River deep, mountain high, yeah, yeah, yeah…
(Written by Steph, photos by Nick)
“You do know you have to cross the river TWICE, don’t you?”
He was about the third person to say this to us, and we were starting to wonder if this really was a line to get us to stay in their own guesthouse or if crossing the river was actually as dramatic as they made it sound. Either way, Nick was determined that we go to the furthest away guesthouse from the bus stop. So far away that the last hour had to be walked along side the river. The river that you had to cross…dun dun duhhh…TWICE.
We had emailed the guesthouse with the normal amount of warning that could be expected from us contrary Marys – all of a few hours. Needless to say, we hadn’t received a reply.
“It’s ok – they’re my friends. I’m going that way anyway.”
A local not only lent us his phone, but also offered to accompany us. For free..? Apparently so. We were waiting for Jeremy Beadle to jump out of the bushes shouting, “Fooled you!” but that moment never came. Laos, where no one does something for nothing, had obviously made us cynical. How refreshing to be on the end of genuine hospitality, and this was only our second day in Indonesia.
We weaved our way along the river until the path abruptly stopped. Aha. This would be the first crossing then. Shallow, but wider than we had first imagined, we shuffled across the fast flowing water, trying our best to avoid the slippery stones and maintain our balance with our big bags. It was fun, but nothing we couldn’t handle – we watch Bear Grylls, doncha know.
Arriving at Back to Nature, I was most put out. It was amazing, and that meant I would be having hat for dinner again. When we hadn’t got a reply from the guesthouse, I had wanted to grab a spot nearer the town. All the guesthouses overlooked the river and had looked pretty good to me, but Back to Nature was something else. It really was right in the jungle. No WiFi, no toilet paper (apparently this is a leading cause of deforestation – up there with palm oil) and owned by a man kean on taking the protection of the severely threatened rainforest seriously. It was just where we wanted to be, and we weren’t the only ones…
“Where are all the other guests?” we wondered. There were only four rooms, but no one was around. Probably out trekking, as was the thing to do here. Sitting down to a ‘jungle tea’ (delicious!), we were joined by a dude who, based on his haircut, was into punk. His name was Thomas, and he was a Thomas monkey. Cool as a cucumber with a mohawk, Thomas came and sat on the table, turned his back on us…and weed. Thanks for that hearty welcome, Thomas.
“She is sad because she can’t cross the river.”
That first day we also saw a couple of orangutans across the river in the jungle. One of them had apparently slept on the sofas of Back to Nature for a while, but had been moved across the other side for her safety and to prevent her relying on humans. Even though that was a while ago, the orangutan could still be spotted trying to work out a way across the river. Ahh, how sentimental, I thought. Turns out there are good fruit trees on our side of the river. Motivated by food, it was easy to see that we share 96% of the same DNA.
We did two treks that took us further into the jungle while in Bukit Lawang, but without moving anywhere, we saw so many animals – large groups of macque monkeys, 3 Thomas monkeys, 2 orangutans, a hornbill bird, massive black bees, a multitude of different butterflies, and some very hard to spot gibbons. Oh, and a few cockroaches. Where was my bottle of hairspray when I needed it? Unable to blow torch them like the good ol days, I set Nick on them. Turns out that he is an awesome cockroach killer. They do say that travelling gives you important life skills.
As well as getting to know the animals here, one of the most fascinating things was getting to know the people. Each one of the workers did so for free, only wanting experience and a roof over their head, and each one of them had an incredible story – leaving home at 11, living on the streets of Medan, busking for a living and getting in fights with the mafia who were trying to get a cut of their earnings, living and surviving in the jungle for 6 months…each of these guys were only 23. What a different life they had led. All at once I was amazed by their survival, admiring of their lack of want, and envious of their simple life.
Every evening we all came together to jam. They sang and played like it was an ourpouring of their souls, and I was hypnotised every time. What, I wondered, would it be like to be near the jungle everyday, to spend the days carving, painting, playing music. Then again, would that really be enough for our digital brains? Would we tire of the peace and quiet eventually? Would we manage to survive the jungle if it came down to it? The thing we would likely struggle with most would be the river.
After returning from our survival trek in torrential rain, which didn’t pause for a full day and night, the river had doubled in height and width. The once clear and mildly white-water was now a raging torrent of opaque brown. Not a raft on the waters was to be seen.
What about crossing the river…TWICE? The capital letters were now warranted. A German couple we had befriended had a flight to catch and we were also planning on leaving.
“Too dangerous,” they said.
Now I had seen the locals in the river in the deep parts with the strong current, and they rocked it. Even the littlest of the dudes could handle it, so if they said it was too dangerous, it was too dangerous. What if it didn’t stop raining? Hundreds of streams ran into the river, making it quite easy for the water level to increase dramatically. They had experienced major flooding on more than one occasion.
Luckily, as you have probably guessed, we did get out alive. The rain stopped and the river level dropped, although the flood took out one of the bridges and the river was still fierce. But we got by…with a lot of help from our Indonesian friends.
The most dramatic flood happened in 2003, when logs falling in the river had caused a kind of dam. The water built up and up and up…until the dam broke and all that water burst out like a giant wall. Suria, one of the guys working there, told me about his experience of it. Their only option was to run away as fast as they could. They couldn’t run up the steep slopes that border the river as the river was already higher than them, and there was no time. He was only 10 years old as he watched houses and people alike swept away by the river. Around 1,400 people lost their homes and 239 people died in that flood.