RA's Journal: Arriving in Bukittingi and onward to Danau Maninjau (Part I)

Adventure Cycling for Humanity 2011 – Indonesia
Bukittingi
Elevation: 930 meters:

I am now 930 meters above sea-level and on top of the roof top of Rajawali Homestay, in the middle of Bukittinggi, centre of action writing this draft. I had a good rest last night at another slightly expensive guesthouse (but very attractive) before coming here, a cheaper but more cozy place that meets my daily budget of S$20.00 per day.

On the roof top of Rajawali Homestay

It all started in 2010 March last year in Bali. I was riding around Bali with four close friends and I thought it would be cool if I brought along my Frisbee to play with village kids and/or to teach them some throwing skills.

On morning of the second day of our road trip in Lovina, North Bali. I woke early to ride in the village nearby. I found one village school and went inside to talk to the head of school. I received the approval to do on the same day. I hastily rode back to lodging where I was staying, woke the two of my other friends (the other two were snoring like pigs), had breakfast and rode back to the school. I did whatever I could within an hour, interviewed the teacher and gotten the feedback that the kids really loved it.

Before we left, I shook hands with several kids. One girl had asked if I would be back again, I told her, “Yes” and that was it. Here I am now, doing the whole 9 yards from Sumatra and possibly across several thousand kilometers to get back to the school.

Why am I doing it the hardest way?

I will write more, part by part along the way until the end of this adventure. It might take a while before I cover the vast distances. Like everyone else, I have to work and also to fund this Adventure

Back to Bukittinggi and Sumatra. Phew! What a way to be riding your bicycle uphere. Bukittinggi was compact from where I was looking. Everything was within walking distance, nice weather, not too hot and not too cold. People were generally friendlier, like Sumatra's biggest city, Medan. It was refreshing to be up here to see less congested roads and with less pollution. However, the garbage problem still persist here in Bukittinggi.

Tuesday,6 December 2011
Elevation: 930 meters:

After the midnight break at Padang Sidempuan, I was asked by the bus driver to continue taking the bus until it got nearer to Bukittinggi. It was obviously dangerous to be cycling at that hour in the middle of the dense jungle and steep winding mountain roads. I alighted from the bus just outside Lubuk Sikaping, about 80 km outside Bukittinggi and took my time to cross the equator in Bonjol. From then on, I kept moving, climbing not wanting to stop and until I could see lights again. The only reason I continued riding in the dark with no other vehicles was the thought of Sumatran Tigers, really. If not, I would have just camped and waited for daylight. It was getting harder each day being here in the Sumatran highlands and riding on the Trans Sumatran Highway. In the end, it was the harsh reality that it was not an easy thing to do, attempting to ride on the Trans Sumatran Highway. Every single minute I am riding my bike on it was a risk that I would be taking. It was made worst with bad road conditions and the pollution (burning of rubbish and the extreme fumes from what seems to be poorly maintained vehicles).

When daylight came, all hell broke lose again. If you read my earlier reports about the roads (or was it a highway) in Sumatra, that was nothing. Here it got even worse. The roads were narrower. Trucks overtaking trucks while going up the steep roads. Cars were over taking trucks that were overtaking buses. Village riders riding in the wrong direction and heading towards me like I was the one actually riding in the wrong direction. This continued until it comes to a point I said to myself, “Enough is enough. I need to get out of Sumatra already. Do it while I still can”. I would get my plans sorted to bring me out from Sumatra, if I ever reach Bukittinggi. I have had enough and I believed the longer I was on the Trans Sumatran Highway, the higher my chances are of being hit. It was hard to relax and take in the gorgeous scenery at some parts. I could not even stop to take a picture or two. It was just too frightening. I dared not do anything else but to stay focus.

Here is a short video of my bus journey up to Bukittinggi. As I have written about it many times this will give you all an idea of what the road conditions are like in Sumatra on the Trans-Sumatran Highway

After coming into Bukittinggi, I decided to reward myself with a slightly nicer place than the twelve previous nights. I needed to recuperate from the Parapat horror. I found out Merdeka Homestay in Bukittinggi had all that I was looking for. Perfect for retiring in peace and for some reflection before I go looking for a cheaper lodging tomorrow.

arriving at Merdeka Homestay

I would recommend Merdeka Homestay if your budget in Bukittinggi is S$20.00 (with attached bathroom). Merdeka Homestay give me the feeling like I am staying in someone else house. Spacious living area, big enough room for two, very clean and friendly staff managing the place. I think by now many of you know I do not post picture of where I sleep (as most of them were not very appealing) but here it is. For S$20.00 (too expensive for me) a night;

Merdeka Guesthouse cozy room

After a night of “retreat” in what I considered a more proper resting place, I got out and headed into Bukittinggi's main centre and rode around for a mini bicycle tour to break the monotony of my cycling adventure. Riding up the mountain ranges, passing through villages and in dense jungles, I needed some place where I could see people, talk to some and sit down to sip coffee or tea without looking at my maps and GPS.

leaving Merdeka Guesthouse

The first place I went to was Fort De Kock. It sounded like I am going to see some real Dutch fort built by the Dutch during the Padri Wars. There was actually nothing to see there but few rusting cannons.

Inside Fort De Cock

I rode around some more and lowered my expectations, as of now; I knew what Sumatra's “attraction” was like. I have no complains, I actually enjoyed what I was experiencing here on the road. I have enjoyed it so far, sharing the real stuff that I am seeing. Not the “tourist” stuff that I was going to write. This is the unseen sights of Indonesia. I write "what I saw" stuff. If you want to read about touristy sights, go to the library.

