I’d hardly put much planning into my trip to Bali. I wanted to leave Thailand but wasn’t sure of where to go. Sophie, a colleague and friend, suggested Bali because I’d told her that I enjoy surfing - it made perfect sense. I looked-up a remote surf camp, booked a flight and the plan was complete.

I won’t go into the details of my time at Brown Sugar Surf Camp now as I’m only trying to give some background. Suffice to say I loved being there and my initial 2-week stay quickly became 2-months. With my already-extended visa expiry looming, I realised it was time to see a little more of my surroundings. A group of 3 friends had similar thoughts and kindly offered me to join them.

We explored a few locations on Bali, spent a week on neighbouring Lombok and settled, in the end, on Nusa Lembongan, a small island south-east of Bali. There’s little to do on Lembongan; you can keep yourself entertained if you dive or surf, otherwise there are pleasant walks or you can hire a scooter to explore the whole island in a couple of hours. Riding across the narrow, rickety suspension-bridge to smaller but stunningly beautiful Nusa Ceningan extends your ride into a lovely day out. We rented a room found on AirB&B in a cosy private compound where several strange coincidences would cause me to contemplate the concept of fate.

Upon arrival, Ana, who advertised the accommodation, politely asked if we minded some visitors as they were celebrating a birthday. Of course we didn’t mind and joined them for a couple of drinks. Before long a girl arrived who I recognised but I couldn’t quite place. She eventually looked at me with a confused expression, asking “how do I know you?”. Several months previous, I’d spent a week on a live-aboard dive boat off the west-coast of Thailand - she was a guide & instructor on that boat! Unlikely as that seemed, it wasn’t the last coincidence I’d experience.

Before leaving the surf camp, I’d spent some time researching potential locations for photography around Bali. Atuh Beach stood out as one of the most beautiful but little information on how to find it existed. Upon review of my map-pins, Atuh showed-up as being on the far side of a nearby island, Nusa Penida. I was so close, I couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

I mentioned my desire to see Atuh during a conversation with Ana. She knew the place well and before long was messaging a man she knew, Made, who operates a warung right on Atuh Beach itself. Ana’s friend, the owner of the compound we were staying in, leads tours on Nusa Penida and quickly set about organising a bike for me there. Soon he was dropping me at a small boat of questionable seaworthiness for the short trip across the treacherous straight to an island I knew nothing about. Armed with little more than a bottle of water and camera equipment, I was alone with only these instructions: “Find bike ’16’ at Penida’s only ATM at top of beach; turn left; get fuel at the first and only petrol station; keep riding around coast and then inland when coast road stops; you’ll see 2 signs - one saying ‘Atuh Beach, left’ and the other saying ‘Atuh Beach, right’. Go right; Keep going until you can’t.” So off I went.

Overshadowed by Bali’s popularity, Nusa Penida has so-far avoided mass-tourism and as such is relatively underdeveloped. It’s pretty big and having only recently learned to ride a scooter, I took my time, stopping to stock up on snacks and water along the way. The journey probably took a couple of hours on mostly deserted roads. As the coast road turned into the winding hills, its brand-new tarmac surface was a joy to ride on but it didn’t last long. Eventually the improvements ended and the road became dirt. Relieved to find the curious left/right sign, I stuck to my instructions as dirt-road gradually became dirt-track and then rocky path which tested my riding skills to the limit. Eventually I could ride no further, left my bike behind a small guesthouse/shop and continued, surrounded by butterflies, on a footpath to the top of a peninsula that took my breath away. To the right, the high vertical cliff dropped onto an idyllic but inaccessible beach complete with a stand of palm trees and vivid turquoise water. To the left, another beach came into view at the mouth of a valley, with a small temple behind and a row of little huts above the high tide mark. Surrounded by sea, an islet sat out in the bay, topped with greenery. Accessed by a steep set of steps cut into the cliffside, I’d found Atuh.

