The bright and calm morning was to cure all lingering pains and doubts and troubles and worries and afflictions in the form of the sweet wafting scent of frying bacon: the elixir of life. Envy was also to be scented and sensed all around camp.

Slow and ponderous movements were the order of the day as we delicately eased ourselves into van-related conversations with the more experienced overlanders.

They came from everywhere, from all over the place, from all over the globe: an Italian and Czech couple, Swiss and American, German, French, Spanish and who knows what other nationalities. And their vans, oh my, their incredible vans ranged from the 2x10m, 4 metre high Unimogs (it’s a flat but with bloody wheels) to the more commonplace Volkswagens or Mercedes (most similar to ours) to the lighter and more offroad Landcruisers and even to the local Tuktuks favoured by two French guys. The length of their travels ranged from a few months to 3 years to 15 years. The word “traveling” obviously takes on a slightly different meaning when you’ve been doing it for a dozen odd years. It’s a lifestyle. You’re just not stuck to a single place. It’s a mobile home, simple as that. Most, if not all of them, returned to their countries if only for seeing family, earning some money, or even reminding themselves of the mundane and common lives they left behind.

Many were the stories they had to share and the tips we were to gain. And even we had our fair share of both to give back as few are the people to have ‘overlanded’ across Indonesia.

Cycling the lower Highland Trail

de Delhi à Leh

The land of unexpected events