I will share with you one “unseen sight” experienced at a Bukittinggi tourist attraction.

This took place at Bukittinggi's most popular tourist attraction – Jam Gadang (I was there only because I was passing it) I was talking to two fine local policemen asking them the history of the big Clock Tower, known as Jam Gadang. (I was given the wrong information by the two friendly policemen. They told me that the clock was built by the Dutch 300 years ago! It was actually built in the 1920’s to house the clock. The clock itself was a gift from the Dutch queen. After Indonesia's independence, the locals decided a Minangkabau roof design would suits its architecture)

After chatting for around 10 minutes, I asked the two fine gentlemen what they thought of the horse carriage business. We turned to our subject (the row of horse carriages) and at this point of time, one of the handlers of one horse carriage got down, in his hand was a clear plastic bags, pissed in it and drop it on the floor underneath his carriage. Just like that.

Look at the wetfloor

Before my fine uniform friends could answer me, I asked them, “What are you going to do about that?” My two fine uniform friends told me to enjoy myself in Bukittinggi and walked away from the situation in the opposite direction. Now, this will give you a clearer picture of the unseen sights of Indonesia that I have been mentioning. Between cycling up on the mountain ranges and the town centres, I would chose the mountain ranges and hanging out with the villagers any time.

Enjoy some "touristy picture" while I finish some more writing.

Mosque in Bukittinggi is strategically located for easy access. There are about 8 mosque within 2km
walk in Bukittinggi

Horse carriage since Dutch era

Pasar Bawa (Low market) also since the Dutch colonial era

Jam Gadang- built by the Dutch to house the clock, a present from the Dutch Queen

Jalan Ahmad Yani, Bukittinggi center of action at night

Now let us go back for some more adventure. Sumatra, a place I thought I have decided to give the rest a miss after about 15 days here. Well, not exactly. Not until I meet my Bukittinggi contact, Ulrich, the owner of Rajawali Homestay.

Ulrich is someone who can give just about anyone advise on places of interest in Sumatra, the roads to take if you were driving 4x4 or on motorbike. What scored for me staying at Ulrich's Rajawali Guesthouse was that he has a bundle of Indonesian detailed maps.

Ulrich briefing me on my next route

My intention of coming to Bukittinggi was to ride around Mount Merapi (an active volcano), to Danau Maninjau and enter Padang from there, which was some 155km from Danau Maninjau. This was doable, however, climbing up and down the mountains with the dangerous trucks and buses made me think of doing it half-heartedly. My earlier experiences, has made me lose interest in doing Sumatra, and in fact ‘getting out’ was pretty much the thought in my mind. I stored my bicycle in Ulrich's garage, brought my stuff up, cleaned up and went for a walk to consider my options again.

One thing I noticed walking around Bukittinggi town centre or other parts of Sumatran city centres were that people were curious once they knew you are not a ‘homeboy’. (I think they knew by the way I spoke and the terrible clothing I wore). After only 2 nights in Medan, I found people were “overly friendly” and very curious about my place of origin and what I was doing in Sumatra, some asked if whether or not I was tired cycling, where I am going too after and if I was married and how many kids I had. All these were basics questions for me to break the ice to get a conversation going. I usually would not tell them my specifics, I would reply that I am from a neighboring country, I am here to sightsee, I love cycling and I do not remember having children. I would then asked the same questions in return and would make sure it would not turn into a sales talk. If I sensed the conversation going towards getting me to buy something or going somewhere to see some “touristy” place, I would usually excuse myself. What I do almost everyday while riding was “wave and smile”. It goes a long way. Many times, I got a wave back and kids screaming, “Look, look, bicycle!” Yes, bicycle is getting rare here in Sumatra.
(To my European friends: Here in Asia, bicycling touring / adventure is not established yet. But you are welcome)

There is nothing fancy here in Bukittinggi. The historical sites are mainly nothing more than Dutch era buildings, the Japanese Caveares all poorly maintained and really nothing to gloat about. The Zoo was pathetic and that was it. In short, Bukittinggi was just good to kick back, chill and hang with the locals to hopefully discover new places. There was none near by but if I was willing to cycle 40 – 120 km out of Bukittinggi, there were many interesting destinations for adventure. Puncak Lawang, Harau Valley, Gunung Merapi, ancient Minangkabau houses and of course Danau Maninjau. Since I was going into Padang from Bukittinggi, I would do Danau Maninjau tomorrow. Though there was a shorter route for me to get into Padang. It was via Padangpanjang, Secincin and through Lubuk Alung. All about a good 90 km up and down the beautiful mountain roads, I chose to go through Danau Maninjau as I was told the real adventure was through the Canyon Road and up to Puncak Lawang before coming down to Danau Maninjau. I was sold on doing this route.

I plotted my route for tomorrow's ride immediately at the roadside warung and along the way showed the locals how a GPS works and how to operate it. After all was set it was dinner time. I walked back to Jalan Ahmad Yani and hooked up with a fellow traveler, Walter from Austria for dinner. Walter was a very interesting character. A special police (plain clothes) back home in Austria, has been in Bukittinggi for 4 days and would be taking the bus the next days to Parapat. Though he brought his full camera gear to Indonesia, he will only enjoy the picturea by himself. “I don’t do this for others.”

