East Timor -

he twin-engine aircraft dipped a wing over the blue waters of Banda Sea, and Atauro Island appeared to the north as we lined up for the runway at Dili, capital city of the world's newest nation.

For some travellers there's a certain excitement about being able to claim they were first on the scene, the early arrival, the virgin footprint in the sand. In the early '70s trailblazers were spoilt for choice. Today, in our thoroughly raked-over world, there's really nowhere left that somebody hasn't already explored. Yet there are places that remain isolated – shut away for years by politics, wars, natural disasters and plain old deep suspicion. We must wait for the doors of these countries to be flung open again, or at least inched ajar.

Intrepid visitors are already making their way back to Afghanistan and you can be certain lots of people are itching to set foot in Iraq, as soon as things calm down. As the world's newest country (it took up its seat in the UN in 2002), East Timor is still a place where you can claim to be an early visitor, and joining those travelling pioneers is safe and straightforward.

East Timor has gone through three incarnations in the past 30 years, and I've been fortunate enough to visit all three versions. First, as Portuguese Timor back in 1974 – an almost forgotten remnant of the European nation's colonial empire and one which was soon going to find itself cut adrift when the 'carnation revolution' swept out Portugal's military dictatorship.

Like Angola and other former Portuguese colonies, it was not adrift for long. In late 1975, visions of an independent East Timor were cruelly swept aside when neighbouring Indonesia invaded. The Indonesians hung on for nearly a quarter of a century and trashed the place on their way out in 1999. I made a flying visit in the early 1990s, during that occupation.

Today I'm setting foot on version three: the peaceful, independent one.

East Timor occupies the eastern half of the island of Timor. The other half is West Timor, a province of Indonesia. Head west from East Timor and you can play hopscotch along the string of islands that lead to Bali and Java. Head southeast and you'll soon come to Darwin in Australia's Northern Territory.

In fact the climate, with its dusty dry season and sludgy wet one, feels remarkably like northern Australia. Likewise the vegetation has a strongly Australian flavour. The terrain, however, is quite different. There's nothing remotely flat about East Timor. Even though it's not much more than 50 kilometres from south coast to north, in between there are mountains comfortably higher than anything Australia can offer.
A Portuguese statue of the Virgin Mary tops Mt Ramelau, the highest point on the island at 2,963 metres. Standing at her feet you can see right down to the north coast or swing around and gaze upon the south. An ascent to Mary is a steady two-hour slog, yet the rewards are greater than a panoramic view. Afterwards you can follow the bumpy gravel road to Maubisse, a hill town with a charming Portuguese inn (pousada) serving fabulous food and wine from the colonial motherland.

BREAK

The trophy view from Mt Ramelau represented a culmination of my East Timor travels. From here I surveyed my journeys west and east along the north and south coasts. In both directions the road often clings to steep cliff faces, with the sea shimmering far below. Villages pop up periodically, often centred around crumbling old Portuguese forts, one or two with their cannons pointing mutely out to sea.

On my way west to the Indonesian border, I had paused to check out the market and one such fort at Maubara, before turning south from Batugade, the border town, and climbing into the hills. That western loop also took me to the hill town of Ainaro, home to one of the country's most colourful churches, before dropping back down to Dili on the coast.

Returning to the capital after a day trip is the main modus operandi of East Timorean travel. The capital acts as a good base to explore the rest of the country. Although Dili has quietened down a fair bit since the steady withdrawal of the UN contingent, there are still plenty of hotels and restaurants to choose from. East Timor is small enough that you can get pretty well anywhere in a day's travel from here, and if you want to rent a car or motorcycle this is the place to do it.

Dili itself holds your attention, with choice sights and experiences for the cultural observer. There is a museum under development that traces the country's colonial history and the struggle for independence. Other reminders of those years of desperate turmoil include the Santa Cruz Cemetery, the site of a massacre in 1991, which today is regarded as a turning point in that long struggle. In addition, Dili has a huge catholic cathedral, and a gigantic Christ statue overlooking the sweep of the harbour, reminiscent of Christ the Redeemer atop Mount Corcovado in Rio de Janeiro.

My eastbound travels took me past a string of popular scuba diving sites to Baucau, the second biggest town in the country and a popular weekend break for Dili expats. Perched on a plateau high above the coast, it benefits from a cool setting. Baucau is charming enough in itself, though the chichi pink Pousada de Baucau, often referred to as the Hotel Flamboyant, is definitely a large part of that charm.

Using Baucau as a base I travelled south to Viqueque, 15 kilometres from the south coast, to the coastal stretches bordering the Timor Sea, and into the hills that range along the spine of the island. The final steps of my westbound foray took me to the small resort developing at Com and finally to Tutuala, perched high above the sea at the very western extremity of the island. Far down below is Jaco Island, separated from the mainland by a beautiful coral-reefed strait.

Down at Tutuala beach, looking across to the island, I met a young Australian who was taking full advantage of East Timor's opportunities for adventure. He'd chartered an outrigger fishing canoe with an outboard motor and village-hopped along the coast from Baucau to this furthest outpost. The final few kilometres from the village of Tutuala down to the beach had been an adventure in itself, bouncing down a rocky track definitely reserved for 4WDs.

Snorkelling just yards from the shore reminded me that its underwater scenery could be one of East Timor's big attractions. The first scuba divers arrived post-independence, but already a handful of operators have set up in Dili. Many fine diving spots are only a few strokes out from the beach – a blessed realm of underwater wonder, available with relatively little effort.

Alternatively weekend boat trips are made out to Atauro, the spearhead-shaped island I spied through the aircraft window on the approach to Dili airport. There's excellent scuba diving around the coast, and a handy Eco Lodge for visitors who'd like to stay longer. Encounters with marine life abound, whether diving Big Fish Rock, Two Mile Reef or the prosaically titled Frank's Crack. Brushes with dolphins, pilot whales and manatees are virtually guaranteed on the trip back to Dili.

For now, my circle of this fledgling nation is complete. East Timor has emerged from its recent dark past putting its best foot forward, offering abundant natural beauty, and a treasure trove of charming Portuguese dilapidation for the historically inclined. And though a large stride may be required to bring this nation's tourism infrastructure comparable with nearby Bali, that's hardly the point. For now, every step is an adventure. A chance to say, "If you think it's beautiful now, you should have been here in 2005."