Rapid ups and downs result in memorable Toraja trip<\/p>\n
Text by Devi M. Asmarani<\/p>\n
TANA TORAJA, South Sulawesi (JP): The objective of my last
\nvacation was clear from the start: to get as far away from
\ncivilization without having to spend senseless days on the road
\nso that I could make it back to work within a week.<\/p>\n
A friend mentioned white-water rafting on the remarkable Sadan
\nRiver in Tana Toraja, South Sulawesi. I bought a map of Sulawesi
\nand highlighted the river, and decided on my destination.<\/p>\n
Tana Toraja, some 240 kilometers north of Makassar, is a lush
\nhighland surrounded by mountains with arterial rivers stretching
\nacross the land. The majority Christian regency is widely known
\nfor its age-old practice of paying extravagant respect to the
\ndead. Its elaborate funeral rituals and numerous ancient above-
\nthe-ground burial sites are a tourist staple. But it was the
\nvision of the Sadan River and a world where televisions and
\ncellular phones were irrelevant that lured me.<\/p>\n
Visitors normally fly into the provincial capital of Makassar
\nand take rental vans or buses to Toraja. Some tourists stop by
\nToraja as they come from the island's northern part on their
\ntrans-Sulawesi trip.<\/p>\n
Tourists were a rare sight here at the time of our arrival
\nearlier this year and had been since Indonesia was embroiled in
\nseries of social unrests.<\/p>\n
I could tell it had been a slow month for the tourism industry
\nfrom the welcome sign bearing our names at Novotel Toraja's front
\nentrance. We were two of the very few people staying there at the
\ntime. The hotel is located in Rantepao, a small but sufficient
\ntown in Toraja.<\/p>\n
Allan, who would take us on the rafting trip, met us that
\nnight. He is a Scotsman who has spent more than half his life on
\nthe river. He has lived in Toraja for seven years where he heads
\nthe rafting trip operator PT Toranggo Buya, a subsidiary of the
\nworld-renowned Sobek adventure company.<\/p>\n
\"The river is pumping,\" Allan told us, referring to the
\nflooded Sadan in the wet season. He introduced us to Madelaine
\n(\"last name too complicated\"), a Dutch tourist with a robust
\nlaugh who would join us on the three-day trip with him and his
\ntwo guides.<\/p>\n
Trekking<\/p>\n
The four-hour trek to the campsite began after about a 30-
\nminute drive into the country side. We ate a healthy lunch below
\na local house on stilts, and walked on an old horse trail until
\nwe split into two groups: Allan and the three of us took the
\n\"long cut\", while his guides Leo and Deni went on a shorter
\nroute, taking the camp supplies.<\/p>\n
We trekked through the bush and treaded the narrow path and
\ngully and came upon large and luscious green rice fields. When we
\ngot back on the trail, the mighty Sadan River was visible some
\n600 meters below us. Already we could faintly hear its gurgling
\nwaters.<\/p>\n
Standing on a ridge, we caught our breath while taking in the
\nmagnificent, winding river valley ahead of us. I had forgotten
\nall about being out of shape.<\/p>\n
Allan said the part of the river down below was dangerous.
\nSeveral visiting students from Java apparently died there years
\nago. Then we descended to reach the camp site, sliding through
\nthe woods and balancing ourselves on the slippery and narrow
\npath. From time to time, Allan gave us lessons on the endemic
\nplants we came upon and how they pollinated.<\/p>\n
After hours of skidding, stumbling and near falls, and a much-
\nneeded rest under a Torajan rice barn, we found ourselves in the
\nmiddle of a green plain. It was beginning to rain before we
\nfinally came to the end of the trail, where we then rode our raft
\nto cross the river to the campsite.<\/p>\n
The campsite is located at Buakayu village, at about 400
\nmeters above sea level, down some 330 meters from the spot we
\nstarted from earlier. There were four thatched huts for sleeping
\nin, a dining hut, a food preparation hut and one for storage and
\na bathroom. The bathroom was basic but unexpectedly convenient
\nwith its blue toilet (Madelaine couldn't get over this).<\/p>\n
We were each given a mosquito net, mattress, pillows and
\nsarongs for our huts. After cleaning up, our dinner was served
\nand quickly devoured. It was a generous serving of the local
\nchicken delicacy papiong manuk, rice and a big bowl of freshly
\nstir-fried vegetables. The tasty chicken, seasoned with garlic
\nand shallots, was cooked in firewood with pieces of coconut and
\nwrapped in banana leaves.<\/p>\n
Down to the river<\/p>\n
I came to understand that morning what Allan meant by \"the
\nriver is pumping\". In front of me was an immense volume of muddy
\nbrown water, furiously gushing down the stream, walloping
\nendlessly against gigantic rocks. Allan said we would have to
\nwait until after 10 a.m. when the water slightly calmed.<\/p>\n
The extra water had come from the yesterday's rain in
\nRantepao. In the white-water rafting terms, this was a Grade IV
\nriver. One more level up and you'd have to be a highly
\nexperienced rafter to be there. \"But you let me do the worrying,\"
\nhe said in a comforting tone.<\/p>\n
River flow is measured in cubic meters per second (cumex).
