Sulawesi: South to North
Indonesia is vast. It’s the world’s largest archipelagic state, stretching 5,000km from west to east. So we really shouldn’t have been surprised at how long it took us to get from Medan, Sumatra to Makassar, Sulawesi. The 10 hours it took to get here was just the start. Travelling time, as it turned out, would be a significant element of our three weeks in Sulawesi.
The unique funeral rites of Tana Toraja were the reason we’d wanted to visit Sulawesi for a long time (Simon has written a lengthy post on ‘The business of death in Tana Toraja’) but there was so much more to see here. Sulawesi (previously known as Celebes) was described as “the most remarkable and interesting island in the whole region, or perhaps on the globe” by Alfred Russel Wallace over 150 years ago & those words are still true today. But suprisingly, not many people make it to Sulawesi. Compared to Sumatra, that had been full of westerners, here there were very few, resulting in much more friendly local curiosity. We only met one fellow Englishman.
The main aim of our time in Makassar was to renew our visa. This was achieved in less than 5 minutes, not the multiple days we’d heard about. Which was good as there was really not much to do in the city & now no need for us to stay for long. We spent much of our reduced time here eating at the various establishments recommended by our slightly eccentric, but very helpful, host. The local seafood joint was so good we went twice. It was also very cheap, which Simon is always happy about! There was an Italian restaurant, run by an Italian, so fabulous pizza but unfortunately no wine. And a lunchtime visit to the sauna-like conditions of a coto canteen, a Makassar institution. Coto is a peanut-based beef soup flavoured with a whole host of spices. That is all that’s sold in these places. No menu. You just find a space at one of the long tables & a bowl of rich soup is plonked in front of you along with a plate of ketupat (woven rice cakes) & buras (banana-leaf wrapped coconut rice) & enough chili sambal to blow your head off. Delicious & yet again, extremely cheap.
The turtle-shaped 17th century Fort Rotterdam is the only colonial Dutch building that remains in Makassar, it’s low rise white-washed buildings largely empty & the once imposing outer walls now forming the back wall of a cluster of lean-to houses. Makassar doesn’t have an Old Town like so many cities that used to be seats of colonial powers – here, new seems to be preferred. This was most in evidence on the waterfront. A huge area of reclaimed land where an elaborate & now slightly tatty promenade is decorated with an eclectic array of statues representing Sulawesi; a Torajan tonkanon house, a buffalo, a dozen busts of unnamed people in fancy headgear, a weaver & multiple signs saying ‘City of Makassar’ in case anyone forgets where they are. Continuing the geographical theme there were also two large globes. Makassar is, apparently, the central point of Indonesia. But why two globes? And why were they fifty metres apart? Had the central point moved? Or maybe someone just thought a new globe would improve people’s geography knowledge after they’d realised the old globe had Africa west of Spain & that the UK didn’t exist at all?! Further along, two large mosques dominated the bay. On the city side the blue domed Masjid Amirul Mukminin sits on stilts over the water. It looked like a toilet block. Across the bay, is the newer, multi-domed pink & orange Masjid ‘Kubah 99’. It looked like an elaborate blancmange.
Tana Toraja, our next stop, was the highlight of our time in Sulawesi. But getting there was just the first of our mammoth journeys on the island. An 11 hour bus ride. I wasn’t holding out much hope when we arrived at the bus station, if you can call a patch of land a station. It was dire. Filthy, smelly & scruffy. Thankfully the bus was great. Luxurious, wide & comfortable seats & clean. A bit like business class on flights & far cheaper. Comfortable though it was, we were somewhat tired when we arrived in Tana Toraja & were hoping for a day’s rest before embarking on our ‘death culture’ tour, but the first day of a big funeral the following day was just too good an opportunity to miss. Thus commenced a week of enjoying the celebration of death (that sounds so wrong) in Tana Toraja after which we had another long journey to our next destination of Tentena 360 kms north. When we asked our host how long the bus would take, she shrugged ‘maybe 10 hours, maybe 15…..’. Oh joy.
