For at least ten years I had been thinking about an owling trip to Sumatra. I had a trip planned for 2020, but it was cancelled due to the Covid pandemic. While preparing for this trip, I decided to do the whole trip independent of local guides. This is a break from my current trend of using guides. Although I really enjoyed the companionship of Antonio (Mexico 2020 and 2021), Mauricio (Ecuador 2021) and Alex (Brazil 2022), owling with a guide is fundamentally different from a trip by myself. Traveling by myself is much more stressful. Prior to getting to a location, I usually feel a lot of tension about solving logistical problems. Finding owls is a lot more demanding without local expertise. However, when I am able to successfully pull off both the logistics of getting to the forest, and find the owls independently, the satisfaction feels great. It's also rare to have a real adventure when working with a guide. Usually the worst that can happen is you don't find the owl. Owling alone is much more fraught, and in there lies the nub of why it's a richer experience.
June 2nd. I say goodbye to Charlie and Maile and walk across the park to the light rail. It's strange to ride the train without my youngest, George, who loves to travel by train. I ask myself why I can't be satisfied with family life and why do I always want to leave? I wait for ages for my flight to San Francisco. Things work just fine there, and eventually I board my night flight for Singapore. It's a grueling 17 hour flight and it's really hard to sleep in the middle seat.
June 4th. At Singapore I am told by an immaculately dressed airport employee I can't go through transfers, and have to pass immigration, before I can access my connecting flight. It's a chaotic hour of running through a huge terminal, trying to navigate the electronic immigration process, taking a bus to another terminal, being told that I am too late to check in, and then having an airline supervisor intervene so I make my flight. I fly to Kuala Lumpur, and then take another flight out to Medan. It's another tight connection at Medan, and again I have to get through immigration and security. My last leg of the journey is the slow flight out to Nias on a tired twin prop Wings plane.
Nias is a large island West of Sumatra. It's famous for being inhabited for millennia and for having been at the forefront of the terrible 2004 boxing day tsunami. In the small terminal at Gunung Sititoli I find everything I need; a working ATM, a cafe that serves Nasi Goreng and a fixer, who sets me up with transportation to my first site, Onolimbu village. An hour later my driver, Aru, drops me off in a small village. The site does not look great, there are small woodlots, and lots of fields and roadside homes. We step outside the air-conditioned Kijang into the hot sun, Aru smokes, then we say goodbye. I set off to look for good habitat. I soon discover a network of trails through dense, swampy second growth forest. The trails are built up on planks and bamboo poles above shallow standing water. Later I walk the narrow concrete road through the village of Onolimbu to a wide beach boarded by pastures. The sea is completely calm. A soccer match has started, and a crowd has gathered. The people are incredibly friendly, almost everyone calls out a greeting, many in English. Mostly I talk with young guys, whose enthusiasm and warmth borders on softness, and is the polar opposite of militarized young American guys in small towns.
It's already late in the afternoon so I decide to look for a spot to bivy. I select a raised shelter in a small clearing behind the village for my camping spot. Aside from the abundant mosquitos and the heat it seems like a fine place to spend the night. I stash my bag in a bamboo stand, then return to the shelter and relax as the sun slowly sets. A pair of noisy woodpeckers calls from a dead snag across the clearing.
I decide to start owling before it gets completely dark. Exploring the swampy wood, frogs abound under foot, and I keep an eye out for snakes. It's really noisy with singing frogs, geckos and cicadas. After a few minutes I hear the long begging call of a young strix! My target, the Nias wood owl! I walk slowly towards the sound through viney tangles and downed logs. Soon I hear an adult bird calling from a stand of palms. Under the palms, I see the owl fly silhouetted against the evening sky, and then perch briefly on a palm. I am able to spotlight it, and see it's a large-headed owl with big dark eyes. The face is orange-brown and the breast is rust-colored and faintly barred. The bird looks distinctly smaller than the brown wood owls that I had seen in Kerala. Now two adult birds call, one has a deep single hoot, and the other a series of about five soft hoots in rapid succession. This is surprisingly easy.