The clamber down made me dread the thought of climbing back up but I soon hit the soft white sand of the beach. To my left, a small oasis of palm trees hugged an almost-dry stream and right, below the sand, a receding tide exposed a rough coral reef. If I had expected anything at all, it was that it would be bigger. A handy toilet/shower block was placed sufficiently back from the beach, close to the temple. The row of tiny huts were individually-owned warungs peddling refreshments and bamboo furniture to weary visitors, of which I seemed to be the only one. At the first hut were my hosts, Made and Feny; two of the most genuinely friendly and likeable people on earth.

I had to walk toward the far end of the beach before I saw what I’d came here for - a magnificent rock arch to the right of the islet in the centre of the bay. The shape of the arch has a fantastical feel about it, for reasons I can’t explain, it conjures thoughts of dragons. From a practical, photographic perspective, I was more restricted than I’d imagined. The arch was only visible from one end of the beach and the peninsulas that enveloped it left little negative space either side. I was at the mercy of the tide, which as it lowered, linked islet with island. The sun would set somewhere behind me down the valley, giving fairly flat front-lighting that wouldn’t compliment the arch to its greatest potential. It would rise to the left, somewhere behind the cliff, but would it be far enough south to illuminate the islet, or cast a huge shadow over it? Only time would tell and I would photograph it at both times regardless.

For the rest of the afternoon I relaxed and spoke with Made and Feny about their lives here and how they were the first to open a business on the beach only a few years before. Made showed me dinner; a fresh clutch of Mackerel. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t like fish and gratefully requested the smallest one. We erected my accommodation for the night on the dry sand - a small 2-man dome tent that Made owned for just such an occasion. Stuffed with a pillow, a thin under-mat and quilt, we positioned the doorway toward the sea and he made a small fire behind. Late afternoon, Feny pointed toward the oasis where a troupe of monkeys had arrived to clean-out discarded coconuts. I approached with the long lens attached to my camera but with babies in-tow, the leader of the group made it very clear that I wouldn’t be getting too close. I have been close to all kinds of potentially dangerous animals but these small monkeys by-far made me the most nervous. Once the coconuts were emptied, they headed for the cliffside and disappeared as I strolled back along the beach to catch some evening light on the arch.

Returning to camp, Made had roasted the fish on the open fire. It was served with something potato-like but sweeter, drier, boiled. I’m tempted to call it Cassava, but I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I was given the smallest fish but I ate as much as I could, which probably wasn’t as much as they expected. It wasn’t terrible and I’m sure a fish eater would have loved it, but I was very grateful for such a pleasant gesture.

My hosts added a couple of logs to the fire and left for home just before dark along with the other warung owners, leaving me completely alone for the night on a perfect paradise beach. It was magical in every way and could only be improved had I been lucky enough to share the experience with a loved-one. I was alone, and perhaps a little lonely, but in an incredibly beautiful place.

When darkness fell, I tried for some astro-photography. I didn’t have long because a full-moon would be rising soon and render all but the brightest stars invisible. I also had to be aware of conserving my batteries for the morning. The moon illuminated the beach with surprising brightness and a cool sea breeze blew through the net-door of the tent, I read a little and spent the night drifting in and out of broken sleep, wondering whether the evil monkeys would try to mug me as I slept. They didn’t and I awoke early.

Waiting for first light, I made sure my camera gear was set up and ready before stepping out of my front door and into the scenery. The tranquility was shattered when a group of Indonesian photographers descended the cliff and spread across the beach. Friendly as they were, they showed little regard to stepping into another person’s photo and as the sun began to appear, I had to forcefully ask them to keep out of shot. To their credit, they were for the most part accommodating and apologetic. Now the sun was rising and it was harsh, even when just above the horizon. The shadow of the cliff quickly moved from the islet and warm strong sunlight raked across the arch from my left. Unfortunately my foreground, the exposed reef was cast in shadow and I struggled to find a suitable rockpool to reflect the islet in. Eventually I had to settle for the spot I was at and make multiple exposures so that I could deal with the dark foreground later in post. It wasn’t long before the photographic window had closed and I headed back to the tent while the other photographers climbed back up the cliff. Mission accomplished, I sat and enjoyed the peace until the warung owners arrived to begin their day.

