A huge hole in the unpaved road rocks me out of my seat onto my steering wheel. A slight wiggle, my foot slips, the scooter turns sideways, crash.
When you skid over the dirt-road sideways at high velocity with a scooter on top of you, time moves strangely slow. I remember thinking: ‘I am tearing up my skin and there is nothing I can do about it‘ – I was wearing short sleeves and no protection except for a helmet – as I skidded over an unlit dirt-road in the middle of the night in East-Lombok, Indonesia.
The whole incident could have easily been avoided if not for a.) my youthful overconfidence b.) my insane cheapness at that time and c.) plain stupidity.
— [pictures at the bottom] —
Weeks before, me and my travel-buddy at that time – Bjorn – both rented a scooterbike to drive around the island of Lombok, Indonesia. Because they charged extra for knee- and elbow-pads we did not bother and since it is super hot and humid in the tropics, of course you go out driving in nothing more than shorts and a t-shirt:)
About a week in we were crossing the (north) east-side of the island when we heard about an old family-run ‘resort’ where you could see the sunrise from the beach with nothing around you except palm-trees and monkeys. The map we had of the area showed a tiny white line with we estimated, considering the road-conditions – unpaved and littered with huge deep holes – would take us about 2.5 hours one-way. We hoped that they would have a few glass bottles of petrol over there so we could make the trip back (it was a dead-end road) and that we arrived before nightfall, because if not we would have to drive the road at night, which we were not looking forward to. We realized that the safest plan was to stay the night and attempt it in the morning but felt adventurous and went for it anyways at around 4PM (the sun goes down around 6PM over there).
About an hour and a half in, the road gets way, way worse. I am talking wide-pud-holes that make it impossible to drive in any other way than snaking around them at 5KM/H. Luckily after 20 minutes of maneuvering we arrive at our destination.
We sit down at a remarkable well maintained reception on nicely carved bamboo benches and are poured a delicious cup of tea. We look at each other in surprise as we weren’t expecting any kind of hospitality..
The delight quickly turned sour as we learn that the accommodation was taken over by an elderly couple from New Zealand only a few months ago. They are turning it into an exclusive recluse-resort and although the huts aren’t completely outfitted, instead of the expected 2 USD we are told the cost of a night would be around 120 USD.
Most sensible backpackers would curse themselves but then angrily paying the accommodation, talking to their friends about the time they got ripped off on Lombok for years to come. A seasoned traveler carrying a tent might have tried to wild-camp on the premises (wild-camping on east-Lombok was considered rather dangerous at that time since the likelihood of being robbed or worse was very real) but we – not carrying a tent at that time – decided that the best idea was to try to snake our way back in the pitch-black.
The first part goes extremely slow as we can literally only see the part of the road that is lit-up by our scooter-lights and it takes an hour before we arrive at the part where the road turns slightly better. We decide that at this pace it is going to take ages and need to speed it up. We agree to drive behind each-other and to ensure we are still together by honking our horns from time to time (the driver up front honks once, and driver behind answers the call with two honks).
Apart from us there are old diesel-lorries and locals on scooter-bikes driving like maniacs on the unlit roads so we have to really pay attention to both the road and the rest of the traffic. But after a while we find out that our strategy works great! With our growing confidence our speed grows as well, to about 100KM/H..
Suddenly disaster strucks as my front-wheel hit a big hole rocking me out of my seat on top of my steering wheel. Unable to honk or hit the breaks I try to balance myself but after 2 seconds I sway to the left and crash.
I skid over the road what seems at least 30 meters and then come to a stop. Pain. Blood. Dirt. Suddenly the screeching sound of brakes and an immense amount of light. A lorry brakes hard to not run me over and luckily stops halve a meter short. Without being aware that a crowd is gathering I try to get up and inspect myself in the headlights of the truck. Luckily, I can get up but I am scratched badly and there is a lot of blood. Not fully aware what is happening I get pulled up by some local man, and put on the back of a scooter. Someone shouts something that resembles ‘hospital!’ and I nod. After 20 minutes of driving I am brought to a small bamboo hut. The ‘hospital’ sort of resembles a field-medic post that you see in movies about the pacific fighting in the Second World War. A young woman walks up to me with a syringe. I am carrying clean needles for exactly this type of situation, unfortunately I do not think about it, nor ask about what is in the syringe and get injected with the fluid.
I got very lucky. I was not drugged. I did not get a disease from a dirty needle. I did not break any bones. I did however get an impressive collection of road-rash of which a small patch on my knee and fore-arm is still visible today (this happened almost 9 years ago).
When the young woman is bandaging my arms and legs a middle-aged man walks up to me and starts talking to me in English. It turns out this is one of the only people in the area that actually speaks the language as no westerner has stopped by in this village for over 20 years. After I am patched up he takes me to his home, offers me food and a bed for the night. Other villagers have brought my scooter-bike to his house and when I am trying to teach his kids some English in exchange for his extreme hospitality I suddenly find myself thinking about Bjorn.
In a rush I try to get up, wanting to go look for him in the night, but the house-owners tells me these parts are pretty dangerous at night time and I should not go out. He adds to that that he hopes my friend is as lucky as I was to meet the right people, which does anything but comfort me.
Needless to say, I sleep poorly that night. My arms and legs hurt and I am worrying about my travelmate. In the night I make a plan in my head, and at the break of dawn I decide to move out to go look for my friend.
I knock on the door to thank the man for his hospitality only to find himself cuddled up with his wife and 7 children all sharing one 2-persons bed. I feel extremely ashamed that I never realized that having a guest-bed was something that just did not happen here. They only owned two beds and let me, a stranger, sleep in one of them..alone. I try to offer him anything and everything and ask him how I can repay him. He refuses any repayment ofcourse but asks me to stay in touch with his oldest son (who goes to school a few hours away and has a Facebook-account), that he hopes would one day go to Mataram-University.
The promise is made (and kept) and still shocked by his complete selflessness, extreme friendliness and hospitality I get on my scooter-bike to go look for Bjorn. The bike is scratched, damaged but still works fine and after 2 hours of driving I arrive at the town we intended on going. As I step off my bike I am immediately recognized by the tone of my skin and taken to one of two hostels in town where I find my friend almost hastily talking to a local man on a scooter. He was already in the process of setting up a search party and was dreading the thought of having to call my parents telling them he lost me in the jungle of Indonesia..
So did I learn from this experience? Yes and No. This would not be the only time I would put myself unnecessarily in possible lethal danger (not even on that trip). On the other hand I got a reality-check. Some dangers are real, and some precautions are worth spending money on. Do wear protection when driving a scooter. Just because the thing can make a 100KM/U does not mean you should drive it at that velocity. And if you have to make a decision between possibly exposing yourself to danger or having to pay a 100 dollars, pay the goddamn 100 dollars. Even if your daily budget is set at 25 a day.
The other thing is ofcourse the incredible hospitality from the family that took me in. I still cannot believe their selflessness, and this attitude can be found all over South-East Asia, and we should really try to take their example in our everyday lives.
As for Toni (the son), I am happy to tell you that he got a scholarship to UNSW (University of New South Wales, Sydney) a year back. We kept contact until 2013 and then lost touch. He however got back in touch with me by sending me the following message, which inspired me to tell you this story now:
