PULAU WEH, TAKENGON, KETEMBE and CAMERON HIGHLANDS

-Saturday 18 May 1996
Public bus with Bob the Belgian to Kuale Dho. After looking at Hosans bungalows we settled for Dieter's Camp Europa with tree huts at 17500r/day including meals. Two Swiss and four Germans lived up to the name. Dieter was an engaging rascal who had been there for 10 years having travelled the world after a career as journalist and writer.

Kuala Doh TREE TOPS

Bob too was a writer for a Dutch TV sitcom, clearly a success as it was being translated into other European languages, it was intensive work with continually meeting deadlines, but interspersed with four to six months travelling the world as at present. His preference was the more leisurely writing of novels. A regards travel he recommended French Polynesia though never cheap, especially the island Maupeti, Newfoundland and Latin South America. On this his first visit to Asia he was concerned about the dirt and poverty. He found it much easier to relate to the Spanish or Portuguese life style in South America

We had a long discussion about a wide range of philosophical and political issues, travel and culture after a pleasant dinner with real chunks of fresh fish in this European enclave in Sumatra.
Although Acheh is very strict Muslim his guests can dress as they please and that includes bikinis. The owner is a Muslim of convenience who is offered money or sacks of rice to attend their ceremonies.

Amongst the real attractions was a large urn of tea to drink before retiring to bed at 10:30. The drawback was my favorite hate, mosquitoes, even as I write this on the veranda I am being bitten. Quite a civilised place using coils to keep the mosquitoes at bay but neither Joan or I slept well, though the continual noise of breaking surf and the heat were unhelpful factors.

On the second day we went for a swim and I attempted to swim through the surf to reach the calm water outside but got severely dumped twice and was very relieved to get back to standing depth. We had long discussions with Bob at table while the other seven conversed in German, though the Swiss were French speakers. We were to meet up again with the Swiss couple of our own age and with Bob on Pulau Weh in Iboih Village, though they chose to stay at the next backpacker encampment. 

Kuala Doh Tree Tops Beach

20 May arrive at Iboih Village
We left at 10am on the bus, a comfortable mini, to the city of Banda Acheh and just made it to the port via a second mini for 32km to catch the ferry to Sabang on the island of Pulau Weh, then a third mini to Iboih Village. For the final stage we were joined by a Tibetan woman, who had previously lived at Pokhara in Nepal, to take us to the backpackers camp of Mama's. A couple of Iboih villagers attempted to collect a toll to enter which on her advice we ignored.

Tibetan families ran Iboih on Pulau Reh

The camp was a collection of about twenty wooden huts sited on the hillside. Common facilities being more or less at beach level, two restaurants, a communal well at the centre where you hauled up cold water by the bucket full and had your daily tip shower or mandi wearing just a swimming costume, and a single permanent house belonging to the diving school and a two rather smelly basic toilets. The three businesses had presumably built and owned the village.

She took us to our large newly built semi-detached wooden bungalow high on the hill overlooking the sea. The furniture comprised an oil lamp and a dirty looking mattress on the floor, a large let down wooden shutter for a window, a mosquito net and lots of space. Typically that hut size would be hired as a small dormitory for four or more people. 

Brian, Shopping and Mattress on Floor

We grew to love Iboih, the swimming was first class, the water clear and just the right temperature, the snorkeling was even better with a small reef of coral and rocks just off shore and a stunning range of fish.

Pulau Weh Rocks

The food was tasty and cheap, the set dinner was 2000r, fruit salad an excellent bread roll with egg for 800r, donuts 200r, excellent ground coffee. Perhaps even more the company was excellent contributing to a wonderful atmosphere, the toilets never seemed smelly again. We soon got used to shampooing, almost all over, in full view after a day in the water. We were amazed at the fabulous quality of the bread and donuts made in a very basic tin oven the size of a small kitchen cupboard. Though having known similar quality produced on a small camp fire in Nepal should have been prepared for marvelous Tipton Bread - which we later realised was Tibetan Bread. Another day they were sorting through a huge pile of cloves, whether for their own use or for sale was not clear,

There were two predators, both French. I confess to envy. The older, say 40, was a stage Frenchman of the Maurice Chevalier type who never stopped talking, mainly to the latest pretty arrival. He initially operated with a much younger Spaniard from Lyon. Just as we left he took up residence in the other half of our bungalow with an young American. He was clearly trying to get a blond somewhat older German into bed, without any luck that first night but he pursued her elsewhere and I eventually concluded she was as much of a predator as him. In Thailand you couldn't avoid the attraction of tourists to young, even girlish children. It seems Sumatra is the hunting ground of middle aged tourists turning up with young local men.

Each morning we agreed to stay one more day until six nights elapsed and we had run out of time still determined to return by Lake Tawar and the central highlands, the Bukit Barisan.

22 May
On the third day a semi permanent resident, six months last year and approaching it again this year, persuaded me to take a ride in his boat to the east side of Rupiah Island, just offshore, and to snorkel over the finest coral around. He dropped me with a warning about the current which might just be too strong to swim back. If so not to worry but to let the current to take you to a beach on the far side of the island, walk back over the path across the island to gain sight of our village and either swim back from there or call for help. The coral was marvelous but my first priority was to ensure that I was always capable of making forward progress through the water. In the end I did swim back but with some trepidation.

Kids swimming with Rupiah Island background

The corals were mostly large mushroom shaped in Wilton carpet shades with a lots of smooth brown coral interspersed. The fish were less impressive than those near the village, perhaps a sign of less sewage!

24 May
Next day Joan and I snorkeled together for hours around the rocks through huge variety of fish, parrot fish all turquoise, with yellow and black vertical stripes, multicoloured stripes. The real sights were Sting Ray, turtles and reef sharks though I searched in vain, probably for want of a better snorkeling-watching, technique. But I did see sea snakes, poisonous bulbous fish, long yellow ones of strange shape, tuna, baracuda, crabs and clams, poisonous fish disguised as stones waiting to be tread on.

25 May
Joan and I tried to swim to the east corner of the island. We started crossing from the village and were soon being swept down past the far headland by a fast current. By swimming across the current we made it to our rocky shore, but Joan was badly shaken having to swim so hard she was out of breath. We gradually got our confidence back by swimming from rock to rock along the coast and taking frequent breathers, like getting them in singles to use a cricketing term and finally stood up again on the village beach. After a rest we swam back to Mama's Bay.

Amongst the friends we made were two couples of our own age 60+, both had traveled intensively and made us feel like novices. The Swiss couple had traveled for over twenty years including motoring across the Sahara and an overland trip to India with family. 

A German couple, of perhaps 70 years, were now traveling 11 months a year. They returned home for Christmas for a thorough medical check up, to check on the house and most importantly to renew their driving licences. They had been to Vietnam  having crossed from Saigon to Hanoi by train with frequent stops (10-12$ for an excellent room with cheap food and travel). Most recently they had travelled independently in Irian Jaya and recommended buying photocopied maps from other travellors, avoiding the alternative is guides who buy them in mass from the shops and charge exorbitantly for their services. They had found guides were unnecessary as the Headman of the village is responsible for finding you lodging, or you can stay overnight in churches. She had hurt her back and knee in a skiing accident and could no longer carry anything significant so he carries the lot. They trekked this way in Nepal, east- west across four river valleys for 58 days with his rucksack weighing 20kg, no tourists seen finding way with a blueprint map of which we still have one. 

 

LEAVING IBOIH AT SUNRISE

We left Iboih in a minibus just at sunrise. A magical way to leave and remember an idyllic time.

FISHING BOAT SPIED from FERRY, SABANG to BANDAH ACHEH

Sad then to reflect on the almost total destruction of Banda Acheh city in the tsunami and reflect that Pulau Weh island just offshore would have suffered as well.

26 May 1996  Takengon

Much of the road to Biruen was along coastal plane and was almost entirely paddy fields. Sleeping as usual in buses I awoke to find Joan was sitting next to the driver. I had noticed in Bandah Acheh that the prettiest girl was invited to sit beside the driver, looking around I concluded she deserved the accolade. We had paid cash at the outset to the first driver, as intended he showed us our next bus, deducted his share and handed on the remainder to the next bus. The system worked well, for the drivers as well I guess, and several changes later we were on the minibus for the last four hours which would complete the journey to Takengon, whiled away talking to a soldier whose presence confirmed we were in a disputed area that we had not noticed on the previous coast. 

27 May

As I write sitting on the balcony of the excellent Losmen Batang Ruan the rain is pouring down outside. After an abortive attempt to reach a market in the village of Beleatu only to find there were two villages of this name, we shopped in town buying several pencil cases for the grandkids, an evening purse, a shoulder bag, a fine piece of decorative cloth from an area renowned for its Gayo/Alas tapestry and a sarong shopping like this a sure sign we were beginning to think of returning home. 