Oriental Bay owl is also known from Nias. This is a widespread bird, but it would be a new owl for me, so I decide to search for it. I continue exploring the swampy trails. I see tons of frogs, and hear multiple Nias wood owls. I eventually walk through the village and down to the beach. There is no breeze, and it's intensely humid. Everyone says "hello". I hear two more pairs of Nias wood owls, quite close to each other, and eventually find one to spotlight. I am even able to show a group of local guys the owl, when they approach me and ask what I am doing. It's great to get a sustained view of the owl, but I am so sweaty that my bins keep fogging up. I walk back to the village, and a large group of guys joins me. One guy asks me about my plans, and reluctantly I reveal that I plan on camping in the woods. He takes me to the head of the village. After a lot of conversation they let me know that they want to run me to a hotel that's up the road. I try and insist on camping, but it's clear they are not OK with that. About eight of us leave on motorcycles, stopping along the way, so I can retrieve my carefully hidden bag.
As we ride out of the villages, most of my companions leave, and eventually it's just me and the village head on one bike, and a guy who speaks better English on another. We ride for about 45 minutes, and eventually stop at a small village police station. Here things get weird. The police officer asks to see what's in my bag, so I reluctantly show him. He also asks to see my money, to which I decline. " I have money, but I don't want to show you" I explain. They then ask if they can video an interview with me. I start to feel really uneasy, but agree. A guy pulls out a mobile phone and videos me answering basic questions like where I am from etc. I am really tired by now, and just want this to be over. Eventually the officer offers me a small room. I initially take it for a cell, and don't want to go in, but then realize it's his little dorm (because it's full of log books and he removes a couple of personal belongings from it). I agree and thank him. The crowd disperses and within a couple of minutes I fall into a deep sleep.
June 5th. I wake at first light to the sound of roosters, surprised to find myself on a small wooden cot in an Indonesian police station. I decide to leave, before I can get any more embroiled in other people's plans for me. I thank the policeman who gave me his room, and walk up the road. After about a kilometer I find a roadside warung and order noodle soup and hard boiled eggs. The food comes with blazing hot chilies that lights me up and has me sweating like crazy. My nose runs, and my head glows with the heat of the chilies, but I persevere because it's delicious. I continue my walk towards Gunung Sititoli, the main city on Nias. School is about to start, and I am amazed by the number of kids in different uniforms walking and riding their bikes and motorbikes to school. Eventually I am able to flag down a ride. I am surprised that the driver is a woman running a couple of folks up to the airport. (These types of jobs are usually held by guys in Indonesia. Women work service jobs, like flight attendants, or in stores. The dynamic of being a woman driver, and being alone with men in cars makes this a very challenging for some Indonesian people to accept). My driver chain smokes and when we get to the airport high fives the other drivers. It's always cool to meet women breaking away from traditional roles. After the airport, she runs me up to town, and drops me off at the Nasional hotel. It's a hot, big box of concrete on the waterfront. Town is quite big, and busy. The people are still friendly, and it feels like a welcoming place to walk around, even if it's hot and noisy.
It's barely mid morning and I don't have a lot to do. I spend the day resting, having lunch and then looking for a place to change my dollars (which I don't succeed in doing). I have one more night in Nias. My goal is to head to a small wood above town and look for owls there. It's not a bold plan, but I have a very early flight and I don't want to arrange for a driver to pick me up from a remote part of Nias in the wee hours. Instead I take a 4km evening walk along the main road, that follows the calm bay side, then up a short, but remarkably steep road to a hill above town. The hill has a few hectares of forest and some small farms. I sit on a big rock and watch the sun set and see the swiftlets and bats feed over the fields.
Just like the night before, I hear a juvenile wood owl begging, then a couple of adults calling back and forth. Eventually an adult bird approaches very closely. I get a great, but brief view of the rust colored owl as my flashlight scares it back into parts unseen in the forest. Again I am struck by how small and brightly colored these owls are. Tonight I hear a low longish hoot, and from a second bird, a higher pitched hoot. I am unable to detect any bay-owls, and can't find any forest trails to explore. I enjoy the night walk back to the hotel. I stop by a really friendly warung, run by a family from Ache who serve me up their traditional saucy noodles.
