Borneo Spaghetti

Thu 18/06

Tightening the chain seems to create another problem when the tensioner starts squeaking, so we pull over and redo it in someone’s parking lot. The squeaking stops, but the knocking starts again. Why didn’t we buy those shaft-drive 1200s again? Oh yeah, they were twice the price. Bummer.

At Brunei immigration we’re officially cleared of H1N1 after being scanned and probed by some masked men in a back room. At least they weren’t discriminating - nearly everyone else got probed as well.

Later on at the toll, which we’d been told was free for motorbikes but was actually BR$1 each, Ann does her best dumb blonde impersonation to get us over for free (we’d run out of Brunei dollars again). Call us cheap, but for anyone else doing this, you can get from Sabah to Sarawak on a motorbike for BR$11 and a handful of ringgit.

Fri 19/06


The Miri locals probably think we’re cheap and mental, but the only way to sort out this stupid chain is by the side of the road, riding the bike up and down a couple of hills after each tweak. The squeak is back, but hopefully some WD40 will fix that.

Sat 20/06
Check out Sarawak from Google Earth or Maps and you’ll see little brown squiggly lines snaking their way across the jungle like some form of cancer. The locals call this Borneo Spaghetti. Its nearly impossible to tell from the satellite images whether the jungle is old growth forest waiting to be logged, second or third growth waiting to be re-logged, or just palm plantations. Maybe the government has the statistics.



The current government, or dynasty really, has been in power for 40 years, is hopelessly corrupt, and unlikely to tell anyone anything that isn’t in their best interests. It doles out leases to the land to a select group of conglomerates, who log it, re-log it, plant palm oil on it and con the traditional land owners out of their heritage in the process.

There are a small group of activists fighting for native title rights, but since the government bans most forms of protest their struggle goes on mainly behind closed doors. Its kind of strange talking to one of them, Willie, who constantly seems on edge and aware of who might be eavesdropping on our conversation. Is this Malaysia, or former East Germany? Are we about to be rounded up by the Sarawak Stasi?



Willie has just returned from a protest to stop the signing over of his tribe’s land for a re-forestation project. The protest was unsuccessful and he and his brother are very upset at the outcome. Another member of the activist group, who works in government, is less emotional about the situation and proceeds to give us an insider’s viewpoint on how things are done here. Its not pretty, not transparent, benefits the few, destroys the environment, and is done so calculatingly that the conglomerates are always one step ahead. They’ve done all this many many times before.

Sun 21/06
Ann twists her knee again today while tromping through Lambir Hills NP. Shit

Mon 22/06
We leave for Batu Niah feeling quite depressed at what’s happening in Sarawak, doubtless not the first people to experience this.



The same things have occurred, and still occur in some form or other all over the world, and during conversations with locals when these issues crop up we’re the first to hold our hands up and say “Hey we’re Australians, we know what you’re talking about. We’re not here to lecture.”

We felt the same about Tasmania when we were there a few years ago. And in the same way that your average Australian doesn’t give a damn about the pulping of Tasmania’s forests, life goes on regardless for your average Malaysian.

In the immortal words of Bill Hicks Go back to bed America. Your country is in control. You’ve got your 56 channels of American Gladiators on TV. Go back to bed. Everything will be ok.

Niah Caves are amazing. Amazing for their sheer size and amazing for the way people still harvest bird’s nests using rickety wooden scaffolding at ridiculous heights.

This is supposed to be the off-season where the birds are given a chance to rebuild, but we speak to someone later who witnesses nests being collected tonight. Irresistible, considering their scarcity and the fact the Chinese regard them as an aphrodisiac keeps the prices at crazy levels.



Ann twists her knee. Again. Bloody hell.

There’s a Canadian guy walking around the world who’s about 10ks from us tonight. It would have been cool to talk to him, but he gets waylaid just short of Batu Niah.

Wed 24/06
We make our way to Bintulu, and while tromping through nearby Similajau NP Ann twists her... no she doesn’t. She gets attacked by a kamikaze cicada instead. They do breed ‘em big here. Hehe.

Sat 27/06
Sometimes you ride into a place and go wow, it looks like someone here actually cares. Sri Aman is like that, a place whose claim to fame is a tidal bore, apparently quite rare, which runs up the river about as regularly as say... the tides. Because we can’t find any information on tide times, we rely on local knowledge instead, and are up at 5.30am to see the phenomenon for ourselves.

6.30 comes and goes.

Its 7.00am and people seem to be milling around the river bank, but we can’t be quite sure whether this isn’t something they just do here. We hang out until 7.30 and hunger gets the better of us, wondering if we’ve just become the latest victims to some sort of local practical joke.

Sun 28/06
The roads on the way into Kuching are the only decent ones we’ve encountered in Sarawak, but soon after arriving realise that finding parking for the bikes will be difficult. We know its a dumb idea, but decide to try the Tourist Information Centre for some help with accommodation.

In the last 5 months TICs have been, on the whole, a complete waste of time. But every now and then you get a really helpful one and that keeps you coming back for more. You’re new in town, tired, looking for a scrap of information which might make things a little easier.



