Some of my favorite travel stories seem to begin with a very questionable decision.

This one started at 3:40 in the morning.

Back in July 2019, my friend Mikhael and I decided to ride across Bali to Seraya, Karangasem, hoping to catch the sunrise from Mencol Hill. There wasn’t much of an itinerary beyond that. See the sunrise. Explore East Bali. Figure out the rest later.

Looking back, that was probably how many of our trips worked back then. What was supposed to be a relatively straightforward sunrise mission eventually involved getting lost in someone’s neighborhood, having strangers rescue my motorbike, spontaneously visiting another friend’s family, drinking arak in the middle of the day, and ending up at a waterfall. In other words, a fairly normal adventure for us at the time.

Chasing Sunrise to East Bali

We left my place while most people were probably still asleep.

It was cold, dark, and windy, and I remember worrying that we’d ride all the way to Karangasem only to find the sky covered in clouds.

Still, we went.

Somewhere along Ida Bagus Mantra Road, we stopped for breakfast at a roadside restaurant.

That was when Mikhael got a stomachache.

So while he dealt with that situation, I waited nearby.

Apparently, he didn’t want me wandering too far away.

Years later, I’m still not entirely sure what he thought I could have done to help, but friendship comes with responsibilities, I suppose.

Eventually, we were back on the road.

We followed Google Maps toward Taman Ujung and continued in the direction of Seraya.

By then, the sky had begun changing.

Orange slowly appeared along the horizon, and somewhere in the distance we could even see Mount Rinjani.

It was around 5:45 AM.

Sunrise was getting closer.

Unfortunately, Mencol Hill wasn’t.

Google Maps Betrayed Us Again

According to Google Maps, we were only about 19 minutes away.

Great.

We followed the directions onto a white-paved road that gradually took us deeper into a residential area.

I started getting suspicious.

“Something’s not right.”

“Just keep going. That’s the way down,” Mikhael reassured me.

I listened.

That was my mistake.

The road continued downhill until suddenly there was nowhere else to go.

We had arrived at a dead end.

In front of someone’s house.

Perfect.

I tried turning the motorbike around and riding back up, but the road had become a mixture of dirt and loose rocks. The bike couldn’t get enough traction.

I pushed.

Mikhael pushed.

Nothing.

We were stuck.

After struggling for a while, an older man and a younger man, possibly his son, came over to see what these two random guys from Denpasar were doing with a motorbike outside their house at sunrise.

They asked where we were trying to go.

“Mencol Temple in Seraya,” Mikhael explained, using the English name displayed on Google Maps.

Silence.

I looked at him.

Eventually, after we explained ourselves a little better, they understood.

Then they laughed.

Apparently, we weren’t the first people looking for Bukit Mencol who had been sent into the wrong neighborhood.

That made me feel slightly better.

With their help, we finally managed to push the motorbike back up.

We thanked them and continued our journey.

Google Maps: 1.

Fery and Mikhael: 0.

Again.

Finally, Mencol Hill

Not long after escaping our accidental neighborhood tour, we found a sign pointing toward Desa Seraya.

Then another sign for Pura Mencol.

Progress.

The road became rough and bumpy as we approached, so I slowed down and carefully made my way through until we finally arrived.

And somehow, we’d made it in time.

At Mencol Hill, a short climb took us toward Pura Mencol and the viewpoint above.

After everything we’d just gone through, reaching the top in around five minutes almost felt suspiciously easy.

Then I saw the view.

The sun was beginning to rise over the ocean.

Below us were hills and coastline, while the morning light slowly changed the landscape around us.

For once, neither of us needed Google Maps to tell us where to look.

We just stayed there.

The grass was yellowish from the dry season, giving the hill a completely different character from the lush green landscapes people often associate with Bali.

And then there was the tree.

Apparently, we’d found the designated Instagram tree.

Mikhael climbed it.

I did not.

I knew my limits.

So while he managed to get his dramatic tree-climbing photo, I stayed safely underneath and got mine.

Both valid artistic choices.

We spent some time exploring, taking photos, enjoying the wind, and recovering from the morning’s navigation disaster.

Eventually, it was time to leave.

We just didn’t know where we were going next.

A Spontaneous Visit to Arsa’s House

Instead of returning the way we’d come, we took another route past Pura Mencol and continued toward Gili Selang.

