Volcano Climbing and Harem Life: Sumatra Part 2

Apologies, Jarrod if the title of this weeks blog has you triumphantly proclaiming “I bloody KNEW IT! Things do get crazy on those small group tours!!” You’re no doubt imagining a cocktails after dinner scenario where three of us realise we’re competing for the attention of the same Dutch backpacker, and one of us takes a long, slow sip of her Long Island Iced Tea, arches one eyebrow and nonchalantly suggests “maybe we don’t need to compete….?”

Consider that bubble burst. But we did learn about Harem Life back in the day and I’ll get to that. First though, the volcano climb!

In case you need a refresher, I’m on the first leg of the G Adventures Best of Sumatra and Java tour.  We’ve travelled from Gunung Leuser National Park to the hill town of Berastagi, our base for the next two nights.  It’s cooler up here being a higher elevation, I even (gasp) have to pop on a long sleeved top for dinner!

The tour bills the hike up Sibayak Volcano as a sunrise hike, but at dinner our guide breaks the news that we won’t be doing it as a sunrise hike. It would mean leaving the hotel at 3am to do so, and the forecast overnight is rain and lots of cloud so there’s no chance of a sunrise per se. I don’t hear anybody in the group complaining about avoiding hiking in the dark, in pouring rain, instead enjoying the hotel’s massive buffet breakfast and heading off at the vastly more civilised hour of 8am.

We load into minivans in the morning for the drive to the starting point. There our guide decides we obviously need a sobering message and ushers us over to a sign commemorating all of the hikers who’ve gotten lost/ gone missing/ died doing this trek. He goes into great detail about one German whose body wasn’t found for four days and when it was there was an entire leg missing. It really helps me feel relaxed and chilled out, and stops me stressing out like I usually do about the prospect of any injury on a hike. (Some people would do well to recognise they have a born Catastrophiser in the midst and excuse us from any doomsday messages. “Everybody over here for a minute! Megan, why don’t you go over there and look at that interesting plant for a minute? That’s right, way over there…”)

The start of the walk is sealed road that’s just relentlessly uphill, so naturally I’m struggling within about five minutes and cursing my lack of any cardio preparation. The group naturally spreads out with the fitter, gazelle like members up the front with the guide and the gasping stragglers, myself included down the back.

The guide stops to give lots of interesting and useful information about the flora and fauna and the geology of the area, but…. well, let’s just say he’s not one to wait for the stragglers before he starts a spiel. We wind up consistently arriving just as he wraps up saying “any questions, just ask” and abruptly turning 180 degrees to take off again at speed. So the stragglers left to draw our own conclusions about what we’re seeing.

Behold, the rare Sumatran Dildo Tree, as we christen it.  Were it not for Australia’s strict quarantine laws I could bring back a cutting and make millions, I tell you. Millions!

The path winds onwards and upwards and into the blazing sun.

My cheeks become so hot and ruddy they’re verging on Magenta. My favourite of all the Derwent pencil shades but not necessarily something I’m looking to emulate physically.

Eventually we reach a shaly, rocky section and dart easily up that (others) or stagger awkwardly, two steps up, little slide back, two steps up, bigger slide back with cry of frustration +/- swearing (me) to reach a point where the volcano is spewing out LOADS of steam at high pressure. The noise is phenomenal.

And 100m further up, we’re there, at the crater of Sibayak!

Jubilation only slightly marred by the knowledge that we still have to make it down safely and as we all know, downhill is The Worst.

We do all make it down safely and without any major injuries despite some pretty epic slips and stacks on the way down (although praise be, for once I am not one of the fallers!)

From there we’re back into our beautiful mini vans….

and off for a well earned soak at some hot springs. It’s Sulfur infused water which is meant to help reduce any delayed onset muscle soreness (spoiler alert: it doesn’t, I am whimpering in pain just lowering myself to sit on the toilet the following day) as well as help with any skin conditions like eczema or psoriasis. The springs are lovely and hot but let’s just say, I don’t think it’s a fragrance Jo Malone will be adding to her arsenal any time soon. It reeks. Imagine some psychopath peeling a hard boiled egg in a sauna. Yes. Like that.

Also a word to the wise: something we were not warned about before getting into the water: the Sulfur will massively tarnish any silver jewellery so you are definitely best to avoid wearing any silver into the pools.

The next day is a huge travel day to get to Samosir Island. The itinerary promises a Coffee Plantation Visit to “learn all about your beloved cuppa java” but all it actually amounts to is a roadside stop nowhere near a plantation where our guide shows us a branch with some coffee beans on it and talks about how they’re harvested.  Then a random woman rides up on a scooter with a box of various packets of coffee for sale.

It’s like being promised a winery tour, and then someone showing you a handful of grapes beside a highway 🙁 NOPE.

We stop at a historical Batak Village to learn how things would have operated there hundreds of years ago. First stop is a station where women would publicly compete to become a bride of the Sultan by crushing rice with giant poles. The woman who crushes it best would win his hand. One of the earliest incarnations of The Batchelor challenges, really. (Imagine that being a desirable trait in a lady and something you’d get all sultry about…… ‘baby, I’m going to crush your rice soooooooo fine…’)

The Sultan of this particular village had in the region of 24 wives and we’re told he would communicate which one he wanted to ‘spend the night with’ by sending a servant to deliver a Betel leaf to the lucky lady. The earliest version of The Bachelor single date envelope. What I wouldn’t give for the producers of The Bachelor to set the next season in one of these traditional houses as a surprise twist. All living in the one big, long open plan room… At least they wouldn’t be going crazy wondering what was happening on the one on one date. You’re all of ten metres away, hearing exactly what scored her that rose.

I’ll be back again next week Jarrod, in the meantime I’m working on my rice crushing and still trying to get the Sulfur smell out of my bathing suit. But over to you, volcano climbing and living with 24 wives: Jarrod, would you go there?