Tim Notier's Blog

- Tim Notier

Put your helmets on as we ride on the back of a rickety Bajaj Pulsar 220 to Bali’s legendary Lempuyang Temple. ​The Great Lempuyang Temple Showdown

Our destination? The jaw-dropping, mirror-illusion-fuelled wonder known as Lempuyang Temple, aka The Gates of Heaven. It’s famous enough for postcards and Instagram selfies, but is it a sacred place—or a tourist trap in disguise?

​If you’ve ever scrolled through Instagram and seen that jaw-dropping shot of two stone gates perfectly framing a volcano, you’ve already “been” to Lempuyang Temple—digitally, anyway. But as we recently found out on our Bajaj Pulsar 220, there’s a huge difference between the photo and the reality.
​
Winding Roads and Bajaj Bravery

The day started the way many of our adventures do, me piloting our trusty Bajaj Pulsar 220 while maneuvering us around Bali’s unpredictable traffic. Dogs, chickens, scooters stacked with entire families, it’s all part of the obstacle course.

There’s something poetic about riding Bali’s winding roads on our trusty Bajaj Pulsar 220- small, spirited, and mighty. If this bike were any more overloaded, its little heart might’ve exploded from all the uphill temple climbs and jungle turns.

The Bajaj may not be the flashiest machine on the island, but it’s our mechanical sidekick. A 220cc single-cylinder beast that’s equally good at weaving through chaos and complaining loudly about steep inclines. As we ascended toward Lempuyang, its little engine let out the same kind of grumbles as I do when climbing up four flights of stairs with our luggage in hand at a hotel with no elevator. Both the motorcycle and I are always pushed forward with the loving motivation and support from Marisa. First Glimpse of the Gates of Heaven

By the time we rolled into the parking lot, the Bajaj was panting, and so were we. Lempuyang Temple is one of Bali’s oldest and most sacred temples, dating back to the 8th century. It’s part of a series of temples along the slopes of Mount Lempuyang, each one requiring a little more effort to reach. The famous “Gates of Heaven” are located at the lower temple, Pura Lempuyang Luhur.

After a bus ride and a short, but exhausting hike, we could see the iconic gates, and they looked every bit as stunning as the photos... with one missing component - there was no reflection pond in front of the stunning gates.

The Queue, the Mirror, and the Magic Trick

We joined the line of eager visitors, cameras in hand. A friendly crew runs a ticket-style photography system. You wait your turn (we waited an hour and a half, and it was a slow day), and when your number is finally called, you hand over your phone and the photographer uses a little square of black glass to create that perfect “reflection” shot. The clouds drift over Mount Agung, the light shifts, and voilà, your personal slice of Bali magic.
​
“Next pose! Hands up! Kiss! Jump!” the photographer directed as if shooting for the cover of Vogue. We got around 25 poses before we were shuffled away to make room for the next couple. The result? Gorgeous photos, but not exactly the serene spiritual experience we’d imagined. Tourist Trap or Cultural Treasure?

This is the million-rupiah question. Is Lempuyang Temple a sacred treasure or just an Instagram trap? The answer is… both.
​
On one hand, it’s a place of deep cultural and spiritual significance for the Balinese people. Pilgrims come here to pray, to make offerings, and to complete the demanding climb to the temple, a journey believed to cleanse the spirit.

On the other hand, the temple has undeniably been reshaped by tourism. The queue, the paid photo service, the “next pose” instructions, it’s all designed for the modern social media visitor. If you come expecting peace and quiet, you might leave disappointed.
​
Riding Home with Mixed Feelings

By the time we descended back to the parking lot, the clouds had thickened, giving Mount Agung a moody, half-hidden look. We swung a leg over the Bajaj, who seemed relieved we were headed downhill this time, and began the ride home.

Our verdict? The “Gates of Heaven” are worth seeing. Just know that the most meaningful memories took place far from the photo spot. Final Thoughts

Lempuyang Temple is a place of contrasts. It’s a sacred site wrapped in a tourist spectacle. It’s a spot where you can both marvel at nature’s beauty and grumble about the commercialization of it.

For us, it was all of those things. And riding there on our Bajaj Pulsar 220 made it all the more memorable. Because no matter what’s at the end of the road, half the joy is in the ride itself. If you want the full experience, awkward poses, and Bajaj grumbles, the full episode is up on our YouTube channel: 2up and Overloaded -  DECEIVED! – Bali’s Most Iconic Temple… or a Tourist Trap? For as little as a $5 a month, become a Patron at https://www.patreon.com/2upandoverloaded 

As a Patron, enjoy Ad Free Early Access to our latest episodes, as well as a postcard sent to you from our locations all around the world!

​Help us get  further down the road by supporting us at: https://www.paypal.me/notiersfrontiers  ​Borneo Motorcycle Adventure! You are invited to join us on a 10 DAY MOTORCYCLE EXPERIENCE in East Malaysia, guided by yours truly - Tim and Marisa Notier. On this experience, you will ride through some of the oldest rainforests on earth, encounter orangutans and other stunning wildlife, twist into the foothills of Borneo's tallest mountain, plunge under waterfalls, and explore untouched coral reefs. All while making great friends and lifelong memories.

We want to show you some of the best roads and most breathtaking sights we've ever encountered after our 7 years on the road. And Borneo is a treasure trove!

This tour is particularly exciting since Borneo is still quite untouched and unknown. Although riding a motorcycle is a dream come true here, it's normally very hard to do so logistically, meaning that most adventure riders miss out on this incredible destination. But we have found a way!

So come along with us, and let us show you the ride of your life!

By Tim Notier

If you’ve ever Googled “Bali,” you’ve probably been bombarded with Instagram-perfect shots of infinity pools, swing sets over jungle canopies, and beaches that look like they’ve been dipped in Photoshop. But we decided to veer completely off that well-beaten tourist path and head somewhere far less glamorous: Deep into the clouds on the slopes of Mount Agung, Bali’s tallest and most sacred volcano.

We didn’t know what we’d find, but we were sure of one thing: it wasn’t going to be a spa resort with free Wi-Fi.

The Temple That Doesn’t Exist (On Wikipedia) 

After navigating roads that could be more accurately described as long stretches of potholes interrupted by occasional gravel, we stumbled upon Pura Pasar Agung. A temple so remote it doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page. In today’s world, that’s basically like finding Atlantis.

Shrouded in thick fog that rolled in like Liberace making a dramatic entrance, the temple felt otherworldly. Its stone gateways framed the misty silhouette of Mount Agung itself. We watched as locals, dressed in vibrant ceremonial attire, prayed and performed rituals that have been passed down for centuries.
​ It was humbling and beautiful. Marisa and I stood out like two sore thumbs in our plain sarongs, looking like we were wearing forest patterned camouflage in the arctic. (Pro tip: nothing makes you feel more conspicuous than standing next to Balinese women in their stunningly intricate outfits.)

Still, the people welcomed us with smiles warmer than the tropical sun. They even let us snap a few photos together, proving once again that Indonesian hospitality is undefeated.
​ Our Bajaj Pulsar's Brakes Were Definitely Tested

​Leaving the temple meant tackling the mountain roads again, only this time, gravity was working against us. Our motorcycle brakes are best described as two wooden blocks rubbing against a wheel of cheese, so “slowing down” was more of a suggestion than a guarantee.

“Slow down!” Marisa shouted as we hit a steep section.

​“I’m trying!” I yelled back, pulling on the brakes as if they might work better if I begged them. Spoiler: they did not.

