The loudest chorus of roosters I have ever heard in my life woke me up nice and early in the morning. After having plenty of time to get ready, I made my way down to the pier, where I jumped on the ferry bound for Atauro Island. There weren't many tourists on board.
I was treated to blue skies the entire way, and I prayed that would last the day. Atauro slowly came into view, with its green jagged mountains making me excited for the hiking opportunities ahead. Low clouds obscured the tops of peaks, which rose almost 1000 m above sea level.
The pier on Atauro Island was in the middle of the main town, Beloi, but there was very little town to be seen. There were a few wooden shacks, a couple of gloomy stores selling mostly clothes, then it was countryside. A small Saturday market had been set up in amongst the shacks, which seemed to sell only coconuts and dried fish. It didn’t hold my interest for long.
A five-minute walk down the main road, where I passed nothing but a couple of houses, a row of empty beach shacks and small cemetery, led me to my accommodation (the cheapest of the three places I found online). It was located right on the sea and surrounded by beautiful gardens, with hammocks to lie in and the luxury of shared showers of the bucket variety. It was almost perfect.
Thankfully, all my meals could be prepared here, as there were no restaurants in town other than at the two other resorts. And to make it even better, they could happily accommodate vegans. One staff member was also vegan, so feeding me was no difficulty. At lunchtime a huge plate was placed before me, consisting of tempeh sauteed with vegetables, rice and salad. My stomach was at bursting point by the end. I wasn't going to starve here.
After digesting lunch in a hammock, I set out for an afternoon hike up north. To make it easy on myself, I just followed the wide gravel road that hugged the coastline. There was barely any traffic and the piercing sun had drifted behind light clouds, making for a pleasant stroll. At a couple of points the road led me high above the water, giving me fantastic views along the east coast of the island. However, none of the beaches looked particularly inviting, full of dark grey sand, rocks and loads of plant matter.
Eventually, I hit the town of Bikeli, which actually felt bigger than Beloi. One- and two-roomed huts lined the street, and the residents slowly performed their daily chores. Out the other side was the Bikeli viewpoint, giving long-ranging views across the crystal clear water. The famed reefs of the region could clearly be seen below the surface.
It is unbelievable how friendly the locals are. Everybody, young and old, says hello as I pass. On more than one occasion, someone 100 metres behind me shouted out so I would stop, only so they could say hello, shake my hand and introduce themselves. Even if they don't speak a word of English, they do what they can to make you feel welcome.
I was told the best view of the island within Beloi is at Ponky's Bar, part of the Beloi Beach Hotel (which, ironically, is nowhere near the beach). Once I had climbed up a steep set of stairs, I found a beautiful open-air space with a fully stocked bar and a variety of seating choices. I ordered my drink, took it out to the balcony and stared out at thin strip of blue water I could see above the palm trees in the foreground. It definitely wasn't the best view I had all day, but it was the only one with alcohol. The grey clouds continuously changed their pattern as the sky gradually became darker. It was a shame we were facing east rather than west.
My alarm woke me early the next morning so I could watch the supposedly amazing sunrise over the water. There was a bit of colour in the sky, but I wouldn't put it in my top 10.
Once the sun had risen above the horizon, I set out for a hike across to Adara, a village on the west side of the island. The original plan was to summit to the tallest peak, Mt Manucoco, which topped out at 995 m. Because the mountain is considered sacred on the island, a guide is mandatory (it is also very easy to get lost and there are no maps). When I found out the price of the guide, plus a tuk-tuk to and from the start of the trail, I decided to give it a miss. I didn't mind too much, as there were plenty of other hikes I could do for free.
Side note: access to money is quite difficult in Timor-Leste, so I have to be selective as to where I spend it. MasterCard is not accepted by ATMs anywhere in the country (a fact I fortunately learnt two days before arriving), and only the high end hotels accept credit cards. As I have three MasterCards, no Visas, and I'm staying in budget accommodation, I have to ration my cash. Also adding to my decision not to hike Mt Manucoco was discovering the cost of getting a speedboat back to Dili. Cheap ferries sail on Saturday and Thursday (it was random luck that I arrived on a Saturday). On other days, you need to book a private boat, which comes in at about A$100 one way. I have flown internationally for less.
For the first few kilometres of my hike, I climbed steeply up an unstable gravel road, which saw me slipping and sliding continuously. Views over the water behind me slowly came into view the higher I ascended. I could also see Mt Manucoco out to my left, and I knew the views would have been great on a clear morning like today.
The top of the mountain I was climbing never seemed to arrive. Gradually, the environment changed from completely exposed grassy hills to a lightly forested area full of eucalypt trees. Combined with the dusty track and gentle heat, it was very reminiscent of Australia. It ended up being one of my favourite parts of the trek.
Near the crest I found myself surrounded by long, yellow grass that swayed in the breeze. A narrow path wound its way through the field, providing views out to the sea in the distance. It was beautiful. I would have been happy to hike through this for hours.