I ride my bike as much now, maybe more, than I did as a teenager. Five or six days a week, following a rigid training program. I live like a professional amateur athlete, as in I'm serious and focused but slow and unpaid. I've got a new bike, new kit, new shoes, carry homemade granola bars with me as I spin and grind fifteen hours a week, alone. Once in a while I join a group ride if it's interesting and this one was. A 100 miler across six islands in Indonesia connected by five bridges. They call it the Batam Barelang Six Bridges Ride, an extra bridge thrown in, presumably for alliterative purposes.
It was a mixed group of twelve - some looking forward to the beers and massage after the ride, some looking forward to the hotel buffet. But there were a few fast guys, guys who always drop me, never to be seen again. Don't worry, they tell me - it's a single road, you can't get lost, just ride to the end or as far as you want to, then turn around. I barely slept the night before, tossing and turning with excitement and a bit of dread. I woke up at 5 and left home 45 minutes later, riding down to the ferry terminal at the edge of downtown. We handed over our bikes, went through immigration and customs and ferried 45 minutes southeast to Batam.
From the first to the second world in 45 minutes. Batam is a minuscule part of Indonesia, one of thousands of islands. It's hot and dry and mostly forgotten by the central government. The roads are sandy and potholed, the buildings a mix of garishly painted cement block and driftwood. We ride for five miles and take a left turn onto the "road" - the one that will take us over all the bridges and back. Somehow, miraculously, it's freshly laid, smooth pavement. A beautiful road to nowhere, literally.
You hit the first bridge within a few miles and can see the next one on the horizon. It doesn't take long to realize you've left flat Singapore. Five thousand feet of climbing spread out over the hundred miles in tiny doses. No long uphills, just hundreds of rollers in simmering heat.
We split into two groups - a fast one and a fun one. I pick the former, knowing I'd eventually get stranded between the two. I tucked behind the fast guys hoping to hold on and then something funny happened.
They were riding slowly or so it seemed. I took a turn at the front on one of the steeper climbs and set a reasonable pace. It felt easy. I got to the top, peeked behind me and I was all alone. I sat up and slowed down and they caught me on the downhill. Next uphill, same thing. I figured they were having a bad day. After a few hills, Odd, a lanky guy from Norway teased me. "You can pull on the flats, but you're banned from leading the hills." Next hill, I dutifully went to the back and cruised.
We took a group photo on the first bridge, the last time we'd be together until dinner.
We stopped every few hours at a roadside shack to top up on water. I ate a granola bar or a gel (liquid sugar) each of the first four hours. Glad I did. The fast group started out with six but by the last bridge we were down to four and splintered.
It took us three hours to get to the turn around point. Not much to see - just a small shack selling cold drinks for one fifth the price of Singapore. Odd, Desmond and I took a group photo. All are smiling but Desmond was complaining about the hills and Odd was cramping up. First his left calf and then, strangely, some of the muscles between his ribs. I'd never felt better. My legs felt fresh and strong.
At the 70 mile mark we stopped for lunch. I had chicken and rice, which they call Ayam Penyet in Indonesia. It was searingly spicy and hit the spot. We did the last 30 in silence, me on the front the whole time, dragging them up the hills. I eventually broke away on the last long climb and rolled into the hotel a few minutes ahead. The fun group had turned around at the third bridge, checked into the hotel, hit the hot tub and the pool, drank beer. They were at the massage parlor when we arrived.
We had a nice dinner, trying every single item in the buffet. I was sound asleep by nine and slept in all the way to seven. I sat out on the balcony, staring at the golfers teeing off in the distance. By noon we were back on the ferry to Singapore.
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