June 6th. I had arranged a driver to take me to the airport, and everything works as planned. I catch the first flight to Medan, then transfer to another small plane bound for Simeulue. Simeulue is a smaller island Northwest of Nias. From the air, things look promising, with good forest surrounding the airport. Using Google maps, I learn there is a bunch of surf lodges near the airport. I take a motorcycle a few kilometers to Salt Surf Lodge. We pull into a beachy-looking place. In front of the lodge is a reef, over which some lovely-looking waves arc and then brake. A few surfers ride the waves in, taking care to splash into the water before hitting the reef.
The lodge is a little pricey, but I appreciate it's location (near good habitat and the airport) and being able to get all my meals in one place. After the airless tomb-like quality of the Nasional Hotel, it is nice to have a view and a sea breeze.
I eat a great lunch with a bunch of Australian surfers and then rest during the heat of the day. As the sun begins to descend, I set out on a longish walk out to hillside forest. While walking I meet dozens of people, all greet me warmly. Hiking a forest track a couple of ladies pass on a motorcycle, and stop to take their photo with me.
An hour later I walk past their farm, and they call to me, and give me some papaya to eat. We share the fruit, which is brilliant and helps replenish me. I say goodbye, and continue on passing through a large friendly village, and finally climbing up a path into some second growth forest. I lay in the short grass waiting for darkness, while a small group of water buffalo graze around me.
My target is Simeulue scops owl. A tiny, yellow eyed owl, unique to this island. It's not yet dark, when the first owls start singing. It's an incredible call. A series of short yelping calls, the last ones more emphatic. A second bird joins in with a high pitched, short shriek. I am soon able to spotlight a pair of these noisy owls. They are tiny, short-tailed owls. Their plumage is very soft and loose. Their ears are small, but distinct and eyes are brilliant yellow. Bill is dark gray and small. The face is light rufous with gray edging, giving a patchy effect. The breast is similarly colored , but with a few black shafts on some of the feathers and some white spots on the belly.
Happy, I walk back through the village through clouds of wood smoke that hang over the grassy track as the imam calls out the faithful. It's a long walk. I hope to find the papaya ladies, but their farm looks deserted. Nearby I find another pair of scops owls. I arrive at the lodge a bit after 9pm. Thankfully they have save me dinner. I am starving, and the food is excellent.
June 7th. I have an easy day today. There are no flights today, and I have seen my target owl. I take a couple of morning walks under the hot sun. I swim a little, but it's difficult to navigate the coral and the swell, and I am a bit of a coward in the ocean. Late in the afternoon I head out to some nearby forest. It's a beautiful place with a rocky hill with lots of palms. I endure lots of mosquitos and as soon as it gets dark a Simeulue scops owl flies over me!
I find another scops a little further up the road. I had planned on walking further, but the noise of a large generator puts me off. I head back to the lodge to catch up on some sleep.
June 8th. I wake around 4am, and have lots of time to kill before my flight.
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On the flight across to Medan I see lots of pristine forest along the mountainous central spine of Sumatra. That is where I hope to be owling tonight. At Medan, I use Whatsapp to connect with I Can Car Rental. They pick me up at the entrance to the terminal and we sort everything out in the parking lot. It's all pretty seamless until I hit the road. I have a hard time driving on the other side of the road, plus the tint on the windows is so dark that I struggle using the mirrors. Compounding all this, my boots are too wide for the pedals, so I keep catching the the side rather than the accelerator. I pull up to a toll booth only to find I can only pay by by pre-paid card. A couple of locals hook me up with a card, and the other drivers are really patient with me. Google maps, takes me on a complex detour involving a U-turn off the freeway. It's a slow start! Once I leave the freeway traffic is very heavy and slow out of Medan. It takes me 4 hours to cover 80km. By the time I reach the hills it's pouring. Then the car in front of me pulls dramatically to the right as a motorbike, followed by two riders on their backs slide down the hill in front of me at high speed. Remarkably the rider springs to his feet at the end of their long asphalt slide. Higher up the road follows many switchbacks. It's not easy navigating some very slow heavy trucks, but at least traffic opens up.
My destination is the hill-town of Berastagi. This is a very convenient destination from Medan, but has a had very little ebird activity. This had concerned me, as I suspected that the habitat may have been badly degraded. I had decided on this place, in part because I had wanted to create my own itinerary, and not just go the same place everyone goes to see Sumatra's mountain birds (Kerinci National Park). Google Maps delivers me to a gated road to some radio towers.
