The pioneer kayaker of Sumatra

Abdul Halim (1963 - 2013)

Halim brewing coffee inside a 5-star hotel room!

Halim (Georg Jackstadt), was a german geographer living for 19 years in Sumatra, Indonesia. A self-taught kayaker, he got a team of Indonesians together to do whitewater rafting ("we thought there was business"), later whitewater kayaking ("when we realised it wasn't business - so we could still get to the rivers but had no customers to fill rafts").

He started in 1995 at Asahan river - probably the wildest whitewater in S.E asia. In the following years he built up a whitewater center, did first descents of many Sumatran rivers and competed at national and international events. One highlight was year 2000 when he went to France and was one of the 'wildboys' who became the first Indonesian ever at the Whitewater Racing World Championship in K1 ( he didn't become worldchampion... ).

Disaster hit in 2003 when a flashflood wiped out the village of Bukit lawang and his WWcenter. 150 people died. Tourism collapsed after that. The tsunami in 2004 made things worse. As if that wasn't enough, there are now plans for a hydropower scheme that would destroy most of the whitewater at Asahan river.

He never gave up pursuing paddling - and started exploring Lake Toba, the world's biggest crater lake. Coming from whitewater, he had no idea that touring kayaking could be so much fun. Nobody had ever done paddling trips on Lake Toba and he had absolutely no idea how many kilometres a touring kayak can cover per day or whatever, when he pushed his brand new kayak into the water. Since then, he had seen more shores on the lake than anyone else, and visited some villages not yet connected by roads. "You just feel like you're inside Lord of the Rings when you paddle in that scenery".

He later explored and paddled more of Sumatra's amazing landscape, including Pulau Banyak, Mentawais, Padang's coast, etc. He loved the waters and never tired of championing the rivers and waters of Sumatra. He was the founder and main mover of "Save the Asahan River". All international paddlers who wanted to paddle Sumatra seek him out. And Halim was always generous to share his knowledge and willing to help with logistics.

Halim was a friend, a colleague, a fellow kayaker, a fellow guide....we shared our love of Pink Floyd as much as the waters. We had an evil scheme going that anyone we took to paddle in Lake Toba must watch the Pink Floyd concert. In his youth, he looked a lot like David Gilmour, and while David went on earning his millions playing guitar, Halim touched the hearts of whoever paddled with him. He was a genuine person who loved life and kayaking. A true and kind soul who always had a pat and rub for animals and little creatures that wandered into his path. His gentle enunciated accent, funny anecdotes, and wacky jokes brought much silly laughters. He was never angry, never harsh.

Halim, no amount of tears shed today will bring you back even for a moment just to say goodbye. You had led ahead this time. I wish you good winds and good currents for the paddle ahead.

See you on the other side of the waters again.

Halim (right) near the summit of Gunung Sibayak. As a geographer, he also loved his volcanoes.  

One of the last photos of Halim taken on 16 March, 2013 on the Wampu River, Sumatra. He was testing his "gumotex experimental".  A modified Sunny. "We did sme mistakes, though, the manhole is so small - I can't wear a PFD in it...and no foot brace. Also takes about 20 minutes to tie the skirt on the kayak. So we leave it in inflated condition. I guess it needs some more experience n modifications till you can use it on Laos river. Two kayak air bags in front and back maybe wiser....but then you can't take much gear."

Gam. Home. (15/15)

All of nature's creations from E26 on the way to Gam island.     |   Photo: Huey, Tiak, Moira

Life was simple. We woke up in the morning and walked a distance to find a cozy place to dig a hole. The air was still cool and many birds were rousing at the same time. We then walked back to the tents, took our canteen, and sat by the stove. Kathy would had the stove on. The faint scent of coffee twirled in with the last of yesterday night’s embers. We watched the last part of sunrise while the birds, having their feathers dried by the sun, took flight. Light layered the water, which shimmered when the breeze rose. There was no time and this was our clock. 

Bloody Comforts. Part 3 (14/15)

Inside the wonderful, mazy, and beautiful Kabui Bay. 

The Mezzanie section of the camp promptly poked out their heads, aimed their headlights at the kayak, and watched.

Bloody Comforts, Part 2 (13/15)

The fernhill campsite at the entrance of The Passage. Waigeo-Gam channel.    | Photo: Moira

Tropical camping in tents was stuffy, especially in my single layer tent which was waterproof but trapped heat. For the past few nights it took some minutes of sweating, even in nakedness, before the body cooled. Last night was no different. But sleeping in sweat was no longer a bother. Sand, a small nuisance before, was no longer unwelcome guests in tents, but like hair and skin, felt a part of the body now.

Bloody Comforts, Part 1 (12/15)

Oxeye scads bought from Indonesian fishermen. 

Light was withdrawing faster than we could paddle. A bowl of darkness formed. 

I liked paddling in darkness, always searching for a night where there was absolute darkness. When there was none, like tonight, I shut my eyes. The darkness compelled me to focus more inside myself and less on the outside. I had seen what’s on the outside - lights. There was moon light, lights from the shore, and lights from the boats. If I opened my eyes, every of these little lights distracted attention, whether for a moment, and if longer, a puzzle of who were the ones who set out the lights. I wanted to see and feel what was inside.

