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Published: February 28th 2010
On our trip so far we have had a few long, tiring overnight bus journeys but none can compare to the sheer horror of the 5pm coach to Parapat, on the edge of Lake Toba.
Ulrich, our Basil Fawlty like hotel owner, had warned us of huge delays and cranes that stay at one particular spot to pull out the coaches from the bog. Waiting at the bus stop we saw enough damaged coaches to leave us with a little lump in the throat as we boarded ours.
The signs were good though as the seats were relatively comfortable, the air-con worked and the bus looked clean. It even had an on-board toilet. This good will, however, was to last about as long as an England World Cup campaign.
Not an hour had passed before things turned bad. The winding mountains we were careering down had started to take their toll on a young girl, sitting on her mothers lap, in the aisle beside me. She was sick into a bag, closely followed by a women in front of us. It wasn't nice but we could handle a bit of sick in a bag.
Things started to
go further downhill when a man in the aisle diagonally in front of me was sick all over the floor (and his shoes). This, in turn, made the mother of the child, who had been sick earlier, regurgitate into the same bag. The stench from the floor and around was now making us feel rather unwell and what's worse the man did not clear his sick from the floor, instead choosing to go to sleep. We were officially on the coach from hell.
After an hour of sickly descending the coach stopped. Not at a roadside stall, so they could clean the mess up, but at a mosque. At least the lady can take her sick bag of the bus I thought but as she clambered off she put her stinking bag in the small bin by my seat. At this point I too was praying to the Gods.
The next few hours continued with more of the same except the smell and sound got worse. We actually had to put our earphones in to drown out the sound and spray some perfume to alter the aroma. We looked at each other and had to laugh...Lake Toba better
be good.
We stopped again in the middle of the night and finally the driver cleared the mess on the floor. This was done not with a mop and some spray but by laying some gravel and cardboard on the affected area. Genius!!!
A small amount of rest was had not helped by the air-con now making it too cold to sleep. People were actually wearing big jumpers and socks but with only a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top to keep me warm I had to resort to stuffing the air hole with the window curtain. Luckily though we passed the numerous potholes and steep roads without help from a crane.
The sun was up now and we were getting closer. We had finally managed to nod off when the lady who had been sick in a bag, and later in the aisle next to my foot, started playing music from her phone and singing. Just when the journey couldn't get any worse it did. What I don't understand is how nobody else on the coach had a problem with the sick on the floor, the freezing cold air-con or her singing. They were all
Indonesian but said nothing. If this had happened on a coach in England there would be uproar.
Sixteen hours after we departed we arrived safely and the sight of Lake Toba and the volcanic mountains that surrounded it made the coach a distant thought. At least, we were told, it hadn't taken 42 hours like the same journey yesterday.
The short ferry crossing to Pulau Samosir, a Singapore sized island in the middle of the lake, took a little longer than usual as we were the only passengers which meant the boat went at a swimming pace. We weren't too fussed though as we began to relax with our surroundings.
We were dropped on the little settlement of tuk-tuk at Samosir Cottages which sat right by the lake. The room we were given was the best we have had on our travels so far. It was spacious, it had a balcony and even had an ensuite with a hot water shower. We hadn't had a hot water shower for two months. All of this cost 60,000 rupiah (£4) an absolute bargain. The only down side was that the place had a resort-like feel and quite a few
grumpy old people. We said hello to a couple sitting on a sunlounger, as we walked past to reception, the lady nodded and then muttered "bloody Americans". It was pretty funny, although slightly harsh, maybe the baseball cap gave me away.
The amazingly good value guesthouses on offer in Tuk Tuk is mainly due to quantity outweighing demand. As the ever informative Lonely Planet explains, in the late '90s the island rocked with full moon ravers but Thailand stole their thunder. We were quite happy though as it meant fewer tourists and low prices. On the other hand, it was sad to see so many hotels and restaurants that were built for the boom now going bust.
There was no street food like we have become accustomed to so we graced as many different restaurants as we could, trying to share the love. We tried everything from gado-gado (a lake toba speciality of fresh steamed vegetables with boiled egg, tofu, prawn crackers and a delicious spicy peanut sauce) to Lake Fish. We had a 700g Talapia for 15,000 rupiah (£1) and various fish curries of the highest quality. This was often washed down with a cold Bingtang (Sumatra's
Reggae's back garden
...its a thermos (for all our coffee)premier lager).
