The Man Who Rode Around Borneo - 11 Wild Kalimantan

There was an eerily silence. The police officer stepped closer to where I was standing. The thought of back tracking from there was just too much. I am in no mood to pedal back 25km out from the blardy oil palm plantation, from there pedal another 20km into Lundu and back into Kuching before I can ride into Tebedu about 100km from Kuching. That was like 140 scorching kilometres away. I don’t have that much juice for today and do not like to be turned around when I am already so near Kalimantan. The police officer was now closed enough to explain it to me why I cannot cross from there.

“We cannot guarantee your safety and we know what it is like over there. We drove in there before sometime ago.” He spoke for the first time. He sounded very serious about my safety. I can tell for his tone.

Ah. If that was their only reasoning, I am not breaking any international law border crossing then. I could still cross if I can explain it better why I needed to cross here and today. Not from Tebedu and not tomorrow. It needed to make it sound serious, urgent and important.

“I appreciate your thought, Sir. Perhaps let me cross the Malaysian side, when I am over there...” I pointed over his shoulder towards Kalimantan, “I will assess the situation and at anytime if I feel unsafe, I will come back”. It was the best I could offer them and for a moment, I felt I had convinced him to let me passed. If pushed come to shove, I’ll repeat it with a “Please!” in the front.

They didn’t budge. The custom officer excuses himself and went back in to where he had come from. A moment later, an older high ranking officer showed up with the younger custom officer from earlier walking towards me. The senior officer was briefed on my mission. The senior officer politely emphasized the situation across the border and it was best that I turn around. I repeated my mission and my suggestion to the police officer earlier that I will come back if the situation was unsafe. By now there were other plain clothes officers around me. After a short negotiation, the Chief of the ICQ agreed and I was asked to lay out my electronic equipments for Customs formality checked. It got interesting immediately after. While I was lying up my electronic equipments, the senior custom officer jumps on my bike and went for a fun ride around the back of the CIQ Complex. I don’t have a problem with that but behind my rear rack, with the loads down, there was a loose bungee cord used for securing my rear-rack bag and that cord got entangle with the spokes while the officer was having fun in between his legs on my bike. I was angry, maybe pissed but I just smiled when he returned back the bike. I saw some of the spokes slightly bent and the bungee cord hooked was in one of the spokes. I told myself to check it later on when I have cross the border. Blardy hell, just when I thought I am about to start my cycling adventure, a clueless Chief of the CIQ jump on my bike for a blardy fun ride. I laughed and told the senior custom officer not to worry about it. Inside I was fuming mad! After laying all my electronics nicely on my ground sheet, the old army style, I was told everything was alright and I can pack it into my panniers. They don’t even bother to take a look at it.

I was then directed to the immigration office for exit stamp. After all the formality with the immigration, the lone police officer took my passport, photocopied it and told me just in case if I went missing across the border. I felt safe hearing that. Malaysians are really nice bunch of people. They are. I love visiting Malaysia and I won’t get tired of it. I was also given his contact number and he took my number down. This was again “for security” reason.

We shook hands, say my goodbyes and I pedal towards Kalimantan slowly – I was having doubts! Much as I wanted to go into Kalimantan and finish Ride Around Borneo, It was really hard to leave Sarawak, especially Kuching. People in Kuching have left a very good impression of Malaysians and how it should be, friendly happy people and generous. What I saw next on the Indonesian side was surreal, the opposite of Kuching. From a distance, I saw something like a bomb was just dropped into that general area of the Kalimantan side ICQ. Too bad I couldn’t take any picture.

Before the Kalimantan ICQ at the ‘no-man-land’, there sat bunch of “thugs” sitting on their motorbike hustling me for small change. I smiled and pretended like it was a joke. One guy followed me on his motorbike and keeps harassing me in Bahasa telling me to spare him some change. I ignore him and just smiled. The Kalimantan ICQ looked abandoned long time ago and it seems they are back there because of me. On the left side of the crossing entering Kalimantan was closed. Everything there was stripped apart. Immigration booths windows missing, lightings missing, gantry gate missing, rubbish strewn everywhere and it was like a garbage dumping area. The building paintwork was fading and peeled. Everything there was like a stage for World War II movie filming. I turn right approaching the ICQ and rode against the traffic, not like there was traffic to talk about and in the middle of the 6 to 7 gantries entering towards Sarawak, I saw a group of uniform officers sitting around on the kerbs and all eyes on me. The feeling at that time was like trespassing a restricted area. I was nervous. I pedal slowly towards them. One officer a big guy stood up and asked me where I am headed too.