I like his style. He spends all his money, time and sometimes heartache for no one and he was not going to please anyone either. I should be considering that in near future. We continued chatting until late in the night before turning in. Walter heads up North tomorrow from where I was from 15 days ago and I was heading further west into Padang (if I decide to stay on) or East if I decides to get out of Sumatra.

Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Elevation: 930 meters:

It was not as easy when I was doing the real thing. There were so many things I would need to consider before taking on a route here in Sumatra. For my Malaysia warm-up stage, it was very straight forward. I did not even change a single route and delays were minimal.

For today, I was going to Padang,through Danau Maninjau. This proved the easiest, as that was in the initial route planning – Bukittinggi to Padang. The only difference now was that I would be using the old Canyon Road to Danau Maninjau. After the route briefing from Ulrich, I had most of the information for this route. However, not what was on it and what I was going to be experiencing. I decided this was it. If that again proved too dangerous, I would return to Bukittinggi. Sounds like a plan. I packed my stuff, brought it down and headed out from Rajawali Homestay very early in the morning, skipping breakfast to beat the “morning peak hour” in Bukittinggi. The traffic here were not as crazy as in Medan or Pematangsiantar but it was much easier to get out before everyone else.

The route I would be taking was the old Canyon back roads towards Matur, a highland Minangkabau village before coming down to Danau Maninjau using the 44 turns. As the old Canyon Road was impassable to buses and trucks, I would be riding mostly on a quiet lonely road until it merges again with the Bukittinggi to Maninjau main road. Sounds like a plan to me.

the old canyon road

Despite the lousy road, I was on yesterday and many days before, today I rode mostly on smooth asphalt, though it was not without climbing up and down, I was mostly pedaling at 15kmh (on the up) and 25kmh on some flat section. It was beautiful to be back doing real cycling again with little or no vehicles at all.

 

Beautiful smooth road outside Bukittinggi to the old Canyon Road

It was worth bearing in mind that the quality of materials used in Sumatra road works left a lot to be desired. There was not any real foundation beneath the asphalt but the old broken layers. It was obvious the road built here would need attention after the annual wet season. Like from my earlier experience, some parts of the road just disappeared.Now that I was out from the city center, I should be looking for a nice ‘Warung makan’ to fill my tummy and hopefully with good coffee. Just for every ones information, coffee here is mixed with the powder and no filtration is necessary. You will need to wait for the coffee powder to settle before drinking it. I do not like my coffee this way. Therefore, my small goal today was look for coffee that would be filtered. I went in search of it along the way and not long after leaving Bukittinggi, and found a nice small roadside ‘Rumah makan’.

I stopped at roadside ‘Rumah makan’ regularly. I do this two or three times a day to chill, have coffee and hang out with locals. I know the price for acup of coffee was always around Rp5, 000 and a plate of ‘Nasi Goreng’ about Rp10, 000. On one occasion, I did not check the price as the ‘rumah makan’seems very friendly and the people actually welcomed me in. After I was done, I thanked my new local friends and ask for my billed. Rp50, 000! As in RUPIAH FIFTY THOUSAND! I thought that it included the bill of my new friend’s advices! I was ok if the shop owner had told me, “This includes the breakfast for the rest”. I was enraged initially and refused to pay the Rp50, 000 until it dawned on me that this was not the first time such tactics were being use to extract the crumpled rupiah from me. It seemed that every single day, people were actually trying to extracts some extra revenue from me. This was where I drew the line and decided enough was enough. From then on, if I need even only a cup of coffee, I would ask first for the price. It does not matter anymore if they were friendly or not. Once I knew the price, I would (only maybe) be slightly friendly.
Entering the ‘Rumah makan’, I asked for a coffee without powder in it, a plate of ‘Nasi goreng’ and asked what's price. “Rp 12,000” about S$2.00. It was reasonable.

”Ok”, I told the man and sat down at a corner. A moment later, an old man walked towards me and asked if it ok for him to join me. I nodded, smile, and told him I have no one with me and to be polite I asked if I could buy him a cup of coffee. He declined and we shook hands before he took his seat.

”Where are you from?” He asked in Bahasa Indonesia the moment he was seated.
I do not know what the right answer is. Singapore or Bukittinggi?

”I came here this morning from Bukittinggi and I was from Medan two weeks ago”. I replied in Bahasa Indonesia.

He smiled and continued, “Where are you going from here?”

Like I wrote earlier on, I do not usually tell specifics to strangers but this old man was exceptional. I believe there was something he wanted to tell me and I could see it in his eyes. “I am going to Danau Maninjau and if everything is ok, I would go to Padang”.

”But why did you choose this old road? You know there's one big road from ‘Bukit’ to Danau Maninjau?” He sounded concerned that I am using this old Canyon Road. Very quiet and lonely. At some stretch, I can here myself breathing. I do not know how to answer him as my Bahasa Indonesia has not reached the level of his question. I wanted to tell him I like seeing places, unseen places, less touristy places and roads that are quiet. Instead, I asked him, “Kenapa yea Pak?” (Why is it so, Sir?)

Simple pleasure

At this point, my breakfast arrived and I offered (as courtesy) if he wanted to join me. Again, a polite ‘Thank you’ and smile from the elderly man and he continued, “This road is not safe for you to ride alone”. I almost spewed my coffee out. Why is it that every road I am on, it will be unsafe? Ok, apart from the ridiculous way people drive here, I thought the initial Canyon Road was beautiful apart from earlier steep climb and some small vehicles coming up and down.I knew there would be some more climbing ahead but I am sure that this not it. Why is it unsafe? There weren't any buses or trucks on this road. So far, the people have been great. I continued with breakfast slowly as I waited for the elderly man to continue.