Our decent tuned into a dirt road riddled with potholes, but we were surrounded by lush vegetation and passed locals riding down the same bumpy road on small scooters loaded with with firewood. Their suspension bottomed out the same as ours as it seemed both of our monoshocks were refurbished springs from a Bic pen. 
​But somehow we made it down alive and found ourselves weaving through villages so quiet and serene that the loudest sound was our sputtering exhaust. Kids waved, old ladies tended to rice fields and everyone greeted us with the same Indonesian smile that we have so gratefully grown accustomed to.

Rice Paddies Like You’ve Never Seen 

As we descended further, the landscape opened up into shimmering rice paddies terraced across the hillsides like nature’s own mosaic. These fields weren’t just beautiful, they were reflective pools that mirrored the sky, palm trees, and distant mountains. It was one of those moments where you had to stop and pull over to appreciate the view. Because if you’re riding and staring at the same time, you’ll end up face-first in a ditch.


​From ground level, the paddies were stunning. From drone level (aka our “jetpack 150 feet up”), they looked like artwork. The different shades of green and blue formed patterns so perfect that even the best painter would be jealous.

The Villa of Our Dreams 

By the end of the day, we were exhausted, hungry, and overwhelmed by the beauty of the day's events. But then we arrived at one of the most beautiful villas we’ve ever stayed in.

Perched on a hill overlooking the rice terraces, this little slice of heaven had everything we could possibly desire. Marisa and I will always remember this villa paradise. Tucked between the mountains, paddy fields, and palm trees, we had hit the jackpot!


​The woman who ran the villa greeted us with a smile, handed us keys to our room, and pointed out a trail that led to a nearby village where we could find dinner. “Just follow the canal,” she said. “It’s a three-minute walk.”

​
​Of course, we immediately got distracted, wandered through a Balinese neighborhood that felt like it was frozen in time, and ended up finding a restaurant purely because it had a litter of puppies out front. The food was incredible, but let’s be honest—the puppies sealed the deal.

The Bali Few People See 

That night, as we looked out at the mist rolling over the hills from our villa, we realized we’d experienced a version of Bali that few travelers ever get to see. No crowds, no staged photo ops, just quiet temples, kind people, and landscapes that made us feel like we were living inside a painting.

The durability of our Bajaj Pulsar 220 motorcycle weighed heavily on our shoulders, but our souls felt a little lighter.
​
So, if you’re planning a trip to Bali, venture beyond the infinity pools and the Instagram hotspots. Ride up a misty mountain. Get lost in tiny villages. Pet some puppies. Who knows, you might just find a temple so remote even the internet doesn’t know it exists. Check out the entire adventure in our latest YouTube Episode - ​​The Bali Temple So Hidden It’s Not on Wikipedia Get early access to our latest YouTube episodes Ad Free for as little as a $5 a month by becoming a Patron at https://www.patreon.com/2upandoverloaded 🎉 and get postcards from us as we meander around the world!
Borneo Motorcycle Adventure! You are invited to join us on a 10 DAY MOTORCYCLE EXPERIENCE in East Malaysia, guided by yours truly - Tim and Marisa Notier. On this experience, you will ride through some of the oldest rainforests on earth, encounter orangutans and other stunning wildlife, twist into the foothills of Borneo's tallest mountain, plunge under waterfalls, and explore untouched coral reefs. All while making great friends and lifelong memories.

We want to show you some of the best roads and most breathtaking sights we've ever encountered after our 7 years on the road. And Borneo is a treasure trove!

This tour is particularly exciting since Borneo is still quite untouched and unknown. Although riding a motorcycle is a dream come true here, it's normally very hard to do so logistically, meaning that most adventure riders miss out on this incredible destination. But we have found a way!

So come along with us, and let us show you the ride of your life!

~ Tim and Marisa Notier​

Marisa and I are currently in East Malaysia on Borneo exploring this incredible part of the world with our tour guests!! It has been an epic motorcycle adventure and the first two of the three tours of 2025 were such a success, that we are excited to announce our Borneo to be Wild 2026 Tour Dates! Join us in February of 2026 as we seek out natural wonders, orangutans, and ride through a remote and beautiful part of the world! As we planned, prepped, and are now leading these tours, we have gotten a bit behind in our blog posts. We are now going to put our full attention back into our social media content.

This post is a flashback to one of the most magical landscapes we have come across throughout all of Southeast Asia - Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park. This is my deep dive (and steep hike up) to an otherworldly landscape, a sea of sand, and a volcano that can destroy the most powerful of rings. ​If you were to Google Image Search “Mt. Bromo” you would be directed to a satellite view of a smoldering, active volcano. And if you zoomed out just a little, you would see five more volcanos that bulge out of the earth from an ancient hot spot that resembled the goosebumps that formed on my arm as I first viewed out at the calderas.
 
But if you were to zoom out even further, you will see that the five volcanos are all formed within a larger, ancient MEGA Caldera. It was like seeing a fly on a frog, then noticing the frog was on a turtle, only to realize it was turtles all the way down. The magnitude of the volcanic complex is absolutely mind-blowing.
​To reach this surreal destination, you have to cross something that sounds like it could be pulled from the map of a fantasy novel. THE SEA OF SAND would be written in a bold, foreboding font and scattered skull and cross bone icons would indicate the hazards that lay before you. The map‘s legend would reveal that the gas mask symbol designated the areas where sulfuric clouds of gas spewed out of the volcanos and hung low to the earth. The entire panorama looked like it could be the set of the next season of Fallout or any other post-apocalyptic movie.
 
The landscape wasn’t finely chiseled marble that left the smooth edges to form Michelangelo’s David. The rough edges of this massive caldera seemed to be carved by a chainsaw that left deep scars across the earth. The steep walls of the ancient volcano’s rim soared straight into the sky from the crater’s floor. Four new cones emerged within the giant super volcano that erupted ash and debris from their depths. This was a violent and chaotic place 45,000 years ago. But now, after the dust had settled to create the Sea of Sand, we could look out in awe to a real-life Mordor and not be afraid of being attacked by orcs. ​The only modern-day hazards were the 4x4s being driven by local tour guides. Instead of a constant flow of lava there was a constant bombardment of Toyota Land Rovers. Hundreds of them locked their trajectory straight into the path of our small motorcycle. There was a width of a hundred yards to safely pass us, but each and every one of them chose to come within feet of our track.
​But like most epic quests involving brave Knights and Dames, we conquered the elements, rode past the stream of combative non-playable characters, and made it to a safehouse to collect our bounty of rewards from such a stunning day’s ride. We pulled into our hotel and made Cahyo Homestay our basecamp for the next two days as we explored the area.
 
That night, the sun looked as if it had gone supernova turning the atmosphere into a Martian landscape. If NASA’s Rover had landed anywhere near us, scientists would have assumed it was an uninhabitable environment that could not support any forms of life. But we were there, breathing in the chilly air as we stared out in awe.
​The following morning, we rode our Bajaj Pulsar 220 to a small parking lot and started our hike to Seruni Point for sunrise. We were once again blown away by what lay before us as If it was the first time we had seen this alien landscape. There was almost no need for a drone at the altitude we were at. We had a bird’s eye view of the volcanos that gathered together as if taking a family photo. The scene before us would be impossible to convince people of its existence without photographic evidence. I couldn’t believe it myself, and I was the one staring out at its glory.
​After taking in the views from afar, absorbing in everything from a distance, we decided to look down into the throat of the monster before us. But instead of riding our Bajaj Pulsar 220 back across the madness that is the Sea of Sand… aka: SOS, we decided to hire two smaller scooters complete with drivers that would taxi us to the steps of the smoldering volcano.
​What awaited us after our short scooter ride was a thousand steps that led to the volcanic crater. Thankfully, there were plenty of rest areas with small benches that we took full advantage of. Marisa and I aren’t exactly great hikers, but this was a pilgrimage that would allow us to stare into the golden eyes of Brahma, the Hindu god of creation.
​The name Bromo is the Javanese pronunciation of Brahma, but this god-like volcano seemed more of a destroyer than a creator. But it was apparent that all of the land around us was fertile and appeared to be able to turn a single seed into a lush garden within weeks due to the nutrients in the earth. It was incredible what could flourish in a seemingly toxic area.
 
