🇮🇩 🚌 “Road processes” was the only information we could get out of our bus driver about the fact we had been stopped for over 2 hours amongst hundreds of other buses and trucks, lined like an endless procession of caterpillars on both lines of the highway – though not moving, not even at snail pace. It was 6AM and we had been in this bus for 16 hours, travelling 500 km across Sumatra from Lake Toba to Dumai, where we were going to say farewell to Indonesia and catch a ferry across the Malacca strait to Malaysia. We are in absolute disbelief that we made it, that we’re now sitting in this comfortable cool air conditioned bus speeding at 100km/h on a smooth freeway to Kuala Lumpur. This is the 10th mode of transport in the last 30 hours of eventful travelling.
We should have had plenty of time to get to the ferry. But of course Indonesia reserved for us one last true Indonesian adventure. We started losing a lot of time on the google maps prediction soon after leaving, and the eta creeped even further forward when the air conditioning broke after leaving the rest stop. The bus was like a sauna, with 30 or so inside, all doors closed, the motor running and no air flow whatsoever. The three on board mechanics spent most of their time sitting on the front step and smoking, but they sprang into action, pulling apart the AC and trying to jam in a fuse that didn’t fit. Eventually someone turned up on a motorbike with the right size fuse and air started to flow, cooling the sweat that was sticking us to the vinyl seats. Within half an hour the tables had turned, a monsoonal storm broke over the road and the bus roof was no match for the rainfall. Every time the bus slowed or turned we copped a full shower. This, coupled with the now icy AC and rather nervous driving made for difficult sleeping.
We emerged from half sleep at 4:15 and saw that we were stopped, assuming for a short break, only 1 hour from Dumai. The driver’s ciggie fuelled rampage along the trans Sumatra highway had caught us up some valuable time. We passed out again with the sleeping pills, thinking we would wake up in Dumai, but no, at 6 the bus was still in the same spot. Hundreds, and probably thousands of trucks and buses filled the road as far as the eye could see.
In contrast with the patient and accepting Indonesians, we could not bear this total absence of information and movement, plus the very likely prospect of missing our ferry. So we sprung into action. We walked up to a police car and pulled the please help the foreigner card. The policemen called a friend who spoke English to help us communicate, and were very willing to help us, probably a much welcomed distraction from this road mess. We jumped in the police car (for the first time in our life and being complete innocents 😇), which didn\’t get us very far given how clogged the road was. So they hailed some motorbike riders and requisitioned them to take us to the next big intersection. For the next 30 minutes we weaved between trucks and buses stuck in complete gridlock, eventually arriving at the junction where the road to Dumai broke off.
This is where we found out one of the reasons for this mayhem: trucks going in one direction filling both lanes of the two-way road, making it impossible for anyone else to leave the traffic jam. This whole situation, with the main Sumatra ‘highway’ blocked for probably the whole day and thousands of people and trucks immobilised, just because drivers weren’t sticking to their side of the road.
By this time it was already past 7 am, and with time ticking we had almost lost hope of making it to the ferry in time. At best it would take nearly an hour to cover the remaining 50km to Dumai ferry terminal. We were reluctant to do the 50km on the back of motorbikes, but with the traffic at a standstill we had no choice. The police helped us recruit some characters with motorbikes in a questionable state of repair, and with the price negotiated we were on the move again. With the road full of trucks we scooted along on the dirt verge, the suspension bottoming out on each bump. Finally we made it to the open road and my young gun of a driver opened the throttle.
The whole situation initially felt stressful and frustrating, but it progressively started feeling absolutely thrilling, full of suspense, and excitement. As we were zooming on the motorbikes, we started thinking that maybe we would make it just before the ferry left and they would let us on despite the request to be there two hours earlier. The whole ride, my optimism kept ramping up and I was feeling so grateful for Indonesians being so willing to help and “can-do” minded for whatever the request is. This is definitely a defining feature of our almost 2 months in this country.
We made it to the ferry terminal at 8:30 for a 9:00 departure. As we were running towards the check in counter the security guard – with a big smile full of laughter – even told us to relax and not rush, that we had time!! We suddenly found ourselves handing over passports and receiving ferry boarding passes. Pumping with adrenaline and in complete disbelief, we passed Indonesian immigration and by 8:45 we were sitting relaxed on the ferry, 18 hours after getting on the bus.
This adventure concluded almost two months in Indonesia, and a very relaxed last week spent discovering Batak culture and their boat-shaped houses in the heart of Sumatra. Lake Toba was so unbelievably quiet compared to anywhere we’ve been in Indonesia it surprised us. It was nice but, of course, the true nature of Indonesia and Sumatra caught on us with this last trip, demonstrating both the chaos it can be and the limitless kindness of Indonesians. What a way to part ways with Indonesia! 🇮🇩 👋
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