I assumed the adventures were over. Enter Camp Treachery.

I really only went to Australia on a long layover between Indonesia and New Zealand. I was there for four days with two main objectives: to visit Herb, a friend of mine from college, and to see Sydney (And by Sydney, I mean a giant yellow rubber duck that was currently residing in Darling Harbor).

When I told my friend Herb of my plans, he suggested we go camping at a location outside of Sydney with some friend’s of a friend. It all sounded fine, the one drawback being that of course I wasn’t carrying any camping equipment…. but, Herb assured me that the group we were meeting up with would provide everything we needed – all we needed to do was show up.

As (my) luck would have it, on the day we set out for our camping adventure, temperatures soared to a withering 115 F – in fact it was the hottest day EVER recorded in Sydney. Joy. Even better – in some horrible combination of coincidences the car we planed to take on the four hour drive to the camp had no AC and had windows that didn’t roll down.

So to summarize – four people crammed in a car without AC or moveable windows setting off on a four hour drive on the hottest day in recorded history. Fun.

After only half an hour of driving we stopped for gas and I made a point of stocking up on several liters of water – I’ve read enough Bill Bryson to know how these stories usually ended up and I was dang sure I wouldn’t be the one contemplating a glass of my own urine when this thing started going down hill (some might argue we were already headed down hill).

The water bottles, fresh from the fridge, also helped cool me down for the rest of the drive and somehow, after four hours of driving and at least one (I assume unironic) playing of “Men at Work’s Land down Under” we finally reached our destaintion.

Camp Treachery

Herb and I at Camp

I wish I could say I made that name up –  but the fact of the matter is that someone decided that of all the names, in all the world, “Treachery” was the imagery he wanted for his middle of nowhere, rural Australian camp site. And as we rounded the last curve of a pitch black, narrow windy, gravel road and the headlights illuminated the old wooden sign – “Camp Treachery” seemed horribly appropriate.

(Rest assured, I’m not about to go all Deliverance on you – this story is more Wally World and less psychopathic hillbillies.)

I think in all of our heads, we had imagined this camp site as one or two tents located in a well lit field. Of course, as you probably might have assumed, the camp was actually acres and acres of land filled with hundreds of people in tents, cabins, and cars. It was pitch black and we had no idea where the others were. But, we had driven over four hours, the last thirty minutes spent twisting our way from civilization on a country road – we decided to try to find them.

Oh, we also had no flashlights and not a single one of our cell phones had service. Did I mention this was a well though out plan?

We hadn’t brought any food but we had stopped for a six back of canned gin and tonics (which I am pretty sure you can’t buy pre mixed in the US?), so we grabbed those and a few other items for the night and set out into Treacherous Territory.

The only directions we had was that the group was camped “near the Billabong” (Seriously, how Australian is that?) Naturally, no one we encountered had any knowledge that there was or ever had been a billabong anywhere near this campsite. As it turns out, Billabong means a large landlocked body of water and as we were near the beach the presence of a billabong would have been strange.

I had luckily been carrying one small pink flashlight that served as our only source of light as we wandered somewhat aimlessly through the endless campsite. It was nearing midnight and there was no sign that we were any closer to locating our destination.  Between the four of us, we had one, one-person tent and one sleeping bag. We had no food, no other shelter and only one very sad light source.

There was only one obvious solution and that was to sit down, on the dirt, in the pitch black and start drinking. After a few minutes of sipping on luke warm G and Ts we were approached by several helpful but drunk Aussies who joined the cause of locating our lost camping group. However, despite this somewhat un-lucid gathering of helpers we were not any closer – and even worse the only description we could provide was that we were searching for a group of Frog Researchers (I roll only with the coolest people).

I was all prepared to finish my drink and hunker down for a night on the ground (heck I’ve done worse) when it became clear that mother nature had other plans – with very little warning, the clouds opened up and it began to pour.

So, again, to summarize – the four of us are sitting on the ground, at midnight, a twenty minute walk from the car with no shelter, bedding or light source in the pouring rain. Things were going extremely well.

Fortunately for us, a nearby cooking shelter offered some relief from the storm and shockingly enough, after 15 minutes of watching the rain and contemplating making a dash for a motel, our drunk minions had actually returned from their quest to locate our frog researching friends successfully.

Now it was time to camp.

Unfortunately, whenever something is the biggest, best (or in this case finest) it gets overrun with visitors. Such is the situation with the Milfred which is so crowded that you must book slots on the trek up to six months in advance. Which of course I didn’t. The DOC (Department of Conservation) only allows 40 people to walk the trek at a time – and the huts only sleep 40 people.

Luckily, even if you aren’t one of the chosen few (which I’ve been told usually ends up being the more older, and more organized, set) NZ’s DOC has taken the time to organize many, many other walks for your enjoyment. Eight of them they have decided are so enjoyable as to be deemed “Great Walks.”

If you wish to go tramping (because in NZ, it’s tramping, never treking) along one of the Great Walks there are a few things to keep in mind:

• You must book in advance – must. If you show up without a reservation at a hut, the ranger as the right to charge you twice as much for a space. If there is no space, you will be turned out in the cold (quite literally)
• Some of the walks do allow camping, however not at every site. Make sure to do research beforehand to determine if camping is an option.
• Hut’s provide shelter, bathrooms, running water and bed’s with mattresses. They do not provide linens or pillows. There are also no trash cans – what you bring in, you must bring out.
• Some hut’s have gas stoves that can be used. However, you must bring all your own food and cooking utensils. No food or water is available for sale on the tramp, so you must bring everything you will need.
• You must pick up your tickets at the DOC site no more than two days before your departure.

Planning

With the exception of the Milfred Trek, which requires you to walk in a certain direction and to stay at every hut, great walks can be done at your own pace. You can take anywhere from one to five nights doing most of the treks.

My friend Herb planned our entire adventure and with the motto of “why do one great walk when you can do two?” went ahead and booked us to do the Routeburn and the Kepler in four days. The DOC estimated that each trek should take between 3-4 days and now we were signed up to do both in that amount of time.

Logistically it was a nightmare. Here is the schedule:

• Day 1: Drive from Queenstown to Glenorchy, spend the night in Glenorchy
• Day 2: Drive from Glenorchy to start of the Routeburn trek, walk 8 hours to third Routeburn Hut (walking past the other two).
• Day 3: Walk 6 hours to end of Routeburn trek. Drive two hours to Te Anu to pick up tickets to Kepler Trek and purchase food for Kepler Trek. Spend the night in Te Anu.
• Day 4: Walk 12 hours to second hut on Kepler Trek (skipping first hut)
• Day 5: Walk 10 hours to end of Kepler Trek and return to Te Anu

The schedule was daunting to be sure – but the most complicated part of the whole ordeal was figuring out transportation for three people to and from these treks. The Kepler is a loop, so you can at least leave your car in the parking lot. However, the Routeburn ends on the otherside of a mountain range which takes 5 hours to drive around.

Buses are crazy expensive and since we had a camper van we would need to take an additional bus back to the start to pick up the van. After working out the prices for three people on around 7 different buses, we ended up paying someone to pick our car up at the start of the Routeburn and drive it to the other end so it would be waiting for us when we arrived. (The service is called Trackhopper and they did a great job if you are interested).

The Hike

The two hikes were amazing – probably the best short hikes I’ve ever done (obviously not much beats Everest). Both the Routeburn and Kepler involve a hike that starts with a strong uphill followed by a few hours of scenic hiking before a descent back below the tree line.

The huts are spaced about 4 hours apart, but the hiking estimates seem to be pretty random. Sometimes we could knock out an estimated 6 hour hike in 4 hours, othertimes it would take 3 hours to do an planned 1.5 hour hike. It became very frustrating in planning lunch breaks and other stops.

However, the good news is that both hikes were totally doable in our planned two days. As long as you got an early start and understood that each day could be between 8 to 10 hours of hiking, we had no problem making it to our planned end points in plenty of time – even with several breaks and lunch stops.

At night we stopped at the huts where we made food with the provided gas cookers and generally just hung out until the sun went down. I highly recommend brining a book to read as there isn’t much to do at the huts. Sand flies were a huge problem on both hikes and I was usually covered in bites. They were so annoying that we had to spend most of the time we weren’t hiking inside the huts (They tend not to bother you if you are hiking).

Although the hikes were challenging, its not the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I think most people of reasonable fitness would have no trouble completing them in 2-3 days.

Kepler vs. Routeburn

I researched which of these two hikes was better before my trip and people seemed to be reluctant to choose a favorite. However, I think I can easily say that I enjoyed the Kepler much more than the Routeburn. The Routeburn is easier – by a long shot and does have amazing scenerary. So if you worried about your fitness level that would be my choice.

However, the Kepler is just, honestly, the most amazing views I have ever had. You spend about four hours hiking along a ridge well over the tree line overlooking the fjords. I forgot all about the fact the I was hiking because I enjoyed the sites so much.

In no particular order:

OB VII – Leon Uris

Sharp Objects – Gillian Flynn

Dark Places – Gillian Flynn

Gone Girl – Gillian Flynn

A Short History of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson

Dark Summit: The True Story of Everest’s Worst Season – Nick Heil

In a Sunburned Country – Bill Bryson

I’m a Stranger Here Myself – Bill Bryson

Behind the Beautiful Forevers – Katherine Boo

Exodus- Leon Uris

Armageddon: A Novel of Berlin – Leon Uris

One Day – David Nicholls

Into Thin Air – Jon Krakauer

Peony in Love – Lisa See

The Secret Race: Inside the Hidden World of Cycling – Tyler Hamilton and Daniel Coyle

Escape from Camp 14: One Man’s Remarkable Odyssey from North Korea- Blain Harden

Dreams of Joy – Lisa See

Shanghai Girls – Lisa See

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan – Lisa See

Shantaram – Gregory David Roberts

Breaking Dawn – Stephanie Meyer

The Book Thief- Markus Zusak

The Hangman’s Daughter- Oliver Potzsch

What Were We Thinking: Bicycling Through Asia – John Vogel and Nancy Sathre-Vogel

The Snow Child – Eowyn Ivey

Gypsy Boy – Mikey Walsh

Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague – Geraldine Brooks

Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding- Randy Frost and Gail Steketee

With just under a week left on my travels we will see how many more books I get through – But I am always looking for ideas!

What do you read when you travel?

Then, thanks to my epic worst day of travel, I arrived in Indonesia a day later than I anticipated. Then, thanks to ticket prices, I actually flew out to Australia a day earlier than expected. Then I found out that the visa on arrival is actually 30 days – not 28. All of this added up to the fact that instead of three days, I was only overstaying my visa by ONE day.

ONE measly day. Getting a visa extension for one day seemed like a huge pain.

Getting a visa extension is pretty much as complicated as getting a visa to countries that don’t allow visa on arrival. The first Indonesia visa is easy – simply arrive, pay your $40 and get your thirty day visa. If you want more time - you are out of luck. All they will give you on arrival is 30 days.

To extend the visa, you must visit the immigration office a week before your visa expires. For a fee of $25, plus a processing charge of $20 they will accept your application. If approved (which most people are) you must return to the immigration office two days later to sign your paperwork. Then two days later you can pick up your visa.

Of course they are closed on weekends and holidays.

At first, our plan was to extend our visas. After all, one day was one day and we didn’t want to take any chances. So, when we arrived in Bali, we headed to the immigration office..which had moved. After a wild goose chase, we finally hunted it down to the building near the airport. It was closed.

We had spent an hour searching for the building and missed out on some much needed beach time. The last thing we wanted was to come back the next day.

After some internet research, we decided to take our chances with overstaying our visa. According to our reading, the fee for overstaying the visa was $20 a day. We couldn’t find any information on when or where you paid this fee – all we knew was that it was much less time consuming and cheaper to take slap on the wrist and hope for the best.

Marten choose to extend his visa – and every two days we watched him make the long hike to the immigration office to wait in lines and stand around for hours getting everything processed.

If you do choose to extend your visa here is what you will need:

• A copy of your passport
• A passport photo
• A copy of your original visa
• A ticket out of the country
• Your passport

As D- day (departure day) approached, I got nervous. What if they detained me and I missed my flight? What if they tried to make me pay a huge fee? What if they actually threw me in jail. I’ve seen locked up abroad (yes, I use that show to judge most of my life choices.)

We decided to head to the airport early so we could try and resolve the issue prior to our flight.

Of course, you can’t check in more than two hours before your flight and I couldn’t find anyone to talk to about my problem. I couldn’t even get to immigration without a ticket. Eventually someone from the airline listened to my explination and then took my passport to a back room. After a long while, they returned an informed me that I was correct – I had no visa to Australia.