But Brahma, and his four heads that looked out in each direction, was blessing the land with vegetation and life. Once at the top of the crater, we saw a small idol of the Hindu god Ganesha, that is still worshipped by the Javanese Hindus.
​Marisa and I were only allowed thirty minutes at the edge of Bromo’s crater. The thick smell of sulfur filled our lungs as plumes of toxic gas burst into the sky. There are days, even entire weeks, that the stairway to Bromo’s crater is closed due to the unsafe levels of gases being released. But we had hiked up on a clear sunny day, to peer down into the gates of hell, and were surrounded by gods, poison, lush vegetation, and views one could only look down at as if on top of Mt. Olympus alongside the gods themselves.
​This is not a mythical place of legend, us mere mortals can walk amongst the wonders, look upon its beauty, and appreciate the pure and raw sculpting that is only achievable from millions of years of mother nature molding her creation, regardless of if you call her Bromo, Brahma, or Gaia.
Indonesia has provided us with a lifetime of memories so far, and there is so much more to discover. We can't wait to share all of our experiences with you here on our blog, via our YouTube channel, Facebook, and on Patreon (our Patrons get early access to all of our videos, ad free, and our up-to-date notifications!)

We love having you follow us along on our journey on social media, but if you want to physically ride alongside us on a motorcycle through some of these magical places, join us on our Borneo to be Wild Tour across Sabah, east Malaysia! Check out all of the dates, itinerary, prices, and FAQs by clicking on our tour dates page.

There is so much more that we can't wait to share with you, either here, virtually, or in person on our grand tour of Borneo's most iconic locations! We have also updated the way we send out our Blog, we are using a Feedburner alternative called follow.it. We hope that this posts gets to your inbox, we would love to hear your feedback in the comments below!

- Tim Notier

​Borneo is an island that’s existence I was completely unaware of until a few months before riding our motorcycle on its beaches and through its thick jungles. When conjuring images of Southeast Asia, I could only imagine congested, overpopulated, and constricted cities like Jakarta in Indonesia, Bangkok in Thailand, or Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam.
 
And if anyone had asked me to draw a rough outline of this region of the world, or worse yet, the individual countries that make up Southeast Asia, the results would have been laughable. Without any guidance, my illustration may as well have been the map at the beginning of a fantasy book that consisted of faraway lands covered with rainforests in one region, erupting volcanoes in another, and sea serpents that lurked in deep oceans that separated different nations. ​Even after arriving in the region, there were mysterious corners that my mind couldn’t piece together. With over 25,000 individual islands, Southeast Asia’s charted lands resembled the aftermath of a vase falling onto the floor and shattering. Big chunks represented Java, Borneo, Papa New Guinea, and Sumatra, while the remaining splinters made up the tiny islands that I will never be able to name more than a few of.
 
But thankfully my failure to pay attention in my 8th grade geography class did not bar me from entering this stunning part of the world. And Borneo is the diamond that is set into the middle of the fragmented crown of the world’s largest archipelago. ​At first impression, the reality of Borneo was not that much different than the fairy tale I had created in my mind. This was an island where Orangutans swung gracefully between the trees and millions of fireflies swarmed in the night, illuminating the bushes and ferns in more flickering yellow lights than the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. There were tribes of the Dayak people who still lived in towering longhouses who played exotic instruments and wore colorful headdresses made from the skulls of hornbills and the tusks of wild boars.
 
Borneo wasn’t plastered with bustling cities the likes of Bangkok or Jakarta, Borneo was still wild, and we were riding into the heart of it with wide smiles that stretched from the South China Sea in the West to the Sulu Sea in the East. Marisa and I set off on our latest adventure on a rented KTM 250 Adventure. It was a small motorcycle for being 2Up, but we were both able to squeeze between the tank bag in front of me, and the rear duffel bag behind Marisa. With the newest cast of man, woman, and machine, we planned on doing a magnificent loop around the remote Malaysian State of Sabah.
 
It’s often said that it is about the journey, not the destination. And that statement holds true, but an additional factor can enrich or tarnish the most thrilling of adventures. That variable is the people we meet along the way and the communities that we temporarily submerge ourselves into. Thankfully, the individuals of Sabah did not disappoint as we were welcomed into shops, restaurants, and hotels as if we were their favorite customers who were returning for the hundredth time. ​Marisa and I were temporarily adopted into the families of our hosts as we made our way from Kudat, the northernmost tip of Borneo, to Mt. Kinabalu, the tallest mountain in all of Malaysia. Long, twisty, paved roads with stunning views connected the points of interest as we propelled forward via our KTM’s little engine that could.
 
Our route hugged the ocean’s coast as the motorcycle glided across the sands of secluded beaches. Marisa and I couldn’t help but giggle at the excitement of having an entire beach seemingly reserved for just the two of us. ​“Notier, party of two, this way please,” Mother Nature’s soft voice would whisper to us through the branches and leaves of the thick forests. We followed every suggestion we heard and were rewarded with hidden treasures hidden far away from the main Pan-Borneo highway.
 
Marisa and I hiked to remote waterfalls that we swam under as rays of sunlight glistened through the surrounding jungle canopy. From one destination to the next, we floated down scenic roads with views of the ocean, thick jungles, and tall mountains. We shared the remote asphalt roads with few other vehicles but had to avoid monitor lizards who used the tarmac as their own personal sunbeds.
 
After blissful days of riding through unforgettable landscapes, we stayed in oceanside bungalows and dove beneath the surface of the ocean to find a whole other world. Millions of fish lived in metropolis cities where skyrise buildings were made of coral reefs, the Goodyear blimp was replaced by hovering jellyfish, and the diverse population of its citizens coexisted in Utopian harmony. ​Clownfish stuck their orange and white stripped heads out between sea anemones to study us just as curiously as we did them. Starfish sprawled out on the ocean floor as in the same poses as Marisa and me while sunbathing on the white beaches that the tide’s waves broke against. After swimming back to shore Marisa and I traded stories as if we had both just come back from distant planets.
 
We had only traveled halfway across this magnificent island and were already spellbound by the abundance of wildlife, nature, and people’s kindness in every direction we pointed the front tire. Marisa and I were filled with a warm happiness from the towering 4,800’ platform that overlooked Mt. Kinabalu all the way down to 10’ below sea level as we mingled with the fish. Borneo had it all, and we couldn’t wait to find out what was past the next twists in the meandering roads that headed towards the eastern side of the island. ​What greeted us were the people of the forests, translated to Orang Utans in Malay. These wonderful creatures can only be found in the wild on the islands of Borneo and Sumatra. Marisa and I had missed our opportunity to see the gorillas while in central Africa, but we weren’t going to miss this family reunion with our distant cousins, aunts, and uncles, even if our families haven’t spoken to each other in nearly 14 million years. ​I was surprised when l learned that our great ape ancestors shared approximately 97% of our DNA. I figured the 3% gap could easily be bridged with a decent haircut, some snazzy clothes, and a few hours of listening to Hooked on Phonics. But I realized that 3% variance can take a few million years to catch up to us humans who trade stocks and have mortgages, if that’s for the better or worse is still debatable. Domesticated felines share 90% of our genes, and my cat, Mr. Moto San, wasn’t going to take up day trading or refinance his litterbox any time soon.
 
