A Motorbike Trip Across Java

Andy Hill

I have always loved driving. When I lived in America, I got around to driving across that massive country a half dozen times in total. I am infinitely more interested in the land route than flying and would choose a bus, train, or car over a plane any day. 

So recently I found myself with some time as well as a mission in mind, the logical conclusion of which was Java. From Kuta Lombok I drove to the ferry at Lembar, embarked upon the ferry with my motorbike, and spent several days in Bali before making my way to the western tip of that island to get on the ferry which takes one to Java. 

In the early evening I arrived in the town of Banyuwangi, at Java’s eastern tip, with a powerful thirst for kilometers. 

Although I had enough energy to drive for many hours, it was soon very dark and I was tired of shifting my weight from one bony ass cheek to the other with each passing minute. I made a stop on the side of the road just after Jember for some fried snacks- tempeh, tofu, bananas- as well as a cup of white coffee. After some polite conversation with an older woman, I shared that I was looking for a place to sleep for the night. 

More simply than finding cards at a casino, the kindly old woman called her younger sister over, who conducted me to a house less than a kilometer away, showed me a simple room in the back with a light and bed on the floor, and asked for nothing in spite of my attempts to recompense her for her generosity.

The next morning I woke with the call to prayer at roughly 4:30, had a coffee with the patriarch of the household, and was on my way again. 

Aesthetically, the drive is gorgeous; rice paddies stretch out indefinitely on either side; wild and lush vegetation abut even the most derelict of town roads; and perpetual mountains can be seen on the horizon and through the clouds. That having been said, without some kind of environmental regulation on the emissions of large trucks, the air may be completely un-breathable in not so long a time. 

After that second day of driving, which took me from Jember to Ponorogo in about 12 hours, my face, tee shirt, hands and pants were blackened by exhaust. You have to have an exfoliator for that kind of muck. 

Driving in this country is fluid and courteous- there is no spastic starting-and-stopping; you simply go when and where you can and stop when you have to. The major highway which runs through Java is only a two-laner most of the time, and it runs through every little town along the way, so there is always a place to stop and get a coffee or a bowl of soto ayam.

In Ponorogo I stayed at a place that was 60,000 rupiah per night, or roughly $5 US, and got a fitful if respiratorily-frustrated sleep. I was up at the crack of dawn again the next morning, with Yogyakarta in my sights. I made it to Yogya in mid-afternoon and was able to cruise right into the Java Tea House to meet a friend with whom I would be staying. 

In the next couple of days I will be getting back on the bike to head west towards Cianjur to check out Gunnug Padang, perhaps the oldest megalithic site in the world. I will be armed with plenty of respiratory masks and a camera.