I stop my bike, and look at the rest sitting on the kerb. “Kalimantan, Pak”.
“Where are you from?” The big guy asked again.

I told him I am from Singapore, was there to cycle around Borneo. I continued telling him that I started from Kota Kinabalu and that morning I was from Lundu. All in one breathe. He approached me, asked for my passport, flips it a few times, stops at one page, scrutinised it, looks up at me and asked how he can help.

“I need to get through here and if you or your officer can give me 60 days, I think that be appreciated”. I spoke softly in a broken Bahasa Indonesia.

He gestured for me to follow him and leave my bike behind. I followed him with my bike in tow. He turned and repeated to leave my bike behind. “I will leave it behind where I can see it.” I told him. Inside the big empty building, albeit one chair and one table with few rubber stamps in a small box that was it. He flips my passport again and checked every stamp on it.

“Where is your white card?”
“I have it in my bag. Please wait”. I reached it in my handlebar bag and handed it over to him. He struck out the 60 days, struck out everything else and asked that I go write a new one. I obliged and went to a corner, put the card up on the wall and wrote in the information on the new card given to me. I sense there will be troubled. I hand it over to him the new card still with a request of 60 days. Long story short, I got 30 days and everything else went smoothly. Outside, I requested for a group photo with the officers and was declined.

I say my thank you to everyone outside, wish them the best and rode exiting the immigration area. Just about 50 meters outside the immigration area, on the right there was one Border post manned by Indonesian Military. I saw about five TNI officers was watching me from where they stood and one on the phone talking with his eyes directly on me. I do not want to create any tension between them so I raised my right hand to say hi. I got them to smile in respond with their hands raised. I turn right inside the compound, dismount and pushed my bike towards them and asked if I can check my route With them. Everything turns friendly and while asking questions and listening to their reply, I saw one Tentera Diraja Malaysia (ATM) among them and ask what he was doing there. The reply I got was that it’s normal to have neighbouring officers on each side to provide and share intelligent. Well that was what they told me. I am sure there were more. As for my route, they nailed it to a ‘T’ and with one downside. A bicycle can’t pass on most part of the route. I wasn’t as shocked as seeing their ICQ but I was keen to know why. They pointed me to their service dirt bikes and told me they needed that to go to the nearest proper town, Gading about 50km away! I asked, “How long?”

“ 3 hours!”. One officer responded.

“Did you say 50km in 3 hours?” I asked them to repeat for me so i can register it in my head. It’s either they are slow or the road ahead was really bad.
“Yes, because it’s jungle and bad jungle road”. One officer emphasized it without batting an eyelid.

I was momentarily numb and disappointed. I just don’t know what to do for a while. Turning around was the easiest thing to do but I figured going forward was the only way for Ride Around Borneo. I thank the TNI officers and pushed my bike slowly out of the compound. That day and at that point was the lousiest part of my whole Ride Around Borneo. It was just past noon and I was starving. The urged to get out of there was so great that I just quickly replenish my water, check my rear spokes, did a little truing, deflated my tyres as I will be going off-road and left. Basing on the information given by the TNI officers collectively, I will see the Police Post at 8km mark, Dayak village 12km mark and a very small nondescript town 20km mark and make a left turn at a junction for another 30km for Gading, a small township. I visualized the route in my head and acknowledged that Gading was out of the equation. Moving out from small border town Kampung Arouk, I have a mixed feeling about the route ahead. I rode slowly looking left and right. Every building that I saw was broken or in a state of disrepair and some abandoned.  I saw people staring in the distance and there was emptiness in the village. One coffeeshop I rode past filled with youth giving me stabbing stare. Just hours ago, I was from a different world called Sarawak. I was now feeling the hostility already being in Kalimantan.

