Waltzing Bethena on the Alas

Bashing into a waterfall along Alas river to cleanse, clean, and clear!

The candle burned for the entire night and melted into a solid wax puddle on the sand. I picked it up and threw it into the smoldering ashes. Instantly there was smoke drifting upwards; still windless after an entire night.

It was morning along the Alas. We sliced up the bread Halim had baked a day before. 

"Good German bread!" I commended him.

 The confluence campsite along the Alas river

We had talked all night about kayaking, rivers, forests, and more kayaking; ok maybe sometimes women. Pretty mind-bloring stuff if you are not into paddling. Mainly it was talk about dreams of what ifs, what should be, how nice ifs, etc etc. Let's build a place here, get some kayaks there, get people interested, protect this that, etc. 

It was as if a paddler's life is always chasing dreams and shadows. No one wants life to be always scrapping for the cheapest transport, sleeping at the lowest prices or camping free in the wilderness, and eating out of newspaper. That 100,000 Rps you lost ! We sniggered that sometimes the only thing that keep paddlers going was the fraking water, as if water cleansed out the despair, lament, and wait.

"I don't think we can run a kayak trip here.", I drew on yet another kretek. It felt wonderful to pollute only the pristine air.

ALAS was a successful classic river run, now it has to be a ragtime waltz.

Halim posing, for sure.. 

We packed up swiftly and hit the water again. 

It was a beautiful 2 hours paddle within the park's boundaries. There were waterfalls after waterfalls, and green hills after green hills. It was more of an indulgence, more a feast for the eyes than paddling. 

"We got 2 more days. Someone told me the Singkil swamps are very beautiful.", Halim tried to persuade me with his crazy idea again during a lunch break.

"Halim, I am not going to paddle into the crocodile swamps on this trip! Maybe next time."

"I like to see crocodiles in the wild. That would be so cool! So we are taking out today?"

"We will never make it there in 2 days anyway. And it is going to be a crazy maze of channels down there."

"Imagine paddling at night inside crocodile territory!", Halim replied gleefully.

Once we hit the park's boundary, the chainsaws yelled. The scorched earth policy leaving maniac scars on the lush valleys. Hard to make out which was destruction and creation. Was it the forest for a stalk of bananas?

"Hey yeah, you were sad not to be born in Pink Floyd's time. But at least you see these forest now. Next generation has no Pink Floyd and no forest!", Halim sometimes make sense.

From the chainsaws, it was another 2 hours or so to our take-out at the old loggers settlement of Gelombang, which according to Halim, we should get out quickly.

 A tall waterfall

Like idiots, we were ripped off again in Gelombang for our transport to Subulusalam, then onwards to Berastagi. An Acehnese walked up the street, talked to us, and bang! this short guy was suddenly richer than us. We even shook his hand like a long-lost abang and said farewells ! 

By the time we reached Berastagi, in a kijang driven like an ambulance, we were out of money. Suddenly Mie Kuah was the only hot item on the menu. Some money was eventually sent up from Medan.

 More? This one was hidden

I remembered that on our last hour on the Alas, a small baby snake struggled to swim across the river in strong flow. From where it came from, were logs of felled trees amid a fire burning. To where it was going, was a slope of thick forest. Not far away, a motorized sampan parked. A bamboo shelter was being built by mustached men furiously smoking their kreteks.

For the snake, forest, or chainsaw men, nature of survival is their business. Which will be the one who escape? That was how the Alas played - laughable, tragic, beautiful, inspiring... 

For paddlers? Keep the raindrops falling, and let them flow into the river and the sea...

 wild figs plucked with my paddle