It's stopped raining and is cool and beautiful out. I park up, and walk slowly up the thin strip of asphalt through beautiful primary montane forest. I am listening for Sunda owlet as I walk. I reach the top of the hill after a few kilometers, and discover a mountain bike trail leading along an eastern ridge. I follow the trail, which conveniently leads me back to the car. Along the way I get caught in a cloud burst. It's a steep slippery trail down the hill, but I make it back unscathed. By the time I reach the road, the rain has let up. I loath driving the rental car, so walk down to the edge of Berastagi, where I find a warung serving Ache food. I have a big night planned (search for Rajah and Vanderwater's scops owls), so I eat a good fish dinner, chased by a incredibly sweet coffee and feel revived.
Walking back through strawberry fields to the car in the drizzle I hear a Sumatran frogmouth call from a huge tree. I repeat the loop up to the radio-towers listening for both scops owls. I hear intermittent calls of Vanderwater's scops, but despite a half a dozen efforts to track them down in the forest, they all fall silent as I approach. It's not easy following these birds off the road, the hillside is steep, overgrown with tangles and blocked by fallen logs. Near the radio-tower I hear a loud song of Rajah Scops. I soon spotlight it and get beautiful views of this owl with striking orange eyes, large erect ear tufts, and white upper edge of the facial disc that also leads into the ears. Below the bird is light gray, with white and darker spots on the belly. It has an obvious whitish bar across the folded wing. The tail is at least as long as the folded wing. The back is darker gray-brown than the belly. The bird is big (for a scops) and very striking, looking superficially like an African white-faced owl. The bird sings on and off, a wide variety of loud gruff calls.
I continue to the summit, and then down the mountain-bike trail. I spotlight a perched Sumatran frogmouth, which for a quick minute I thought was a Vanderwater's scops! I also disturb some loud arboreal mammals, probably monkeys. I make it back to the car near midnight and decide to crash in a nearby roadside shelter.
My accommodation at Berastagi
June 9th. Around 3am I wake by a car stopping. A guy is investigating the rental car which is parked a couple hundred yards up the road. I am too tired to bother, so I ignore him. Soon I hear him drive off. A little later, I am wake again, this time the same car is parked outside the shelter. I sheepishly say hello to the driver and his young son. He bids me goodnight and heads off in his car. He returns soon after, and I can hear him below me (there is a steep drop off below the shelter, and there is space to stand below the platform). The man and the son light a fire below me. I initially had think that they were starting their day, and going to prepare food, but instead they leave once the fire is lit. I understand that they made the fire to warm me, and am moved by their openness to hosting me and thoughtfulness for helping me stay warm. I mull over these thoughts, then my alarm beeps, it's 4am! I pack, then head out into the forest, doing the loop up to the radio-towers in reverse. I hear several Vanderwater's scops, a rajah scops and Sumatran frogmouth. despite my best efforts I can't get close to a Vanderwater's scops, each falls silent as I creep through the dark thickets towards them.
It's still quite dark when I hear a Sunda owlet singing. Nearby a Barred Eagle owl calls. It's a long wait for it to get light enough for me to see it, but eventually I get to see the tennis ball shaped owl zip across the road a few times. I have to content myself with it's diagnostic, boop, boo boo call rather than a great view of the bird.
I walk quietly down the road back to the car. I write a thank you note for the guy who checked on me last night and leave it at the shelter, pinned down by a rock on top of a log chair. Inside it's still pleasantly warm and smokey.
I drive down to last night's warung. To my surprise it's been converted to a Padang style cafe. This is my favorite Indonesian food. I get to pick several tiny plates of delicious rich spicy food. The style of the food is a bit like Burmese food, and is distinctively richer and more intense than other Indonesian food I have eaten. After a slow breakfast I drive out to Lake Lawar. This is a forested lake at the foot of Gunung Sinabung, a dramatic volcano. I plan to explore both the lakeside forest and the lower slopes of Gunung Sinabung for Vanderwater's scops. It's short, but tedious drive on a pot holed road up to the lake. Although there are a couple of lodges and some organized camping at the lake, I am dismayed to find that the is no trail system through the fine looking lakeside forest. Worse still the trail up the volcano has been closed for years due to volcanic activity. After poking around a bit in a vain effort to find a trail, I give up. I drive North, to the head of the valley, where Google maps satellite view indicated a nice area of roadside forest. I drive along a slow potholed road through coffee plantations to a pass. From there the road enters a protected area, with thick montane forest. The road then plunges steeply down to a valley. For the first kilometer the road is contained by tall wire fences on either side-definite impediments to owling. Lower down the forest is accessible from the roadside, but the elevation feels a bit low and I am put off the site.