After an afternoon with the orangutans, we rode our little KTM 250 Adventure through a jungle of palm oil trees to a spectacular section of old growth rainforest. Our bumpy, offroad ride was down a dirt path that must have changed shape, pitch, and width every time it rained. While dodging as many potholes as I could, we finally pulled into a proboscis monkey sanctuary. ​The proboscis monkeys did not have a direct translation from Malay, but all the locals did call them “Dutchman” monkeys due to their large, prominent, Jimmy Durante looking schnozzolas. It was another afternoon filled with laugher as the Dutchman monkeys snorted and grunted at each other as if in a session of British Parliament. The females thankfully did not have the same unattractive feature and had cute little upturned noses and curious eyes as they foraged silently while the males bickered and blathered.
 
Our loop around Borneo had undeniably turned into an adventure straight out of a fantasy book. There were no dragons to slay, no tyrant kings or evil witches to outwit, but there was instead a land of seemingly mythical creatures that we could almost communicate with via facial expressions and hand gestures. The headhunters were long gone and replaced by the friendly and loving people of this incredible island who invited us into their homes for tea at every chance. ​In place of a black stallion, I gallantly rode our small but mighty KTM 250 Adventure through the vibrant landscapes with my very own princess. We made lifelong friends and memories alike, and even though our Southeast Asian adventure wasn’t finished yet, we knew that we would live happily ever after. Marisa and I would love to share this part of the world with each and every one of you! Either through our YouTube channel, or better yet, in person on one of our new Borneo Tours !
Join us  Sat, March 29th - Mon. April 7th, 2025  to explore all of these amazing places alongside us!!
Check out the itinerary, motorcycles, and all FAQ here 👉  Borneo Tours  or ask us any questions you may have by filling out the form below!  #element-ff6a3402-74e0-4847-9fed-e86925b7a38d .weebly-jotform-wrapper .select-form-table { width: 100%; height: 200px; min-height: 200px; max-height: 200px; border: 1px solid #eee; cursor: pointer;}#element-ff6a3402-74e0-4847-9fed-e86925b7a38d .weebly-jotform-wrapper .select-form-table .select-form-table-cell { display: flex; width: 100%; height: 100%; text-align: center; vertical-align: middle; justify-content: center; align-items: center;}#element-ff6a3402-74e0-4847-9fed-e86925b7a38d .weebly-jotform-wrapper .select-form-table .select-form-table-cell .jotform-addform-wrapper { width: 175px; height: 64px; border-radius: 6px; background-color: white; display: flex; justify-content: center; align-items: center; text-align: center; gap: 12px;}#element-ff6a3402-74e0-4847-9fed-e86925b7a38d .weebly-jotform-wrapper .select-form-table .select-form-table-cell .jotform-addform-wrapper .jotform-addform-text { color: #0A1551; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700;}#element-ff6a3402-74e0-4847-9fed-e86925b7a38d .weebly-jotform-wrapper .select-form-table .select-form-table-cell .jotform-addform-wrapper svg { width: 18px;}

By Marisa and Tim Notier

​We arrived by ferry to Kumai, Indonesia, known as the springboard to the dense jungles of this wild island of Borneo. And we soon learned that the only way to really access the jungle is to take a boat into it via a system of rivers. There are no roads through the jungle, because this is one of the last, pure, untouched wildernesses of the world.
 
And so that is what we decided to do, hire a boat that would take us into the heart of the forest. Because apparently, there is a mysterious creature that lives in this intense wilderness and nowhere else on earth. Larger and stronger than a man, some say they are just as wise as humans, with eyes that see straight to the soul. They are orang-utans, and we were on the path to finding them in the wild. Our boat arrived at our first stop on our voyage, and that was the Tanjung Harapan research station where a feeding was going to take place.
 
There is never any guarantee of seeing a wild orangutan, but in order to research them, these scientific stations had regular feeding schedules of orangutans, and so we were going to see if any showed up that day.

And then, just a few feet down the path to the feeding place, we saw one! It was a mother and her child, and she was making her way to the research station. As they started to move towards the feeding area, we did as well. And I was immediately consumed by the beauty and sounds of the jungle. And mosquitoes. ​We arrived at a small clearing where there were crude benches for us to sit on placed at a distance from a wooden platform where they were to put the food for the orangutans. A bunch of tourists were already there waiting, but we got good spots, and then waited for the great apes to arrive.
 
And what do they feed orangutans? Bananas! Which makes sense since bananas are from this region.
 
Right when the workers put out the first bananas, a large male showed up, followed by a mother and her baby. It was amazing to be able to watch them eat so closely. Their colors, the way they ate, the shyness that they had for being watched, the peacefulness of their demeanors, the way the babies clung onto the mothers, the fuzziness of them, it was all so amazing.

Orangutans have a lot of similarities to humans. They are part of the great ape family that includes gorillas, chimpanzees, and modern humans. They even share more then 97% of their DNA with humans. They grow to be between 4-5 feet tall, which is pretty tall for an ape that lives in the trees, and also weighs between 70-165 pounds. In fact, they are the largest tree-dwelling animal on earth. Fun fact brought to our attention from one of our YouTube subscribers, @JagLite

DNA Genetic Similarities:
Humans and Humans 99.9%
Humans and Chimps 98.8%
Humans and Dogs 94%
Humans and Cats 90%
Humans and Cows 80%
Humans and Fruit Flies 60%
Humans and Bananas 60%

I am somehow comforted by the fact that I (Tim) am 90% cat...
Orangutans make beds in the trees to sleep in using leaves and twigs. Sometimes they'll also make a roof-like structure for when it rains.
 
They are mostly vegetarian, eating fruits and leaves, bark, nuts, bird eggs, and insects.
 
The males grow these large facial extrusions as they age. And the females will keep their baby with them for up to 8 years! That means they only give birth every 8 years as well, and this is the longest time between births of any land dwelling animal. That's a remarkably long time for the the mother to raise her baby, and shows how similar orangutans are to humans.
 
Orangutans are considered one of the most intelligent of primates. They have been known to use tools for food foraging, river crossings, and even will use leaves against their mouths to amplify their calls. They've also been shown to have self-awareness in a mirror test.

But as night descended on the forest, we began to prepare for our first night deep within one of the most remote and dangerous jungles on earth.

And to the gorgeous sounds of the forest, we went to sleep. The next morning was pure magic!
 
The sounds of the morning were unbelievable. It was one of the most peaceful and incredible mornings of my life. If every morning was like that… wow. How perfect life would be. Eventually, we got the engines going, and headed off to our next orangutan research station in the jungle - Pondok Tangui.
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Rizal, our guide, told us the story of the elusive Jacob, the largest male orangutan of the region. He showed us pictures that he had taken of Jacob - King of the Jungle. But since Rizal had only seen him a few times on the many tours that he gave, he told us that we were probably not going to catch sight of Jacob.
 
But along the way, we did see more proboscis monkeys with their ultra large and incredible noses. At the next research station, Pondok Tangui, we had a beautiful forest walk, and once we got to the feeding station, a new type of monkey showed up to get first dibs of the bananas - macaques.
 
They were everywhere! But then the orangutans once again stole the show! After another amazing showcase of nature, we headed back on the boat and followed the river down an even smaller tributary.

We were going as deep into the jungle as the boats can go, to the very beginning of the river's source at the last camp, called Camp Leakey. Pulling into Camp Leakey was a traffic jam of boats. We had to wait a while before we could get off.
 
It's a popular site for tourists because this is the first orangutan research station built in 1971 when Dr. Galdikas and her former husband Rod Brindamour journeyed into one of the last truly wild and unexplored places on earth. They established Camp Leakey named after Dr. Galdikas's mentor. At the time, the nearest place with supplies was twelve hours away by paddling in a canoe. They lived in a bark walled hut and suffered from malaria, dengue, tropical ulcers on their legs, and leech bites. But they did some groundbreaking research on orangutans.