On a hot afternoon in the middle of a volcanic lake what better way to cool off than renting a big rubber ring and floating into the middle. We lapped at the water from our rings and felt like real Toba tourists (or Americans) but it was fun.
After a day's exploring we found the perfect room with a view. It had all the amenities of Samosir Cottages but with a balcony almost right over the lake, a beautiful swimming platform beneath and only us staying there. We could sit on our balcony, or even from the bed, and see right down the lake. It was the same price as Samosir Cottages but for the view alone it beat it hands down.
We spent the next few days enjoying our new home and it's view. We had morning swims in the refreshing lake, rented books from the nearby shop and spent evenings listening to music and watching the odd small fishing boat go past.
One morning we decided to swim to a small neighbouring village along the shoreline from us. Upon reaching the town we realised that we had no money or shoes and
that walking back in shorts and a bikini might not be the best idea. So we had to swim, completing what we estimated to be a 700m round trip.
After a few days of rest and relaxation we rented a motorbike to explore some more of the island. The first part of the journey was along smooth roads that wound their way along the lake, passing rice padddies, catholic churches and old Batak villages. We stopped to admire the almost troll-like houses that were set around ancient stone gathering points with a totem pole in the middle. This was the point the camera decided to stop working again. Luckily we had brought the iPhone and so were able to take some more pictures.
We continued on the beautiful lake road passing more churches and waving locals before stopping for lunch on the other side of the island. It had already taken half a day so we decided to turn inland, visiting Lake Sidihoni (a lake on an island in a lake on an island) on the way back to Tuk Tuk. Although it was a scenic, rugged route it turned out to be a little trickier than we
had imagined. A little too rugged perhaps.
The smooth roads had deserted us and we were now trying to go up steep hills littered with potholes. After ten minutes or so of bumpy, slow ascent we were met by a bus going the other way. "Lake Sidihoni" we said, to which he replied "no that way...follow me". We were both relieved it wasn't any further on such a road but after following the bus for a while we were shown in the direction of another steep but less bumpy hill.
Another hour or so went by as we continued our winding rise up the mountain passing more villages and churches. This was turning into quite a trip and our posteriors were already feeling the effects. Assured by the locals that we were going the right way we then entered some forest. At first it was fun going through a makeshift road, in a forest on an island in a lake, but soon the cavernous roads took their toll as the forest seemed to go on forever. As we went deeper the condition of the road deteriorated further as did our patience. We couldn't get out of second gear
and had not seen any people in over an hour.
By this time it was beginning to get a little dark and cold, not helped by the imposing black clouds. Then we were greeted with a split in the road. Fearing a night in the forest I began to think of Ray Mears' Extreme Survival programme but wasnt sure which aspect to recount. Two young backpackers from England went into the forest of Sumatra ill prepared for what awaited them or just how to make a fire. We chose the path that veered slightly to the right, but in a straight forward kind of way, and fifteen bumpy minutes later we were rewarded by seeing the first person in about two hours. He reassured us we were on the right path to Tuk Tuk and soon we came out of the trees and actually saw just how high we were. We could see over the lake and all the mountains surrounding it and with the sun beginning to fall it was a beautiful sight. We had made it out, not a case of extreme survival but extreme bumpy motorbiking.
The smooth, fast paced road that winded us back
down the mountain, with the lake below and waterfalls beside us, was truely satisfiying and our bums actually stayed on the seat all the way back to Tuk Tuk. We were absolutely shattered by the time we got home but the bike did us proud. Quite a day! As for the lake, we saw a few on the way, which one was Sidihoni we'll never know.
After 6 great days on Lake Toba and a few bruises to show for it we headed to Bukit Lawang, further north of Lake Toba, hoping that this bus journey wouldn't be like the last. We left our beautiful room with a view just as a couple of tourists were checking in. "Bloody Americans".
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mouty and Sas
non-member comment
Bloody,lost,Americans
It sounds like Heidi, says Sas, thinking of Heidi's mountain life. I bet it didn't feel like Heidi at the time, but a wild and courageous (stupid?) adventure. Sas says she had a good time listening too it and she would do it too. She would also complain about the sick and "make people clean it up, quickly". The lake on an island on a lake on an........sounds a bit Alice in Wonderland like, just hot. Such stories you have to tell. Love M and S xx