I am still unresolved where to owl tonight, so I head out to the trailhead for Gunung Sibayak (another volcano, this one just above Berastagi). I find an excellent patch of roadside forest on the approach to trail-head, plus more promising forest on the lower part of the trail. I return to the farmland above town and find a hotel and catch a couple of hours sleep.
I wake at 6pm, and head out in search of food. A nearby store makes me ramen, egg and sweet tea. By now it's almost dark, so I gather my gear and head out up the road towards Gunung Sibayak. It hadn't rained today, and the evening air is heavy. The road climbs out of pastures, through bamboo forest and finally into primary forest. I explore several side trails, all radiate into a maze through the forest. I use my phone to take compass bearings, but find that I am able to navigate by remembering little details, like fallen logs or a conspicuous foot print in the mud. I hear lots of Vanderwater's scops, probably 15. Sometimes I hear duets, one bird a little lower pitched than the other. I am frequently surprised by just how far their quite two note whistle carries. I hear a bird below an embankment, and creep down an impossibly steep and tangly hill, my belly pressed into the soft rich soil as I squeeze under low branches. It sounds right there, but turning on my flashlight reveals just a mass of leaves, and the owl of course falls silent.
I find a huge toad, the size of a grapefruit. He's indifferent to me, and refuses to budge as I carefully navigate over him. Two different barred eagle owls call from the forest. By 1045pm, I decide to return to the hotel for some rest. Along the way back down the road I decide to try and spotlight the owls. (I don't normally walk with a bright light, but the scops owls are both abundant and hard to track down). Close to the hotel, I flush a small roadside owl. It flies up to a tangle of vines on the side of the road, where I get a good view of it. It has yellow eyes, is small and rufous, with small raised ear tufts. It has a slight whitish edge above the rufous facial disc. There is a white wing bar, rufous underparts and overall much smaller than last night's Rajah scops. It's a Vanderwater's scops, a potential split from Mountain scops owl, a widespread owl of South East Asia with a a rather fragmented range.
June 10th. Back at the hotel, I consider trying to change my flight back to Singapore. This would give me the chance to get to Southern Malaysia for a night to look for some new lowland owls. I soon abandon this plan as expensive and hard to really pull off effectively. I decide instead to visit Bukit Lawang, the site of a former orangutan rehab center at the edge of Gunung Leuser National Park. My targets are a couple of more widespread lowland owls; Oriental bay owl and reddish scops owl. There is almost no information on birding this site, but I know there is extensive forest covering low foothills, so there should be good habitat.
I get up at first light and drive to the nearby Padang cafe and eat a most excellent breakfast. It's an easy drive down the main highway, until fucking Google maps leads me along a maze of rocky tracks through oil palm plantations. I have to baby the little black Honda over the rocks ever so slowly to keep it from getting grounded. After an hour of this bullshit I reach a better road, and from there it's a straightforward drive. Around noon, I stop at a roadside warung. Inside, guys smoke, others play chess, while one just kills flies with a fly swatter, then brushes them on the floor. It's hot under the metal roof. I watch the lady prepare my food. She brings me a plate of noodles, with bean sprouts, chewy greens and tofu, drenched in a spicy peanut sauce. It's brilliant. I would have ordered a second plate, but modesty prevents me from asking for more. I arrive at Bukit Lawang soon after lunch. It's a bit annoying, both oppressively hot and with lots of guys offering to be my jungle guide. After reading a map, I realize there is a road-less area across the river with a couple of fancier lodges. I head over there, and after a short hike, pass a couple of orangutans hanging out with a group of local tourists. I squeeze by on the trail, and a big red ape reaches out to me with a giant leathery hand as if to push me along. I reach a nice place, Orang Utan Bungalow and check into a wooden cabin. I agree on a plan with a local guide, Robin, to take an afternoon hike together. My goal is to figure out the lay of the land, so that after dark I can sneak into the park and look for owls. (My impression is that guides are compulsory, and that there are no serious birding guides available).