Today the site is still an active research station and is the site of the longest continuous study of orangutans in the world. ​But as we were walking to Camp Leakey, we heard some rustling in the trees... And then…
 
High up in the branches we saw… Jacob!!! King of the Jungle!
 
He was HUGE! ​There was also a gibbon, which we had not seen yet. So now we'd seen all the major types of monkeys in this forest and we were simply brimming over with happiness for the good luck that we'd had. ​And just as the workers put out the bananas, Jacob arrived! HUGE! He had very large facial protrusions, distinguishing him from the other orangutans. But he was surprisingly shy for such a big guy. He seemed to be in harmony with the others, like any good king should be.
 
Soon there were orangutans everywhere. Looking up in the trees, you could definitely see why they were called "people of the forest."
 
But then as we were leaving, Jacob started heading down the same trail as us! And we got face to face with the King of the Jungle. It was breathtaking and bit scary to be honest. Marisa and I felt so lucky that we were able to gain so many wonderful memories in those two days on our magical river tour. We had met the "people of the forest," and their king, we had seen the mischievous macaques, and the long armed gibbons. We truly felt satisfied and humbled.

As our river boat tour came to an end, we had to head back to the hotel. Though great voyage into the jungle of Borneo by boat was over, our great voyage into the jungle of Borneo by motorcycle was about to begin. To dive further down the river into the jungle with us, check out our 3 YouTube episodes we made that cover all of the wonders we experienced! And we want to say THANK YOU to all of our Patrons!! We are so grateful to have so many friends riding along with us!
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Bill Petersen, David Parisoe, Erik Azar, Gareth Jenkins, Jacob Martin, Jim Piatt, Lee & Julie Taylor, Pearl Patarozzi, Peter Knight, Rhodee & Jeroen, Paul & Connie Popov, Randy Grasser , Ryan & Laurel Anderson, ADV Tammy, Toni Coscarelli, Travis Rains​, Lake Chatuge Mountain Adventure, Dawn Hanawalt, David Laye, Tim Laye, Alex Pena, Dale Ostrander, nsatiable Mind / Jason Yaeger, Gabriel E Collins, Ronald Rozeske / RSki, Christopher Clear, Rodney and Robin White, Michael Harp, Dan Coburn, Dan Stiff, Pete West, Kerry Ingold, Doug Jacobs, Jess White (Sound Mind ADV), Deanna Henry, William Blodgett, TJ Jaffe, Ralph Ellis, Jason - Google User, Steve Lawrence, Ed Reilly, 1FTR_ADV, Michael Mann, Bernhard Friebe, Caren Mc, Tiger Coward, Michael Webb, Dale T, Keith Mitchell

- Tim Notier

The Republic of Indonesia is the fourth-most populated country in the world, and Java is the world’s most populated island with just under 150 million people calling the island home. The traffic that swallowed us whole everywhere we went was as if we were riding down Michigan Avenue towards Grant Park during the Taste of Chicago.
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But Marisa and I slowly made our way out of Indonesia’s capital city of Jakarta and could breathe in the fresh air of the trees that now stood tall in place of the hotels and shopping centers in the city’s limits. The hustle and bustle of what was half of the island’s population was now spread out, and our newly found moments of Zen couldn’t have come at a better time Nowadays, my birthday comes sooner than I would like it to, but it was inevitable that I would be turning 41. Marisa had a few surprises lined up in an effort to stop me complaining about my growing belly, aching knees, and thinning hair as the years seem to overlap on themselves like my love handles. But Marisa plugged in some secret coordinates into my GPS, and I happily followed the blue line on my phone down a twisty forest road. I parked our Pulsar Bajaj 220 in front of a remote wooden shack that sold tea and noodles. The old man who owned the shop agreed to watch over the motorcycle as Marisa led me to a path through the woods. The two of us fought our way down a narrow path that had been reclaimed by thick grasses, fallen trees, and a thousand little burrs that clung to every piece of our clothes from our socks to our chests. But the view of a small, two-tiered waterfall in a remote section in a far-away land made the difficult trek worth every sharp prick from a thorn in our shoes. It was the perfect setting for me to reflect on the fact that turning 41 may have been difficult to accept, but the result has turned out to be pretty remarkable. And with Marisa by my side, as a team we were bound to tackle any obstacle that lay in our way. Central Java holds some scenic waterfalls to enlighten the aging soul, but it also has Buddhist and Hindu temples that are scattered across the island. We were on our way to the city of Magelang, where Borobudur resides, a place that should be one of the 7 Wonders of the World. But before we entered the gates of such a magnificent achievement of human ingenuity, there were a few less visited sites that we were lucky enough to explore without the thousands of foreigners that flocked to the entrance of Borobudur.
Before reaching Central Java, Marisa and I had roamed through temples and small villages where few Westerners visit. But now, we were on one of the main tourist circuits of Indonesia. But Marisa and I were staying with a local man, Fendi, who would not only be our temporary landlord, but also offered to take Marisa and I on a little tour of area.
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I do not play the role of pillion often, but at 4am the next morning, I climbed on the back of Fendi’s scooter as Marisa mounted someone else’s as we took off to catch the sunrise. That chilly morning was the first time that I had felt cold in nearly a month. When the sun has yet to rise, it is a comfortable 70 degrees. But as soon as the sun rises over the horizon, the temperature similarly ascends to astronomical heights. Marisa and I hiked up a thousand steps to a wooden platform with a view that took our breathe away more than the strenuous climb up the stairs. Rivers of low hanging fog flowed through the forest-covered mountains. We could faintly see the highest temple of Borobudur through the mist, while exotic birds sang their morning songs along with the call to prayer that softly echoed from the numerous mosques in the valley below. It had already been an amazing morning, but Fendi had a few more surprises for us as he chauffeured us around to the next attraction on his list. It was nice being a passenger on a motorcycle. I was able to look around at the passing stalls filled with roasted chickens and the rice paddies that climbed up the hills like the patterns of a giant quilt. Usually, I am piloting the motorcycle like the Millennium Falcon through an asteroid belt of potholes and oncoming traffic. But I was loving the backseat ride through town while still being able to giggle with Marisa over our headsets even though we were on different scooters. Our second stop was the 9th century Buddhist temple of Mendut. Marisa and I were the only people that walked around the site as we admired the detailed bas-reliefs that were carved into the structure. Different scenes of Buddhists teachings were etched into the stone like an ancient comic book strip. Just outside of the temple was an active Buddhist monastery that was once again nearly empty of any other tourists. We walked around in complete silence, with the only sound being the swift and gentle sweeping of the groundskeepers who maintained the walkways. Giant stone bells that will never ring stood stoically as the time slowly passed. Different nobles and saints would come and pass, but those grand stupas would outlast just as many presidents and kings as they have seen fade from history. Buddha statues peacefully sat in their own meditative silence as they contemplated the world in the present. Marisa and I tried to absorb as many lessons as we could on our stroll through the many teachings carved into the surrounding stones. After our brief but spectacular moments of Zen, we left the monastery a little wiser than when we had entered, and we mounted our driver’s scooters to be ridden to another attraction.
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Our last destination for the day was something that I had heard of through strange stories, but I had not realized that we were on the island that produced the world’s most bizarre coffee. It is a fairly unique coffee that’s beans are brewed after being partially digested by an Asian Palm Civet and defecated back into the world of the living with other fecal matter. The excrement of this lovely mammal looks like a Payday bar full of peanuts and caramel. Some genius looked at that fantastic bar of nuggets and decided to throw it in an expresso machine and sell it for its weight in gold to seemingly foolish people. I am one of those foolish people.
I couldn’t resist. It is usually Marisa who eats exotic grubs and drinks fermented fluids that bubble and stink like a witch’s brew. But she can’t stand coffee, and I couldn’t live a day without it. Marisa watched in horror as I lifted the cup of coffee to my lips. But after nearly five straight years of drinking instant coffee, I was not a certified connoisseur whose opinion held any merit. But I thought my cup o’ crappy coffee was just as good as I could ever imagined it to be. I was 41 years, 2 days, and 6 hours old, and everything was just as it needed to be. My wonderful wife was by my side and there was a whole world waiting to be explored. There were life lessons to be learned, challenges to fail and to succeed at, and a beat-up motorcycle that bottomed out on every pothole. But when life hands you poop, make some coffee, and head out into the world with a smile on your face, and stains on your teeth. Marisa and I can't thank all of our Patrons enough! We wouldn't be able to be on this incredible adventure without your wonderful support!

