Indonesian Ferries

Indonesia is a country consisting of about 15000 islands, only half of which are inhabited. Travel between the major islands is mainly by ship – at least for the Indonesians, most of whom would not be able to afford air travel.

There is a national ferry operator called Pelni which runs a fleet of 23 ships – several of which are large passenger ferries plying the routes between Java, Sumatra, Celebes, Kalimantan, etc.

We wanted to travel from the island of Batam, just off the coast of Singapore, to Tajung Priok – which is the port of Jakarta on the island of Java. The journey takes about 25 hours. From there we intended to travel by train to Surabaya and eventually to Bali. The ship we needed was one of the newer German built vessels – called the Kelud (after the regularly erupting volcano which has killed many of Indonesia's inhabitants over the years).

Now Pelni is a fascinating organisation. It has a website which, in advertising its ships, suggests that you would be embarking of a semi-luxury cruise should you choose to go first class. There are four classes on the Kelud:

1. First class – double cabins, air conditioning, lockable doors and all meals provided
2. Second class – four berth cabins (not lockable)
3. Third class – dormitory accommodation below decks
4. Economy class – find a bit of deck space, stair well, etc. and set up camp.

First class is only about £50 per person so we decided to go for the 'cruise'.

The Pelni website is tantalising. You can find out most of the above information with a little perseverance, but the timetable is several years out of date. The Kelud sails every 4 days from Batam but there is no way to know the actual dates and Batam is not somewhere that you would want to stay any longer than necessary.

Trying not to fly, we had set our hopes on Pelni. Many hours on the Internet had yielded telephone numbers of various Pelni offices. Meg had tried phoning the Pelni head office from England but no one spoke English and Megs Indonesian is a little weak. We sent emails without reply. We decided that we would have to wait until we were nearer – perhaps Malaysia where there are several ferries to Indonesia. We tried in Penang, Port Dickson and Melaka without success. Travel agents were only interested in selling us air tickets. We tried all our phone numbers. The response was always the same: the number is no longer in service.

In Singapore we again tried the number of the local Pelni agent but still no luck. Eventually we tracked down the address, down near the Harbour Front, and decided to pay them a visit. During a torrential storm we finally found it – and arrived, somewhat bedraggled, at a little room on the second floor of a rather unobtrusive building.

The office was in chaos – piles of papers everywhere – but the woman there was very nice and was able to tell us the dates when the Kelud sailed. She explained that it was not possible to book from Singapore but did try to phone the office in Batam to 'reserve' a berth for us. Unfortunately this too was not possible. We left with a map of Indonesia and a photograph to prove that the office really existed.






















So, off to Batam ...

















We took the Penguin Ferry from Singapore to Sekupang and arrived at the reasonably swish International Ferry Terminal. A taxi took us to the Pelni Office which was about a mile away. This has to be seen to be believed.

















Set back off a minor road, the office has one ticket window, and behind this is a large, gloomy empty room except for one ticket vendor and a desk. He speaks no English, but we managed to work out the cost of the ferry (first class) - ah, no credit cards – cash only - ah, not US dollars. After a one-hour round trip to the local ATM we returned to the office, millionaires.

First Class clearly was quite unusual. We were greeted by the Office Manager who spoke a little English and we were invited into his office, round the back of the building. We sat in front of his desk and surveyed the scene. Outside the windows the rain was falling heavily while inside the ceiling fans slowly stirred the humid air. There were three desks, one aging computer, a couple of typewriters and several filing cabinets rusting quietly in the corner. It was straight out of a Somerset Maughan novel. We were beginning to understand the root cause of our problems so far - we were in a different century.

Our friendly manager confirmed the price and we handed over the money (1,600,000 Indonesian Rupias). He then checked our passports and discovered that, at 61, I qualified for a 20% discount – wow, £10 off! Unfortunately he needed a photocopy of my passport, and there was no photocopier in the office. No problem! They have a photocopier at the local hospital. He disappeared for about 20 minutes, with the money and the passport, but finally returned with tickets, additional photocopies (should we ever need them) and our change. We imagined that some cash had disappeared in the process (but later found this was not so) but with tickets in hand we were very happy. We took his photo, shook his hand, wished him many healthy grandchildren and left.

We have the tickets!

















A little wiser than before, we decided to find out more about the actual ferry trip and began another trawl of the travelogues and blogs on the Internet. This was most fruitful – but not encouraging. At the end of 2007 three ferries sank in one week and many passengers died. That seemed quite a lot. Also, the ship's departure time is 'flexible' - give or take a couple of hours. This goes for the time of arrival as well.

