‘Do you know how many followers I have?’ Dodging influencers in Bali

The influencer crowd have caught up, bussed in on giant coaches, driven by heavily smoking drivers with nerves forged in the traffic-choked lanes of the coast. They disperse into the tropical gardens surrounding the multi-tiered Hindu temple Ulun Danu Beretan, to click selfies on benches with heart shaped frames or holding frill-necked lizards, fluffy bunnies and an immense floral parrot from the small petting zoo. Yet, unlike the luridly painted restaurants, here is unconstructed natural beauty. The temple can be framed with camera trickery to appear to be an island when it’s on a spit of land. Otherwise the water really is as still as a mirror while looming over it all, the mountain.

After this, the jungle gradually becomes pine forest, the road narrowing into switchbacks to handle the grade. Roadside a mob long-tailed macaques scramble in the trees stealing fruit from passers-by, their expressions almost recognisably human.

Finally, the summit, 2000 metres above sea level. I pull over to take in the stunning vista of a massive cloud-shrouded mountains, bright sun reflecting off the twin lakes in craters of extinct volcanos, all softened by creeping jungle. Here is another influencer trap: for $15 you can photograph yourself swinging over this backdrop. I rest at the tea house next door in a cabana and enjoy the exact same view, for the price of a cup of ginger tea.

A bus arrives and tourists file out, blinking in the sun. It’s time to go. From here, the road down is a black ribbon slicing through jungle, joining small brightly painted hamlets. The air is cool and the scooter, now pulled by gravity, becomes a powerful machine.

On this far, less developed coast are resorts but, unlike Canngu, they’re part of real villages. I cut through bustle of regular traffic, through Bubunan, Banjar and land in Lovina at a beachside resort.

Next morning I awaken to the rising tropical heat. I’m soon out zipping past trucks waiting at lights. Traffic slows to a stop. Ahead is a political rally. Crowds of opposition supporters surge through the intersection wearing traditional Balinese garb. Some dance roadside clashing cymbals and pounding drums. A loudspeaker is yakking slogans too tinny to make out. Placards and posters are held aloft. Democracy has hit the streets.

The trip in reverse is even more invigorating. There’s a steep ascent to the summit then a very long straight, cutting through villages, before landing in hot streets of Ubud, crammed with traffic, returning to the world I had escaped.

I will remember best the summit on return, when I took a break at a plush tearoom, its interior decorated self-consciously enough to be influencer-worthy. Outside, though, a balcony overlooked Mount Batur, a volcano that last erupted in 2000. Lava seared the mountainside before solidifying to a rock scab, terminating just before a few scattered shacks. Vistas like these are sometimes called sublime – when something is so massive and spectacular it swallows you up. I took a selfie but each time the background felt flat and lifeless. Perhaps a better photographer could have captured the geological drama, but then I remembered what I was escaping, so I put down my phone and enjoyed the view.

DETAILS There are flights to Denpasar (Bali) from most Australian international airports both with major and budget carriers. When there you can book a scooter through your hotel or from a rental company for about $A10 a day, although it might be worth paying more for something newer and bigger for the hills (check your travel insurance provides coverage for riding scooters overseas). Petrol and accommodation are abundant throughout the island.

The writer travelled at his own expense.