Dan C, Ralph E, Caren M, Gareth J, TJ J, Pearl P, Lake Chatuge Mountain Adventure, Jason (Google User), Ed R, Toni C, Tiger C, David P, Keith M, Jacob M, Michael M, Randy G, Michael W, Erik , Steve , 1FTR_ADV, ADV Tammy, Steve L, Lee & Julie T, Bernhard
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If you enjoy these updates, and would like to help push us a few more miles down the road, you can put a few gallons in our gas tank at:  https://www.paypal.me/notiersfrontiers

Get early access to our YouTube videos for as little as a $1 a month by becoming a Patreon at  https://www.patreon.com/2upandoverloaded

Check out the books we have written along the way:  https://mybook.to/AdvMotorcycleBooks *

- Tim Notier

Riding through the congested cities of Java felt like the scenes from Star Wars where storm troopers sped through the forests of Endor on speeder bikes. But instead of evading the trunks of tall trees, I weaved around automobiles while dodging oncoming traffic that utilized our lane to pass vehicles in their own. All of the small motorcycles clung together like a school of minnows that quickly darted around the sharks and whales that were the cars and trucks on the narrow streets. It was a trial by fire, and I was a little uncomfortable while still getting used to riding on the left side of the road. And I quickly found out that downshifting from 3rd completely bypassed 2nd gear and landed in neutral, leaving me wildly revving the engine as the RPM needle redlined on the gauge. With a quick kick back into second gear, we would be off again while people looked at us awkwardly. It was blatantly obvious that we were still breaking in our horse. I was trying to build a partnership between man and machine, but the colt beneath us bucked and snorted as we made our way through the cities of Bogor and Bandung in West Java. Marisa and I purposefully took every side road that led through small fishing and mountain villages off the main highways. And it didn’t take long for us to find our first set of twisty roads that weaved through the landscape like the Tail of the Komodo Dragon. Slicing back and forth through the hills was made a little more interesting due to the road looking like it was last maintained in 1982. The suspension on our motorcycle didn’t have a lot of travel, so every pothole felt like we had crossed the event horizon of a black hole and landed violently in an alternate universe with equally bad infrastructure. But our surroundings were beautiful, and we couldn’t help but giggle and laugh over our Cardo intercoms. The narrow rocky roads weeded out the large trucks as we travelled from one picturesque village to the next. Each community was filled with kind and welcoming hosts that were just as excited to meet us as we were them. Through broken Indonesian and English, we could communicate where we were from, and made sure they knew how much we were loving every mile of Indonesia.
We were always greeted with smiles, and Marisa and I were never allowed to leave before mandatory selfies were taken. The two of us felt like rock stars in West Java. Without the attractions of Borobudur in Central Java, or the beaches in Bali, there weren’t a lot of tourists in West Java. But we liked it that way, and made a hundred new friends as we traveled through the small towns that were filled with the world’s friendliest people.
Marisa and I were having the time of our lives as we traveled across Java. I never knew what to expect around the next bend in the road but was thrilled when we entered a region where rice paddies crawled up the hillsides. I continuously pulled over as the views demanded more attention than I could allow while riding. It was nice to find ourselves far from the hustle and bustle of Indonesia’s capital city of Jakarta. We were now in an area with clean air and natural splendor. I couldn’t stop clicking my camera’s trigger while looking through the viewfinder as I stared out in awe. Everything was coming along perfectly. Even though our motorcycle struggled to get up some of the inclines, it always chugged up the roads and led us to the hidden wonders that lay in the heart of Java, Indonesia. As usual, Marisa had a few surprises for me. She often plugs in destinations on my phone of places that she has researched. I sometimes have no idea where we are off to, but know that it will most likely be awesome if Marisa chose the point of interest. That day’s surprise was an old Hindu temple that lay in the center of an island. A bamboo raft was our vessel to Candi Cangkuang, an 8th century temple in a quiet location surrounded by forests. We were once again the only Westerners around and Marisa quickly became the main attraction in place of the Hindu temple. We were swarmed by schoolchildren who lined up one by one for a photo opportunity. Marisa was in her element, and I was feeling blissful as I stood in the shade of a large tree on this small island, breathing in fresh air while children laughed and danced around my wife. It was a pretty epic moment that made me smile and fully appreciate how lucky we are to be traveling around the world together. But once back on the road, the yin and the yang of the universe quickly balanced each other back out. Marisa had a slight stumble and a bad fall when she dismounted the motorcycle at one of our roadside photo pitstops. She landed hard on her hand, and we weren’t sure if any of the small bones in her wrist had fractured. She made a squeal that melted my heart as soon as I heard it over the intercom. She lay in a ditch holding her arm and wincing in pain. She was able to carefully get back on the bike and we quickly revised our day’s route to the nearest hotel. I pulled over at a convenience store to plug in a new destination on my phone, but when I tried to restart the motorcycle, the engine refused to turn over. I tried to diagnose the issue, but without knowing very much about the Pulsar Bajaj 220, all I could do was check the battery terminals and confirm that there was gas in the tank. Thankfully, there were small bike mechanics nearly every other storefront and I was able to flag someone over to take a quick look at the motorcycle. It turned out to be some corrosion on the battery terminal that was shorting out the main harness. It was something that I should have been able to figure out on my own, but my mind was focused on Marisa’s hurt wrist, and the need to get to a hotel as soon as possible. I paid the friendly roadside mechanic a handful of Rupiah, and Marisa and I got back on the road towards a much-needed hotel. To confirm nothing was broken, we took a small bus to a hospital for an x-ray. After nervously waiting to see what the results of the x-rays were, it was verified that nothing had been broken! Marisa’s smile was back to full strength, and we were given some pain meds and a sling for her arm. A lot had transpired since landing in Jakarta and we both needed a couple of days to reboot. We had seen amazing places and had met wonderful people in our short time on Java so far. The beauty of the rice fields, temples, and smiling faces of everyone that we came across outweighed the bumps in the road, our struggling motorcycle, body aches, and stomach issues.
Marisa and I were thankful for everything that we had experienced, and we couldn’t wait for what was around the next corner.
A Huge THANK YOU to all of our Patrons Ralph E, Caren M, Gareth J, TJ J, Pearl P, Lake Chatuge Mountain Adventure, Jason (Google User), Ed R, Toni C, Tiger C, David P, Keith M, Jacob M, Michael M, Randy G, Michael W, Erik , Steve , 1FTR_ADV, ADV Tammy, Steve L, Lee & Julie T, Bernhard, Ryan & Laurel A, Dale T, Deanna H, Bill and Dana P, Jess W, Pete and Lisa W, Kerry I, Doug J, Jim P, Travis and Amanda R, William B, Vicki N Get early access to our YouTube videos, exclusive content, and post cards from around the world for as little as a $1 a month by becoming a Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/2upandoverloaded

- Tim Notier

​I never thought that sitting down in the same position for nearly 24 hours would leave me feeling like I had just gotten the daylights knocked out of me after 12 rounds of Muay Thai boxing.