Then stumbled upon a wedding and were immediately ushered in to an area where a small musical group was entertaining, got a free dinner, were pressed to sing on the stage - refused but still taken to see the bridegroom resplendent in traditional dress. We we danced with them in another decorated room and were included in the video record. I reflected at the time that the ceremony seemed very relaxed than the others we had seen.

 

The tall man who had first invited us in asked for 10,000r as we left - he might very have been the organiser of the entertainment. We passed the kitchens with three great pots over wood fires

A young man who had been ushering us around took us to his home and played traditional didong music on a cassette.  These are song competitions between groups of about 20, whilst the others clap in rhythm, from neighboring villages. Poetry is sung from dawn to dusk was local grievances are aired. 

His father was an academic working at a local university and we were shown a large treasured book in which he had recorded the local history and customs of the Gayo and had hand bound in Jakarta. The large house was well and interestingly furnished with an especially fine carved table made from a huge tree trunk, as it were reverse dug out.

He offered to take us to lake Lout Tawar that afternoon providing we funded the trip costing 2000 for petrol and 1900 for cigarettes and then asked for 5000 at the end. He was very friendly and genuine but obviously could resist the opportunity to make a little money. Several older brothers and sisters had now left home and we presumed they had done better than him. He had taken us to the Rengali Hotel the deserted showpiece of the area, then a swimming platform, a cave and had had more than entertained us at the wedding and far more deserved his money than the tall man.

Most people of his age have no other source of  money than tourists, providing they give a friendly service this is fine - after all 10,000r is only £3. We were invited to the evening wedding entertainment and were intending to give £5 but in the event we stayed inside because it was pouring with rain. 

A English lad has just arrived at the Losmen and recommended Sarah's in Medan  and Ketembe, also an English mother with daughter and boyfriend both having arrived by the mountainous route and heading for Iboih. I noted at the time that Iboih was an excellent back packer enclave but the real fun for us was travelling on our own and that too is proving incredibly easy. 

28 May Ketembe

Bus at 9 to Blangkergeren the first hours out of Takengon were spectacular climbing away from the fertile valley to the top of the Bukit Barison mountain spine. Then it was forest with only 10km unpaved, though there was plenty of sign of heavy rain and the associated landslides. 

 Hustled by cheeky young boy into minibus bound for Katembe, the driver and him drove us out out town parked in an isolated spot whilst they got out and discussed. For the first time on the holiday we felt at risk of being robbed and left to our own devices. Eventually they came back and asked for 10,000r, then upped their demand to 15,000r which seemed a reasonable price for a minibus without other passengers running late at night, it was already 4pm and only a couple hours before dark, when we returned to the major bus pickup point. Eventually the driver set off, leaving the lad behind, with few more passengers.
 He dropped us off at 8pm at a minor junction and told us to walk, seemingly through the forest to the Government Research Station and Guesthouse. Walking nervously still a little shaken by the earlier interlude but that we later concluded was a plot hatched up by the boy 
 On arrival we were welcomed with open arms for they obviously were short of visitors. There was a solid main building and several good wooden huts for two people overlooking a raging river, equipped with mandi, oil lamps, electric bulbs - no use without money to run the generator,  comfortable settees and a large balcony. 

The recommended GH was Pondole Wisale a little further nearer Kutacarne, but this was a fine room for 6000r.  It was run by a pleasant young family with two children, a boy and a girl, but to judge from the food which could have been tastier they were obviously struggling with a motor bike as the sole luxury and that was essential in this remote location. No problem to sleep given the roar of the river and well tired after nearly 11 hours of travelling.

29 May

We agreed to a trek with Ali a seemingly lazy fat man with a limp (from polio?). But he knew the forest well and showed orang utangs, tubai, hornbill, monkeys and many flowers including orchids, a rafflesia corm a dead rafflesia flower. Rafflesia, a parasite depending totally on its host, is the largest single flower in the world and can reach over 900mm  across its leathery petals. 

There is no doubt that for all his boasting he showed us much in the jungle we would otherwise not have seen. We heard a tiger's calls, though we concluded our guide had made them, he claimed one pair of tourists had seen one too close for comfort. They sometimes found remains of a meal near a path, including orang utang.