Around 4pm, Robin and I take a 15 minute stroll into the park. I get to see that there are no rangers at the gate, and that the trail into the park is easy to follow. After dinner, I am lacing up my boots when I think I hear a reddish scops owl below the cabin. I chase it around a small stand of rubber trees, never quite sure if it's a reddish scops owl. The area is noisy with the sounds of the nearby river and motorcycles and music from town. Next I walk unobtrusively through the garden and up into the national park. Despite the excellent habitat, it's not very owly. I walk and stop to listen every couple of hundred meters, hearing only frogs and insects. There are tigers and leopards here, and when I see eye-shine from a nearby thicket I am startled. I walk loudly towards the brilliant eyes, and am relieved when a deer bolts out. I follow a ridge trail for a ways, then descend down the side of it. When the trail forks, I mark the dirt with my boot to show my returning self the right way out of the forest. I do my best to memorize the features of the trail like downed logs, stream crossings and the few steep rocky sections. After three hours of owling I descend to a second stream, which I cross several times. I feel I just should not go any further for risk of getting lost. As I rest for a minute I hear a distant reddish scops owl. This bird is like the Pied Piper of owlers, calling me deeper into the jungle. I end up chasing the bird first down, then back up, and finally down a hill, before I get amazing views of this lovely owl. It's back is warm brown, the belly is cream, infused with reddish tones and covered with diagnostic black spots. The bill is large, prominent and distinctly pale horn. The eyes are large and dark amber. The facial disc is dusky in the center, and paler at the edges. The impression of the owl is large headed and small bodied with strong legs, like the shape of a saw-whet owl. Wow, what a great find! When I visited Southeast Asia in the early nineties, I had always wanted to find this bird. I considered it a real birder's bird, more nuanced and elusive and much less brash than the pittas and trogons that I was actually finding.
I start to retrace my steps, momentarily interrupted by a thin aggressive snake that chased me down the trail. Close inspection reveals it's actually a giant earthworm, about a half meter long! After about a kilometer, I start to doubt that I am on the correct trail. Later I reach a small peak, and pull out my phone. My one bar of signal, allows me to map my location. I am walking away from the park entrance! It's hard to use Google maps and my compass, but I think I have to retrace my steps. I return to the bottom of a very steep climb, where I reach a creek I had recently crossed. Even though the creek is familiar, I am unable to find any trail on the far side of the trail, and so am unable to continue to backtrack! I hike slowly now, back up to the peak. I am wet with sweat, and thirsty. I review Google maps and listen to the faint sound of motorcycles. I conclude I must have missed the trail on the other side of the stream, so climb back down the very steep trail. Back at the stream there is no fucking trail on the other side. I want to drink the water, but am fearful of getting sick. I know that when you are lost in the jungle, you can follow a stream, which will lead you down to stream-side habitations. I am nervous of doing this. I am in the foothills, and the terrain is steep. And the rocks by the creek are incredibly slick. Still I decide to try. After I couple of minutes I come to a six meter high waterfall, flanked by rocky slopes. I realize that there is no way I can climb past the waterfall. Relieved I return to the trail, and climb wearily back to the hill top. I decide to try and call Tui, and see if she can call Orang Utan Bungalow.
June 11th. At the top of the hill I call Tui. She is very calm, and takes down all the information. It's about midnight, and we agree that I will shut of my phone, rest and check back when I awaken. I have slept in the jungle a lot, but this is the first time I have just lain on the jungle floor. I don't feel scared, but I do feel that I am going to miss my flight home and that this is serious, I could be out here for a long time. I am really tired, and feel really peaceful, but my sleep is interrupted by inch long ants, with huge heads like a wasp, that crawl over me.
