Indonesia > Caught in a rain shower

A free day around Lake Toba. The travel companions who didn’t join the excursion yesterday because they were feeling a bit unwell are going today. The others mostly stay around the pool. I decide to try walking to the large waterfall behind Tomok. The lodge owner explained the route and advised me to ask someone from the village to guide me for the last part. I start the day with a swim in the pool, doing a few laps before heading to the breakfast buffet. Breakfast is well organized. At ten o’clock, I set off. I walk toward the main road. In front of restaurant Marissa, I was advised to take an off-road path. I enter a grassy area and climb upward among goats and buffaloes. At the top, I have a beautiful view of the lake, but also of the dark clouds hanging over the crater rim. It probably won’t stay dry. In the distance, I hear church singing. At the foot of the hill, I see a small church. It’s Ascension Day, and a mass is in progress. I try, although the map shows a different route, to descend directly toward the church.

Indonesia - Taking shelter in the church on Ascension Day

Halfway down the hill, I get stuck. The slope is too steep and the vegetation too dense. I turn back and walk along the ridge back to the main road. I then take a path toward the mountains. A man on a terrace already points me with “waterfall, waterfall.” As I walk toward the church, I see a dark cloud moving over the crater rim above me. It starts to drizzle. Just before reaching the church, a huge downpour breaks loose. Rain pours down in sheets. I quickly run the last stretch to the church entrance. The door is open, and the mass is ongoing. A lady gestures for me to come inside. I sit on the back bench. People look at me in surprise but immediately smile. Everyone is dressed in their Sunday best. I feel a bit out of place in my zip-off hiking pants and boots. After ten minutes, the mass seems to end. Everyone stands up. It’s still raining. Several people come to shake my hand and say “Horas.” They don’t speak a word of English or Dutch. Outside, under the awning where everyone is taking shelter, I receive many more handshakes. Questions come in short phrases: Where am I from? How long will I stay on Samosir? Am I Christian? Am I married? Do I have children? Once the rain is almost over, I walk toward the waterfall. A little boy, Pandi, shows me the start of the path upward. I steadily climb a narrow path through the tropical forest. Above me, I hear the rain increasing on the leaves again. The path is also getting slipperier. The clay fills the tread of my shoes. When the path becomes even steeper, I decide to turn back. The rain makes it too dangerous. I will have to be satisfied with just hearing the waterfall from here. On the way back, the downpour briefly intensifies, and I have to be careful not to slip. Once back down, I follow the path past the traditional houses toward Tomok. I’m not exactly sure which turn to take, but people on the verandas everywhere point me in the right direction. Around half past one, I enter Tomok. I order a sandwich at the little restaurant I had spotted yesterday—a perfect choice. I walk back to Tuk Tuk via the main road. Along the way, people greet me enthusiastically. Passengers on the back of motorcycles turn around to wave. From passing cars comes “hello sir,” and children wave from their yards. Even a stray dog finds it fun and follows me (though I could have done without that). When it gets into a scuffle with other dogs a few hundred meters ahead, it turns back. Around three o’clock, I am back at the lodge for a well-deserved German cake and a café latte.