My thought went back to where I last came from, Kuching in Sarawak. The friends I met there, the food I ate, the places I went to visit and most importantly my host, Simon and family. It was actually difficult to leave Simon’s place but I needed to move on. I remembered Simon welcomed me on my way in to Kuching and the sped I needed to pull to chase him. It was painful but so much fun. If I was given a choice, I would like to be back in Kuching for a holiday. No bicycle, just me and friends in Kuching having steamboat dinner, visit the hot springs, trekking and dirt bikes.

I was drifting away and losing focus when suddenly a loud exhaust sound of a bike coming from the front woke me up from my day dreaming. A young guy with a rifle slinging on his shoulder gave me the fierce look when he rode past me. Just when I thought it was just me dreaming another young guy rode past me also with a rifle slung on his shoulder, this time a sniper rifle. I was stunned. I should really turn back with the hope to meet them upfront. Why would I want to meet someone who behaves like a bandit? I have no idea. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.

By now I was losing hope of going on farther after seeing where those two rifle slinging youngsters came from. There could be more. My initial aimed was to reach Gading before dark and that was it. 50km is not far and it was realistic enough for me. I wanted to visualise and drew up a mental route but the area I was in just too hostile to begin with. The moment I passed the Police Post, the track turned into rocks surface. Not gravel, but rocks! and the climb begins. It wasn’t like those climb in Sarawak, on proper tarmac roads, this was worst. It was broken road, broken bridges and steep up climb. To top it all, I was a jungle road. Before I could make any more decision, the clouds darkened and I knew the next step was to get the hell out of there. Now with the changed of weather, going forward was out of the question, I turned around and went back to where I came from, Kampung Arouk. My immediate tasking was to look for a shelter and get some reliable info from the local and hopefully I can better picture the road ahead for tomorrow, if I ever make it out for tomorrow.

Coming back in to Kampung Arouk, the rain came. I look right, one coffeeshop filled with the same people that were giving me the stabbing look only this time it was with more people. I pedal down another 20 meter and look to my left, another coffeeshop but empty. Usually an empty coffeeshop says a lot about their coffee quality or their service. But then, an empty coffeeshop was a good sign for me to rest and hope a local lorry driver will stop by. Wait; did I say a local lorry driver? It has been 2 hours since I was there and I was the only one that past that border and no one else. What lorry driver I am talking about. I am on my own if I don’t hook up with the local quick as it was getting dark.

I dismounted from my bike, find a place to lean it against and asked the ‘warung’ owner for a cup of coffee.  I sat very near where I leaned my bike and start looking out for sign of friendly local. My coffee came and I threw my first question immediately to the old man, he looks like he is running the business.

“Do you have a lot of visitors here?” I asked in Bahasa Indonesia. 
“What do you mean?” He placed my coffee on the table.
“Do have many people come in here from there?”. I pointed towards Kampung Biawak, Sarawak.
“Oh yea, only illegal crossing. They crossed here illegally to work in Sarawak and coming back in after earning enough money”. He pulled out a chair and sat next to me.

I did a quick visual screen on the old man. He was in fact the owner, been in the area since 1996 before the border crossing was open. Come in from the interior and a Dayak. In return, I told him where I was from, what I was doing there and where I am heading into. This is how I usually build my rapport with the local by releasing some basic information about myself.

“Where are you going from here?”. He asked.
“Sambas...I am trying to get to Sambas tomorrow.” I stuck to my plan and share it with him.
“With that?” He pointed at my bike.
“Yes, I am cycling to Sambas. Why?”
He just shook his head and gave me the “you can’t make it” looked. I’ve seen the route ahead. Just a little bit. The folks at the military post highlighted about the condition of the road. I believed the old man when he told me I can’t ride my bike through but what I didn’t know was how bad the terrains was and how many climbs. Yes that I didn’t know. Even Google cannot provide that sort of information. The old man directed me to another coffee shop 50 meter down the road on the right and to look for a guy name Dodo. Apparently he is a season travellers between Kampung Arouk and Sambas. This can also mean business opportunity for Dodo. I was told he can help me with my route as it’s like a spider web in the jungle road.

“Where can I stay tonight if I can’t leave today?”.  I asked the old man.
“Come back here after you talk to Dodo. You can sleep upstairs.”