Kuching’s TIC is difficult to find (they mostly are) and, true to form, a monumental waste of time. Just as well we’d googled a couple of places the night before, one of which pointed us to a strange looking hotel on the top of a hill, not too far out of town.

Mon 29/06
The museums here on the other hand are great, free, and perfect for a rainy day. Unless you’ve got a dodgy knee of course. Ann’s is really starting to bother her and she’s convinced she’s torn a ligament. The prospect of getting it fixed is something that’s giving us both sleepless nights and we talk about seeing someone for advice.

Tue 30/06
We decide to give the accommodation thing one more shot today (the place we’re in has no breakfast and the internet is almost useless), so after tracking down a supply of local coffee (possibly more important), wander around town on the bike.



A For Rent sign prompts Lucas to make a u-turn and we walk in to a small cafe. We end up spending the rest of the afternoon with Melbournian Tony, who while really here to escape Australians, makes an exception for us. Bizarrely, a friend of his Francesca, is the same person we’d been given a contact for in Miri a week ago and he also thinks that another friend James, a local journalist, might be interested in our story and so sets up a meeting for a couple of days time.

Sorted then. Sort of.

Wed 01/07
We actually get time to do some sightseeing today.

The new parliament house dominates Kuching, from some angles looking like a huge War of the Worlds alien spaceship, from others distinctive and impressive. But always dominating, maybe pointing to the fact that the Sarawak government operates more like a benevolent dictatorship than a democracy.

Thu 02/07
After meeting with Tony, James and Francesca who between them will arrange our social life for the foreseeable future, we head down to James’ paper The Eastern Times, to do an interview with Wil.

That’s the thing with Malaysia. You really need a mobile phone just to keep up with the social life. We’d already bought a SIM card in KK for this reason and so like good little Celcom slaves find ourselves recharging the phone every week or so.

Speaking of slaves, something doesn’t quite add up at the place where we’re staying. It obviously wasn’t built as a hotel, so we’d been idly speculating on its origins, even asking one or two of the staff who seemed a little evasive on the subject. A little research on the internet reveals that it was used as a women’s prison camp during the Japanese occupation, and later as a brothel for Japanese officers. Spooky.

Fri 03/07
We’re kind of flabbergasted that our story merits column inches, but there we are on the front page again. Its not like we’re doing this for UNICEF or anything.

We seemed to hit it off with James yesterday so follow him out to his place this morning, weaving in and out of traffic, trying to keep up with the little 110 that he pilots like a maniac. This will be the first of several James Ritchie mystery tours of Kuching, which usually involve meeting as many people as possible in a short space of time, and always involve copious quantities of alcohol. He’s a journalist. He’s got a reputation to uphold.

That reputation includes being criticised by some for being a pro-government reporter and The Eastern Times, which he publishes, is actually a quasi government paper. But to be fair all the media here are pro-government. You’re not really allowed to be anything else.

Sat 04/07
The next morning James takes us to see an old friend, the ex-Director of Kuching hospital, about Ann’s knee. He takes one look at her walking in and tells us it isn’t serious enough for surgery, its just going to take time. We’re both pretty relieved, and even though it doesn’t help her pain in the short term, we end up getting a knee brace later for a bit of support.

Oh, and if there are any actual or wannabe medical professionals reading this going Oh my god, you need to get an MRI, physio, a proper orthopaedic brace bla bla bla... thanks for your concern, we know.

Another day, another mystery tour.



The people are a blur, but everyone we meet has a casual, easy-going nature. Eating and drinking is a national pastime in Malaysia and there’s obviously a system of who pays or who shouts, but its completely incomprehensible to foreigners like us. Every now and then we manage to throw down some money before anyone has a chance to argue.

Sun 05/07
The Sunday markets are another Kuching institution, but something they’ll be moving out of town soon as a result of some absurd urban cleanup scheme.



Afterwards James picks us up with his daughter Rebecca and boyfriend Aaron and we visit the longhouse of a local musician, before heading out to a music festival. The festival seems more like a good excuse for a piss-up and we all take turns downing shots of lankau, the local rocket fuel. Just as well, because to our horror, the next stop is a funeral.

We’ve never gatecrashed a funeral before. You just wouldn’t, would you? Ok, so its not the actual funeral, but the family are all sitting around the home looking sad, and after being introduced to them one by one we’re led over to the open coffin, where the deceased is lying in his Sunday Best. Ann, who’s worked as an aged care nurse, has seen plenty of dead people. But Lucas and the others find the whole thing a little uncomfortable.



Just as well the next stop is a birthday. The Chinese consider it extremely bad luck to visit a birthday straight after a funeral, but we can’t really comment on that. Poor taste maybe. A good pickmeup anyway. One of the three old guys at this birthday is playing his old favourites on the guitar, Aaron is murdering some Bob Marley and everyone is drinking plenty of the local stuff.

Mon 06/07
Successful local artist Ramsay has a gallery down by the waterfront. We’d met him before and so were keen to have a look at his work.

Have you ever tried durian? Ramsay asks when he discovers us wandering around the shop “Well, no actually.” Ann replies a little apprehensively. Well you simply must come back to my place and try some.