Our flight from Tampa to Georgia was a quick toss of a frisbee compared to the 14-and-a-half-hour flight to Tokyo. And by the time we landed in Haneda airport in Japan, I felt like Neil Armstrong stepping off from Apollo 11 onto a strange new world. ​Marisa and I had been looking forward to our 7-hour layover in Tokyo, but our bodies and minds were on emergency reserve. We did manage to hop on the monorail and took a short hike to Zojo-ji Temple. We walked around trying to absorb as much Chi as we could in order to focus on the beauty that surrounded us. But my mind was Tokyo drifting to the thoughts of a warm bed with enough leg room to morph from Neil Armstrong to Stretch Armstrong. Marisa insisted on having sushi before heading back to the airport for the final leg of the journey. I’m not a fan of sushi, but I wasn’t going to deny Marisa an opportunity that she had been waiting for ever since we knew we had a layover in Japan.

It was one last 7-hour flight before we landed in Jakarta, and all we had to do was sit down in a cramped chair to achieve our goal of reaching Indonesia. And even though my knees felt like the rusted joints of the Tin Man, I reluctantly sat back down knowing the pain was almost over.

When we finally landed, I was ecstatic to be back on solid ground, and even more delighted when all our luggage appeared on the conveyer belt. Marisa and I walked out of the airport and were hit with a wall of heat and humidity like the high pressure wave of a nuclear explosion. I was very thankful that we had brought our mesh Klim gear that would allow maximum airflow in such a hot and humid climate.

We were then greeted by William, one of the friendliest people we have met to date. William was our Indonesian contact that was picking us up from the airport and helping to tie all the loose ends together regarding the motorcycle in the upcoming months that we would be spending in this new country.

William had the energy of a hummingbird as he listed all the amazing places that we could visit while in Jakarta. But Marisa and I were only half conscious and wanted nothing more than to sleep for as long as we could. And that is exactly what we did. We spent the next 7 days slowly adjusting to the 13-hour time zone difference and got ourselves mentally and physically prepared for the adventure ahead.
​On the 6th day, William drove us to the mechanic where our newest bike was waiting to meet us like a rescue animal. “Dorco” was a little beat up and had some deep scars, but the long scratches etched into the plastic guards looked like a treasure map of the adventures and places it had been. Our Bajaj Pulsar 220 was a few CC's and a couple horsepower short of our KTM 1190, but it had potential. There was about a quarter inch of suspension left after we mounted the bike with all our gear, but we knew that our journey across Java would be slow and steady. ​With our gear packed and excitement running through our veins, we headed out of Jakarta in search of green rolling hills filled with terraced rice fields. I also hoped that the insane traffic would start to disperse once we left the city limits of Jakarta, but that 1st day was hot and slow going.
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Frequent breaks were needed to rehydrate, and to dump water on our heads to keep cool. The good news was that I was getting the hang of crazy traffic, and we were making new friends by the dozen every time we pulled over. After a long day, we pulled into a cheap hotel and reassessed our intended route. I desperately wanted to avoid the thick traffic, so we decided to head south through the mountains on thin little white lines that represented the secondary roads on Google Maps.​ The following day we got exactly what we wished for. Long twisty roads with a cool breeze penetrating through our mesh jackets, and there was about ¾ less traffic than the day prior. And then I saw what appeared to be a roadside attraction as I pulled in and parked, hoping for some pretty views while we drank water. Our roadside pitstop turned out to be a hidden little nook that led to a small waterfall only 100 yards away from the parking lot. It was exactly what we needed after the hustle and bustle of the prior day's ride. ​We knew then and there that we would be sticking to the little white lines on Google Maps to avoid major highways and ride through small villages instead of main cities.
​Our short time in Indonesia has already been a fascinating experience. Every person we meet greets us with a smile. The food is tasty, and Marisa and I feel like rockstars walking around as people come up to us and politely ask to take a picture with us. We couldn’t be more thankful for the opportunity to explore such an amazing country filled with kindhearted people, and we have barely made it 50 miles from where we touched down in Indonesia.
 
We can’t wait for what is to come. Thank you for riding along with us, we hope that you enjoy the ride!

- Tim Notier

​Riding through Tanzania had everything an adventure motorcyclists could dream of. From challenging sections of off road that cut through endless plans of the savannah, to tight single-track switchbacks that climbed up the sides of mountains. There were countless trails that have been used as goat and donkey paths for hundreds, if not thousands, of years before any ADV motorcycle’s tires touched the surface. But we felt honored to leave the imprint of our Motoz Tractionator GPS tires alongside the hooved prints that connected the paths of past and present.

Over the course of the previous three years of traveling, we had realized that the best memories have been made alongside fellow travelers, or while deeply integrating into foreign cultures. And this time around, we would be riding with new friends while surrounded by exotic tribes of the Maasai people.
​But before our epic journey into the rugged landscapes that were filled with wonderful people, animals, and panoramas that lay just east of the Serengeti National Park, Marisa and I were lucky enough to have met another pair of adventurers. Encountering other motorcycle travelers in Africa had been a rare occurrence, but as we were riding outside the capital city of Arusha, we saw a KTM 1290 parked in front of a restaurant, and I immediately pulled over.
 
Marisa and I found the owners of the bike to be two Italians, Gianmaria and his girlfriend Lucia. They were also riding two up through Africa in the same general direction as us, but at a slightly faster pace. The four of us instantly bonded and we discussed where we had been and where we were headed. Both groups desperately wanted to ride into Serengeti NP, but motorcycles were not allowed due to the large game in the park. As we sat there evaluating our options, we zoomed into an area on our Google maps and saw a thin white line that looped around a remote section of land just east of Ngorongoro Crater.
​It looked like it could be some tough riding, but there wouldn’t be a better opportunity than now with the strength and motivation of fellow motorcyclists. It was settled over a toast to new friends and new adventures, and the duo of KTMs headed towards the unknown full of optimism and excitement.
 
Our grand entrance to the backcountry of Tanzania was a smooth gravel road and a canopy of bright green trees with limbs that branched out as if to give us a welcoming hug. Those trees lied to us. But I forgave them, because even though the road ahead didn’t lead to anywhere in particular, and wasn’t much of a road at all, it did lead to lifelong memories and a sense of accomplishment that involved teamwork, problem solving, and the hospitality of an incredible tribe of people.
​The road quickly turned into something that looked like it had been neglected for the last 20 years. The prior rainy season had been exceptionally heavy, causing the narrow concrete bridges that crossed over small rivers to have been wiped out completely. At first, we carefully traversed across washouts, sand pits, and muddy hill climbs to the opposing sides of the riverbanks, thinking that it must just be a nasty section that should improve further down the road. But since most of the ‘local’ traffic were cattle and goat herders, the necessity to repair all the bridges seemed a low priority. Gianmaria and I were forced onto small trails that twisted away from the crumbled bridges into fields of shrubbery that followed the river until it was shallow enough to cross.
​After a few hours of battling the lack of any connecting roads, we almost completely gave up as the two bikes rolled up to a section that seemed impassable. The road ended at another derelict bridge and there were no detouring paths that we could see. A dry riverbed with high banks was our latest obstacle, but with no bridge to cross the ravine, we seemed at a loss.
 
Our attention was turned towards a noise that sounded like silverware clunking around in a tin cup. A donkey wearing a leather collar with an old bell attached to it appeared from the brush. Then, a tall, stoic man with colorful clothes and a staff seemed to materialize from the shade of a tree.
 
