Scene

Sorry this had to be a back blip, but as soon as I arrived home, my head hit the pillow and did not move again for fourteen hours! I did not take the D70 with me, as fishing trips and Indonesian weather are not the best environments for your best equipment. I have put a small selection of the best shots in folio.

Today's blip is of the lake scene, showing a hand built boat in the foreground, a hint of the floating villages far left and the impressive mountain scenery in the background. I had to burn in the background to bring it back to reality as it was washed out, hope you don't mind.

The fishing trip - part 1.

Feels strange to be writing a titled account of a current event, but I feel that I could be relating this story for many years to come.

I had my doubts whether Chacha would actually show up for the scheduled trip, as it was organized six days ago, but I prepared in anticipation anyway. I spent yesterday manufacturing a batch of twelve new lures for the trip and was up at 4am to finish them off, do the testing an final adjustments.

I did not prepare any food for the trip, so I went down to Odas' (27th February blip) stall for a generous helping of kupat tahu, which would easily get me through the day. Just as I finished off the plate, Chacha arrived, exactly 9am as promised, I was impressed. However, I was not impressed with his mode of transport, his bike. This was supposed to be a car trip, as the lake was a 50Km drive. Ah well, nothing that can be done about that now, I was committed to the trip.

You would think that a journey of 50Km out of the city would be quiet, gentle meandering roads with lots of wonderful scenery, but you would be wrong. Well, the scenery bit was true, absolutely stunning, but I did not get much opportunity to appreciate the magnificent volcanic formations as I struggled to follow Valentino Rossi through horrendous traffic. My life flashed past my eyes several times. This fishing trip had better be the trip of a lifetime, as I would not be coming back for seconds.

I did not actually know where we were going, but as we got close, I started to recognize the layout, as we were close to Chirangjang, Tesa's home Kampung. I had actually visited the lake in the past and always wondered how it would fish. I don't know the name of the lake, but it is the largest lake in the West Java island and it spanned many miles.

We stopped at an eatery to ask directions down to the lake and was told that this small foot track was ride-able down to the water. At no more than 18 inches in width and with about 100 feet to descend, I was not feeling too comfortable, but thinking of the foot climb back up the hill later on, we decided to give it a go.

No more than fifty yards into the bike scramble, the path significantly narrowed to just a few inches and on my right was nothing but fresh air, as the path fell away down the heavily vegetated slope of about 70°. Now I am definitely well outside my comfort zone and starting to doubt my ability to stay upright on this two wheeled jalopy of mine. My legs were extended to act as stabilizers, a flipflop hanging from each big toe.

I took a bit of a wobble to the right, 'why couldn't it have been to the left', I thought to myself, as I extended my right leg to the ground for some stability. Unfortunately, there was no ground, only lots and lots of air. A graphic image of me and the bike tumbling down the steep slope flashed through my mind and so desperate to find some terra firmer, I pulled my leg in closer. I now know how a cow feels when being branded by it's new owner, as my leg touched the exhaust pipe, but still the wobble had to be corrected, so I had to push harder despite the sizzling pain.

The blood curdling scream that emanated from my vocal chords cause Chacha to halt his progress and we both dismounted to reassess the situation, Chacha to discuss the walking option and me to roll about on the floor, crying in pain as a very large, watery blister popped up just above my ankle. This fishing trip had better be the trip of a lifetime, as I most definitely would not be coming back for seconds. We found a place to turn the bikes around and parked them up at the eatery.

The heavy rucksack on my back was already taking it's toll on my muscles after the 50Km ride. Had the bike ride been planned I would have packed lighter and found a way of tying the bag down. Conversely, Chacha was carrying a small shoulder purse barely big enough to carry his cigarettes! The big bag was because I had no idea what kind of fishing would be encountered, so I had to prepare for everything whereas Chacha obviously knew, but his English skills were so poor that I could not extract such detailed information.

The walk down the path was horrendous and to think that we were going to ride it. A crushing desire to go back and throttle the guy who told us that bikes were okay for this route washed over me, as every blade of grass that brushed against me felt like an angry porcupine humping my leg.

To be continued.

Dave