We spend the rest of the day with Ramsay, who shares durian and part of his world with us. Its interesting to hear the similarities between Malaysians and Australians and their attitudes to the gay community.

Tue 07/07
We’ve never “done” a photo shoot before. Before we left Oz, you’d be lucky to get us posing for photos at Christmas dinner. Maybe Indonesia cured us of camera-shyness, but outside the Eastern Times with the paparazzi its still funny to see the tables turned on Lucas, who is usually quite happy behind the lens.



Robert, the GM of the newspaper, treats us all to lunch at a posh restaurant afterwards, apparently the first time this has happened at the paper. We feel pretty honoured, and our stomachs are grateful for a break from nasi this and nasi that.

Today’s mystery tour ends up with James and Francesca at a birthday-cum-house blessing. Because we’re gatecrashing again, we bring along the obligatory local wine, only to discover embarrassingly that they’re Seventh Day Adventists. Oops. Well the guy we followed there was half smashed. How were we supposed to know? James!

Wed 08/07
Apparently Ann’s tail light wasn’t working last night, but the bulb looks fine today. Screw it out. Screw it back in and it works again. Maybe its another one of those made in China bits.

There are a couple of photographers staying at the hotel, here to cover the Rainforest Festival. Zam and Iwan are from KL and really into motorsports so ask if we could do a photo shoot with them before they leave. Hey, no problem, we’ve done this before right?



What we’d never done before was anything like the meditation full moon worshipping thingy that was on tonight, out of town near one of the national parks. But there’s a full moon tonight, so what the hell.

The food’s great, the people are interesting, but we discover that singing and dancing and waving our hands up in the air while hyperventilating really isn’t our cup of tea. As if we didn’t already know.

Thu 09/07
Its a rush to get out to Semenggoh orangutan sanctuary the next morning, and while the experience is radically different to Sepilok, we decide to come back again in the afternoon for the second session.



Its raining prior to feeding time and so we chat to a couple of the guides, who explain that they train the orangutans to distrust humans. They’ll attack if they feel threatened, and to prove the point one of them shows us the scars on his leg.

Luckily the rain eases and the orangutans start straggling in, looking a bit wet and grumpy at having to face a hundred tourists just for a bit of fruit. They’re much closer this time and the guide struggles to move back the tide of Nikon-wielding orang putihs, each one determined to get “the” shot. One of the males (orangutans that is) seems determined to crack his coconut on a branch of a tree, but the whole thing looks a bit optimistic.



All of a sudden someone calls out Ritchie! It seems the dominant male has decided to show up after all. He’s about 80kg, has the strength of six men and with his shaggy coat looks absolutely massive. Ritchie was named after, you guessed it, James Ritchie, who bought him off an illegal trader just over the Indonesian border and returned him to the sanctuary. Well that’s the official story anyway. He had every intention of just returning him, but while he had Ritchie safely stashed at his place over the weekend a mob of machine-gun wielding cops surrounded the house and made absolutely sure.

Ritchie, unlike the other wussy male, proceeds to pick up a coconut and smash it into pieces with an almighty crack. We’re all impressed.

Fri 10/07
We’re not impressed however, with the effort it always takes to try and find information on Indo ferry schedules. All they’d need to do would be to employ any half-arsed web developer for a few months and the whole thing could be made available to the public.

Lucas is volunteering for chrissake. Hello Indonesia! He’s got nothing better to do. Really.

Assisting us in our never-ending quest for the Pontianak-Surabaya ferry schedule, James takes us down to the Indo embassy and tries to prise some info out of the front desk. Strike one. Well, strike two actually. Tony has a friend in Pontianak who assures him that there is a ferry, but can’t tell him when it goes. Strike three comes when another one of James’ friends strikes out with his connections.

To make up for it, he suggests we might like to embark on another mystery tour.

Exorcism did you say? What was that about a shaman?

We’re up for anything, so meet at “the usual” before heading out to MAS Uni, behind which sits the kampong and the home of the “possessed” woman. Well, her leg is possessed anyway. It seems she has arthritis and the drugs aren’t working, so they’re preparing for a shaman to come and exorcise the evil spirits from her leg. We’re here today to make sure its ok to come and watch tomorrow and hopefully take pictures.



We’re not sure if its deliberate, but James seems determined to show us a complete cross-section of Kuching. He seems to be getting a kick out of our reactions to all these different people, and we’re just getting a kick out of the whole thing, so it works. We spend the rest of the afternoon drinking lankau with a war hero, a guy who fought in the guerrilla war with the communists back in the 70s. He talks to us about his trans-Borneo expedition a few years ago in a serious looking Land Rover which sits in pieces in the garden, and the resolve to finish our trans-Borneo expedition at Pontianak becomes even firmer as a result.

A lady with connections to the Victoria Arms big bike club invites us to their weekly meeting tonight, but we’re shagged. Our livers need time to recover.

Sat 11/07
This morning we follow up another possible lead on the ferry, which comes to nothing of course.