I finished my coffee, made payment and rode to the other coffeeshop. A lady name ‘Mak Long’ greeted me and laughed when I told her I am looking for Dodo. I don’t know why but she seems happy to see me.

“Where are you going?” Mak Long asked. “Sambas” I am tired repeating the same answer. “With that thing?” Mak Long pointed at my bike. “Yes.” I answer sounding very tired.

And receiving the same, “You cannot reach Sambas with that”. I am more determined to cycle there now ignorantly. Mak Long called out Dodo, the man I was looking for appeared and he looked every bit like a village businessman.  We shook hand, I introduced myself and told him how I get to know about him. Without beating about the bush, he told me straight I can’t cycle to Sambas and the only way was for him to send me there, costing RM500.00 if there should be no other passenger and that was after discount since someone recommended me to him. Very expensive too, I know.  Interesting character and I wasn’t put off with his arrogance. In fact, I continue on to befriended him and asked him why it was so expensive. He happily asked for my maps and pointed to me on the map where and which area that brought his cost up map. He also showed me all the red spots he will need help in case something when wrong. Steep climbs there, broken road, here, broken bridges, here, there and there. In total, 70km of bad road or people there termed it as “Jalan Jahat”, loosely translated ‘naughty road’.

Well, I don’t have RM500.00 to start with and even if I have that extra, I rather save it for Ride Around Borneo other contingencies. But his information match what the military officers provided me. I am happy with his information and offered to buy him a cup of coffee. He bought me one instead. Very smooth.

“You cannot go back in there today, it is late and the rain going to get heavier. Try early tomorrow  morning. If you failed, I will arrange for a friend to pick you up.” He spoke like a friend this time but still sounded serious.  We exchanged number.

“Can I still contact you when I am in there?” I asked.
“Call me before you go in, ok?” He replied.
“Even from here I don’t have connection”. I reminded him.
“Oh, keep trying, sometime the reception no good”.


Just before I could sip my coffee, the rain got heavier. Dodo looks at the rain and told me that rain will last until night time and I was lucky not to be in that jungle. I was glad not to continue riding in there as I know what it will be like in jungle when it rain. The experienced came from my off-roading days some years back. We sat around and chatted for at least two more hours before the rain slowed down and that was when I saw the young gun (the one with the sniper rifle) past right in front of the coffeeshop. Without hesitation, I shook Dodo hand, say my thanks, grabbed my handle bar bag on the table, ran to my bike, mounted and locked the handlebar bag, jump on my bike and gave chase to that young gun. I was crazy. In a normal situation, I would ignore him, but I have nothing to lose. Approaching him was my best option and see if that rifle was real also if it possible for him to assist me. What? Am I kidding myself?

I saw the young gun at the first coffeeshop that I was at earlier on; I made the approached, dismount and leaned the bike at the same spot. I took a photo from behind the moment I got off my bike and approached him from his 6 o’clock. He already unslung his rifle and put it at ready on his lap with his firing finger on the trigger. I know this guy wouldn’t give a second thought to use that firing finger if provoked. I say my hello the moment he turns at me and I was surprised to hear his responded to my hello.

“Is that rifle locally made or...” I asked and before I can finish, he offered if I want to hold it. I was extremely nervous.
“Come, give it a try.” He offered and I hesitated. I wanted to take a picture of him with the rifle more of me holding it but I do not want any trouble, so I obliged. I put my camera in my back pocket, reached for the rifle and that was it. The blardy rifle and everything on it was real. I was most impressed with the scope. It was way better than the scope I used when I was serving with the Singapore’s Army.

“What do you use this for?” I asked. Now I have the rifle butt up my shoulder blade and have my eye on the scope aiming at the other side of the road.
He smiled and told me, “Hunting.”
“With this? I asked again.
“Yes, I need to modify it so it’ll become legal.”