Feny made me some breakfast and I was feeling good. I loved being here so I asked if I could spend another night, to which my hosts obliged. My morning was lazy and I swam at high tide before heading up the dreaded steps to explore the cliffs, stumbling upon Pulau Seribu, or Thousand Island. Misleading by name, Thousand Island is a stunning group of sea-stacks scattered below the cliff, numbering 5 or 6 (as opposed to 1000), but none-the-less beautiful for it. I ate some Mie Goreng at a small warung on top of the cliff and got talking to the owner. For a price, they allow you to descend the cliff to their tree-house but I convinced him to let me go for free in exchange for a mention in my blog. I’m ashamed to say it’s taken me over a year and a half to do this, but at last I’ve fulfilled my promise! Steep steps lead down the cliffside, assisted in places by ropes - it’s a bit of a scramble, but entirely possible. Levelling off onto a small promontory, I passed under what might just be the world’s finest treehouse. Beyond this on the tip is a worshipping spot and the most incredible unspoilt view of Thousand Island. Batu Molenteng treehouse can be rented and contains a simple, but beautiful, bedroom with a small balcony overlooking the stunning view. A bedroom, in a treehouse, on one of the most beautiful spots I’ve ever witnessed. I would’ve loved to have stayed there, but I couldn’t help thinking it was just too special and deserved a better reason. If anyone ever marries me, I will take her there. The rest of the day was much like the previous - a little swimming, a lot of relaxing and a visit from satan’s monkeys.

I didn’t photograph anything that evening but was up bright and early again before sunrise. Not wanting to repeat the previous morning, I scaled the cliff to shoot the scene from above. After some breakfast and a little more swimming, it was sadly time to leave the beautiful Atuh Beach and my wonderful hosts - if you ever visit, you must meet this lovely couple and if you do, please give them a hug from me!

I wanted to see more of the island but was nervous of heading into the unknown. I’d been told that the terrain only gets worse and I had little information as to what was out there and what was not. Instead I returned the way I had arrived, stopping off along the way to see the Goa Giri Putri cave temple. At the top of a high set of stone stairs from the main road, I paid a fee, donned the obligatory sarong and had my head anointed with holy water. The only problem was finding the cave entrance I’d paid to enter. It was behind me - a tiny vertical hole in the rock, barely wide enough to squeeze through. Once inside I scrambled on my hands and knees for a short distance until the cave widened - into a space that could easily accommodate a row of double-decker buses! Well lit, it was warm, damp and humid throughout. Sweet incense permeated the thick air and the echoes of prayer song reverberated around the giant cavern as a path led me past various worship spots and through the main temple area. Beyond were several darker chambers and tunnels which I ventured into when nobody was looking and at the back was another opening overlooking forest and a small giftshop. Unsure what exactly I was experiencing, I took some photos then sat on the ground for a while in silence, which was very pleasant. It’s not often I have the opportunity to simply sit in a cave temple.

Continuing round past where I’d disembarked the boat, I found myself in the heart of tourist Penida. By any other standards, this is decidedly un-touristy, but given the remote solitude I had just left, there were too many sunburnt western faces for my liking. I struggled to find the second contact that Ana had given me here. The room was crawling with insects, filled with dirty bedding and scrunched up toilet paper. I’m used to slumming it but this just seemed unhealthy. He was kind enough to take me to a few nearby resorts but the only one with availability was high-end and far too expensive. It was already getting late and not wanting to be left in the dark without a place to sleep, my adventurous spirit departed and I raced back to the main beach to find the last boat preparing to leave for Lembongan. They waited for me as I ditched the bike back at the ATM, marking the end of my short but very-sweet adventure on Nusa Penida and its magical Atuh Beach.

Though I’d achieved what I had set out to do, I can’t help feeling that I’d given up too easily because I know I missed so much. At least I have a good excuse to return again sometime in the future. What it will be like then, I can only guess - Nusa Penida seems to be developing fast. Feny recently posted photos of a concrete road/path running along the spine of the cliff above Atuh and then there was that conversation I had with a local man who wanted to build a hotel on the pasture next to the temple. This saddens me because I feel that the difficulty of the terrain and its remoteness made Atuh Beach all the more special. At the same time I feel partly responsible - development only happens because people like me go there. I can still hope that the treehouse remains untouched and if anyone fancies marrying me and staying in it, leave a reply below!