The narrow road wound its way up & down through forested hills via hundreds of hairpin bends. I looked out of the window down a sheer drop only inches away or up at a sheer cliff face only inches away. Either view was unnerving. Were the missing crash barriers due to landslides or vehicles crashing through? In a big bus it was a difficult journey. Constant braking; stop, start. We had to wait for traffic, any traffic, coming in the opposite direction as there was so little space to get around the sharp, tight bends. We were often precariously close to the edge. We also had to endure the frequent & pungent whiff of durian from somewhere on the bus. It smelt so much more intense here than in Malaysia. If you’ve never smelt it (lucky you) think of a mixture of sweaty socks & sewage!
We didn’t arrive in Tentena until 11pm negotiating the final twisting roads in the dark – at least we had no idea how close the edge was. It was 14 hours after we’d left Rantepao with no proper food (though the palm sugar buns we’d picked up a roadside stall were pretty tasty), very little to drink due to a lack of toilet stops & only fitful bits of sleep. I also had grazed & badly bruised knees due to falling into a ditch that was invisible in the dark at one of the elusive toilet stops! We went to bed tired & hungry – for 3 hours.
At 2.30am we were up again for the World Cup semi-final. We saw the game on a big screen in the town, projected onto a wall where geckos scittered across the pitch larger than the players. Our kindly guesthouse host had driven around to find the best spot for us & Ben, our fellow Englishman (who happened not only to be on the bus but also staying at the same place) to watch. Benches & chairs pulled out onto the street were full of locals & we were not only given the front seats but free beer & snacks as well by the drunk/high cafe owner, who was enthusiastically supporting England. We only discovered that everyone else was supporting Argentina when they scored. Everyone in Indonesia it seems supports Argentina, and that purely because of Messi. A fact that they gleefuly told us on numerous occasions following the match & once they knew we were English. We were glad we’d got up to watch though obviously it wasn’t the result we wanted & it was a quieter, more subdued return across the bridge to the guesthouse & back to bed. Selfishly, we thought that at least the result meant we wouldn’t miss being at home if England had won.
Tentena made a good stop on the long journey from Tana Toraja to our next destination of the Togean Islands. A quiet little town on the banks of the huge, deep blue of Lake Poso. It sees very few tourists & even fewer that venture into the town (most go out on scooters which I can’t bring myself to do after our Chiang Mai incident) so we were quite the novelty as we wandered around the market & lunched at a local warung on yet more nasi goreng, the staple fried rice that’s available everywhere. The market though catered to the more interesting Indonesian tastes. Indonesians enjoy meat & they enjoy eating pretty much any kind. The market was winding down when we arrived with only a few vegetable & hardware vendors still trading. But tucked into the back of the tattered wooden stalls we did find a friendly lady selling bats. Torched & blackened, they lay in a neat line on their backs, tongues lolling out of pink mouths, their wings hacked off & piled in a heap on the next bench. They were big & ugly. And not in the least bit appetising. We decided against trying them.
It was a less arduous journey up to Ampana, the departure port for the Togean Islands. It was only 5 hours. We also had great company, in Ben & Zoe (a lovely Dutch girl who, usefully, could speak Bahasa). In a place where travel plans are flexible & transport random we coincidentally kept bumping into each other. This turned out to be just the first of multiple journeys we took together. We parted company with our friends in Ampana & then drove down increasingly narrow, sandy tracks to the tiny rickety jetty that jutted out over the mangroves into the clear turquoise water of the Gulf of Tomini that sits within the weird ‘arms’ of Sulawesi. The speedboat across the sea to the tiny Buka Buka island took us to another world. One completely different to the Sulawesi we’d been travelling in. We’d always said that we’d take it a bit easier in Indonesia & the lovely resort of Reconnect was just the place to do it. A laid back & chilled type of place, it was a bit of a luxury. It was also wonderfully quiet. After several weeks in Indonesia – which has to be the noisiest country we’ve been to – just being able to hear the sound of a breeze through the palm trees, the ripples of fish in the sea & the chirping of birds & crickets was bliss. It was a good place to just relax & we needed it much more than we had before. Six days of eating (too much), reading on the beach & sipping cocktails as we watched the sunset. The laziest we’ve been for quite some time.
