Capturing people and places around the world

There are no cars on Gili Air, so a bicycle is the usual way around. I went out most evenings after the heat dropped and came back near sundown. The full circuit took a little under an hour, longer whenever I stopped, which was often.

Bali was busier than I thought it would be, but easier to move through. I went up to Tegallalang early one morning, north of Ubud, mostly to avoid the crowd. That worked, though I was clearly not the only one with the idea.

Semarang and Samarinda were not places I chose. The routes I took led through them, and both turned out fine. Some of my better days began on mornings when I felt like staying in and had to talk myself out of it.

In Kusamba I met a woman who farms salt on the coast. We talked for a few minutes, mostly about the weather that week, and then she went back to work. I did not want to take up her afternoon.

We took a boat for about half an hour along the coast near Kalapana. The trip is short on paper. On the water, with everyone quiet and holding on to something, it felt considerably longer than that.

Heat comes off a lava flow in a way you feel before you understand it. We kept our distance the whole time. Nobody on board asked to get closer. That surprised me then. It does not now.

The rest of the trip moved at another speed entirely. I based myself near Kailua-Kona and did very little for several days, mostly driving and stopping. The weather changed from one side of a valley to the next.

I had expected the volcano to be the whole story of the trip. It was only a part of it. What I remember is the time between places, and how quiet the coast was a few miles further along.

I went up to Honister in winter, which people had warned me about. The weather there turned several times in an hour, and then turned back. I stopped checking the forecast after the first morning.

The passes are narrow and steep, and driving them takes real attention. Hardknott in particular. I pulled over more than once to let cars come down. On my second visit, I left the car at the bottom.

The walls on those hillsides were built to divide grazing land, not to be looked at. They have outlasted most of what was around them. Someone still keeps them standing, though I never saw the work being done.

Highclere and Mam Tor came from other trips, at other times of year. Different parts of England, similar weather. I came home from all of them with wet boots and a short list of places to return to.

Kathmandu came first. I stayed two days near Boudhanath before going anywhere else, and it is a good place to lose track of time. I walked the same circle every evening and never got tired of it.

On the trail the day starts in the dark and the cold. Above Narchyang, in the Annapurna region, you wait for the sun with real impatience. Once it reaches you, everything else about the morning improves.

The route toward Everest is not one landscape. Mud one day, rain the next, snow after that. On the narrow sections you learn quickly which side of the path to stand on, and you do not argue.

Gokyo Ri was the high point and I remember very little of the climb itself. Later, in Dhulikhel, everything was easier to hold onto. It was lower, warmer, and the first place where I slept properly in weeks.

Hue was my first stop. I got to Dong Ba market early because I could not sleep. There was no better reason than that. Most of the setting up was finished by the time I arrived and found somewhere for coffee.

In Da Lat the mornings were colder than I expected. The town wakes up in stages, and the first hour belongs to whoever is already working. I bought coffee there too, then stood out of the way.

The ride out of Mu Cang Chai was about fifteen kilometers and it was freezing the whole way. I reached the top just before sunrise. That was luck more than anything I did, and I never managed the same timing again.

Further south, near Hoi An, the fields sit flat and close to the road. The work there runs on its own schedule and has nothing to do with people passing through. I kept to the edge of the field.

I spent most of that trip moving by water. Ferries in the morning, something smaller later in the day, and long waits in between. At Corong Corong the day ends before you are ready for it, and the work carries on for a while after that.

Siargao felt built for riding. I found the roads easy to follow and hard to hurry on, so I stayed out later than I meant to. I stopped often, usually for no good reason. That habit stayed with me for the rest of the trip.

Sibulan was a change of pace. The road up toward Lake Balinsasayao climbs away from the coast, and the air cools as you go. It takes longer than the distance suggests. I sat at the viewing deck for a long time and spoke to no one.

None of this was planned well. I booked things late and moved too often, and lost a day to a ferry I did not need to take. If I go again I will stay longer in fewer places, which is advice I have been given before and ignored.