The Two Villages, Part 2 (11/15)

A nap after lunch before leaving the village of Mios Mengkara.    | Photo by Moira

Seen from the air, the grey-whitish village of Mios Mengkara stood out among the green coconut plantation, which was ringed by white sand, and then enclosed by a large spectacular lagoon of teal waters and dark corals. A long jetty constructed from the timber of ironwood trees cuts into the lagoon. A row of houses faced the jetty, behind a concrete road, then the school and church. Grass separated the houses, stilts driven into the sand between them created a shared area for hanging clothes and salting fishes. Flowering shrubs lined the paved road and in front of houses. A working well was sank into the beach. In late morning, we approached this island village and asked for permission to enter. 

The Two Villages, Part 1 (10/15)

Paddlers getting ready to leave the village of Sel Pele at the entrance of the fjord-like Alyui Bay.      | Photo by Moira

Rudolph the red nose reindeer galloped into our ears from the massive sound systems at 6am. A few houses, with outward facing speakers, were blasting music till late last night, and it started early again this morning.  We had discussed social theories of massive speakers. One theory was that noise drove away spirits of the dark, another proposed loud music as the village alarm clock. It was a good thing we pre-ordered our Indo-mie breakfast at 7am. Our breakfast, however arrived late at 8.30am. Breakfast were served from the counter of Horas Jaya Wurung. The two shop keepers were both from Sulawesi, monopolizing everything from kreteks, petrol, snacks, and daily necessities. Some papuan youths were sitting outside at the store’s benches, not chatting, almost doing nothing. I sat among them while waiting for the team to get ready.

The Equator Crossing, Part 5 (9/15)

Conversing with Chan first thing in the morning before leaving for the search. Go to E9, the village of Selpele. We might need their help tonight. | Photo by Moira

The third time I crossed the Bhas Crazies, the water was calm. The tide was complete. Still it took me a long time to pass Johnny’s Beach. Inside the Crazies, a spitboat zoomed past me, heading north. Since my mission was now to get a recovery boat organized quickly at Selpepe, we simply exchanged a wave.

The Equator Crossing, Part 4 (8/15)

Magostan of Salyo Village. Behind him the island of E10, and the hills of Waigeo.

Magostan was fishing in his home made Prahu when I spotted him from Bhas’ Crazies. I hesitated between paddling towards him and heading straight for the shade on Johnny’s Beach. How could he help?

The Equator Crossing, Part 3 (7/15)

Team having lunch at Johnny's Beach near E10, two hours after I left from the same beach. Tide had receded.
| Photo by Moira

I was totally exhausted after reaching E10. I abandoned the kayak and headed straight for the shade, staring at the coconut trees and wanting to chop down one. The swash came and claimed the poorly parked kayak. I limped over and pulled it higher and returned to the shade. The waves came once more. I went again to move the kayak to another position, closer to the shade. The waves came again and I was too tired to pull the heavy kayak any higher. 

The Equator Crossing, Part 2 (6/15)

A brief glimpse in the rain showing the location of safety beach.

On the opposite end along Kawe's southern coast, Tiak was also stunned. 

At one point during the night paddling, a gigantic creature rose from the water. It breached the surface without a splash and aimed down towards Tiak. He looked up to see a man-eating flower bending towards him. 

The Equator Crossing, Part 1 (5/15)

Preparing to leave Wayag for the equator crossing to Pulau Kawe. 

“Huey said if all hell broke loose, go to safety beach. We went there and landed in hell.”, Johnny told us 7 days after they were separated from the team, at our ‘reunion’.

A Trail to Wayag, part 2 (4/15)

The clear waters of Capsize Lagoon at Wayag Islands.

“I chartered this boat so that I can talk to you!”, SH raised her voice.

She had injured her shoulder attempting to cross the surf. When she could not continue, Halim took her to the CI (Conservation International) field post, the only permanent structure at Wayag. SH had told him she would like immediate medical attention. Halim could not decide and wanted her to talk to me. She chartered CI’s only boat to find us at E1.

A Trail to Wayag, part 1 (3/15)

The Lesser Frigatebirds soared higher with each circle they traced.

This morning there was a struggle of light and dark. We sat around watching the slow born of purple. The Lesser Frigatebirds were at sea level with us, hanging just above the ocean waves. Slowly they soared higher with each circle they traced, held aloft by an invisible breeze beneath their wings. These majestic birds, recognizable by their notched tail and slender wings, were seen by us daily. Upon reaching sufficient height, they swooped beyond our island, one after another. 

Raja Ampat Kayak Expedition: Uranie to Quoy (2/15)

Kat along the vertical limestone walls of Uranie.

“Halim! Chan! Come out now with the kayaks!”, I shouted over the radio.

I was still on the water 3 hours after what was supposed to be a short 6km warm-up paddle. SH was missing. Everyone was back at campsite except her. I retraced the northern Uranie walls and I could not spot her. She was probably on the southern side of island paddling in God-knows direction and I needed someone to block her, instead of chasing her around the island.