, super sweet, Balinese Nescafe!
At 8:00 a.m. we walked through the deserted area, past a sleeping guard, up to the ticket window. Sure enough, the happy face behind the glass was awake and welcomed us to the gardens. I paid the 18,000 rph, roughly $1.75 U.S., and we strolled into botanical paradise.
The park is huge and we were it’s first visitors. We rambled through the glades and glens, along avenues of towering palms, through medicinal gardens, a ceremonial plant collection, giant ferns, orchids, and a patch of blood-red amaryllis blooms. Two pachyderm topiaries stood guard at the entrance of the Begonia House.
Topiary elephants stand guard at the Begonia House
Grotto in the Begonia House
Domed screens provide the necessary shade for hundreds of begonia species
The first glimpse of Lake Bratan is a welcome reward for the ever-upward hike through the park
The carpet of green rolls unbroken under a shady canopy
Another peek through the trees of the distant lake
Finally, at the top, Lake Bratan spreads out below in sapphire glory
It was hard to pull ourselves away from that enchanted hilltop, but another surprise awaited: Cactus House!
After the dry heat preferred by the cacti, Orchid House was a shadowy retreat
A sea of Amaryllis
This avenue of palms could be the approach to a mansion, but it leads instead to the Herbarium, Laboratory, and Library housed in the park.
Pools, bridges, resting places, are interspersed here and there, around the next bend in the path
A collection of medicinal herbs in manicured beds have signs designating their latin names
Two deer create a heart shape on one of the boulevards
A little way in, rock music blasted from somewhere in the distance. Through the trees we saw a crew setting up for an event that would be taking place later in the day. Farther on, another crew was preparing a venue for a crowd complete with sound system and tented shelters. By the time we left, hundreds of Balinese and Javanese people had arrived. Twelve tour buses, countless rows of mini-vans, and an area of motorbikes packed in like sardines, filled the parking lot. I was thrilled that we had gotten there first.
Ketut rescued his bike from the crowd, and we made our way to the next stop, Ulun Danu Bratan, the famous temple in the water.
Ulun Danu Temple in Lake Bratan
I took this photo, but it looks just like thousands of others I’ve seen. What this picture doesn’t reveal, are the hoards of tourists everywhere, all struggling for a shot of the epic Hindu temple.
Lake Tamblingan
The best time to visit any special site in Bali is early morning. Often the sky is clearest, and the tourists and vendors who will later flock to the area, are still waking up.
After Ulun Danu, we followed a ridge that skirted the three lakes in the Mt. Batukaru caldera, Lake Bratan, Lake Buyan, and Lake Tamblingan. There were no tourists along that ridge. In fact we encountered very few people at all, just immense peace.
The morning pears and coffee had worn off. A roadside warung offered lunch to go. Ketut found a serene lakeside area for a picnic and we unwrapped our brown paper parcels. I haven’t perfected the Balinese finger style, but managed to eat the whole, spicy delicious thing.
“Road broken…a little massage!” Ketut shouts happily as my knuckles grow ever whiter.
Full and happy, I was eager to get going. I’d heard about Lovina, a small town on the coast, and Ketut said he knew the way.
Of course, Ketut knew the way, the back way, the adventurous way of razor-sharp turns and perpendicular plunges with no side rails to block the crashing descent to a bottomless somewhere should a tire slip. Add to that a road that had been chewed up by sluicing rivers of rainwater plummeting down from the mountains, and you have a very exciting ride!
I was certain we would have to turn around and retrace our way as the washed-out ruts became deeper and patches of pavement more scarce. But, wonder of wonders, we rounded a bend and the road became whole. In a few moments we were tooling into Lovina. He teased me later, “Want to go home same way?” Thanks, Ketut. I’d rather walk!
Dry terraces as we approach Lovina with the ocean in the distance
The landscape coming into Lovina was parched. The town itself skirted the coast for several miles. We followed the main road, clogged with cars, trucks, and motorbikes. Ketut turned in at a beach area where the boats leave early in the morning filled with tourists who want to watch the dolphins. The attendant apologized to me that I had come too late and would have to come back in the morning. I didn’t bother to explain, just thanked him and headed for black sand and rolling breakers.
Wading knee-deep I let the vibrations of the motorbike melt out of my body and flow into the tugging waves. The ocean was beautiful, but Lovina cast no spell.
The way home took us back into the mountains through the rain I had anticipated. Warm drops pelted my face as the pavement slipped along under the wheels. The cooling moisture felt good on my skin. “You okay?” Ketut shouted back at me, always happy to pull in for another cup of Nescafe.
I wanted to say, “This has been the perfect day. I feel alive. My brain has been de-fuzzed. My soul has been refreshed. Life doesn’t get any better than this!” But neither his English, nor my Indonesian, were up to that task. “Bagus!” I hollered over the engine’s grinding effort. It’s a word that can’t be misunderstood. Translated it simply means good. And between friends, good is good enough.
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