I rouse myself at 130am, and turn on my phone. It's full of messages. Dede, the owner of the Orang Utan Bungalow has left me Whatsapp voice messages to stay put, and to scream for help. It feels surreal. I set my flashlight like a flare into the earth, and set it to strobe. The whole canopy of huge trees above me pulses with white light. I yell out into the forest "help". This is unreal. On my trips I am always asking for something, directions or to buy something, but I never really need help. Not like this, were I feel totally stuck, and unable to take care of myself. One of the rescuers calls me, and reminds me to keep screaming, which I do. Around 2am I hear voices. The rescuer asks me to approach them, so I descend the ridge, finding a new trail, which takes me to a low point on the ridge, where I can no longer hear them. I yell again and again. I worry that they may walk past my hilltop and I decide to hustle back there. Back at the hilltop, I wait some more, yelling and listening. Eventually I hear voices again, they sound a bit closer, and I descend in their direction. Suddenly I see lights in the distance. I take a tiny trail across a steep hillside and find three guys. I am so happy to be safe, and ashamed that I could not take care of myself. They give me water and I apologize for doing this. They smoke a few cigarettes and call the other rescuers and Dede. I send Tui a message. We hike for about half an hour, then join with three more rescuers. We stop for more cigarettes, then men seem lighthearted and they joke with each other. Again we walk for about half an hour, then join another group of three. We sit on logs talking, engulfed in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Finally we descend out of the forest. I follow behind a barefoot rescuer, his feet covered in white clay, a small puncture, probably from a hungry leech, in his left calf leaks blood. It's a long walk back to the bungalow, and when we arrive (around 430am), they have prepared food for us. I eat a big plate of salty noodles and drink sweet tea. I thank everyone and tell them that I will make a payment to Dede in the morning.
I sleep heavily until my cabin becomes intolerably warm by the intense morning sun. After breakfast I meet with Dede and a local police man.
Dede, the man who saved me
We talk for ages about what happened and also about his conservation project to convert his parent's farm to an ecotourism lodge. Slowly the topic comes round the paying for the rescue. I offer my remaining dollars ($412), which Dede accepts. Dede will then distribute the money to the guides who rescued me. (I really owe so much to Dede. He was remarkably organized and efficient in getting a three teams out into the forest in the middle of the night. He directed the teams and made the whole thing work). Together we also write a police report. I then say thank you and goodbye. I shower and pack. I suspect that things were not quite "over". For one I am relived and surprised to have not been arrested for venturing into the park without a guide. Just as I leave, Dede calls me to let me know the local money changer would not accept my worn dollar bills. We meet up, and Dede drives me to the money changer, an affable man and proud Hajii. We talk about his pilgrimage, while he runs my debit card. I get my dollars back, and Dede gets some crisp pink rupiah. I say another heartfelt goodbye to Dede and then set off for Medan.
The drive is hard because the road is narrow, and it's edges of the road very tall. Plus there are tons of slow vehicles to pass. It's a relief to finally get to the toll road and enjoy some boring highway driving to the airport.
I fly to Singapore direct, and even catch a little sleep on the plane. I feel a little overwhelmed when I arrive at Changi airport. My goal is to get out to a city park and find Singapore scops owl, a potential split from Sunda scops which inhabits the Southern end of the Malay peninsula. I luckily make the last MRT train from the airport all the way Bukit Batok MRT station. At the station there is a Seven Eleven and I replenish myself with a sandwich and Monster energy drink.
June 12th. I walk a couple of kilometers to Bukit Batok reserve. The city is quite, no one is out except for a couple of taxi drivers. Singapore is a good city for a night walk, it's safe, almost boring. Plump rats scour the neatly trimmed grass verges in search of a meal. The reserve is a small limestone hill, covered in jungle with a good network of paved trails. I decide to put on my snake guards. Despite being in safe Singapore, that rocky terrain looks very snakey! I hear multiple Singapore scops owls calling and eventually catch one in flight under a street light, a big, broad winged, grayish-brown scops owl. It's now 2am, and I have nowhere to go. I rest in a gazebo and take in the sounds of the owls and insects. Eventually I hear a red junglefowl crow. It's time to go. I catch the first MRT back to Changi airport. My flight is overbooked, so I am sent to long way back to San Francisco (via Taipei), rather than direct. Still it does not matter, at least I made it out of the jungle in one piece.
Acknowledgements: Frank Rheindt helped me greatly with specific birding information and sound recordings of Nias Wood owl. Sin Yong Chee Keita helped me out with practical information on finding Singapore scops owl.
This type of birding is really harmful to the environment. Particularly air travel contributes to global warming. It's possible to mitigate the impact by buying carbon offsets, which are quite affordable. You can learn more at https://www.goldstandard.org/
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