In what’s obviously turning out to be One Of Those Days, Ann, against her better judgement, but at the encouragement of her better half, gets her hair done at a trendy looking hair studio. The end result is laughably bad (Lucas actually laughs out loud in front of the hairdresser when he sees it), but hey its blonde again. Sort of. Hehehe.

Meanwhile, out at the kampong, the exorcism has been in full swing all day and will continue into the morning. While waiting around for some interesting shaman action, we talk with one of the locals over a shot of moonshine. He’s Catholic, as are most around here, and doesn’t believe in what’s happening down at his neighbour’s place.

We’re all a bit disappointed afterwards when it turns out that we can’t take photos of the ceremony, but the family are adamant. However we’re allowed to watch, and peering in through the windows we discover the interior of the house has been transformed into a mini-... something. There’s a miniature house strung from the ceiling. Miniature hand-carved boats and crocodiles in the middle of the living room are surrounded by food offerings and the four shaman are in full swing, throwing rice and chanting. It seems to be women and children only inside, all the men are sitting outside the house. At one point the men move their chairs out of the way to clear a path for one of the shaman. The idea seems to be that the shaman will take the evil spirits into their body, eventually taking them down to the river and transferring them to one of the crocodiles.

Wish we could share some photos. Sorry.

Sun 12/07
The Blog’s hopelessly out of date, so while he’s in the mood, and at the prompting of James, Lucas writes a letter to the editor about the Kuching TIC.

Tue 14/07
Ann’s bike tends to sit around for long periods while we take the other one out and about (its got the GPS). So when it gets fired up today for the photo shoot with Zam, she finds the throttle is sticking. It would have been good cruising up through the NT, but right now its a pain and we don’t have time to look at it. Later we discover that the bar ends rust onto the end of the handle-bars with these bikes, causing the throttle to stick.

Zam and Iwan dodge the round-a-bout traffic as we ride round and round, posing for the two guys.



Its mid-afternoon when we catch up with James out at his golf club for a farewell mystery tour. He gets a good laugh when he produces and reads Lucas’ letter to the editor, which has been published today and been tweaked ever so slightly to ram home his (James’?) point.

Later he announces that we’re off to the jungle. Huh? Its a piece of land he owns out near the golf club, which some of the locals have been trying to use as a communal garden. Next to a little lean-to, Gilbert and his wife have cooked up a jungle feast, complete with some jungle juice of course.

Thanks Sandy.

Thu 16/07
We really, really loved Malaysia. We really tried to come to grips with its complexities, but in the end failed. The longer we spent there the more we realised we knew nothing. And sure, the country has its problems, but the people are so genuinely welcoming and friendly and the lifestyle is so easy-going its going to be difficult for us to leave. Why are we leaving again? Oh yeah, we’ve got an Indo visa that’s going to expire if we don’t use it soon. Oh yeah, and we’re supposed to be going round the world on a couple of motorbikes. Suppose we’d better be off then.

Back to Indo and mixed emotions. The people are equally as friendly, but we can’t understand them, so really aren’t getting the most out of the experience (Lucas would love to tell a becak driver to fuck off in Bahasa. Just one. Oh please...). The traffic is horrendous, but at least most of the hotels have parking for the bikes. The country is filthy and chaotic, but brilliant to photograph. Living is cheap, but everyone wants a piece of you.

An insurance agent at the border wants a piece of us too and tries to make us believe he’ll prevent us entering the country unless we buy at least a week’s fully comprehensive cover from him. The cover is a rip-off and really won’t cover us for anything. As foreigners we’ll be expected to pay up even if its not our fault and as for comprehensive well... if you call about a fifth of the value of the bike comprehensive.

Its confusing because he looks like an official and acts like an official, but eventually, when surrounded by immigration, police and customs officials who’ve all just agreed to let us into the country, he’s made to look a little foolish. He threatens to stand in the road and block us entering, to which Lucas responds by suggesting he may not appreciate half a ton of BMW imprinted on his shirt front.

Eventually, a few hundred metres down the road to Pontianak, we pull over for a quick bite to eat, a little apprehensive, a little excited, adrenaline still running through our veins. We’re back in Indo...

Kota Kinabalu

Fri 15/05

Sabah starts to look a little more interesting on the ride into KK, the road winding up over the Crocker Range and then back down to the coast, where Mt Kinabalu dominates the horizon.



We’ve been thinking about maybe staying in KK for a month and renting an apartment, but have no idea how to go about this. So its a big surprise when, about 2 minutes after parking the bikes in the backpacker district, we meet a guy called Jack who has an apartment for rent. Or, that is to say he’ll move in with his sister next door and rent out his 3 bedroom apartment to us for RM500 per month. We arrange to meet him tonight and check in at a backpackers.

So far Lucas has managed to avoid sesame, but the law of averages and the fact that KK has a big Chinese population mean that it was bound to happen. We race out of the restaurant amidst utter confusion, Ann throwing money at the owner who won’t accept it (he thinks he’s poisoned us or something), to the backpackers to recover just in time to meet Jack, who’s taking us to his place.

Jack, who has recently split up with his wife, seems to be leading a bachelor’s life and so his apartment lacks a fridge, washing machine and a stove. Which is a shame, because otherwise its not bad and we’re pleasantly surprised with what RM500 per month buys.