The Togeans are known for their untouched reefs & vibrant marine life. Being so remote, it’s also blissfully uncrowded and we did manage to drag ourselves off the sun loungers long enough to see a bit of it. Just a few hundred metres off the beach we spotted black tipped sharks & turtles.
The best snorkeling, however, was on a boat trip around some of the other Togean Islands. Beneath the pier at Palau Papan water village the coral was stunning. Bright red branch coral created walls between the pier struts. Below us the fish were more abundant than we’d seen since Fiji, huge white & black spotted puffer fish, green & orange parrot fish & schools of tiny electric blue damsel fish swam amongst a reef of beautiful coral of all colours & shapes. Inland at the deep green Mariona lake we had the unique experience of swimming with jellyfish. Cut off from predators, the jellyfish have evolved so they no longer sting. Whereas normally you would avoid getting anywhere near a jellyfish, here we could calmly swim amongst their translucent, pulsing bodies.
At the Bajau (Sea Gypsey) village of Kabalutan we were mobbed by kids as soon as we climbed off the boat. Each of the western women on our trip soon had a string of small girls eagerly clutching their hands. The boys of the village were far more interested in their football & getting selfies with us. The Bajau are spear fishermen originating from the Philippines and have gradually moved from living aboard tiny palm roofed fishing boats to a less nomadic life in stilt villages. It was a colourful place, with a web of walkways weaving between houses, tiny shops & a couple of schools and in the centre rose a rocky outcrop that provided fabulous views over the rooftops. It was in far better nick than Brunei’s Kampung Ayer. This village didn’t feel like it would disappear into the sea at the next strong storm. We had a lovely day of snorkeling & chatting to our fellow travellers (who all came from Switzerland strangely) but it was very nearly a disastrous day when I lost my wedding ring in the sand on a local beach. It took a lot of people & far too many desperate minutes to find it again. That’s not something I wanted to be adding to our list of ‘Lost/Broken on the Trip’. I’ll be leaving it on to apply suncream in future!
After nearly a week of relaxing, travelling on from the Togeans to the far north of Sulawesi was always going to be difficult. It was a long way. And this took lengthy journeys to another level.
The ferry we’d intended to get was cancelled, which meant an extra 5 hours drive to another port, once the speedboat had returned us to Ampana. The route took us along the coast on the inevitable winding roads. We travelled through small villages, we waited for cows, dogs & chickens to cross the road and as the light was fading, we eventually reached Pagimana port. The ferry was big. The ticket purchasing confusing. We understood that it was possible to get a private cabin for the overnight journey but Executive Bunk turned out to be the best we could get. It didn’t look too bad; there was a big window & the bunks had mattresses & pillows. But the 40 or so beds were horribly close together. Luckily for us, our fabulous resort manager had friends in high places & one of these was the ferry captain. Just as we were contemplating the joys of sleeping nose to nose with a complete stranger, he appeared beside us & offered us his cabin (given he was driving he wasn’t going to be using it). It was at a cost, of course. But we both agreed an extra £14 was definitely worth paying for the private room with large bed, a/c & a bathroom.
Despite its size, the ferry was tossed around in the rough seas & we were awoken several times in the night as things clattered around the cabin. It also made showering entertaining in the morning. But we did get a reasonable amount of sleep which is more than our friends got in Executive class which turned out to be very noisy. When we ventured out on deck for a cup of tea half an hour before we were due to dock we found that were still in the middle of the bay & at least 2 hours behind schedule courtesy of the rough weather.
The drive up to Manado from the port was incredibly long. We’d decided a shared taxi directly from the port would be preferable to faffing around getting to the bus station & then hoping a decent bus was imminent. Whilst we’d insisted the crappy dance music was turned off we unfortunately couldn’t do anything about the constant croaking frog noises the driver made every 10 seconds for the entire journey. The scenery was beautiful in parts, especially as the sun started to fall, casting a golden light over the palms, rice paddies & views of the sea as we made our steady way along the winding coastal road. But after so many hours the same scenery, lovely as it was, got monotonous. I spent the journey spotting the Alphamart / Indomaret supermarkets (a game Zoe invented as very rarely is there just one of them regardless of how tiny the village is) or finding houses in the rainbow colours, in the right order (red was hard, the rest though very easy). They do like a colourful house here. But after dark even that level of excitement was reduced.
