My edited experience here, in this fifth country thus far on my trip has been amazing nonetheless. Sitting in Pedang, on the southern coast, knowing that my trip has been altered out of my control, has been humbling to say the least.
From the three hour ferry, a hundred group photos, to the best food so far, this place has been great.
All 460km of it.
That might sound like a lot, and although compared to the previous 4200km, the number to me seems like no big deal, those were the most difficult clicks so far.
Elevation changes from start to finish, and a busy, shoulder-less volcano pass dealt the most dangerous stretch of any I’ve been through in all my experience and a handful of incidents left me steering off into the ditch at road speed.
One had the equipment and myself changing places.
The best was yet to come though, I’m afraid, and reluctantly it’s come to the fact that I will have to be back one day. The long winding road of the southern shores will remain for now in the unknown chapter of future adventure, all in good time.
Following suit with previous hospitality and new friends, the first day off the boat was long enough to meet up with Lussy, the owner of a newly acquired homestay hotel in the heart of Dumai.
These family affair type establishments are often a bridge to the insiders local destinations. This wasn’t just another hotel, but more visiting a friend I hadn’t met yet due to the level of hospitality I received over the next couple days.
Diving deep into Indonesian culture had us at the local Pizza Hut on the second night, after a healthy dose of Martabak on the first, paired up with a quick tour of the area and her new home constructions worksite.
Thank you Lussy, you and your family made me feel right at home.
A very similar experience had me in mind in Pekanbaru, which was once 200km inland. Endy and his team at Bono in the heart of town boasted a high end luxury weekend of cannonballs and Bintang.
Featuring great company for a night of socializing and bending beer caps, also a great deal for an extra night of recoup after being ran off the road, this was a stop I was sad to see come and go.
Thanks Endy for the great weekend, introducing me around and for all your help. Stay cool buddy.
My camping situations weren’t quite so luxurious in the days to come.
Darkness came over the hilltops late that evening, and the persistent flow of vehicles found me turning off into an approach, navigating the plateau of open space with a headlamp.
Finding a clearing off to the side, and out of the line of site from any wandering headlights, I propped up against a tree and soon had a tent ready for business.
Keeping an eye on a bullet ant that was investigating this new tenant, I couldn’t believe the size of this guy as he cat-walked my canopy and poles. With his body length matching a set of nail clippers and radius equal to the pole itself, he got left alone for the duration of his adventure. Especially when standing up and reaching out for the flashlight, jaws wide open.
It was quite nice to be hidden away in this jungle world, unknown and unbothered. Sleeping sound after being exhausted in the heat and climbing all day, waking up had all questions answered as to why the silent night had been so private.
I had slept in a garbage dump.
The plateau had many hidden secrets, and the daylight revealed them all. Construction materials, drywall cuttings, and a mass burial of sinks and other such porcelain creations were sent here to stare up at the sun and stars. A few retired motorcycles, missing their wheels and gas tanks lived down the street, right next to a pile of salt and pepper boards of various length, complete with brown, rusty nails.
The mountain pass was not to disappoint, starting with a straight climb on foot to push everything uphill for day one, this felt like it would never end. Steep hill road signs peeked around every corner for twelve hours and after ten litres of water, the daylight was all burnt out.
Volcanos in this area weren’t as active as I thought they might be, but maybe that’s a good thing?
Another fresh morning start from a tent in the jungle proved a nice early start, with a 120 km day to the finish line southern coast. Three hours of roasting my brakes on the downslope ground the pads nearly right off but I didn’t need them anymore.
Seeing this countryside from elevation was certainly a hilight on this adventure, and it was earned with litres of sweat and a few scabs.
Coming our the other side, after escaping the volcano roads, was a high risk reward that I’m unsure I’d recommend to anyone cycling Indonesia. But I’m here on the safe end of it all and lived to tell the tale.
Pedang, this coastal town has been hyped as the Rendang capital of Sumatra.
Sen, of V-Bike here in town, was not only nice enough to secure a bike box for me, but pointed me in the direction of a local establishment that I’ve been going to twice a day for just such a meal.
Rendang is straight cuts of slow marinated roast beef, with a rice side kick. Sari Raso has my order down as soon as I walk in now, I’ve been there fifteen times and order the same plate each time.
Lisa has been a great friend and guide for my time here as well, taking me for a wild motorcycle trip down the coast for some beach time and out for some Bintang at a bar I’m sure The Crow would’ve been right at home in.
This Acoca is about to meet a wrench, and get ready for a plane ride. We don’t know what the future will bring right now, but nobody really ever has.
In these times it’s hard to predict even the next day.
May the next chapter not end the story, but be a turning point. The finale remains unwritten