This time we took Rufus, and went by a devious route.

Along the pretty back roads of the flat land, their normal peacefulness rudely disrupted by roaring bikers gathering for what seemed like quite a big political rally.

Across the Kali Opak on a rickety, bike-sized bridge. Then steeply up the rough and twisty back roads of the Gunung Kidul, stopping in the shade from time to time for reorientation. Nice to be back among the stone terraces, the karst peaks, and the plunging views. A different world, as always.

Sheltered from the rain in a funny little edifice that seemed like a cross between a lock-up and a cow-shed, opposite a statue of a rearing horse, whose plinth extolled the virtues of family planning.

Lunch at the Queen of the South. Soda gembira, fishy noodle soup, and coffee out on their lofty terrace, enjoying the breezes and the views.



After a good many goose chases, up hill and down dale, we finally tracked down Situs Gembirowati. This is another royal pied-a-terre, and very finely situated. A waterfall tumbles down the hillside behind, and the sea crashes in the middle distance. Little rice fields and papaya groves vie for picturesqueness with lush vegetation, charming little shrines, and the geometric designs of Gembirowati's panels. Sense of place in abundance.







Before exploring, we had to go and sign the visitors' book. A tiny old man with three teeth showed us into a sparsely furnished little house, tied the curtains up to let in some light, and sat us down on a narrow little bench in front of a plain wooden table to complete the paperwork.

Rufus needed a rest after this, so we left him chatting with some other bikes, and headed off down the QOTS staircase to Parangtritis Beach.

We'd never walked this far along towards the cliffs at the eastern end of the beach, and it turned out to be really picturesque. With its black sand, its rocky headlands and outcrops, and its cabbage-tree-like plants, it was extraordinarily reminiscent of New Zealand.

Bits of cloth cling spookily to many of the rocks. What's their story, we wondered... They form an appropriate background for the ghostly little crabs that scuttle, hardly visible, backwards and forwards across the sand.

People are often sniffy about Parangtritis. "Oh, the beaches to the east are much nicer," they say. But we found lots to exclaim over and photograph.



Eventually, we climbed back up the staircase, and sat on the edge of the QOTS gazebo, much to the confusion of the circumambulating ants. Gradually, the sun went down, the smoke started to rise from the village below, and dots of fire began to bloom on the beach.

By the time we were eating breakfast -- lengthily, as a weekend breakfast at a hotel demands -- the Sunday morning beach below was already packed.

We rode home via the dunes that flank the beach between Parangtritis and Depok. Here all manner of stuff is (very artistically) dried:



It often feels like there's no time to get away. Those, I guess, are the times when getting away is most necessary.