Bicycling down Mount Batur in Bali and Random Atoms

Bicycling was invented as a linear form of relatively stable human-powered transportation. Two vulcanised rubber wheels, connected by a metallic frame, and powered by an interlinking metal chain forced by your feet, using pedals, to push the rear wheel around and around to transport you from point A to point N - variously via points B to M. And being an in-line machine, its modus transportus can thus be variously described as linear in specific direction

Well, this was the theory until one went for a days cycling with 7 families of 11 adults, 13 children, and 28 cameras around Lake Batur and Mount Batur on the island of Bali. Within the crater stands a volcanic lava dome sticking up from what looks like a massive natural lake, but which is actually a massive volcanic ‘caldera’, ready to come to life at any time and pour a massive boiling hot 'lahar' down the hills-side on this an intrepid caravan of cyclistees from HK

In a convoy of buses from Canggu (The Nav's Ed Note : Pronounced “Changgu”) loaded with this biblically large crew of cavalier pedalistees, the caravan was delivered to a restaurant 1,200 metres above sea level over-looking Lake Batur (The Nav's Ed Note : that's 4,000 feet for all you non-metrical readers). Hurrying through a meal of fruit, cold pancakes, and cold coffee, the caravan had a photo op and then were loaded back up and delivered down the road to the bicycle depot. 20 minutes of familial chaos followed, the adults happy with their matt black, bald tired cyclos with bad brake pads; while the kids fretted over who's bike had the most rad sticker design, who wore the rowdiest helmet, and who possessed the most ngarly tire tread

Helmeted and gloved up, eyes gleaming in anticipation, the long hydra of humanity set off and then enjoyed the next 3 hours gently coasting down-hill, absorbing the sights and sounds of Balinese Hindu village life. Every house a temple, dogs barking at the door, cocks crowing from roof tops, and children at the road side yelling "Hello!" as high 5's were exchanged with our cycling hydra

At the end coasting over a long water reservoir culvert, chaos as the mums' tried to corral the kids into one photo opportunity, but the kids bouncing around the photographer like those chaotic random atoms - The Nav ruminating on whether it was fission or fusion that won the second world war. Amongst all this the manly Dad's stood around thinking "Right, so what's next?" At that moment ‘Winnie’ the cycling tour guide mentioned that the restaurant for our inclusionary lunch was an excellent 8 km ride away

Interest piqued, the lads iris' expanding, thinking about jumps and obstacles and flying over pot holes, we the small peloton as one wanted this final exciting challenge. But little did we realise our error as we tore off downhill, as shortly in the 30 degree heat and 80 percent humidity our exciting excursion would bite our collective bottoms as the cycle track turned - uphill !

Now the Balinese are a wonderfully warm and pleasant race. Kind, friendly, generous and humourous. But on this day The Nav and his five forty-something fellows really felt the Balinese fire, and came to the realization that they were indeed quite a war-like race who until only a century or two ago regularly fought the incursions of Javanese Kings' and foreign incquisitors’ alike. This explained this final local effort to sap our energy and kill our collective will - Sun Tzu obviously never enjoyed a Mojito cocktail sun-downer on a Bali beach!

Uphill we cycled in the heat and humidity, these weather measures both rising as the coast drew closer, again through villages and paddy fields and past massive Banyan trees our cavalier cabal of ageing cyclistees churned away, lungs and thighs on fire. Until eventually we came to rest in the restaurant car park, sweating like saturated sponges, externally congratulating one and all for a fine effort, internally each thinking "Oxygen bottle, isotonic drinks, body massage, then bed....."

The rest of the cycling hydra of mums' and kids' were buoyant and bellicose as they enjoyed the restaurant buffet fare with a frenzy. The men in the pack quiet and sombre - until the cold beers started to flow much later at the 'Villa Asante' in Canggu. But that’s another story

All in all it is a wonderful way to experience the 'Real Bali' - far from the sterile resorts of Nusa Dua or the human chaos at Kuta Beach. The Nav would do a Bali cycling holiday again in a heartbeat - although next time he'd ask for a hybrid bicycle, the lack of hi-tech hydrogen gas refilling stations in Bali notwithstanding!

Until his next report about the lighter side of life, this is The Nav reporting to you from the Denpassar Hospital Accident & Emergency ward. Out