What?

I had already purchased my Australian visa so I knew that wasn’t an issue, and clearly they didn’t understand my issue. I had no choice but to just wait until it was time to check into my flight.

I got my ticket and headed to departures. After paying the departure tax I was sent to immigration where I presented my ticket and passport.

Then I waited.

He carefully surveyed my passport and finally said “You’ve overstayed your visa.”

Of course I had to feign shock. A really small amount of shock. But still, for appearances.

“What? No….Okay – how much do I owe”

He motioned me closer and then held up a note that said $20.

I had two tens in my hand which I quickly slid to him.

Momen

Thus began my Nevis adventure in Queenstown, New Zealand. Queenstown activities are an amazing array of crazy adventure sports for equally crazy people. Skydiving, canyoning, jet boating…the list goes on forever.

But, if your really wondering what to do in Queenstown, the obvious answer is Bungy Jumping. Bungy Jumping was invented in New Zealand by a guy named AJ Hackett who jumped off a 43 m bridge near Queenstown. Since then it’s spawned a range of crazier and more adrenaline pumping options – including the Nevis Combo: A massive 134 meter bungy jump into a river filled crater followed by a go at the world’s largest swing.

Of course, if you are a total wimp then there are some smaller versions as well, including the original 43 m jump.

But, I didn’t know any of this before I arrived in Queenstown. Shannon always talks about how if either of us ever went to NZ we would have to do the Bungy Jump so I felt oddly obligated to follow through. I had somehow heard of the Nevis jump and blindly signed up to go once I arrived. Then I put it out of my head until the morning of the jump.

That’s when I found out I had managed to sign myself up for the two biggest, baddest, scariest activities in town. I was totally wishing I could have been a wimp. But, it was too late. I was already on the bus on my way to what was probably certain death.

Sadly you can’t bring any friends, loved ones or will executors to see view your impending doom.  Because of the remote location, each spectator must pay $50 to come watch – so I was at it alone. I spent most of the 45 minute bus ride trying to focus on Bill Bryson’s thoughts on the world’s beginnings. Needles to say it didn’t work.

I just kept thinking, “What am I doing? Why did I sign up for this?”

By the time we arrived I was a bit of a nervous wreck. About 20 minutes was spent getting everyone in harnesses and weighing each of us to determine the jump order. Everyone’s weight was written on their hand with the heaviest going first and the lightest last. Lucky me, I somehow ended up going last – which meant I got to watch each and every terrifying jump before it was my turn for the leap.

Unlike a bridge jump where you just walk up to the jump site, you have to take a cable car to the Nevis. Its all a tremendous build up of terror and nerves. Honestly I wasn’t sure I would be able to jump.

I kept asking everyone if it was scary and almost everyone replied with something along the lines of:

“Of course it’s scary- you are jumping into a giant abyss with nothing but a glorified rope attached to your ankles…how could you think it wouldn’t be scary!?”

Then I found out that you can’t just jump off, or fall off. Not you must dive head first into thin air. That way your head doesn’t snap up when the cord catches your feet. And, before you ask – no they won’t push you. You have to get yourself off the ledge all by your lonesome.

Getting strapped in

One particularly encouraging employee looked me in the eyes and said “Well, I’d never do it. It’s too high. Too Scary.”

Gee, D Pane (actual name, kid you not)…thanks for the pep talk.

Before long it was my turn. I got all strapped up to the Bungy and shuffled to the launch pad. I took one look over the edge and thought NOPE! Not going to happen. L’appel du Vide my ass.

Don't let the very forced smile fool you

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” I said and turned to leave.

Sadly, my bungy man had other ideas. He basically did the opposite of what people do when they talk someone down from a ledge. He somehow, after several moments of me trying to leave, convinced me to jump into oblivion.

Oh and what a spectacularly ridiculous jump it was. Instead of the graceful swan dive I had imagined  in the moments leading up to the jump, I did more of a tiny hop off the edge. Which means instead of your typical head first bungy, I had more of an awkward strait down fall followed by a jerk when the cord caught my feet.

Then for some reason my body didn’t really understand what was happening. I began to flap my arms around wildly as if I could somehow catch myself or take off in flight – it was a disaster.

Dear god, make me a bird, so I can fly..far far away.