He did not elaborate but asked me to turn back to ‘Bukit’ and take the mainroad to Danau Maninjau. Wow, I know myself well and I know I would not do that. Making the turn unless there were very strong reason for me to do so. Like some villagers are waiting for me, or the road was now blocked due to landslide. However, asking me to turn around would not cut it. I need a valid reason for me to be making the turn. I was cycling and it was hard to be this far, and I would like to continue. So what now? He looks at me while I am having my breakfast and I believe he was also waiting for me to say, “Yes, I would turn around”.

The start of the old Canyon Road and at the corner is where I had my superb kampung
breakfast

Regrettably, I told him I would be extra careful and will make sure to turn around at the moment I sense that there was any danger. He did not look pleased with my answer and looked on as I settled my bill and prepared my bike for the ride up the mountain. My heading was now towards Matur Village some 20 km away. Riding away from the ‘Rumah Makan’ the conversation earlier came back to bug me. I tried to enjoy the beautiful lonely road. Most time, I was alone all by myself. Just the beautiful smooth road, the jungle, villages and me. It was rare to have a peaceful chance like this in Sumatra.
Apart from the climbing, lonely quiet road and villagers staring at me, there was not anything else that I see could do harm to me. Everything was good and in between my breakfast stop and coming to Matur small village, I encountered something I thought worth mentioning. Two groups hammering and chiseling granite for sale. It was hard to describe how tough it was. I was there watching them chiseling down mountain of granite. They did it so systematically and calculated the point to chisel. It was engineering at its best. At every point, they knew when the granite would come down. Moreover, these five fine men were from the village up here. When I asked them how they knew where to chisel and make the mound fall down, the person looking like the chief just shook his head and gave me the look “it is difficult to explain my friend”. I asked if I could take some picture and I got the “ok”.

Hard labor

It was here that I was again asked why I was using this road instead the main road. I did not know how to answer in Bahasa Indonesia so I just smiled. After I finished with my photo taking, I excused myself and prepared for my ride. This man, like the old man earlier told me, “Be careful”. The simple two words struck me deeper this time. However, I was not sure what it was that I needed to be careful about. Someone waiting for me? Land slide? The Sumatran Tiger is roaming in this dense jungle or the same gang from Parapat actually knew I was using this old Canyon Route? There was something inside trying to tell me something but I just could not bring it out and put it together.

I felt vulnerable now as I was now back on the quiet road again and climbing further up. Along the way, I passed a small village and asked the local farmers how far more to get to Puncak Lawang, one woman told me, “It is still far away from here. I don’t think you will be there for lunch” I was puzzled after hearing her. Based on my GPS, I was now about 15km from the Danau Maninjau, Puncak Lawang is about 10km before that, I was doing 15 - 20kmh and it is only 10am now. I could be there by lunch time. While calculating the distance, something hit me – farmers and small plantation owners staring at me earlier on, giving me the “you’re not welcome here” look.

”Local farmers and plantation owners defending their lands. Strangers are seen as intruders”. I heard this when I was coming into Bukittinggi.

The stretch of the old Canyon Road leading to the main Bukittinggi - Maninjau "highway"

The story I heard was that in Jakarta, Indonesian President SBY has ordered a special committee to investigate the farmers in South Sumatra. There were claims that 30 of them were killed because of a land takeover bid. At least 30 farmers were killed by security forces and men hired by a palm oil company in Mesuji district, and two of them beheaded before a crowd in April. There were also video clips of this killing. One showed an unidentified man taking a short knife to the neck of his victim, while the other showed a headless corpse hanging from the electricity pole and mutilated bodies on the ground. (Various newspapers have now confirmed it)

Indonesia is one of the world’s largest producers of palm oil. Larger than Malaysia. Palm oil is used to make everything from lipsticks, biscuits, biofuel and many more.

I needed a new plan or at least think it over before I make further in roads. I stopped my bike at the next small ‘Rumah Makan’ to take a break there. “Should I continue? Or turn back?” I have come this far only to find out I am actually somewhere considered by local “a very dangerous road” to be riding alone. What do I do now? I took out my route map and GPS and approached the shop owner I thought he should be able to provide some information on what was up ahead. If there were villages, I would continue. I know Matur is not far and from Matur, it was about 8-12km in Danau Maninjau.

Those tapioca snacks come from the lady above. The same person I chatted to ask
what is up ahead.

From what I heard, “civilization” was not far. I had about 8km (people here were not good with their distances. Once a man told me 4km to my next destination I end up cycling for 20km. I would join the main road again before seeing Matur about 5km. “Is it dangerous here?” I asked her. She smiled and continues doing her chores. What am I going to do now? I cross checked my route map and GPS and the woman was almost correct. I had about 5km to the main road and most importantly, there would be villages. Should I go for it?

To be continued...

RA's Journal: Parapat to Bukittinggi

Adventure Cycling for Humanity 2011 – Indonesia
Parapat to Bukittingi
Elevation: 900 meter

Monday 5 December 2011
Elevation: 900 meter

Before I start with the ride report, a friend requested for me to post the difference between the road conditions of Malaysia and Sumatra Indonesia. See pictures below.