\nThat morning, the flow was about 1,000 cumex, compared to the
\naverage 300 to 400. We would leave once it dropped to about 700
\ncumex. In front of our campsite, the water had come up three
\nmeters farther from where it was the day before.<\/p>\n
The Sadan River begins at Sadan village, some 40 kilometers
\nnorth of Rantepao, and stretches about 160 kilometers. On the
\nfirst day we would paddle the roughest part of our trip for some
\n20 km, followed by 30 km more on the second day.<\/p>\n
After a hearty breakfast of toast, eggs, sausages and robust
\nToraja coffee, we left in two rafts, one with Allan and the three
\nof us, the other carrying Deni, Leo, three dry bags and a large
\ncooler.<\/p>\n
We paddled through the stimulating \"Willy\" rapid, and came
\nupon \"Johnny's\", an enormous rapid that forced us, except for
\nAllan, to get down on the raft. A surge of water slapped me from
\nmy right, then simultaneously, with the same intensity, the water
\npushed me over to the left.<\/p>\n
We survived the \"flip froggy\", named after a flipped raft of a
\ngroup of French businessmen, mainly because Allan decided to take
\nthe \"chicken lane\". The heavy current and the flood would likely
\nflip our rafts over had we decided to paddle through the \"flip
\nfroggy\", he said. It was not a good time and spot to get thrown
\ninto the water.<\/p>\n
At the beginning of the trip, we saw signs of civilization:
\nchildren waving, a boy swimming behind our raft and buffaloes
\nbathing and grazing on the field. But as it progressed, the human
\nfactors were replaced by diverse vegetation, wild birds and
\nlizards slothfully basking in the sun.<\/p>\n
We stopped at a beach for lunch. An idyllic secluded river
\nbeach with soft sand. Lying down on a mat, we sampled the picnic
\nbasket of bread, corned beef, sardines, cheese, jams, cookies,
\njuicy cucumber and fresh pineapple and passion fruits. Deni and
\nLeo disappeared for a while and came back with several mangoes,
\nfreshly picked from a tree. We took a siesta under the sun,
\nbefore leaving again for some serious rapids.<\/p>\n
Except for Allan, those on our raft had only experienced small
\nand highly commercialized rivers like Citarik in West Java, where
\nyou paddle through some exhilarating rapids, shout hee-haw and
\nsplash water at the people on the next raft.<\/p>\n
This was nothing like it. Several times, Allan and the two
\nboys parked the rafts to inspect the coming rapids and to find
\nthe best way through.<\/p>\n
\"Most accidents on the river are caused by sheer stupidity,\"
\nhe said.<\/p>\n
Allan operated the oars in the middle of our 16 ft. raft. The
\nother raft stayed close to ours, as it is recommended to always
\ntravel with at least another raft for safety sake. The two guides
\nwere highly trained. Leo has worked for Allan for seven years,
\nand Deni for four years.<\/p>\n
Allan told us to \"keep paddling, even when you think you
\nshould get down\". If we didn't paddle our raft would get stuck in
\nthe rapids, and we would likely be tossed into the water. The
\nwater was so rough that sometimes it almost looked like ocean
\nwaves. Allan said he had surfed on the river.<\/p>\n
When the water was less rambunctious he updated us on the
\nplants, the passing birds and the lizards. After the last and
\nmost monstrous rapids, called the \"Rodeos\", we took off our head
\ngear and popped a celebratory beer.<\/p>\n
\"Welcome to my office,\" Allan grinned, then hummed the tune
\nSummertime.<\/p>\n
Heavenly lagoon<\/p>\n
Camp two was even more secluded. Located in the remote village
\nof Kalimbuang, it is just below a hill and across from a majestic
\ngorge. If you walked up the hill behind the camp, you would see
\ndown below a cemetery and cornfield on the other side.<\/p>\n
The huts are even more basic and open here. Each of the
\nsleeping huts is built up on the edge of the hilly terrain
\ndirectly facing the river. At night, we were accompanied to sleep
\nby the soothing sound of the water. We ate our kebabs by the
\nfire, the wood for which we had helped collect. It was a clear
\nand wondrous night, before it started raining.<\/p>\n
Our trip was much mellower on the second day. We passed
\nseveral big rapids named \"wake up call\" (the first one), the
\nbumpy \"rock 'n roll\" and, the largest one of all, \"useless
\nbaggage\".<\/p>\n
\"Generally a rapid is named after something that happens
\nthere,\" Allan said.<\/p>\n
In the case of the \"useless baggage\", once during an
\nexpedition with his friends, the raft dipped 180 degrees. Allan,
\nwho was sitting at the back of the raft, was thrown into the
\nwater. They called this episode \"getting rid of useless baggage\".<\/p>\n
Stopping at a riverbank, we walked along a small stream that
\nled to a series of small waterfalls with deep pools. The area was
\nbreathtaking, cavernous and had unexplored rocks with streams of
\nwater at different elevations. We took turns sliding down the
\nrocks and got behind the waterfall to feel the powerful shower on
\nour backs as we swam through the falling water.<\/p>\n
The water was just right. If it got too calm there would not
\nbe enough water, but too much water would wash us out. Several
\ntimes we were encouraged to swim and once some of us swam across
\na small rapid.<\/p>\n
Most of the time we just lazed about, relishing the
\nspectacular river canyon. It was a cloudless day, and the sky was
\nthe bluest I had ever seen. In fact, it could have gotten really
\nhot if had not been for the mild breeze.<\/p>\n
We paddled through the canyon cutting through a mountain and
\nsaw how the landscape turned arid, then green again as we came to
\nEnrekang, our final stop. Above us was a tropical rain forest
\nwhose inaccessibility leaves it unexplored.<\/p>\n
Approaching the construction of a modern bridge, Allan invited
\nus to take off our head gear and swim the last bit before our
\npick up point.<\/p>\n
At work a week later, I found myself rearranging my
\npriorities. Allan had mentioned the great, but largely
\nunexplored, Lareang River in Central Sulawesi, and having
\ndeveloped a new addiction, I prioritized the river as my next
\ndestination.<\/p>",
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