To make matters worse, I then had to release my feet so they could two me back up to the launch area. You are supposed to do this on the second “up bounce” but I became so disoriented I tried to release it before I even finished the first bounce. Of course the mechanism won’t allow this so I just ended up, upside down, feet strung up, gripping the bungy cord with my hands and swinging around like an idiot.

But I didn’t care – I was just so happy that I didn’t have to jump off any large structures any time in the near future.

(If you want to see the jump video in all its glory you can check it out here.)

Then I remembered the swing. I like to think of this as a family blog, so I won’t transcribe my thoughts at the moment but they weren’t pleasant.

As it turns out the swing was a blast. Which is good – after all this should all be fun. I was so excited to be done with my Bungy that I was all smiles as I strapped into the giant swing and prepared for my departure. I even went backwards to up the ante.

The best part of the swing is you don’t have to jump yourself – the whole thing is rigged up to a release button so you just site back and enjoy.  Also, I’m happy to report I managed to keep my composure much better during my swing experience.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: In exchange for this review, I received a discount on my jump as well as access to photos and videos. As always, all thoughts and opinions are my own.

In Mongolia, I met two Danish girls who I ended up traveling with for a few weeks. In Beijing, we met up for dinner and they began to relay the odd events of their day. They had apparently met these local Chinese girls who had invited them for tea…

As soon as I heard the start to their story my heart sank for them.

“Oh, no. How much was the tea?”

As the story goes, the girls were really friendly and nice. They took their new ‘friends’ to a local tea house where tea was served in an elaborate tea ceremony. Afterwards the bills was brought – to the tune of $100.

I felt so bad for them, especially as they realized they had fallen for the most famous scam in China. I felt very wise as I shared my advice. Ah, these young, innocent travellers. Thank goodness I was there to impart my wisdom.

Of course, not three months later I was scammed in the most obvious (in retrospect) way ever.

It started when we rented scooters in Bali. For $5 a day, the four of us could zip around the Island on our own personal transportation. We loved the freedom and it allowed us to access remote beaches and interesting temples we would have never have otherwise been able to visit.

On our second day of driving around, while we were heading to a beach for surf lessons, a roadside cop stepped out in front of one of our scooters and motioned for us to pull over. Both scooters pulled into a nearby parking lot and got off the bikes to talk to the cop.

He seemed edgy and motioned for us to follow him to the back – I assumed to the location of the police office. I was super nervous – had we broken the law? We were driving well below the speed limit and were all wearing helmets. But, I’ve seen enough locked up abroad to know that these police mean business – I just hoped to pay up and get out of here as quickly as possible.

The cop took us to the back to a weird construction area. He informed us that were were driving without licenses and that we had ran a red light – the total fine was about $50.00 each. He quickly flashed us a sheet of paper listing the fines, but snatched it away before I read it carefully. I wasn’t sure the rules on international licenses in Indonesia (plus, I wasn’t actually driving) but I knew we hadn’t ran a red light.

“What red light?” I asked. He immediately told me that was just a warning. We just needed to pay the fine for driving without the license. I was just relieved to have our fine halved… I didn’t even question the red light issue.

We started to search around in our bags for the $25 he demanded. We were taking a long time and he suddenly snatched the money from my hand and claimed that $20 would be enough. We were all still in shock so we stood there trying to figure out how much money we had just paid.

One of my friends asked how we would get home and the cop informed us it was okay to keep driving now that we had paid the fine. However, he couldn’t provide us any kind of receipt to show other cops. As we continued to ask for a receipt he decided the fine we had paid was too high and gave each of us another $5 back.

Again, none of these struck me as strange.

Not the weird back room transaction.

Not the cops odd behavior.

Not the urgency in which all these transactions were conducted.

I was just happy to get back on the bikes and head off. It wasn’t until 10 minutes later that I realized something was off…

Was that an actual cop?

Did we just get scammed?

Why didn’t I notice how strange the while situation was?

We never did determine if we had paid a valid fine or if we had been scammed. Indonesia does require a valid driver’s license which we didn’t have – and the cops do pull over a large number of tourists to bust them on small infringements. However, the way in which the fine was demanded and paid was beyond odd.

What do you think? Scam or valid fine?

I had been reading about the planning a houseboat tour of the Kerela Backwaters since I saw a Bourdain special on it a few years ago. It looked amazing and seemed to be a really relaxing way to end our India trip.