Sat 16/05
Today we’ve arranged to meet Terry to talk about tyres, so eventually he blusters in with several Kiwis in tow, invites us back to his place later, draws us a mud map of directions and then blusters back out again.

We’d read a horror story about Terry’s driveway, a 5 kilometre gravel hill climb of a road, so approach it with a fair amount of respect. Luckily the author of the story was a bit of a wuss, because the road really isn’t that bad.

Terry is still in tour guide mode when we arrive, so we sit down and chat with Bryan, 5-time British motocross champion, about the dos and don’ts of riding on gravel and are reminded again about how little we really know about any of this stuff. What are you guys going to do when This happens and how have you prepared for That? He asks. “Um... we really didn’t think too much about any of those things.” we reply sheepishly.

There’s a party at Terry’s tonight, and the closest we’ll get to the Hilton on this trip is when his son Ben picks us up from out front. Its an interesting mix of people at the party, but the main attraction for us is what looks like (and actually turns out to be) real food, and are they bottles of Wolf Blass Shiraz? Our reaction to the potato salad gets a good laugh.

Sun 17/05
We’ve heard of another possible house for rent (everything seems word of mouth here), but in the meantime go to check out a place called Farida’s B&B, which is a few Ks out of town and has parking for the bikes.



On the way back we’re pulled over by an overly officious motorbike cop doing license checks. Seems they breed them the same here as they do in Oz. The whole thing seems pretty stupid. What do these letters mean? “Oh, well this one means I can fly a 747 officer.” Ok fine, you can go.

Mon 18/05
Farida’s seems to have a great vibe and her daughter Sophie is falling over herself to make us feel welcome, so we decide to stay here for the month and forget about renting the house. Its kind of a relief to have a place to call home after a few months on the road and we seem to click with everyone here, because pretty soon there’s talk of a G&T night tonight.



G&T night turns out to be G&T and caviar and all kinds of other decadent stuff we’d only dreamt of for months. KK is turning out all right...

Tue 19/05
The gastronomic tour of KK continues with Vegemite on toast for breakfast (which Ann unpatriotically turns her nose up at). We’re wondering what we’ve done to deserve all this generosity, but will gratefully accept it while it comes our way.

We also found a good restaurant across the road the other night and so go back there again for lunch. This will be the first of many times over the coming month when Zuraidah either refuses our money, or only lets us pay half the bill. What are people on here?

Wed 20/05
Not that we’re huge fans, but we finally get to see Star Trek today with no interruptions at a massive shopping mall called 1Borneo, the sound on par with any modern cinemaplex. There’s a sense in Malaysia though, that whilst the money, the will and the expertise (imported?) to build world class facilities and infrastructure are here, maintenance of those facilities is poor. Perhaps, as with the roads, the materials are substandard and so deteriorate more quickly. Perhaps, as we keep hearing, the Malays are an inherently lazy people and so farm out these jobs to Indonesians and Philippinos. Not a very nice thing to say, but we’re not passing judgement, just passing on what people tell us.



Later, while checking out the impressive mosque, it seems we’ve been noticed by two guys in a 4x4 who pull over to say hi. Matt and Massud own big bikes (a status symbol here) and so invite us for a drink and chat about bikes and stuff. We’ve said before what a massive pain in the ass these bikes can be, but now that we’ve had time to relax and reflect realise what a great way they are to meet people. These guys would never have stopped for your average garden variety orang putihs.

Farida and Arifen take us for drinks to his club, which is the oldest in KK and still has a slightly colonial feel about it. These two are unbelievably generous and seem to run the B&B for their own enjoyment, rather than a money making concern.

Thu 21/05
The bored looking staff at the fully staffed Rafflesia Centre at Crocker Range NP tell us we can’t walk in the park without a guide, and since there aren’t any around, turn us away. We’d been told otherwise, so make a few sarcastic comments about petty bureaucratic procedures (having just ridden 50Ks of mountain roads to get here), before turning around and heading back to a butterfly place we’d seen on the way up. It’d looked like a tourist trap, but we didn’t want to waste the day.

And... was actually pretty good after all.

Sat 23/05
The road up to Mt Kinabalu the next day highlights the driving mentality of your average Malaysian male. Its a car driving nation and so motorbike riders are generally treated as second class citizens. A bit like Oz actually. If you’re riding a big bike you’re expected to ride like a maniac, otherwise you’ll find a big black dual cab Hilux with a chrome grill driven by a test pilot about a foot from your rear wheel. Dual cab Hiluxes are the local weapon of choice, so its inadvisable to pass one unless you want a drag race. Its the penis thing again. Sigh...



Mt Kinabalu has some spectacular unspoiled beauty and we fart around on one of the trails most of the day, completely underestimating its steepness. It obviously rains a lot up here, it is a rainforest after all. But our rain jackets are a useless defence against the tropical (equatorial?) onslaught that hits in the afternoon. We trudge back to the bike soaked to the skin, freezing, and dreading the ride back down the mountain.

Tue 26/05
Someone mentions that Tenom is an interesting place to check out, but its a shame the old steam train is still out of action, having plunged off the tracks during a landslide a few years ago.



