Trans-Sumatran Highway: A Game of Inches

It is a nearly impossible task to do justice to the complete and utter misery that was the last 24 hours of travel. Near impossible, but I’ll try to capture the suffering and discomfort. The 14 hour bus journey from hell from Danau Toba to Bukittinggi as described in bullet points…

• The Trans-Sumatran Highway is not a highway. Its just a road. In parts it wouldn’t qualify for even that title. The road, at least the 500km we drove, didn’t have a single straight stretch of track anywhere longer than 1km. Think about that. The best way I can describe it is to picture the twists and turns of the Pacific Coast Highway (Rt. 1) just north or south of San Francisco. Those hairpin turns high on the cliffs overlooking the beautiful Pacific and rocky death below. Now reduce the quality of the road by 50%. Narrow it from two lanes to one and a half. And surround it by jungle.
• The route: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=113857108228539669434.000475b602c895b6fb944&z=7
• The drivers have absolutely no concept of risk versus return. Speed is paramount and safety an afterthought. Close your eyes and imagine sitting in a Greyhound bus glued to the window as your bus driver navigates the PCH in a fullsize coach bus…at 50mph. I’m not embellishing here. The speed was horrifying. The driver was some demented hybrid of Mario Andretti and Evel Knievel.
• Due to the speed and “S” like nature of the road, all objects on the floor constantly shifted from left to right. Right to left. When brakes were needed: back to front. Upon immediate acceleration: front to back. Objects included but not limited to garage bags, trash bins, empty soda bottled, etc.
• I was the last row on the right side, positioned just in front of the john. The toilet was an Asian style squat toilet. As such there was a giant container of clean water used to flush. It took about an hour before the turns and speed got so fierce the water started splashing over the container sides and on the floor. “Dear God people, keep that door closed at all costs…”
• The bus left at 2pm. It broke by 3pm. By 5pm we were in valleys that time seemed to have forgot. Majestic rice fields going off into the distance only to disappear into the valley wall miles away. The beauty is nice but all you can think about is the fact that driving on the valley floor means you’ll inevitably have to climb out of the valley. And that means back into the hills…
• Any shotty cavity work preformed by any of my dentists over the years would have been exposed last night due to the ultra violent jarring of the bus as it flew over unsealed roads at 100kph for a cumulative total of between 8-10 hours. I felt like a astronaut on the launching pad. Face, torso, limbs…all jiggling nonstop. My jaw hurts just a tad today.
• Thankfully I had eaten a small breakfast. The poor chubby kid several rows up was not so lucky. The vomiting started at 5pm. By 9pm he was dry heaving (nothing left in his tank). By 1am he sounded like a dog whimpering. It was horrible. Thankfully no smell, and his pain did bring the slightest bit of comic relief.
• On that note: I couldn’t think of a worse punishment for a severely hungover individual than this bus. Forget jail time. Liquor someone up and lock them in the bathroom for 14 hours. Who needs capital punishment?
• We started in the northern hemisphere and terminated in the southern. At that latitude the sun goes down at 6:30pm like clockwork. I’ve never dreaded nightfall so bad. As the sun set in the mountains to the west…and hauling @ss through the jungle in a bullet on wheels with reckless abandon…I felt like Martin Sheen heading up the river in Apocalypse Now. I mean we’re headed like a bat out of hell into the dark jungle and we’re now 4-5 hours away from anything that resembles civilization. That was a very lonely sunset.
• I limited my water intake for several reasons. 1). I didn’t want it to come up. 2). It would inevitably mean I’d have to enter The Cave at some point. That moment finally came after sundown when I couldn’t hold it any longer. Miraculously the bus pulled over to pick someone up. I jumped at the (stationary) opportunity. Never have I peed so quickly, but as I’m heading down the homestretch I can hear the engines come alive. We take off and I brace myself. The door flies open. I zip and leap out of the cave as the latrine tsunami gathers force.
• Like the ride from Medan, people just pass. Its horrible. But its just what they do. I think 35 passes per hour over 14 hours is pretty accurate. That’s a good 500 passes. Each played out exactly the same:
  • Pre-pass: 1-5 honks. “Hey, car/taxi/bus/truck/motorbike…out of my way. Here I come ready or not…”
  • Lane shift.
  • Acceleration.
  • Mid-pass: 1-5 honks. “Hey, car/taxi/bus/truck/motorbike…you better slow down and let me back over because there is a massive truck coming at me at 100km and I need to get back in my lane in 3…2…1…”
  • Abrupt lane swerve.
  • Post-pass: 1 horn. “I beat you. Who’s next?”
  • Acceleration.
  • Repeat…for 14 unmerciful hours….
• To complete the surround-sound experience (vomiting monster to the front & latrine tsunami behind) the 60 year old man sleeping three seats across on the last row would produce a cough every 30 minutes with Old Faithful-like consistency. The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard, but with each eruption I couldn’t help imagining a black cloud of bubonic-plague smoke come out as well.
• Oh yeah. They had no problem smoking on the bus. But really that was the least of the worries.
• At about 9pm the AC becomes a problem. Its too cold to sleep. Plus the overhead lights don’t work so you can’t read (my torch is in my bag, captured in the bowels of the bus). So really all you can do is watch the clock slowly tick by and count down the minutes until 6am. Talk about torture.
• At 9:30pm we pull into the obligatory middle of nowhere bus/diner stop. Numerous buses are parked. People everywhere. Its a scene. Kids running around. Merchants selling fruit. Old men chain smoking their lives away. And off walks a 6’1” giant. Kind of used to this by now. All eyes turn to me. I’m too tired to smile. I’m hungry. I walk in and sit down next to the mother and son seated across from me on the bus. I wave my hands and plates of rice, chicken, and tuna appear…along with a spoon and fork. Following the others I dig in and start shoveling food into my mouth…with my right hand. I polish off everything and win a few points from the onlookers. I walk outside and pull the old “hey little kid, watch me as I make this green handkerchief disappear” trick. Suddenly 15 adults are smiling and throwing me these puzzled smiles. And the little kids multiply like Gremlins after midnight. God those are fun moments.
• Back on the bus and a little prayer that the food doesn’t act up. Cuz if it were to come out (either way) its going to be the worst experience of my life.
• At 11pm the speakers come alive with music. You’ve got to be f’in joking me. Everyone is trying to sleep, but no one does a thing. No chance. I’m not dealing with this. Last straw. I walk to the front and wave my arms. A few minutes later the music stops.
• I catch the time at 11:46pm and think of Dave Rose & Company drunkenly raising beers as player introductions commence inside Raven Stadium (12:46pm EST Sunday afternoon). I look at my surroundings and smile.
• 12am to 4am were horrible. I must have tried 30 different configurations to find a comfortably sleeping position. No joy. I’m a zombie.
• 4am the bus stops. Someone says “Bukit” and I realize, wait, perhaps the hell is over? Are we really here (2 hours early)? We are. I get a taxi to a hostel. Wake up the guy, find a bed, and shut my eyes at 5am.
• No joke…at 5:01am the morning prayer calls begin BLASTING from the loudspeakers all over town. I can’t help but laugh. Ear plugs in. Slumber.
• Can’t wait to never do that again…….until next month (probably).

Get me to Singapore.