For some reason, I had a hard time determining how to go about booking a backwaters tour – like so many other things on this trip we decided to just go to the general area and hope for the best. So we headed to Fort Cochi and as it turns out it was beyond easy to find a place to book a houseboat rental for us. Looking forward to an extended rest we decided to book three nights on our own private house boat – which by the way is a ridiculous thing to be booking as a twenty-something backpacker. But, it was surprisingly affordable. We kept looking at each other and giggling “I can’t believe we just chartered a boat!”

The house boat booking included the crew and all meals plus an air con bedroom and private bathroom. After hunting down some wine and a few bottles of beer (no mean feet in India) we were ready to set sail.

I’ve heard that three nights can be too long on the houseboats – but for us it was perfect. Three long days of reading, drinking wine and admiring life go by on the quiet backwaters.

At night we would dock by the river bank. Twice we walked into a nearby town for foot massages. Other times we just stayed up late chatting and enjoying the luxury of having NOTHING to do. Very often we were visited by some of the local boys who were curious about our arrival.

Here are some pictures of the boat if you are interested:

Sydney has everything you expect in a large Western city – public transportation, abundant air conditioning, pedestrian walkways, hug stores selling everything you could every need. Its my first time out of Asia in months and despite being thousands of miles from Washington DC in a city I’ve never been close to before – I feel like I’m home.

However, nothing has impressed me more than the presence of free toilet paper that can be found in every toilet in the city. Something which, needless to say, almost never happens in Asian countries.

I never really got used to carrying around toilet paper during my trip. They say after 30 days of doing something (working out, flossing, etc) it becomes a habit, but that certainly has not held true for the past five months ( but then again, 26 years later and flossing still doesn’t seem to have taken, sorry Dr. Wan).  The number of times I walked into a toilet and thought “oh gosh not again” started to become frustrating after the 1000th time.

Perhaps its just a lifetime of never wanting for toilet paper – my parents literally spoiled me with more toilet paper than I could ever need, my place of employment has never failed to meet my or my coworkers TP needs, at home I even keep extra rolls in my cabinet just because I can, even the local fast food joints seem to keep things up to snuff.

Pretty much nowhere in South East Asia, China or India provided toilet paper – the place is truly bereft (There is interesting discussion to be had about what the locals do – are they constantly packing? Do they go without? Do they utilize that weird toilet hose that can be found on toilets with in door plumbing? If that’s that case doesn’t is just leave their drawers more soggy?). Obviously, I don’t expect every bus stop and public toilet to be well stocked, but even restaurants and hotel rooms are often without. Some hotels require you to purchase your own while others are happy to run out and purchase a roll if you give them money. This begs this question of why they can’t simply roll (haha no pun intended) the cost into the price of a room (Upgrade now for our special Toilet Paper Package! Just $1 a day more. Seriously, I would sign up every time).

Anyway, needless to say I am thankful to see it appearing in public restrooms in Sydney. I am hoping that between this and my upcoming month in New Zealand my toilet paper woes are over. Hopefully I’ve cleared up enough brain power to focus on that flossing goal.

Not matter, on Bali there was plenty of time to lay in the beach while it was sunny and plenty to explore during the rainy weather.

However, by the time we flew to Flores (a neighboring island in Indonesia) we were ready for some sun. We had planned two very weather dependant activities – the first was a trip to the famous Kelimutu Craters and the second was a two day tour of the famous Komodo Islands.

The Kelimutu Craters, which are located in Eastern Flores are unique because of the three colorful crater lakes the can be seen from the crater ridge. Each lake is a different color and the colors change every few months. No one knows exactly what causes them to change, only that the colors are somehow related to the minerals released due to geothermal activity. Currently, the lakes were rumored to be turquoise, red and black.

In order to visit the Craters we actually had to fly two hours out of our way, spend the night in the village of Moni and then driver twelve hours back to Western Flores where we would catch our boat to the Komodo islands. It was a hike, for sure, but the Crater Lakes were supposed to be so amazing that we were sure it would be worth it.

However, when we arrived in Moni the night before our visit we found out that it had been so cloudy the previous three days that no one had even been able to see the lakes – too foggy. A pair of Dutch girls had been going up to the mountain for days – extending their stay in hopes of eventually spotting the colorful craters. Sadly, things didn’t look great for us the next day either and we didn’t think we could extend our stay without missing the Komodo tour.

