Belimbing to Tibubiyu
From rice paddy to rice paddy
Stage 8; the last stage, the ultimate stage, the one after stage 7, the end of the tour. At the end of this stage we will be delivered to our hotel in Seminyak, where we'll say goodbye to Ketut, Made and the bikes which have served us so well over the past two weeks.
After a few team photos for posterity we start riding amid the beautiful rice paddies of south-central Bali. The first 11 kilometres take over an hour of ride time. We follow Ketut down though rough, almost invisible jungle tracks. I look for the flattened foliage left behind hoping there are no hidden surprises. At the bottom we cross a small boulder filled creek, the first of many. On the other side we push our bikes up a steep slippery, sometimes overgrown and almost indiscernible track. I follow Ketut hoping he has not lost the trail. How he remembers not only this trail, but all the others, some of which he does not ride for a year or more is beyond me.
In between dropping into creeks and hauling our sweaty, muddy arses back out again, we are rewarded with sublime, almost endless views across terraced rice paddies. At lunch we both agree that although the scenery has been fantastic, the reward for effort ratio is definitely in the negative. (I'm not sure if ratios can be negative, but go with me!)
The location Made chose for our lunch break is the best so far. Shaded by small trees, we sit on the side of a small broken tarmac lane. In front of us the ground drops away, and on the other side of a small stream rises in steps carved into the rich, pliable earth, and each one covered in a bountiful rice crop. A few workers ply their trade, planting young rice plants while we soak in the view. Above the paddies the ground is steeper and reverts to dense jungle. This is the archetypal view of rural Bali.
Made has gone above and beyond for today's last lunch. He has obviously noted my comments about how much I like sate, and especially sate kambing (goat), and I was touched by his gesture. Steamed white rice (Nasi putih) and the sate are individually wrapped origami style for take-away. As I slide the gristly, sauce covered meat off the skewers, I have no qualms discarding them into the undergrowth as they will be quickly reclaimed by nature. Unfortunately, many Balinese use this same method with all types of waste. We have seen many vacant blocks, roadsides, and waterways fouled with plastic detritus; the worst was disposable nappies in a creek we had just crossed. I fail to understand why they would choose to do this, and live amid such non-biodegradeble detritus, especially when they are in such a paradise.
Sorry, rant over - back to the tasty lunch with sublime views.
After finishing the meat, I poured the excess sauce onto my rice so as not to miss out on one mouthful of the peanutty spiciness. That was first course; second course is hard to describe. Nestled in a plastic take-away cup is a gelatinous mass of fruit seeds, cubes of jelly, and chunks of fruit, all swimming in a coconut milk slurry. The textures are unusual to the western palate, but the flavours were subdued and well blended. There were also rice cakes, flavoured with palm and coconut.
As usual the post lunch riding started uphill. Too much of my blood supply went to my stomach, employed in digesting the mini Balinese feast. Unfortunately, I am also asking it supply oxygen to my legs to get me over the next crest of the roller-coaster concrete double track. We bust a lung climbing, then recover and cool down bombing along country lanes hemmed by forest and fruit trees. The countryside is dotted with rustic houses and farm buildings. We scatter the ubiquitous mother hen and chicks in our wake, are howled at by grumpy moth-eaten dogs, and are waved to by small children. We pass the deer and fawn like local cattle tied in their stalls, slowly munching the fodder cut and delivered by the farmer. Occasionally we hear the grunts of, and smell the unmistakable odour of pigs. As we leave the forest, we are again surrounded by rice paddies. As we cruise on slightly downhill flowy double concrete tracks, we can see the ocean in the distance indicating we are close to the end; the end of stage 8, and the end of the tour.
As we turn the last corner Made is smiling and waving to us. He and the vehicle are ready to take us away from all this.
For those playing at home we rode 26k in 2:04, ascending 389m and descending 883m.
http://app.strava.com/activities/72498714
After a few team photos for posterity we start riding amid the beautiful rice paddies of south-central Bali. The first 11 kilometres take over an hour of ride time. We follow Ketut down though rough, almost invisible jungle tracks. I look for the flattened foliage left behind hoping there are no hidden surprises. At the bottom we cross a small boulder filled creek, the first of many. On the other side we push our bikes up a steep slippery, sometimes overgrown and almost indiscernible track. I follow Ketut hoping he has not lost the trail. How he remembers not only this trail, but all the others, some of which he does not ride for a year or more is beyond me.
In between dropping into creeks and hauling our sweaty, muddy arses back out again, we are rewarded with sublime, almost endless views across terraced rice paddies. At lunch we both agree that although the scenery has been fantastic, the reward for effort ratio is definitely in the negative. (I'm not sure if ratios can be negative, but go with me!)
The location Made chose for our lunch break is the best so far. Shaded by small trees, we sit on the side of a small broken tarmac lane. In front of us the ground drops away, and on the other side of a small stream rises in steps carved into the rich, pliable earth, and each one covered in a bountiful rice crop. A few workers ply their trade, planting young rice plants while we soak in the view. Above the paddies the ground is steeper and reverts to dense jungle. This is the archetypal view of rural Bali.
Made has gone above and beyond for today's last lunch. He has obviously noted my comments about how much I like sate, and especially sate kambing (goat), and I was touched by his gesture. Steamed white rice (Nasi putih) and the sate are individually wrapped origami style for take-away. As I slide the gristly, sauce covered meat off the skewers, I have no qualms discarding them into the undergrowth as they will be quickly reclaimed by nature. Unfortunately, many Balinese use this same method with all types of waste. We have seen many vacant blocks, roadsides, and waterways fouled with plastic detritus; the worst was disposable nappies in a creek we had just crossed. I fail to understand why they would choose to do this, and live amid such non-biodegradeble detritus, especially when they are in such a paradise.
Sorry, rant over - back to the tasty lunch with sublime views.
After finishing the meat, I poured the excess sauce onto my rice so as not to miss out on one mouthful of the peanutty spiciness. That was first course; second course is hard to describe. Nestled in a plastic take-away cup is a gelatinous mass of fruit seeds, cubes of jelly, and chunks of fruit, all swimming in a coconut milk slurry. The textures are unusual to the western palate, but the flavours were subdued and well blended. There were also rice cakes, flavoured with palm and coconut.
As usual the post lunch riding started uphill. Too much of my blood supply went to my stomach, employed in digesting the mini Balinese feast. Unfortunately, I am also asking it supply oxygen to my legs to get me over the next crest of the roller-coaster concrete double track. We bust a lung climbing, then recover and cool down bombing along country lanes hemmed by forest and fruit trees. The countryside is dotted with rustic houses and farm buildings. We scatter the ubiquitous mother hen and chicks in our wake, are howled at by grumpy moth-eaten dogs, and are waved to by small children. We pass the deer and fawn like local cattle tied in their stalls, slowly munching the fodder cut and delivered by the farmer. Occasionally we hear the grunts of, and smell the unmistakable odour of pigs. As we leave the forest, we are again surrounded by rice paddies. As we cruise on slightly downhill flowy double concrete tracks, we can see the ocean in the distance indicating we are close to the end; the end of stage 8, and the end of the tour.
As we turn the last corner Made is smiling and waving to us. He and the vehicle are ready to take us away from all this.
For those playing at home we rode 26k in 2:04, ascending 389m and descending 883m.
http://app.strava.com/activities/72498714
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