Somewhere along the way, Mikhael had an idea.

“Why don’t we visit Arsa?”

Arsa lived in Desa Duda Timur, and since it was still relatively early, I agreed.

Why not?

Mikhael called him.

And apparently, simply telling our friend that we were coming wasn’t enough.

He also asked for coffee, food, and some proper Karangasem arak.

Very subtle.

We continued through Amed before eventually arriving at Arsa’s village.

His parents and uncle welcomed us and invited us to sit down.

Coffee appeared almost immediately.

Then Arsa’s dad cooked for us.

There was chicken with sambal matah, tum, and several other dishes laid out on the table.

What had started as a spontaneous “let’s visit Arsa” had somehow turned into lunch with the whole family.

Then came the arak.

Mixed with cola.

I looked at Mikhael.

“You asked for it. You finish it.”

He just grinned.

We all ended up sharing it anyway, including Arsa’s dad.

The arak tasted stronger than what I was used to drinking back in the city, and I remember feeling warm almost immediately.

But we stopped after a few rounds.

I still had to ride a motorbike, after all.

Somewhere in 2019 Fery’s brain, common sense was apparently still functioning.

Mostly.

“There’s a Waterfall Nearby”

After lunch, Arsa suggested taking us to Jagasatru Waterfall.

Sure.

Why not add another destination?

We got back on the motorbikes and followed him through steep, winding roads toward the waterfall.

When we arrived at the parking area, Mikhael announced that he needed to pee.

“There’s a bathroom inside,” Arsa told him.

Problem solved.

Or so he thought.

At the time of our visit, we paid IDR 10,000 per person and started walking down the steps toward the waterfall.

Down.

And down.

And down.

Eventually, we reached the bottom.

Mikhael looked around.

“Dude, where’s the bathroom? I really need to go.”

Arsa looked at him.

“Upstairs.”

Poor Mikhael.

After everything his stomach had already put him through that morning, now his bladder had joined the adventure.

Jagasatru Waterfall

The waterfall itself was relatively calm compared with some of the larger waterfalls I’d visited around Bali.

It wasn’t particularly huge, and because we’d visited during a holiday, there were quite a few people around.

Naturally, there was a queue for photos.

Apparently, even waterfalls had queues in 2019.

Still, the area was refreshing after spending much of the day riding under the sun.

We explored, took our photos, and eventually decided to make our way back.

Which meant climbing all those stairs we’d happily walked down earlier.

About halfway through, the universe decided Mikhael shouldn’t be the only one suffering.

Now I needed the bathroom.

Urgently.

The climb suddenly became considerably more motivational.

Add the earlier arak into the equation, and those stairs felt significantly steeper than I remembered.

Eventually, we reached the top.

Bathroom located.

Crisis resolved.

We sat for a while, caught our breath, and enjoyed the view before heading back to Arsa’s house for one final rest.

Then came the long ride home to Denpasar.

Reading my original story from 2019, I’m struck by how much we managed to fit into a single day.

We left home before four in the morning.

Got lost.

Got the motorbike stuck.

Had two strangers rescue us.

Made it to Mencol Hill.

Watched the sunrise.

Took far too many photos.

Decided to visit a friend without much planning.

Got fed by his family.

Drank arak.

Visited a waterfall.

Had multiple bathroom emergencies.

Then rode all the way back to Denpasar.

I’m tired just writing about it now.

But I also miss that version of travelling sometimes.

There wasn’t much planning.

There certainly wasn’t much optimization.

We weren’t trying to create the perfect East Bali itinerary.

One idea simply led to another.

Mencol Hill led us through Amed.

Amed led us to Arsa.

Arsa led us to Jagasatru.

And eventually, somehow, the road led us home.

If everything had gone according to plan, perhaps I would remember the sunrise and not much else.

Instead, I remember two strangers helping us push my motorbike up a dirt road.

I remember being welcomed into Arsa’s family home and unexpectedly having lunch together.

I remember teasing Mikhael over a glass of arak.

I remember both of us desperately looking for bathrooms at different points of the day.

And somewhere between all of that, I remember East Bali.

Not just as somewhere we went to see beautiful places, but as the backdrop to one very long, slightly ridiculous day with friends.

Maybe that’s why, all these years later, I still remember it.

The destinations were beautiful.

But the detours made the story.