We eventually arrived at our hotel in Manado just before 11pm. Nearly 36hrs after leaving Buka Buka island. To say we were knackered would be an understatement.
We have no idea what Manado was like. We went straight to bed & then left at midday the following day having done nothing but sleep & have breakfast. I don’t think we missed anything. From what we saw as we left it just looked like another big, noisy & not overly interesting city. We’d bumped into our friends Ben & Zoe again on the ferry & travelled up the unusually straight, quiet road to Tangkoko with them. A 2.5 hour journey that went by so quickly, helped by having nice people to chat to the whole way.
Tangkoko sits on a wide bay of black volcanic sand left by the nearby Mount Dua Saudara. It was scattered with brightly painted outrigger fishing boats, the colours so vibrant against the black sand. A perfect spot for a few cold beers at the rustic beach bar & we spent a great evening there with Ben & Zoe.
But the reason for coming to Tangkoko was the national park. A nature reserve that probably only came about due to the exploration & research of the rare animals by Alfred Russel Wallace in 1859. It was his research here that led to the creation of the Wallace Line, the famous boundary separating the distinct animal life of Asia & Australia which runs through Indonesia.
A very early 5.30am start saw us heading into the park in search of its famous endemic inhabitants; the Black Crested Macaque, Sulawesi Bear Cuscus, Spectral Tarsier & the fantastically named Red-knobbed Hornbill. We passed under the large, bearded statue of Alfred Russel Wallace & into a rainforest of tall tropical trees. It didn’t take long to find the Black Crested Macaques, or rather, they found us. A large troop of adults & young threaded their way through the forest. Known locally as yaki, they swung & climbed along the branches as they went past. Some ran along the ground & one mischievous member obviously thought I was in its way as he smacked his hands against my knees as he went past. Against their jet-black bodies, their bright red-brown eyes are piercing. They have such expressive faces & very human like mannerisms, scratching their noses, licking the fruits & coughing & sneezing like us.
The Sulawesi bear cuscus spend around 15 hours a day resting & it was in this lazy position that we saw them. High up in the tree canopy, sprawled together on a branch they barely moved, just a slight adjustment to get into a more comfortable position. Not a bear at all but a marsupial, it has a long tail that it uses to swing between branches, not that we saw anything so energetic.
Our sighting of the Red-knobbed Hornbill was fleeting. We sat 20m below the nest, which was hidden in a hole in a tree & where the female was awaiting the return of the male. I think we were lucky to only have a wait of about 30 minutes & have the entertainment of another troop of macaques as we waited. We heard the male’s loud bark-like calls long before he arrived. He was worth waiting for, even if he was very high up in the trees. A huge bird. Black feathers & a long white tail with a head so colourful it looked painted; a long deep yellow neck & bill, a pale sky-blue throat & that fantastic red knob on the top of his head. He was quite magnificent. He didn’t look quite real.
A return to the park in the late afternoon saw us searching for the tiny Spectral Tasier. It wasn’t yet dark when we found him still in his nest, tucked into a crevice in the trunk high in a tree. Only the size of a human fist, he was difficult to see. We settled down to wait for darkness to fall when he would hopefully venture further down. The tarsiers are the poster guys for the park – they’re what everyone wants to see. Unfortunately this meant there was a large crowd of people hovering around the tree trunk shining torches into the poor little creature’s huge eyes. Not surprisingly he didn’t come down but continued to sit in his nest blinking those massive eyes. But, luckily for us our guide just happened to be the Chief Ranger, so on his cue everyone else left. We stayed & switched our torches off. Now the tarsier came down. With carefully positioned lights we got to see him in all his tiny glory. We thought he looked a bit like a gremlin – Gizmo to be precise – his eyes almost the size of his head & little hands like a frogs, webbed & furless. He was very sweet.
