Hi Gram,
I didn’t sleep well last night. I was exhausted throughout the day and went to bed early after dinner, but I think the ginger tea that I had with dinner was black tea mixed with ginger. I felt caffeinated and alert as I got into bed and I was tossing and turning all night. I was wide awake at 5am listening to the rooster crowing and pecking at the metal dish on the other side of my wall. Actually, I found out that it wasn’t a rooster. It was the neighbor practicing drum playing, but very poorly. In any case, I got up and had breakfast with the gang, then the four of us headed out on the scooters while Ashley, Stephen and Becky headed out with a driver for the day.
The FFMC (Financial Freedom Motorcycle Club) headed first towards broken beach. The roads were a little torn up and worn, but the four of us found our driving rhythm, following a single file most of the ride, passing cars or other scooters when they were slow or preparing to turn into a driveway. We were all expecting broken roads from Amy’s warnings, but I don’t think anyone expected them to be so narrow. I’ve been on bicycle paths that were wider than these roads, and we had vans passing each other here. I’m not exaggerating either. I felt squeezed on the scooter, riding right along the edge of the pavement, passing an oncoming van hugging the opposite shoulder.
Some parts of the road were even narrower or would have a huge pothole eating up half or more of the road. That’s not to say that the roads were cratered everywhere – there were stretches that had been recently paved – but they were all that narrow. We turned off the road onto a gravel driveway heading to Broken Beach and immediately longed for the smoothness of the cratered pavement. After we rattled our teeth for a bit on that rocky road, we paid our 5000 INR ($0.32USD) entrance fee, then parked our sleds. There were maybe 20 scooters and five or six cars in the lot when we arrived. We left the scooters to take a break while we walked down what we figured was the path. Kevin had a great idea and we just followed where the tour guides were leading their passengers. It was cool looking down on the beach far below and watching the surf crash up against the rocks and wash back across the flats.
It was also kind of funny seeing the instagrammers posing for their picture with the scenic backdrop, looking like they were the only person on the island. Ten feet away, there was another instagram influencer with a similar pose and cameraman showing their followers how they were living the best life. We followed the path up and down uneven steps and rocks in a circular route over a natural bridge until we were back at the parking lot.
The place was starting to fill up, so we headed to our rides and saw that the parking lot now had hundreds of scooters and the cars had overflowed into more distant parking lots. What I’m saying is that the place was popular!
We hustled on down the road to the next stop, Kelingking beach. It wasn’t far down the road, but the ride provided plenty of potholes and crazy experiences for our memory banks. After we tied off our horses, we followed the crowd along another set of uneven steps carved out of stone. The mob passed by countless merchants selling hats, water, and souvenirs as we approached another eye-popping sight to behold.
Mark kept going down the steps for a bit while the rest of us paused to look out at the ocean and see if we could find a good spot to get away from the crowd. We found a platform where we could get our picture taken for only 5000 INR. We waited for the other tourists to clear out, then we loaded up and posed with the view behind us.
Our crazy photographer climbed up on the balcony in a pair of flip flops and leaned back to take our photo. The only thing between him and the rocks far below was his sense of balance and lots of hope but he acted as carefree as if he was standing on a tiny step stool. Mark returned from his stairs quest and we all continued up the steps to get back to the entrance. Hot and hungry, we stopped at one of the vendors for ice cream and a break. While my companions chose modern treats, I picked a chocolate corn on a stick. She happily sold it to be for a pittance, a sign that she was happy to sell the thing and get it out of her display case. It turned out to be ice cream(?) wrapped in a stale cookie shell shaped like corn on the cob all mounted on a popsicle stick. Sometimes you get a dessert that is a delicious treat, and sometimes you get something that makes for a funny story. It wasn’t that bad for the story I got out of it.