Malaysia superb backroad with a motorcycle lane and mostly free of big trucks and buses

The Trans Sumatran Highway. Broken road, mostly very tight and all long distance vehicle traverse on this road

Time Check: 1.00pm (Singapore time: 2.00pm):

After giving myself some time to think it through the advise I got, I decided the best option was to bus it to somewhere near the equator crossing after Padang Sidempuan. It was going to be expensive (S$30.00 and additional S$15.00 for the bike) but I think it was the best as it was the closest I could get with the locals. I would really love to hang around Parapat for another day or two, ride my bike on Samosir Island but there are people I needed to meet in Bukittinggi before the week ends.

Got a briefing from a local friend of the road to Bukittinggi and around it

After withdrawing cash from the Automated Teller Machine (ATM) for my Parapat – Bukittinggi stage (I do this, withdrawing cash for each stage for security reasons), I rode back to the lodging quickly but carefully on the rough road. Once at the lodging, I got everything down from my room and loaded it on my bike. If I am fast, I could catch the last bus and get out from Parapat by 5.00 – 5.30pm (Singapore time: 6.00-6.30pm). I managed to get everything down from the room upstairs, loaded it all on the bike and did a last check. I knew there were eyes watching my movement from earlier at the ATM outside and along the main Trans Sumatra Highway. I knew that the eyes that followed me were in a small Dutch era (6-8 footer) old truck when I rode back to the accommodation.

When in unfamiliar places and when I get a feeling of uneasiness (like a feeling that I am being watched or followed), there are ways for me to find if there's someone following. It is not that easy but I do not need to be a rocket scientist to know if someone was following me. What I did on the way back to the lodging usually was to check my side view mirror and when I am very near my lodging, instead of heading straight into the compound, I would continue forward for about 600 – 800 meters (this depending on the road configuration, location and if it was safe to do so). I stopped alongside a small road, dismounted from the bike and take some pictures (not to make if obvious that I was checking my rear and looking out for suspicious characters).

When in a town i am not familiar, i will stop regularly for "phototaking"

The truck was some 800 meters or so behind me and it too stopped along the side of the road. I could now confirm someone has been following me. I made a turn and rode slowly to the lodging and observed closely what the next action of the driver in the truck would do. No movement. I was not sure why the truck followed me, but I suspect something is up and told myself to be wary.

Since I now knew someone was watching my movement, I needed to look for a different route out from my lodging. After two days of riding around, I knew where the next exit to the main thoroughfare from Jalan Tiga Raja, Parapat to the Trans Sumatran Highway would be. Just when I was about to mount my bike outside the lodging, a man came out from behind a pillar and stopped me abruptly.

”Mau kemana ni, pak?” (Where you going, sir?) In a friendly unassuming way.
Still in a little bit of shocked (and a little angry), “ke kantor polisi di luar, kenapa yea?” (To the Police post at the main thoroughfare. Why?) I replied.
”You want to go Porsea or Balige?” The man offered me. Still communicating in Bahasa Indonesia.
”How do you know I am leaving?” I asked.

He smile and told me he overheard my conversation at the tailor shop, when I was repairing my panniers. See that is what happens if I go out and talk to people. News travels fast here. However, I am not here in Sumatra to be sitting in a hotel room protected by the invisible fence of comfort. I want to go out, meet people and discover new places. Whatever comes I will handle it accordingly. For this situation, I will needed to be sure that my safety in not compromised in anyway.

”How much?” I asked.
”No, no money. We talk English. I learn English.” This time he replied in English. It sounds like a good proposition. Not that English is my first language, but I can handle it. One, is Satu. Two is Dua. Three is Tiga. I can speak basic Javanese too. Yeah, I could do that.

I was told in Medan and am aware now that it is common to get a lift from truck drivers (doing cross country cargo deliveries). Some of them do not mind it at all as long as they can speak and learn some English. I calmed down and gave it a thought. Being a Singaporean, whatever is cheaper than the other one, take it. “It’s free, for god sake!” I hear my conscience screaming.

”Alright, so it’s free and no money.” I gestured money sign to him and continued, “How about eating and drinking? Must I pay for it?” I asked using the hand sign for eating and drinking. Just to be sure. Not that I mind paying, I just wanted it to be clear.

”No pay. I drive to my home, you eat at my village.” I am not sure what that meant but it sounded like a good intention. I asked him if it was ok for him to wait for me at a designated location and time outside the main thoroughfare towards Balige. I wanted to go do something since I now have my transportation sorted. We agreed, shook hands and introduced each other. The smile on his face was priceless. All the years of smoking ‘kretek’ showed in his dentures.

Time Check: 2.00pm (Singapore time: 3.00pm):

Now that I got my transport out from Parapat arranged, I can do the one little thing that I wrote in my notebook, ‘Look for children collecting firewood’. I know, I should not be changing my plans just like that. However, this is an adventure; sometimes we do things at the last minute just so we can see more and along the way and maybe save that extra rupiah. (In my case, I have been spending more than I budgeted. About S$20.00 per day) I should stop doing this to myself. A truck out from Parapat? What am I thinking! I should be in an air-conditioning executive bus, touring the whole of Indonesia in comfort, just like normal people. Then again, what’s the point of all that? I shook myself out from all the guilty comfort and put on my game face again. I do not have much time and I am not even sure where I could find those kids.

I quickly rode more into Parapat inwards to Ajibata to look for the place where the kids work collecting firewood that I heard at the Javanese makan place. I had about 2 hours to find the place, take a picture and give the kids souvenirs from Singapore. My GPS could not locate the place, and so far the locals that I asked do not know what I am talking about. How do I go from here? Keep riding? 60 minutes inwards and 60 minutes back out, then straight to the Trans Sumatran Highway to meet my contact for my pick-up. That would not cut it. I needed to see them; at least I would know what it’s like if I see them for myself.