After visiting the agricultural park, we ride back to town and the polis station to park the bike for the night. Bizarrely, one of the cops there greets us with Where’s the other bike? “Huh?” we reply, confused. What happened to the other one? This is getting a little weird, until it turns out he’s actually read the article about us in the paper a few weeks ago and doesn’t realise that generally we ride 2-up on days like this. Sounds kind of corny, but we meet a lot of people like this guy, who dream of doing the bike thing.

Fri 29/05
Swine flu is front page news here, as it probably is everywhere. What with the financial crisis no longer at crisis proportions, the media obviously need something else to feed on. We wonder why people seem incapable of thinking for themselves and don’t treat this scaremongering with the contempt it deserves. Of course, we wondered the same thing with the financial crisis...



Sat 30/05
Up to Terry’s again for some brake pads, the only such rear pads in existence in Sabah, possibly the whole of Malaysia. On the way up Ann, who’d been complaining about the steering on her bike, loses it on the gravel. After checking the bike over later, its discovered the steering head bearings are knackered. Hard to believe on a bike that’s done 20000Ks, but seemingly a common problem on these 650s.

Sun 31/05
Believe it or not, neither of us has changed a set of brake pads in our lives, so we look at the little ones in the box with dread. Sure you can laugh, its all a learning experience right? Easy, when you know how.



Wed 03/06
Fitting new steering head bearings on the other hand is something we aren’t geared up for. At the workshop sits a brand new F800GS (basically the new version of our bikes), which is getting farkled up with all kinds of bits and pieces. We’re told the owner paid RM80000 for the bike, which translates roughly to AU$28500! This is almost the price we paid for both our bikes in Oz and is due to the ridiculous tax slapped on all foreign imports into Malaysia.

Thu 04/06


Thanks for the tyre Terry. Seriously, from the bottom of our hearts. However, there’s a good reason the online biker community refer to Bridgestone Trailwings as “Death Wings”, as Lucas discovers soon after having the new rear fitted. Possibly its a bad combination with the front Metzler, or maybe it needs running in, but man is it awful. The rear of the bike is all over the place and squirms badly under braking, the front now tracking every little imperfection in the road. On gravel, the bald Metzler had more grip. Scary stuff. But hey, its a new tyre. Woohoo.

Fri 05/06
Terry and Rose’s is a palace, something straight out of Grand Designs, and now the Kiwis are gone they invite us to stay over. Its high up in the hills of KK, the view from the infinity pool looking straight out over the city and the harbour. Someone makes the comment that today’s sunset is just “average”.

Sat 06/06
Bryan bangs on at every opportunity about standing up on the pegs (we swear he’d ride from Brisbane to Sydney standing up), so we give it a try on some gravel roads today. We can see what he’s on about (he’s the man after all), but still don’t trust our skills with the weight of the bikes.

Sun 07/06
Kota Belud supposedly has one of the better markets in Sabah, so we find ourselves wandering through the stalls this morning, saying selemat pagi to the locals and looking for photo opportunities. The markets are a bit of a disappointment however, and while we’re thinking about cutting our losses and maybe heading for the beach a young guy approaches Lucas and asks if he’d like to take some photos of a bride. “Sure, why not?” he replies.



So we follow Anol to a little bridal shop where, oddly in our eyes, both the bride and the groom are being fitted up for the wedding. After a while we thank him and are about to head off, when his uncle suggests that maybe we’d like to come to the wedding as well. So Ann hops into one of the bridal Hiluxes, which heads slowly through town and out to a little village, with Lucas following behind on the bike.

The wedding is in two parts. 1st the traditional western (Seventh Day Adventist) ceremony is held, followed by lunch. It seems like the whole village is here and while we sit back and wait for the lunch queue to dissipate one of the family invites us to eat with them at the main table. Pretty soon the karaoke fires up and everyone, except us of course, is clamouring for their turn. There are only so many Tom Jones impersonators we can take, so while waiting for the wedding couple to return for the 2nd ceremony we wander off to check out the gongs and the football match in the backyard.



After a while the bridal party returns, dressed in traditional Malay ceremonial costumes. This ceremony is much more relaxed and informal and the bride and groom are actually smiling now. Its been a great day.



Wed 10/06
Another day, another beach. Life’s tough.

On the way back we stop for lunch at a little roadside warung and chat for several hours with the school teacher and her friend who run it. We’ve done this sort of thing before, and its a real luxury to have the time. People often ask us what our “program” is today. Answering truthfully can sometimes get us some incredulous looks.



Fri 12/06
Farida has another place at Kuala Penyu, a sleepy seaside town a couple of hours from KK. All the “boys” are here today (the Filippino and Indonesian servants), doing odd jobs around the place or even just carrying Arifen’s luggage. The whole man-servant thing seems kind of weird to us, but its how they do things here, and keeps people employed. Some, even legally. There’s a massive population of illegal immigrants in Sabah, but since industries such as palm oil now depend on them, the government faces a bit of a dilemma.

