I had crossed to Sumatra just in time – my frustration with the traffic and general pushiness of people on Java had reached a critical point; I needed to go somewhere quieter, more laid back.
After resting for the night in the first major town after the ferry port, I considered my options. I was already running behind schedule by a few days, and the ship to transfer the bike to Malaysia runs weekly, so I didn’t have any time pressure. The eastern route is the quickest and most direct to Medan, my exit point from Indonesia – but apparently runs through endless palm oil plantations and other lacklustre scenery. The middle option is the Trans-Sumatran Highway, the usual choice of overlanders, and a safe bet hitting most of the ‘interesting’ tourist destinations, at least further north. The final possibility was the west coastal road, passing through the upcoming surf destination of Krui – but apparently the roads were in much worse condition. This was my eventual choice, to see the coastal areas before cutting inland through the mountainous interior.
The road began by cutting through the dense jungle of a National Park and over a small mountain range, before hitting the coast and the beaches.
True to expectations, the road swept along the coastline, passing through tiny villages strung along the road’s verge.
Also true to reputation, the road quality was shocking in places. A significant portion was good quality bitumen, however at random intervals and with no warning, you’d encounter a massive potholes half the width of the road, or sometimes the tarmac would disappear entirely, leaving you bumping along through corrugated gravel at 10kph for hundreds of metres.
Pushing north I arrived at Bengkulu, once upon a time owned and operated by the British East India Company, as a trading port, until it was ceded to the Dutch in 1824 in exchange for Malacca. The British fortification, Fort Marlborough, still stands.
From here I abandoned the rough coastal road, and cut inland to the Trans-Sumatran Highway. This was much better maintained, but still involved dodging potholes, trucks, buses et cetera.
After an extremely long day of riding (730km) I made it to the delightfully named town of Bukittinggi. I took a rest day here, to explore the township and surrounds.
Just on the edge of the town is a huge canyon, overlooked by a small park, in which are the tunnels dug by the Japanese during their occupation of Indonesian in WW2.
As a curious monkey approached to see if I had food, a local offered to guide me down into the canyon and through the jungle.
First through the rice paddies and past the traditional Batak style house.
Then into the jungle, across rickety bamboo bridges, through thick mud and squeezing through narrow cuttings – I began to regret only wearing thongs!
It was worthwhile for the view as we emerged back into the river valley again.
After wading across the river half a dozen times (and nearly losing my thongs almost as many times), we reached a waterfall a few kilometres upstream.
Clambering up the far side of the canyon, we entered a small local village, my guide’s home village. Plenty of traditional Batak-style buildings with their distinctive roof on display.
After lunch we took the tourist trail back across the canyon, complete with shaky suspension bridge.
The next morning I left early, on my last ‘long’ (500km) leg in Indonesia. One of the first activities for the day was crossing the equator – although according to the GPS the sign is a few hundred metres out.
Then through the ever-changing Sumatran countryside – alternating between the river valley lined with rice paddies, and the steep mountainous roads.
My destination for the next few days was Samosir Island on Lake Toba – so another ferry, just on dusk.