Before going into Ajibata village down below

After a disappointing hour of being on a “War zone” like road, climbing up rolling hills and coming out from Ajibata, I saw another tailor while climbing up a small hill. I decided to stop to ask her for directions. Well, I forgot I was on a hill and parking the bike on a hill takes a lot of patience – balancing it and sometimes praying that it would not fall. While doing that, balancing and praying, kids started to gather behind me. I heard giggling and laughing. I knew now I was being watched again, this time by a friendly bunch of kids. I refused to stop since the kids were having a good time. “I would entertain them a little”. I whispered to myself. It was not that I wanted to prolong the process of parking my bicycle, but it was just no way the bike would stay upright with a 50kg load while attempting to park it on a slope. In the end, I stopped doing whatever I was doing and turned very slowly towards the small mound where the kids gathered. I got a small applause from my little audience. How do you re-act from it? I release my grip of the handle of my bike and bowed to them saying, “Terima Kasih”. My bike cames crashing on the ground and those kids roared with laughter thinking I was doing it on purpose. All that happened so quickly. I did not even think a camera was necessary.

I left the bike lying on the ground and walked towards the tailor – a woman. As I was walking towards her shop, she slowly lifted both her hands and gave me a soft clap and a smile.

“You are good”. In Bahasa Indonesia.
”You’re too kind” I replied and asked her where I could find kids working as firewood collectors.
She shook her head and told me that I needed to be more observant. Those kids behind me earlier, laughing at my “mini show” were in fact the working kids. I quickly dashed out from where I came from but they had all gone. I went back in to the tailor, puffing for breathe and asked her where they went too.
”Gather firewood”. But if you continue riding from here up the slope again, on the left, you’ll find some of them”. I thanked her profusely and quickly got out to my bike and rode towards the direction I was given.

Time check: 3.00pm (Singapore time: 4.00pm) :

I’ve had exactly less than 60 minutes to get to the kids, do my stuff and get out to the main thoroughfare and meet my contact for the trip out from Parapat at Five. I found the place, exactly where I was told to go. I even saw the kids working sorting firewood. However, when I stopped and parked my bicycle, all of them rushed into the building. Strange, they were all laughing and having fun earlier. I walked towards the firewood collection area and saw some of them looking at me through the window. I motioned to them to come out, but none stepped out. I reached for a small bag in my pocket and showed it to them. No takers. Nobody came out. I stepped closer, and one brave boy came to the door and I told him I wanted to take a picture. He says “Ok” and stepped out. He posed for me to line up my shot but just keep looking at me. I could see the curiosity in him. I came closer to him, squatted in front of him and got the goodies out from the bags then ask how many friends he had inside. I gave him two lion badges for being brave and one each for everyone inside.

This boy work collecting fire woods to supplement his school expenses

“Terima Kasih, Om” (Thank you, Uncle) He muttered. I thanked him too in return for coming out.

We spoke a little and I told him to be good and study hard, and promised I would be back. We shook hands and I taught him the “give me five” thingy. The ride out towards Parapat was a rushed and horrible one. I kept going until I reached a familiar place again, about 2km from the thoroughfare and I slowed down a little. All this time, my mind was still with the ’firewood kids’. After seeing them, I am now thinking of staying for a few days more but unfortunately, there were people I needed to meet and things I needed to resolve in Bukittingi. I reached the pre-arranged spot for my pick-up ahead of time and continued riding around to get a last look at Parapat. (Also to see if any strange character was following me). So far so good. I am clear.

Time Check: 4.00pm (Singapore time: 5.00pm):

As expected, no sound, no picture of the truck and the driver at 4.00pm. I kept my position and managed myself a stick of the local ‘kretek’ for Rp1,000 (how much is that in Singapore $?) How was the kretek? I thought it was awesome. I now look like a local bicycle bandit on a mission and with my style of clothing; no one dared to come closed to me. I thought I looked terrifying by now after 10 days of pedaling up and down the mountain. Twenty minutes has gone by, nothing showed up and it was very frustrating to see all the inter-town buses pass me by and I was not going to be on it.

Typical inter town bus full with cargo and livestock's

Damn, this ‘rubber timing’ had to stop. I continued inhaling in the ‘kretek’ to help me calm down – it worked. As I was blowing the smoke in a slow motion, the described truck came towards me very slow. In the front, I recognized the driver, next to him a person that looked like he had not eaten anything for a few days, and behind, thereweare three more people. They looked more bandit than I did. Suddenly everything becomes blurry and fuzzy. I felt like I was in a the dream and was trying to get out of it. This is not happening.

I froze and asked myself, “What am I going to do? What if they bring me to the mountain takes all my things and throws me down the deep gully? Should I ride away now?” I left the ‘kretek’ in my left lips and stared at the driver, name Johnson as he walked towards me with a smile (as if he hit the jackpot) and greeted me very happily.

“Hello pak…Are you ready to go?” What I am hearing was his blurry voice. My mind was working overtime thinking of ways to get out of there as soon as possible.
”Who are those people behind?” I asked and by now, I was a little nervous. I was concerned actually because most of my gear will be place behind with those people.
”Ah… they are my friends…” Johnson replied happily. “My good friends.” If he ends his sentence with, “Don’t be afraid.” It only means the opposite and I will scoot immediately. At this point of time, I had no idea what this whole set up will end up to be. What I wanted to do now was to terminate the arrangement nicely, excuse myself, ride back in to Parapat, and have another nights rest.