I have no idea what he meant by “making it legal” but as long as I know, I was very nervous. I returned the rifle back to him and he asked me to take a photo of him posing with it. I gladly did. Afterward, I introduced myself, we shook hand and I told him where I was from, what I was doing there and where I am going. The respond was dismayed. He told me I couldn’t do it with my bicycle. Our conversation was interrupted when one of his friends showed up. I was just standing there listening to his conversation which I believed was in Dayak language. His friend turns to me and asked when I need to get into Gading. I told them as soon as possible. I think they thought I am mad when they continue with their conversation again. Deal was brokered. I will pay them xx (then they couldn’t tell me how much) amount of money, they will bring me in, if there should be any problems inside, they will sort it out. There might be problems with the area thugs. If I am in trouble such as I can’t go on due to the terrain or my bicycle broken, I will need to sort it out myself. They won’t help.

“What are the chances of me making it to Gading?” I asked in English and immediately apologised and repeated it in Bahasa Indonesia.
“It’s going to be difficult.” The younger guy responded.
“We are from here and we ferry people on our bike from here to the next town. We know how bad it is.” Young gun’s friend continues.

Especially after the rain, I can imagine how hard it’s going to be. I took the risk and suggested we leave immediately. It was 4pm and Gading was 50km odd away. We should be able to make it there. No problem riding in the dark as I have them and also my powerful torch needed to be tested. I thought they were more afraid than me because they proposed we leave tomorrow first thing in the morning.

“Where can I stay tonight if we leave tomorrow” I asked.
“You can come to our place, it is deep inside but it’s going to be difficult on a bicycle. We suggest you stay here tonight.” I remembered the shop owner offered me a place to stay upstairs. I nodded and that was it. All set for tomorrow I guess.  We agreed to meet the next morning same place before sunrise, coffee and move first light. I duly informed the shop owner’s I am staying at his place tonight and was given the room key. I was occupied of arranging my gateway from Tanjung Arouk I have little time to think of accommodation. I moved all my stuffs up, parked my bike in the back of the shop, cover it with my green ground sheet (to camouflage it) settle down and just sat around taking photos of the surrounding. I was just absorbing everything and enjoying the moment. The area I was in actually presented it beauty. I was just too busy watching out what is ahead that I don’t take time to enjoy where I was. Maybe I was terrified from the moment I set foot into Kalimantan. I was happy that I stay put. Luckily, I didn’t race against the clock!

Day 18 was looking to end nicely until I went about to prepare my accommodation. I knew the mosquitoes going to eat me alive at night so I took out my tent and set it in the room. While doing that, I heard rushing footstep coming up the stairs ran past my room and to the next room where I was. Another one coming fast behind the first, to the same room.

“What the fark was that?”

I stop setting up my tent and go out to check. Their room door was lock. I went back to my room, finished setting my tent and move out to the balcony at the front, with my laptop and brew my coffee there. The two came out after my coffee was brewed. One looks like he hasn’t bath for days and the other look the same but pleasant and friendly. We spoke for few minutes. The first thing they did was to offer me sweets. A handful of sweets were place on the bench where I was seated. Following after that, they asked where I was from, what I brought along and where I was going. From the question, instinctively my sense told me I was set up – the young gun had set me up. Young gun had convinced me to stay the night and contacted his subordinates providing them the information where I was.  Or those two was from the “hostile” coffeeshop way back earlier when I past them. Perhaps they have been observing me. First night in Kalimantan and I was tested to the maximum. What else coming my way? I didn’t know. I need to sort this one out first. How? I need to plan that quietly in the room.  I excused myself and brought everything in.

“This going to be a very long night”. I set about packing everything in, including my tent. I need to prepare for the worst in case I need to get out in a hurry. I check the time it was 7pm local time and it was already dark and quiet outside. It’s definitely a set up. I took my cooking equipment and cooked 2 pack of instant noodle to make sure I won’t starve later during my “get-the-hell-out”. In the room while having my dinner, I heard the two talking outside the balcony. It was a language I couldn’t understand and I didn’t care as my mind was set to stay alert. But first I need to eat in case I need to pedal in a hurry at night. My best bet was the police post 5km inwards from where I was and that if the post was operating with actual officers in it. After dinner, I clean up and pack in the cooking equipment. The plan was to sleep earlier and stay awake late at night to wait for them. I took out my head torch and my Smith & Wesson knife and lean against the plywood wall and closed my eyes to sleep. First day in Kalimantan and I am already in the shit! Well, that was what I signed up for.