Next, we were off to Diamond Beach at the south end of the island. Our ride so far had been full of potholes and excitement, but relatively brief compared to the next hour of driving. We had more of the same – alternating between smooth new pavement and rough pock-marked pavement; clear roads with no other vehicles became congested narrow roads squeezing between a truck and a drop-off or a van and a wall; open roads through rice fields or narrow villages with interesting architecture, winding roads, and a random chicken or dog trotting across the street. When we arrived at the beach, we felt like we’d earned it.
We looked around a little and saw the beach far below then decided that lunch was a good idea before descending the stairs. I had a chicken sandwich that was ten feet of bun and three inches of chicken. It was comical but well seasoned and tasty. Kevin and David shared a pizza that looked like it was built of legos. The cheese was blocky with definite edges and lines, but each block was the size of my thumb or larger. The looks on their faces was priceless.
After lunch, we decided to check out the beach. The beach, however, was far below and the only way down was a set of stairs carved into the rock face. What started as a narrow staircase wide enough for one person (but with people trying to climb up past those of us headed down) with a rope as a handrail soon met a switchback and doubled back on itself. There were a few of these on the way down and the rope stopped a few steps short of the turnaround at each one. Each of us was left to navigate the uneven steps around the curve leaning in toward the wall a little until we could reach the next “hand rail”. The stairs ran out before we reached bottom because the rock wall turned to boulders. There were a couple of ropes anchored into the boulders and each person took turns repelling down the boulders using the rope to control their descent. After a few people reached the bottom, the direction of traffic would reverse and a few people would ascend. Everyone took turns and we were all friendly and helpful to the people on the rope. Soon, the four of us reached bottom where we found white sand, crashing waves, and all the instagrammers one could hope for.
Very quickly, a hustler came up and offered us bean bags and umbrellas to get out of the sun for a small fee. I don’t think he worked there or had any control over the umbrellas and bean bag chairs, but we happily paid him and planted ourselves in the shade. The next hour or so was peaceful and relaxing as we watched one person after the next take turns posing with the waves crashing or boulders in the background.
Mark pointed out a treehouse atop the hill that we’d just descended from that is apparently Airbnb famous. We all agreed that we’d be a little scared to stay there, as rickety as it looked, but noted that we’d seen it. Kevin got up and posed like the instagrammers, flexing and geeking the camera. In an instance of perfect angles, Mark got a shot of him posing in the foreground with an instagrammer making the same pose in the background. It was hillarious!
Once we were done posing and lounging, we gathered up all of our stuff and decided to make the climb back up. It was just as harrowing on the way up as it was on the way down, although I felt a little more confident. I’d seen it before and falling up doesn’t hurt as much as falling down. If you fall down, there might not be anything to stop you and you could tumble all the way to the bottom. We each grabbed a water and some shade, then mounted our hogs and headed down the road to the next spot. The drive was as smooth as we could hope for and more fun than we expected. I was actually a little sad when we pulled into “The Chill”, our next bar on the route. We parked the bikes and walked down the stairs to a lounge vibe bar complete with a pool and view of the ocean. We found a spot near the back with couches to lounge on and probably took up more space than needed. We felt like rock stars, spread out on soft bench couches with wait staff bringing our tapas and drinks. I had three of these delicious watermelon drinks that all went down so smooth while we chatted about our adventures so far and discussed what was next.
As the bar filled up, we decided to give up our seats and hit the road. We rode for a while, passing through town and doing a little people watching as we whizzed by. We saw our hotel but just kept going, curious about what was at the end of the road. What followed was the bumpiest, crappiest road we’d been on yet. Pavement turned to gravel, which quickly turned to baseball-sized rocks mixed with ditches and puddles. It eventually delivered us to a bar at the end of all of that.
They weren’t going to let us in, but Kevin finagled us past them just in time to see the sun set. We admired the view, then hightailed it out of there before they realized we didn’t have a table or reservation. Another bumpy, awful ride back up the hill and we were soon parking our rides and walking in to recount our stories with our friends who’d taken a van to see many of the same sites. After a little conversation and picture sharing, I grabbed my laundry from the hotel staff, took a shower, and headed to sleep.