I was not so keen on the large, black tarantula we saw later on. And quite happy that she was high up a tree.
The drive to our final destination in Sulawesi was gloriously noisy. Two hours of constant conversation & a final game of spot the Indomaret/Alphamart. Throughout our many journeys & days spent together, people constantly mistook Ben & Zoe for our kids. Happily Zoe thought we weren’t like parents, just good family friends & we were the coolest people she met – kind or true? We’ve met a lot of nice people on this trip but no-one we’ve had such fun with or who we’ve got on with so well. We were actually quite gutted to have to say goodbye. We missed our ‘kids’ on our last few days.
Throughout our journey through Sulawesi we’d heard a lot of people talking about the fabulous diving in Bunaken but had just ignored it as we don’t dive. What we hadn’t realised was that there was also fabulous snorkeling & snorkeling we could reach from our guesthouse just north of Manado. We’d anticipated a couple of days of relaxing before our flight to Kalimantan, instead we experienced probably the best snorkeling we’ve had on the entire trip.
But first we had a fire to fight.
Our guesthouse in the small village of Thalassa was just minutes from the sea with a beautiful view over the rice fields & palm trees. We’d been there ten minutes & had just settled down with a cup of tea on the terrace when the fire started. Some idiot (our host referred to him as a man with no brain) had decided to burn leaves. In a swirling wind & on land that hadn’t seen rain for weeks it wasn’t the most sensible of ideas. A nearby copse of trees had caught alight & flames were steadily burning up through the dry trunks. Smoke & ash billowed straight into the guesthouse. Huge black embers scattered over the terrace & filled the pool & the air was full of smoke. The caretaker was, rightfully, very concerned about the palm roofs & started hosepiping water on them, apologising to us as he went. Then we suddenly saw a swirl of smoke just beyond the guesthouse wall below us. The caretaker ran down and we continued hosing water on all the roofs. A flurry of staff came up from the nearby dive resort to help, chucking pool water over the wall to get this new mini fire out before it could cause any damage. The main fire was out within 30 minutes & the threat was over but the mess was left to clear up. No swimming in the pool for us that day. It seemed petty to mention it though. That was a new & unexpected experience for us.
Bunaken Marine Park was spectacular. Numerous reefs surround the small islands just off the coast. Reefs that boast over 2,000 species of fish & 390 species of coral. And reefs that support a huge number of turtles. It was like being in a giant aquarium. We were just surrounded by fish; angel, puffer, trumpet, damsel, butterfly, clown fish, parrot, huge grouper. There were massive schools of batfish, their black ‘wings’ edged with blue, the sunlight glinting off the edges making them look like they were flying rather than swimming. And there were turtles everywhere we looked. They swam beside us, rising up through the crystal clear water to push their beaks above the calm surface for air. Others slept in the colourful coral. The reef & cliff here were stunning – vibrant pinks, blues & yellows. There was large flat, pancake coral, brain coral, the waving fronds of anemone where clown fish nest, dark tubular coral-like pitcher plants. The colours bright & the shapes so varied it was like a beautiful underwater garden. This was snorkeling at its very best.
Back at the guesthouse, most of the ash had now sunk to the bottom of the pool & we enjoyed a lazy few hours swimming & relaxing in the sun before savouring the most delicious fish dinner at the local warung. Probably the best meal we’ve had so far in Indonesia. A lovely & unexpected end to our time in Sulawesi.
We really enjoyed Sulawesi. It was the Indonesian island we most wanted to come to on this trip. At times it was frustrating and those long journeys were pretty exhausting. But the unique culture, the wildlife, the friends we met & the friendly locals, along with a sense of adventure you don’t get in many places made the journey one we’ll remember for a long time.
Helen (31st July 2026)
Lovely to hear about your travels once again. Hope the knees have healed. I will have to get you a fireman’s helmet ⛑️. It could have been worse. The trip looked interesting to see the odd exotic creatures . Well fancy me having grand kids I didn’t know about . They look a great couple, glad you met them. “Carry on treking”sounds like a film.
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