If I am going with them, I would have a serious problem. I had not reported myself to the police that I was leaving town (it’s critical now that I know I am leaving town with probably local bandits). Next, I was not sure what they had in mind. So what’s my next plan? Screw plan B, I did not have plan B. I should not have let my guard down. I should have stuck to the ‘bus plan’ or leave early in the morning the next day pedaling. Not taking chances with strangers. Nevertheless, what choice do I have now? Really. I took one more puff of the ‘kretek’ and blew the smoke out in the air, looked at Johnson and let it out smoothly, and spoke like I am in control of everything, no one is going tell me what to do.

”You know Johnson, I would love to talk to you more in English and hang out with your friends, but I promised the kids in Ajibata that I would stay with them for a night”. The idea came just like that. It was unreal that I thought of that. I wanted to stay with them another day or two. In this circumstance, I think I am privileged to give that as an excuse.

”No, come, I show you my village. Very beautiful. My friend cook, we drinking. Very happy.” Johnson sounding very convincing and a little bit like the salesperson I encountered throughout my journey along the mountain ranges. I needed a gateway plan now and fast. How do you deal with salesperson? If they tell you one “yes”, you will tell them “no” ten times.

”No, I think I should stay here for another night. I am sorry”.

”Ok, we stay here. We wait for you.” Johnson decided just like that. It was as if the “friends” were under his command. No consultation needed. This was enough to make me feel suspicious.
”No problem. You wait at the ‘warung makan’ there.” I pointed to him, “I go report Police I am staying here for another night”

”Ok, Ok, come back here. We wait for you”.

I mounted my bike, checked my side view mirror, I was clear to make the u-turn, rode straight back towards the direction of Parapat and never looked back. Along the way, I did a quick stop at the police post and saw about 6 officers busy playing pool (Yes, playing pool – Parapat is very peaceful). I told one officer I was leaving town tonight to Porsea, Balige or possibly Bonjol on a bus and will report in when I arrived there. I also pointed to the police there are five suspicious men at the ‘warung makan’ with a black / dark grey 6-8ft old Dutch truck. I hoped that they stop playing pool and go check out the ‘rumah makan’ scene. I continued riding into Parapat and I knew I could get out from Parapat through Ajibata town / village but decided against it. My best bet was to stop a mini van, and get them to bring me to the bus terminal and pray that I could get the last bus out. I had about 10 minutes left before the last bus departed town from the terminal. Back to Jalan Tiga Raja, I rode towards the jetty from where I could easily get a van. I met a local to help me and promised the van driver Rp20, 000 if he could get me out, reach the terminal quickly in 20 minutes and stop one bus along the way out from Parapat heading towards Porsea, Balige or Bonjol (All along the way towards Bukittinggi). He agreed and I was on my way.

Time check: 5.00pm (Singapore time: 6.00pm):

Everything went forward so very slowly and it was getting dark soon. Bad roads, the driver wanting to earn more money so stopped along the way to pick up strays. I was in a rushed to get out, but it looked like it was not happening. We were only 2kms from the jetty and the van was almost filled up with villagers. My bike was physically abused. I think there would be a lot of work when I reached my next destination. Would I be able to get a bus out of town? Looks like it was not going to happen too and the prospect of me meeting Johnson at the station was now high. The driver stopped along the road side, took his cigarette out, light it up and chased two passengers in the front away. It was actually hilarious how he did that. Why? Because his favourite passenger was going to sit in the front and she was walking very slowly and smiling. I kept looking at the watch mounted on my handle bar. It touched thirty past five and we still had not moved far. After we got out from the village’s broken roads, we were back on the Trans Sumatra Highway thoroughfare but not passing the ‘warung makan’ where those five strangers probably were still waiting for me. I could see the bus terminal concrete arch and the sign. The van driver saw the last bus getting out from there and suddenly the frantic honking began. He stepped on his accelerator and chased the last bus. I saw the bus slowing down and I told myself, “Shit that was one old bus I am going to be on”. However, I do not have much choice. I need to get out and get out as far as I could. I gave the van driver Rp20, 000 even though he did not honour his word. Another Rp200, 000 to the bus driver (including the “bike fees”) and everything was sorted nicely.

The "long distance" bus i was on. No license or registration number. Fill up to the brimmed with livestock's and more cargo along the aisle making it impossible to walk

I could not get down at Balige, as I believed Johnson frequents between Balige and Parapat regularly. Porsea is too near a town from Parapat. I asked the bus driver where the bus is heading; he turned to me and said, “ Jakarta. You want to go there, another Rp300, 000”.

”I want to be near Bukittinggi. I want to cycle on the Equator crossing” (Bonjol). By now, I am communicating in English, as I do not want the rest of passenger to know my next destination.
”Ok, no problem. I know.”

After spending painful time clearing this space from other cargo, I managed to secure my bike while the bus is moving

I thanked the driver and struggle myself amongst the cargo along the aisle to get back behind to my seat. I was in no mood now to think. I looked out the window and saw how bad everything was. I now realized what my contacts tried to describe to me about the journey out from Parapat. Kids walking around aimlessly along the small road. Adults gathered at what seems to be a temporary shade staring blankly at the passing vehicles heading to the next town. Confused buffalo running across the road without any sorts of control from the owner and almost being hit by the bus I was on. The honking from the driver went on relentlessly. I counted something like 10 honks per minute.Oh and the road conditions is just as bad as the first ten kilometers out from Parapat.