“Where did he come from?” I asked.
 
“I’m sure that’s exactly what he is thinking,” Lucia replied.
 
“Jambo,” Marisa said ‘hello’ in Swahili, but that was about the extent of what she could say.
 
There was no way for us to communicate in words, but I pointed to our bikes, the destroyed bridge, then to the other side of the river, and shrugged.
​The man nodded. He understood that we needed to get across the ravine, and he signaled for us to follow him. We had unknowingly stumbled upon the outskirts of a Maasai village, and the four travelers from faraway lands quickly became the center of attention in the middle of nowhere. Wide eyes of tall, lean, majestic men who were draped in red and purple checkered fabrics studied us. Women wore beaded bands on their arms and shiny metal earrings that stretched their earlobes into large circles. The children circled around us and the bike, giggling as they touched the sheepskin that I had on our motorcycle’s seat.
 
We greeted every one of them with a smile, shook their hands, and were then shown the place where shepherds cross the dry riverbed with their cattle. It was a spot where the banks of the river had been eroded down by a thousand hooves on either side of the ravine.
​“Asante,” I told the man ‘Thank you,’ still not knowing if this nomadic group spoke Swahili or some other language that I didn’t know existed.
 
“Karibu,” he replied, ‘You’re welcome.’
 
The two couples mounted their ridiculously large motorcycles and bounced across the rocks and gravel of the riverbed to the other side.
​What greeted us further down the road were open fields filled with tall grasses that blew in the wind like the ebb and flow of a coastal tide. Long necks stretched above the horizon, and a group of giraffes came into focus as Gianmaria and I pulled over to appreciate the view.
 
“Fun fact,” Marisa said. “A group of giraffes are called a journey!”
It turned out that the four of us weren’t the only travelers on a journey that day, and the giraffes were looking at us just as curiously as we were them.
 
The two couples had made it deep into the Serengeti to a place completely inaccessible to 4x4 vehicles. The only other people out there were those who traveled by donkey or foot.
I was proud of what our small group of adventurers had accomplished. There had been water crossings, deep sand, and rocky riverbeds that could have potentially persuaded us to turn around. But with the help of local villagers, and with Lucia and Marisa pushing the two overloaded KTMs through sand pits, we had made it to a view that few outsiders had ever laid eyes on.
The sun was beginning to set, and we knew that we would not want to face any more obstacles in the dark, so we began to scout out a camping spot. There was plenty of available real estate to choose from, and when we spotted a small clearing in what would be a picturesque campsite, we pulled over to set up our tents.
 
Two Maasai men once again appeared out of seemingly nowhere and greeted us. In basic hand gestures, we asked if we could set up our tents on what was most likely their land. Without question, the two men nodded in approval and walked around our bikes as if appreciating the Mona Lisa at the Louvre Museum.
Marisa, who was a perfect ambassador, made tea and shared it with our new landlords, and their smiles were just as wide and beautiful as Marisa’s. The interaction, even without understanding each other’s languages, was filled with kindness and generosity. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, our hosts bid us a good night and walked back to their village.
 
The day had provided us with everything that we could have asked for. New friends, challenging exploration, wildlife, stunning landscapes, and the hospitality of strangers. I couldn’t believe how fortunate we were to have experienced everything that occurred that day. A trillion stars appeared in the sky above, and we drifted to sleep excited for what other adventures lay ahead. Check Out All of Our Adventures ---> Help Push us Further Down the Road with a Gallon of Gas!

- Tim Notier

​Marisa and I have wanted to visit Botswana ever since we watched The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency on HBO, a series based on the books by Alexander McCall Smith. The show made Botswana out to be an African paradise of giraffes and elephants roaming the landscape, friendly people greeting you everywhere with big smiles, and it seemed to be run by a peaceful, stable government. So, we were curious to find out if this was all true.
​We’d come into Botswana in the northern half near the Okavango Delta where most of the wildlife action is. Unfortunately, these sites are not accessible by motorcycle (due to motorcycles not being allowed into National Parks for safety reasons… like lions…), so we had to be a bit creative with where we went and what we saw.
 
Our first destination was a place called Planet Baobab, which, as you guessed, is famous for its baobabs. Baobabs aren’t just your average tree, they’re ancient and unique with girthy trunks and stubby branches that you often see in pictures of Madagascar.
There’s something about baobabs that’s magical: they stick up huge and mighty right out of the flat shrub land like a beacon to all people and animals to come for shelter, for shade, for a home. Some of these trees are over 2,000 years old, and as you walk under them, you feel the coolness of its immense shade, you touch its elephant-hide-like bark, you smell the fragrance of the summer sage grasses growing under your feet. And you know that this is where people have congregated since before white settlers ever came, since even before the Bantu people migrated from the north. This tree was here giving shade and refuge to the original bush people who hunted antelope and lions barefoot and with nothing more than spears. And to this day, you feel as if not much has changed around this tree. Antelope have become cows and goats with bells hanging around their necks, creating a wind-chime music to the place. And now there are paths winding through the landscape where 4x4’s and crazy motorcyclists try to push their way through the sand. But those are the only differences. The elephant dung is still fresh all around, the vultures still make their nests high up in the branches, and the air still smells of a humid heat carrying the scent of animals and flowers, just like it always has. ​We spent a day riding down the backroads around Gweta, doing nothing more than searching for baobabs. We’d keep our eyes out for the silhouettes of enormous trunks, and then we'd weave our way through the thorny brambles until we’d park under the shade, take off our sweat-soaked jackets, and have a snack next to the baobab. We were thankful that we brought our  water bottles as we definitely needed to rehydrate. It was a perfect day, even though it was a little hot out (ok, it was a lot hot out), but I will always associate Botswana with our search for the majestic baobab trees. ​After Planet Baobab, we headed off to another famous campground: Elephant Sands. This place is built around a watering hole where elephants like to hang out, and even though they’re wild, the elephants are used to people camping there, and they wonder around like they’re just another patron of the establishment.
It’s truly incredible to be that close to elephants, but I also gained some respect for earth’s largest land animal as I witnessed the lengths at which the place had to go to make sure that both people and their buildings were safe from the elephants’ destructive behavior.

​Rebar was sticking up out of the ground so elephants couldn’t walk over it, the bathrooms were encircled in concrete walls, and signs were posted everywhere saying, “Don’t leave the water running or you could endanger your life." It turns out that elephants seek out water like a backhoe digs through the earth, and they will topple walls, pull up piping, and trample anything in their way to get to it. So just like how you must keep your food protected up in trees when camping around bears, when camping around elephants you have to make sure your water supply is guarded in a fortress-like facility. And then just hope they don’t accidentally walk over your tent at night. ​The night that we spent there we were suddenly awoken by a roar of a monster. It was like the belching of a bear mixed with the low bass of a 90’s rap song. If I was a sound editor for the Jurassic Park movies, I would definitely use these elephant sounds for my T-Rex, because they are deep and freaky noises. At night, the elephants grumbled and groaned to each other, sometimes in anger as two young bulls clashed their tusks together in a fight. The sounds almost vibrated the earth beneath my feet with their low reverberating calls.
 
Marisa and I sat up in our tent at the sounds, and through the darkness we could see a massive elephant just fifteen feet away from us. We held our breath as he lumbered past and headed to the waterhole, where we could make out the shadows of ten more elephants, including some babies. ​Excitedly, we headed over to the main building and got a great view of the waterhole, and spent an hour or so watching the elephants slurp up the water through their trunks, and protect their little cute babies under their legs. I have to say, this was one of our most memorable experiences of our lives.
 
We will always cherish the time we spent chasing the giants of Africa.
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