Did we just go a day out of our way for nothing?

Our hostel owner assured us that there was no reason to wake up for the sunrise, so we slept in until 8 had breakfast and headed up to the mountains. The sun was out at the base of the mountain, so we all crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

Sadly, when we arrived it was just as cloudy and rainy as ever. We stood at the first lookout point and starred into a never-ending white abyss. Darn.

We decided to head to the second lookout point even though we could already see the thick clouds covering the ledge. On our way there we ran into the Dutch girls. They had woken up earlier and headed to the mountain. Through the fog they said they had caught a brief glimpse of the lake.

Maybe if we had woken up earlier we would have seen something?

Feeling sad and worrying that we had wasted a few days we decided to sit down and stare at the whiteness in hopes that something would happen. At this point we were all soaking wet from the rain and cold from the wind but we couldn’t give up just yet.

Several tourists came and went while we sat. They would look forlornly at the nothingness and then sadly clutch their coats and trudge back down the mountain.  Still we waited.

Then, amazingly, miraculously, something DID happen. Suddenly the could blew away, the sun came out and there, sparkling below us was the three amazing crater lakes.

The crater lakes were incredible, really and truly. But, they seemed even more amazing thanks to the  special little viewing window we managed to snag.

Most of the other tourists had abandoned hope by that point, so for half an hour we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We took photos and explored a few of the lookout points, but then just as quickly as things had cleared, the clouds and rain rolled back in and it was time to head out.

Not a week after I posted an article bemoaning the dumb choices traveller’s make, I did the most idiotic thing I’ve done on my trip so far.

I got bitten by a mongoose.

But let’s back up and start at the beginning. A few weeks ago, I posted about having tried to famous Indonesian “Cat Poop Coffee.” Since our first experience with the brew had been at a mall kiosk, we decided to spend some time visiting the coffee plantations and checking out the cats behind the coffee.

Our first stop was a local man who had set up shop outside a temple in Bali. He himself owned two of the Civet Cats which he kept as pets and used to produce his coffee. The two “cats” lounged around the shop and allowed patrons to pet them and play with them using a large feather duster.  In essence, they were totally tame.

The next day, we headed to a coffee plantation to see the entire process from bean to cup. I’m not much of a coffee person, but it was interesting to see how the beans are harvested, roasted and ground up to make coffee.

As with the shop owner, the plantation also had some Civet Cats on hand to help produce their expensive beans. They kept them in a large cage near the restaurant so that you could watch them play as you ate.

Of course I decided to get a closer look and thats when the real excitement happened. Of course, by excitement I mean horrible decision making.

The four of us gathered around to take pictures and one of the cats woke up and came to nose around by our cameras. Without so much as a thought in my head, I stuck my pointer finger in to pet it’s head just like I had done before with the tame cats.

Again, I’m an idiot.

I should pause here and mention that while I am using the term “cat” these are not actually cats. They are large ferret like things that very closely resemble the mongoose. Many of the signs and menus in Indonesia actually refer to them as Mongeese. Anyway back to the story.

Pure Evil

As soon as I stuck my finger in it’s cage, the little jerk spun around and bit my finger. All of the sudden this large angry rodent thing had clamped its fangs into the most important finger on my most important hand…and he wasn’t letting go.

If I had to estimate how long I was caught in this evil mastermind’s weasely clutches I would have to estimate it was somewhere around an hour, hour and a half. Of course, my friends insist it was closer to 3 – 4 seconds.

Sadly, I’ve been bitten by many a cat in my day and while it’s not my ideal way to spend time, its nowhere near as painful as the bite from this mongoose. The glorified coffemate got such a good hold on my finger that he managed to inflict three puncture wounds – one of the pad of my finger and two more going through my nail.

Luckily, I was fine. Our taxi driver had a oddly well stocked first aid kit readily available and I was soon cleaned up and bandaged. Besides the possibility that the plantation may need to release a limited edition Liz flavored coffee, there were no ill effects.

Even though I freely admit that the viscous mongoose attack was technically my fault, Shannon had to spend a better part of an hour talking me out of my wild plans to sneak back into the plantation that night to exact my revenge.