Satellite dish can be seen everywhere in the villages

For most people up here at 1200 meters above sea level, the lifestyle now was what the way it has always been, subsistence. I believed that whatever they grew behind their houses or caught was what they would eat. If there should be any extras, I witnessed it would go to the market for sale or traded the next morning. I do not see the people up here as poor, I know they were used to living like this for hundreds of years, I see them as in need of outside help. The infrastructure needs improvement. Communication link between villages and towns needs upgrading, schools in need of new coat of paint, new roofing, or perhaps a proper sewage system for every home and proper electricity supply. What baffled me was, for a village without proper clean water supply and electricity most houses had at least a giant satellite dish. That was how important entertainment was in the mostly poor Sumatra highlands. It was ok if they have no proper clean water, but each night coming back home, they would make sure every family member gathered around the TV for some together time and entertainment.

Basic accommodation (rest area) on the highland

As the bus got further up the highlands and into what seemed to be a beautiful bright orange background setting over the mountain ranges, I saw homes and whole villages unchanged for at least a decade of so. This place would be timeless if motorbikes and modern machines were removed. Here in the highlands, home were built using the simplest materials they could find. It is all very basic; from whatever they could get in the scrap yard if the price was right. Animals like pigs and goats were common up here. I even saw one old woman walk (what possibly could be hers) her humongous pigs along the small road. Dog meats was also popular up here.

This was the first time in Sumatra I was looking at the villages from inside a bus. Yes, I am bumped out not to be out there cycling, smelling and feeling the elements. Nevertheless, I had done that prior to this bus ride. Most towns or villages on the highlands I cycled too or passed through resembled the 40’s black and white documentaries, which I had in my computer. The town centers were basic with not much to nothing to see. Mainly provision stores selling dry goods and everyday basic needs. Usually a main thoroughfare ran through it with rest and relaxation areas on the side selling anything edible that can bring that income for the day. Mostly the ‘Rumah makan’ were poorly maintained. The leftovers were thrown just outside the kitchen floor and some in the “sewer”. Do not ask me where they washed the plates and cutlery, you do not want to know.

The bus kept climbing to higher elevations on a tiny winding road. I did not know how to continue this journey anymore. Where to alight, where to restart. I was in a situation where I just did not know what will come next. I did not have enough water, no food for probably the long bus journey ahead of me and I was not even sure which route the bus would be taking. I only knew that I would cross the equator soon when the bus reached there. Welcome to Sumatra, welcome to the land of Adventure.

It is common to see buses climbing up the mountain road like this in Sumatra

I fell to slumber an hour after the sunset and looking at nothingness outside. At about midnight, the bus stopped by the side somewhere in Padang Sidempuan (what looked like a truck and bus rest and relax area) for a coffee and smoke break. Was this going to be my stop? I took out my laptop and connected it to my GPS to check my position; I saw Bukittinggi was some 280km away along what possibly could be a small winding road up the mountain. That was one long way to go, at this hour.

Sumatra’s vast distances, dense jungles, and mountain ranges already mades land travel difficult. I was traversing it on a loaded bicycle. There were just no words to describe the toughness and ruggedness of the terrain. My entire training and warm-up stage ride in Malaysia prepared me very little for this. It was not just riding up mountainous roads, it was also poorly maintained, small and dangerous roads. Cycling in this part of the world involves staying mentally strong, pacing myself, know when to stop and rest even when my momentum was already formed, and the most importantly for me from my little experience was to stay alert always. At anytime if I feel that I was not 100% alert that is when I would call for a break. It was hard here, even to drive a motor vehicle. I once sat with a group of motorcyclist and had the chance to chat with them. I gathered that even riding a motorcycle was very tiring. There was no such thing as “extra space” for a bicycle on the roads. Most times, I would be riding with the big boys. So far, I had about five near misses with either trucks or the buses. One got so closed I thought that my adventure would end on the Trans Sumatran Highway.

A glimpse of Sumatran dense jungle and road

In the earlier stages of the bus ride, I experienced what was waiting for me. The bus gears and clutch was working overtime climbing up the steep mountain road, made worst with the road being small, with no guard rails (we would be in the gully if the driver made one mistake) and at some points, only one bus could pass through. In some areas, the roads just disappeared into muddy broken patches. This I found out later was caused by the annual wet season. This was the best I could describe the Trans Sumatran Highway. By the way, it’s not actually a highway, it’s just an old road connecting one town to another town, one city center to another city center. Some roads have been in existence before the Dutch rule. Time to time, work needed to be done patching the potholes and resurfacing of the badly damage road. There was not any real work like laying a concrete foundation beneath the asphalt. It was the cheaper way – resurfacing it, but over the years, that also became costly to be repairing it every year.

Once, I saw an abandon long stretch of newly repaired road with proper concrete foundations. I do not know why it was closed to traffic for sometime now. I rode on it and wondered why.

Abandoned road foundation for miles

I got myself ready for the long ride. My handle light and my headlight were fully charged before I left Parapat. I also had my ‘high visibility vest’ for riding in the dark. What I needed now was to unload my bicycle and panniers and I would be on my way to Bukittinggi. I stood up and stretch some muscles after what felt like a very bumpy bus ride.
Looking out into the darkness, I felt a shiver in my bone. I was tired but I was game to try this on the Trans Sumatran Highway, before I decide to get out from Sumatra.

Note: The content of the video below might contain extreme graphic. A short video to show how dangerous the road and users are in Sumatra (or Indonesia, in general)