Joan picked up one leach attached to her chest which was burned off, but as it had gorged well blood oozed through her bra. Numerous others attached themselves briefly but that was the only one to have fed, although easy to remove simply by pulling they rapidly reattach using suckers at both ends. In fact that is the way they move by attaching the sucker at the opposite end re- positioning it in the direction of travel.

Although the walk was slow being punctuated by many stops we were very tired at the end. Seizing his opportunity the guide took us to the restaurant associated with a complex of upmarket bungalows (40,000r/night) for pots of expensive tea, cakes and Mie Goreng.

At 5:30 it was getting dusk so we went to the Pikus Tree at the road entrance where he pointed out Orang Utangs sleeping high up and this time two were clearly visible. They apparently have a house at the top, the tree is chosen for its Rambung fruit, round and soft like figs or dates. Next morning we returned to the tree and saw two Orang Utangs feeding, Macack and black Gibbon monkeys, a Hornbill  and a Tubai. 

It is a great pity the Government GH is not better supported, they need better food and information in English. Unlike us the average backpacker wouldn't pay 15,000r for a guide, but that huge tree at the entrance is itself a concentrated view point for the initiated. I think the Orang Utangs and the Gibbons are there because it is used as a rehabilitation venue when releasing these species from the famous Orang Utang and the Gibbon Research Stations nearby. 

30 May '96
Showed the tree to three Brits from a rival guest house but regretted omitting to mention it to a lone backpacker who alone had purchased a 2,000r permit of access to the park. Bus to Kutacane and after one hour wait a second to Brastagi. 
Approaching Kabanjahe was like entering a new world, dual carriageways with lines down the middle, some traffic even some cars. Only prosperous Bandah Acheh city compared.

As I write this in De Merel, the best room with en-suite mandi that the Dutch couple had originally, western pop music blears making a pleasant contrast to the non stop Indonesian music on all buses large and small. I reflected that when a local bus driver stops for a meal break they choose excellent restaurants, the same cannot be said of tour bus drivers looking for hand outs. Lunch today was rice, fish, beef, two green vegetables and coffee for 2,900r each. I had a surplus of nearly 300,000 Indonesian (say 100USD) and we were returning to Malaysia the next day. The evening meal at the Asia restaurant was not that great.

Friday 31 May 1996
Medan, at Sarah's Guest House recommended by word of mouth was fine, far removed from the tragedies of our first visit and probably similar if not even identical to the one we refused to enter.

1June
Travelled by ferry from Medan back to Penang and again checked into the Swiss Hotel, this to a room with mandi but no toilet. Ate Chinese style with sense of danger as there has been a cholera epidemic since we left, thought to have originated in contamination in widely distributed ice cubes.
The Chinese herbal tea place was closed so we failed to record it in photograph but more importantly there was no chance of a second attempt to test the aprodisiac features of the saliva of hibernating frogs.
Unable to book a tourist bus to the Cameron Highlands because today was a Buddhist holiday and tomorrow was the King's birthday.

2 June 1996 took ferry to Butterworth on the mainland Malaya then caught a non stop express bus to Ipoh then several more to reach Tana Rata at centre of Cameron Highlands. Found a nice room at the Bala Chalet, my notes include the remark 'with clean sheets' so clearly this was not the norm on this trip. Not only this but the set dinner for $28 Malaysian  was the best and biggest meal we had seen all holiday Chicken curry, vegetable curry sauce, fried vegetables, macaroni with tomatoes and mint, omelette and rice.  

3 June 
Went for walks number 11 and 12 through the a well trod trail through an unspoiled jungle of small trees.

Visited a butterfly farm.

In the afternoon had a luxury tea of scones, butter, jam and a lttle cream.
The set evening meal was a steamboat, the local tradition being cook yourself  fondu like style of steam cooking brewing your soup seafood, egg and vegetable over a burner on the table. Although not recorded we remember sharing our steamboat with several others including three middle aged Italians who made a regular holiday of a visit here. I was puzzled at first by their accent not even recognising it as Italian, the accent came from the area north of Venice and Triest famed for its white wines, the knowledge  releasing me to try my hand at Italian which was still being studied following a B in 'O' level at night school several years earlier. 

The Bala guest house is run by a very nice Indian couple well practiced in tempting you to part with your money. Very nice but costing a fortune by Indonesian standards. Sounds pretty attractive as I transcribe these comments on 30 October 2015.

4 June 1996 return flight home by BA.