Running Out of Juice in the Jungle

One of the first orders of business when arriving in Bali is securing a motorbike. It’s really the only way to get around. It’s also the best way to discover hidden gems on the island.

But driving a scooter in Bali is not for the fainthearted. Crowds of bikes dominate the roads like packs of wild dogs. Finding the right moment to join the throng can be daunting, which is why many expats opt for a motorcycle lesson. “Don’t be afraid to be bold and go with the flow”, is what most instructors advise. I drove a Vespa in New York City for nine years so I skipped the class.

In my experience, the Balinese are much better drivers than New York cabbies. They tend to keep their eyes on the road and always break for you when you join the caravan. They focus on what’s happening in front of them. The expats – not so much. It’s not uncommon to see a “bule” (white foreigner) like myself motoring down the road clad in a bikini and flipflops sans helmet with headphones on while looking at their phones. Those are the ones I watch out for. My advice – assume the worse and keep your distance.

There’s no shortage of options when it comes to choosing a bike. The most common and affordable is the Honda Scoopy. For the stylish, there are Vespas. For the eco-warriors there are several brands of electric scooters including Vespas that are being converted into electric vehicles.

Given that my son is attending the Green School and we’d like to lower our carbon footprint, I opted for an electric scooter made by Chinese company Niu. It’s obviously new to the Balinese market because I’m asked about the bike on a daily basis. With the cost of petrol sky-rocketing, I’m not surprised. It’s also pretty cute.

The Niu Sport has a top speed of roughly 50 kilometers per hour. It takes around 7 hours to get a full charge, which should last you up to 80 kilometers. It’s ideal for bopping around the expat beach haven of Canggu.

In Bali, you’ll see locals transporting all kinds of things on their bikes – from their five kids to huge bales of grass. One of Canggu’s most famous residents is an animal lover named Ketut Lelut Cecelut. He cruises around town with at least six dogs on his motorbike. I was lucky to spot him once. I thought to myself, if they can schlep all that stuff around, I can certainly handle a two-day getaway with a weekend bag and a few backpacks.

I had dreams of taking my scooter a little further afield – motoring past rice paddies and local villages. That’s how I ended up one Friday afternoon driving from Canggu to the Green School to a birthday party in Ubud. The plan was to then get to a fancy resort in the jungle outside of Ubud for a little staycation.

It took about 30 minutes to get to the Green School from my guesthouse in the Canggu area. Some of the drive was on big, crowded roads but most of it had me zooming through sleepy little towns and those glorious rice paddies. I picked up my boy and off we went.

First stop: a birthday party at Titi Batu. It’s exactly how you would imagine a tropical expat sports club to look like. There was a bubble machine, multiple floating unicorns and of course birthday cake. For the parents, there was beer and catered food. Not a bad way to spend a Friday afternoon.

While my son hooted and hollered with his new friends, I got busy trying to secure a charge for my scooter. But the woman at the front desk was having none of it. She had never seen a battery as large as the one I was carting around and she flat out refused. I don’t blame her really. She was probably thinking it would short-circuit the entire joint. I wasn’t particularly worried. I still had about 30 percent of my battery when we left the party.

But before I knew it, it was down to 20 percent. A red light appeared as a warning. It occurred to me that we might want to pull over at the next coffee shop and get a charge but coffeeshops were seemingly extinct in this part of Bali. We kept motoring on towards our destination hoping for the best.

Minutes later, we were down to 10 percent and the bike slowed down. Considerably. According to Google maps, we were still 16 minutes away from the hotel. It was getting dark. I had no choice but to pull over and hunt for a place, any place, that would let us get a charge.

Problem is, we were in a dusty little town where no one seemed to speak English. The lady at the first warung I approached said no. Next door, there was a garage where a bunch of men were tinkering on motorbikes while chain-smoking and blasting Indonesian heavy metal. They were a lot friendlier. They offered me their outlet and also filled up my tires. We sat there for about 45 minutes. They were supposed to close but they stayed open just so we could get more juice.

At one point, the mother of two of these men came out. She had an infectious belly laugh even though she had no idea what we were saying. Within minutes, she whipped out her smartphone and got her English-speaking daughter on video chat to communicate with us. The usual questions followed: where are you going? Where are you from? Where is your husband? I’ve learned that it’s very unusual for Indonesian mothers to be unmarried.

When I offered to pay them for their help, they refused the money. “Karma”, they said. I left them 100,000 Indonesian rupiah anyway, which is the equivalent of less than 7 U.S. dollars.

Yay! We were off again!!

The euphoria was short-lived. A 45-minute charge didn’t get us very far. Within ten minutes we were down to less than 10 percent again and the bike slowed down just as we were ascending a hill with nothing but the jungle on either side of us. It was also really dark and getting a little chilly. This is where the pythons live, I thought.

At this point, we were moving about as quickly as an electric wheel-chair. The locals were looking at us and couldn’t contain their smiles. A mother and son inching up the hill together on a bike must have been a comical sight. I imagine them thinking “what the hell are these crazy bules doing?”

Then an oasis! A JFC, which is the Indonesian version of KFC, appeared out of nowhere. We pulled in. Along with the geckos, there were two other people in the jungle eatery – a father and young son having dinner together. The father asked where I was from.

“Canada,” I replied.

“I know Canada! I was in Vancouver,” he said.

Turns out Juliartawan, like many Indonesians, worked on a cruise ship in Canada and the U.S. Alaska and Canada were his favorite destinations. Or at least that’s what he told me. The Balinese are exceedingly polite and hate to offend.

At this point, my son was getting a little impatient. He was angry about having to spend the evening in a smelly garage and a greasy food joint after I promised him a night of pampering in a fancy resort. Tough nuts, I told him. This is life. Sometimes, it’s comfy. Sometimes it’s not. I told him to alter his attitude about the situation as there was nothing we could do to change it and he was missing the point. It’s all part of the adventure. He grumbled a little but then indeed changed his tune. I was proud of his adjustment.

I’m aware of how lucky we were to have an incident like this occur in Bali and not somewhere else in the world, where running out of juice in the middle of nowhere could truly be a life-threatening experience. In Bali, I knew that whatever happened, we’d be fine in the end.

By now, the JFC had to close and we were six minutes away from our destination. Our battery was still very low. Juliartawan said he would take my bags along with Jamie to lessen the load and follow me in his car as I rode the bike as far as I could. I trusted him inherently. He said he’d speak to a local about parking the bike overnight if I couldn’t make it to the hotel. At first it was all uphill and I really did think I’d be leaving the bike in the hands of strangers for the night.

Then there it was…the sign I had been looking for. “Padma Resort this way”. Hurray! I turned the corner and it was all downhill! We ended up rolling into the resort with 2 percent of my battery left at 8 p.m.

Juliartawan also refused payment of any kind. He too mentioned something about karma. I slipped his son some money anyway. Thanks to the help and kindness of random Balinese, we made it to our destination and had a story to tell.

I’m not giving up on my electric bike but I’ve certainly learned a lesson or two. From now on I’m going to heed the advice of Alec Baldwin’s character in “Glengarry, Glen Ross” – with a twist. Always Be Charging.