We arrive early. The Executive Lounge is not available – but it doesn't make much difference as it is simply an empty hut inside the 'hanger' that passes for a waiting room. We are waved through security – but on closer examination the baggage scanner has a clearly not worked for some time.

















The ship has arrived but nothing seems to be happening. We realise that there is some unloading of passengers and cargo.

With the mid-day sun blazing down on the roof and a thousand people waiting it gets quite hot and sticky. We wait, conspicuously white- faced amongst the crowds. Wisdom has it that you don't use the toilets. I should have taken note.

All around the 'dock' there is a market offering food and drink, toys, newspapers, etc.

















People are generally good-tempered, docile and wait quietly. They are saving themselves – they know what comes next.

We have been waiting for two hours but now something seems to be happening - people are picking up their baggage. We all begin to compress towards the gate. Nothing happens, but we are now a lot closer to each other. Some passengers go down the outside of the queue and start pushing in nearer the gate. No one takes any notice. The gate opens and some of the crowd squeeze through to the dock and move towards the boat. The gate shuts for a while and then opens again. This process repeats several times until we are through. But why? On the other side there is no 'order'. Everyone is crowded around the chained-off gangplank but who goes first when it opens?

The answer is - everyone. As the gangplank is opened the crowd surges forward. Some are pushed over; they trip over baggage that can't move. Porters carrying enormous loads press forward but there is no space. The porters who do get through have to return down the same gangplank and this takes the chaos to a whole new level. The 'security guards' begin to lash out at porters who jump the queue (what queue?). Eventually the whole process seizes up, so they raise the gangplank. Those already on it get through but now they can't lower it because the crowd is underneath.



















Eventually they beat back the crowd enough to lower the gangplank but immediately the chaos resumes. A returning porter offers to take our bags for us. This seems to be the only way that we will get on board. He is huge and he puts both bags on his back. We follow him as he forces his way through. But others are equally ruthless and his progress grinds a halt. We find ourselves ahead of him and after much pushing and shoving we finally squeeze on to the gangplank and emerge on the deck. The crowd already on board have been watching our progress with much amusement and there are lots of smiles and a few cheers as we arrive. It has taken about 40 minutes.

Suddenly we are recognised as 'First Class' and are whisked away to our cabin. It is unbelievable. it is vast, has two good beds, a toilet, a shower and a T.V. Everything works – almost. A steward brings us towels and toilet paper. Heaven.

















I return to the deck to find our porter. He is quite near the gangplank but is clearly struggling. I can't see his face under the top bag but what little I can see of him is drenched in sweat and he looks like he staggering and is about to collapse.

Our's is the big bag just above the blue check in the centre. Our porter is somewhere under that with a similar sized bag on his back.


















Now a new twist is added to the game. They close the gangplank and open a new point of entry to the ship. Why didn't they do this in the first place? - perhaps because this would have deprived the crew of much entertainment. Our porter, who was almost there, is now at the back of the new queue. The poor man. I begin to feel that he might die and it will be my fault - and we will never get our bags on board. But, as the crowd thins he eventually gets to the new gangplank and arrives on board. I think he has lost a lot of weight. I pay him generously – he is crying. He gives me a hug and we shake hands.

It then dawns on me. If we had waited until the end we would have got on anyway. We had a cabin booked. But then, what an experience!

The whole process of loading the ship takes about 2 hours. With reasonable organisation it would have taken 30 minutes. As Meg says, let's hope the Indonesians never get nuclear weapons.

The journey itself was comfortable and pleasant. The journey took us south through innumerable Small islands until we hit the open seas. In the night we crossed the equator. Considering the problems embarking the ship was to surprisingly empty and it was easy to roam about without treading on people.

















As the only white people on board we became minor celebrities and Meg wandered the deck somewhat like the Queen, saying 'hello', shaking hands and having her photo taken. I followed (much like the Duke of Edingburgh, nodding and smiling). Meg had the cheek to ask if we could visit the bridge (I cringed) but this was arranged. We inspected the charts and just checked that we we on the right course.























In the morning we were awoken by the call to prayers (at about 4.30) and counted the cockroaches ( only a handful)

We met a very nice Indonesian couple, Sidan and his wife, who helped explain a lot of what was going on such as Tannoy announcements and meal arrangements. The food was 'interesting'. One meal contained baked fish heads followed by the rest of the fish the next meal, fried in batter.

We eventually arrived in the port of Tajung Priok but waited for a free berth at the ferry teminal for a couple of hours and disembarked in a relatively orderly fashion just four hours late. As we waited we chatted to the chief steward who described the ship as a floating hotel - and so it was (an floating Indonesian Hotel).

Meg with the Chief Steward and our friends:

















The whole journey was one we would not have missed.