Mon 15/06


We have another chance encounter with Massud and are invited back to his place for dinner (read feast) with his two wives and families. “How do you manage two families Massud?” we ask later after everyone else has cleared off. Well... sometimes things not perfect. he replies.

Wed 17/06
The trouble with staying anywhere for too long is the goodbyes. Its a gloomy morning which promises rain and as we ride off from Farida’s we wonder why we’re leaving at all.



Pretty soon its bucketing down, so our concentration is on the road and trying to pass the countless trucks which clog it. It seems to be an unwritten law in this part of the world that all trucks must stay under 50kph. Sure, some are clapped out wrecks or so overweight that they can’t go any faster, but most are just plain slowwww...

The whole Sabah-Sarawak-Brunei-Sarawak-Brunei-Sarawak thing is a tedious 10 checkpoint affair, so we decide to split it and stay in Limbang on the way through. We have no idea of visa costs in Brunei, but because we’re only transiting decide not to buy any Brunei dollars beforehand. Surely there’ll be a money changer at the border. Oops.

After a polite discussion with Brunei immigration officials, who will only accept their own currency, we turn around and ride about 10ks back to the Sarawak border, which is really just a ferry crossing. Ann then proceeds to hop back on the ferry and knock on car windows until someone kindly changes up enough ringgit for the visa.

We ride into Limbang late in the day, an awful knocking noise emanating from the bowels of Lucas’ bike. Sounds kind of terminal. We kind of hope it isn’t...

Greasing the Palms

Mon 04/05

We’re not the first people to attempt loading two big bikes onto the bow of an oversized speedboat. However its our first time and its terrifying.

The brief few hours we spend in Nunukan are a crazy rush around the docks to arrange transport for us and the bikes to Tawau (Sabah, Malaysia). We’re short of money, the cost is a ripoff (a one hour trip to Tawau is 2/3 the cost of the 32hr ferry from Sulawesi), customs and immigration procedures are a joke and totally confusing. Even extracting the bikes from the ferry at low tide means negotiating a steep, slippery steel ramp with zero ground clearance at the top. We argue repeatedly with the owner of the speedboat that this is all too rushed and dangerous, but he uses selective hearing and selective English to completely ignore us. Its only 8.30am. We’re under the impression that the boat goes at 2pm. What’s the rush?

In hindsight, the rushing made things so much easier. If we’d had time to stop and think about what we were doing, the whole experience would have been far worse.



Ann, who later admits she couldn’t bear to watch the whole process, looks on while Lucas rides the first bike down the Wooden Plank Of Death. This is a plank of wood which is gradually lowered off the edge of the jetty down to the deck of the speedboat. Maybe 10-15 ft. Maybe a 50 or 60 degree slope. Maybe a few years off his life. There’s a rope looped through the back wheel, but he doesn’t know this. He just feels like he’s sitting on top of, potentially, a very expensive roller-coaster. The bike sways in mid-air. There’s a shout and a tap on his right hand, but somehow the signal from his brain gets lost halfway. Releasing that brake lever will be like prising away someone’s dead hand. More shouting. Slowly the bike inches downwards. One of the crew tells him later that his left leg is shaking uncontrollably. Inch by agonising inch until the bike is on the deck. Everyone is shouting and laughing and patting each other on the back. Lucas is slumped over the tank bag, quietly having a heart attack.

Repeat steps above.

Meanwhile Ann is hurriedly sorting out the carnets. What’s the rush?

Eventually we’re hustled on board and realise that we’ve been completely oblivious to the fact that everyone else has already boarded and the boat is ready to go. There’s a shout from the jetty as the boat starts to pull away. Its an immigration official who has realised, amidst all the chaos, that our passports still haven’t been stamped. Crazy...

The adrenaline has started to wear off as we reach Tawau and when we realise getting the bikes off the boat is going to be a completely mental see-saw affair, put our foot down and refuse to budge until someone sorts out something a little more intelligent. After pointing out that the jetty next door is exactly the same height as the prow of the speedboat and that we could almost ride the bikes straight up the slanting deck onto the dock, the captain agrees and manoeuvres the boat around. It still takes 6 guys to manhandle the bikes onto the dock and Ann sheds a tear of relief when they’re finally on dry land.

We finally escape customs sometime in the afternoon and after riding around Tawau in futility looking for a hotel with parking, stop by the side of the road hot, tired and fed up. It seems to be the crowning glory in nearly 3 days of gruelling travel. Every hotel in Indonesia has parking. What’s going on here? Everyone is driving cars, not scooters. Where do they park them?

A man approaches us and asks if we need help. After two months in Indonesia we’re naturally wary. Does this guy want our money? Is he looking for a commission from some fancy hotel? He suggests we should park the bikes at the polis station and says he’ll take us and our luggage to a hotel nearby. Huh? The polis? He wants to drive us across town in his car? Is this guy pulling our leg?

Ann must see something in this guy that makes her trust him, so eventually convinces a reluctant Lucas to go along with the plan.

Anthony turns out to be some sort of guardian angel, sorting us out with the polis and the hotel and even taking us on a guided tour of Tawau. We even find out a few days later that he’s called the polis each day to make sure the bikes are ok.



Welcome to Malaysia.

Tue 05/05
Tawau has real supermarkets.

In hindsight we’re not sure what we were expecting, but we must have looked pretty silly wandering along the shelves going “Ooh! They have dairy products here. Wow! That looks like real bread.”



Customs have screwed up the carnet, so we head down there to sort things out before getting a taxi out to the Indonesian consulate to get a new visa. This will literally take the rest of the day. As anyone who has experienced an Indo consulate will attest, their system is incredibly inefficient and so we sit around all afternoon with about 200 others staring at the walls. Each time someone is called to the front counter its like they’ve just won lotto. When we finally get our passports back at around 5 o’clock, there are still over a hundred people left sitting around. Guess we’re a couple of the lucky ones...

06/05 – 07/05
Ann has come down with a cold so we decide to spend a couple more lazy days in Tawau. The place is easy to take and in some ways reminds us of Oz. People are friendly, but respect our personal space and don’t stare at us. The only Hello Misters we get are from Indos selling cigarettes by the side of the road. It gives us a good chuckle now.

Strangely the place is infested with rats. Its like nothing we’ve ever seen, so one afternoon decide to sit by the waterfront and watch them.



Its also kind of strange seeing such well fed people everywhere, and KFC seems to be the evil western fast food of choice, so one night we sit upstairs in air-conditioned comfort and make use of their free WiFi. What luxury.

Fri 08/05
The ride to Sandakan is an eye-opener. We’re expecting to see some palm oil plantations, but are unprepared for the scale of the operations here. From Tawau to Sandakan its palm palm palm as far as the eye can see. 50 years ago this was all rich virgin rainforest. Now, notwithstanding the fact that Sabah is promoted as some sort of eco wonderland, the forests are a shadow of their former selves. After awhile we tune out to the monotony of the landscape and the ride becomes another exercise in A to B. We have no photos to show for any of this. What’s the point? In case you’re curious, here’s one someone else took.



Otherwise there are plenty more here.

Being wise to the polis trick, we sort out parking for the bikes and then head to the centre of town to find a hotel. As we’re preparing to drag our luggage up to the backpackers’, Lucas is literally tapped on the shoulder and some guy asks if we’ve been interviewed yet. “Um, well no, actually we haven’t.” he says jokingly, before realising he’s actually talking to a journalist from the Sabah Times.

Later that night we do an interview with James and have a long chat with him, learning all kinds of interesting things about Sandakan and Sabah in the process. You can read the article here.

Sat 09/05
Its Wesak Day today. We find this out after trudging up to the Buddhist temple on top of the hill.



Sandakan is eerily dead at night, but has a sort of run-down charm and we’re feeling relaxed so decide to stay another day.

Sun 10/05
We have a feeling someone told us the Sepilok orangutan sanctuary was a waste of time and to see the one in Sarawak instead. But we can’t remember for sure, so rush off to see the morning feeding.

There are about 200 other camera-toting tourists there, and in the zoo-like atmosphere the orangutans, which are a long way from the viewing platform, disinterestedly pick at their bananas. Ironically the light makes it impossible to get decent photos. This must be “the waste of time” one then... Still, we decide to make the most of it and do a hike through the jungle, picking off leeches as we go.



Later that day when James drops by to give us the paper and show us the article, we’re stunned to see our photo on the front page. Its obviously a slow news day in Sabah.

Mon 11/05
We decide to spend another day in Sandakan. After all, we’re local celebrities right?

After wandering around town for a while like we own the place, we visit the cemetery (Sandakan is where the infamous death marches occurred during WWII), afterwards deciding to treat ourselves to a movie (more decadence). Unfortunately Star Trek is interrupted after 15 minutes by another of Sandakan's regular power cuts. Its just as well really. The sound in the theatre is the worst we’ve heard and at times we could swear Spok is speaking in Bahasa.

Tue 12/05
We keep hearing about a “new” road to Kudat, but can’t find it on any maps, so turn to Google Earth for the coordinates which we plug into the GPS.

The road itself is more palm, with occasional glimpses of 200ft trees fringing the edges of pockets of rainforest. These pockets are like little self-contained flat-earth worlds which end abruptly in clear fell. The orangutans have been the highest profile casualties in this systematic destruction, but thousands of species of plants, animals and nomadic humans have all fallen over the edge.

The new road deteriorates badly near its end, a victim to poor construction methods. It seems Malaysia shares more with Indonesia than just a border. We keep hearing of the corruption that’s rife here and the road, which in theory probably had an adequate budget for construction, was instead built using the money left over after various people pocketed “their share”.

Wed 13/05
We’re a bit disillusioned with Borneo, so the tip, which is a beautifully paved car park complete with huge bronze monument seems kind of “So what?” to us.



However, we’ve been told the beaches are pretty special, so wander off down various dirt roads looking for some.

Thu 14/05
The quest for the perfect beach continues. Not easy when most of the good ones are hidden down steep gravel roads. We manage to find one, spectacular in isolation, spoiled a little by rubbish, but still beautiful. The sandflies eventually chase us away, and after two days accumulating some really wicked bites, decide that tomorrow we’ll head to Kota Kinabalu...