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That night we stayed at the Gotong Royong hotel in Labuhan Batu Utara, precisely in Pinang Lombang. As it turned out, the ride from Pekanbaru to the city of Medan ended up taking three full days. The next morning we set off again toward Medan. Here, once more, I felt that familiar nervous flutter, because every time I enter Medan, I picture the way road users ride and drive in this city. Several times I had crash and nearly crash while riding in Medan. Traffic jams. Public minivans. Horns. Reckless driving. These conditions are perfectly normal in Medan. There, as long as the nose of a vehicle can squeeze in, it will simply push through. The same goes for the angkot minivans โ only the driver and the passengers ever know when the vehicle is going to stop. ย
However, this spectacle was not quite so obvious when we entered Medan. That was because the day Nyak Ver rolled into the city through Tanjung Morawa happened to be a Saturday. So the streets were a little quieter, even though the parade of car horns never stopped blaring across Medan’s roads. As soon as we found lodging near Setia Budi, I declared that I would not leave the guesthouse riding Nyak Ver. This motorcycle really is somewhat unfriendly once it enters big cities. Besides being heavy, its engine temperature climbs so high, especially when stuck in a fairly long queue at the traffic lights.
The plan in Medan was to stay two days. The aim was to rest, and we also needed to buy glasses for me and my wife. So we truly rested in the room after the long ride from Bakauheni to Medan. Even so, the next day Nyak Ver had to go out briefly, because we were picked up by the Head of FKPT North Sumatra for a morning breakfast with him and his wife. The moment I fired up Nyak Ver’s engine, I immediately felt uneasy, because I had to ride it through the heart of Medan. On top of that, we were not wearing the proper
gear to climb aboard Nyak Ver. For me, every time I ride this motorcycle, I must wear clothing that protects me and my wife should anything unwanted happen. During the several falls in Merauke, on the way to Boven Digoel, I once got pinned beneath the body of Nyak Ver. Fortunately, the clothing and boots I wore protected me from broken-bone injuries.
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As it turned out, our breakfast spot was not far from the guesthouse. After breakfast, I invited my wife to head straight back to our lodging. If we still needed to shop, I suggested we simply take an online taxi. That is how anxious I was about riding Nyak Ver in Medan. After two nights in the city, we hurried on toward Banda Aceh. On the bright morning of 6 December 2021, we prepared to cross the border between Aceh and North Sumatra. There was a wave of happiness when Nyak Ver passed through the gateway of Aceh. It felt like relief, even though roughly 400 kilometers still lay ahead before we could reach our home in Lamtimpeueng.
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Why Medan Rattles Even Seasoned Riders
For anyone who has spent months crossing Indonesia by motorcycle, Medan still stands out as one of the most demanding urban environments to navigate. The city is the largest in Sumatra and the third largest in the country, and its traffic culture reflects that density. Lanes are more of a suggestion than a rule, intersections operate on a kind of collective improvisation, and the constant weaving of angkot minivans forces a rider to keep both hands ready on the brakes at all times. After weeks of open highway and quiet coastal roads, dropping into that intensity is a jarring shift, and it is little wonder that the prospect of riding into Medan raised my pulse before we even reached Tanjung Morawa.
What makes a heavy touring machine like Nyak Ver especially tiring in these conditions is the combination of weight and heat. On the open road, a big bike loaded with luggage feels planted and reassuring. In stop-and-go city traffic, that same mass becomes a liability: every low-speed maneuver demands muscle, and the engine bakes beneath you while you inch forward in the queue at each set of lights. Riders who tour long distances quickly learn that the city is where fatigue accumulates fastest, and that arriving on a weekend, when the streets are marginally calmer, can make the difference between a manageable entry and a white-knuckle one.
The Discipline of Riding Gear
One thread that runs through this leg of the journey is my insistence on wearing proper protective gear every time we climbed aboard the bike. It is easy to grow casual about safety after thousands of kilometers without incident, but complacency is exactly what catches riders out. My own experience in Merauke, on the way to Boven Digoel, taught me that lesson permanently. When the bike went down and I ended up pinned beneath it, the jacket, gloves, and boots I was wearing were the only things standing between me and a serious fracture. That memory is why I would rather take an online taxi to run errands in a chaotic city than throw a leg over the bike in ordinary clothes just to save a few minutes.
Protective equipment does more than guard against crashes. Good gear regulates temperature, cuts wind fatigue, and keeps a rider alert over long hours in the saddle. For a couple touring two-up, it also means sharing that discipline: both rider and passenger need to be dressed for the worst even when the day looks perfectly ordinary. On a trip that spans an entire island chain, the small daily choice to gear up properly is one of the quiet habits that keeps the adventure from ending in a hospital.
Crossing Into Aceh: The Final Stretch Home
Leaving Medan on the morning of 6 December 2021 carried a different emotional weight than any previous departure on this expedition. Every kilometer from Bakauheni onward had been a step closer to home, but the gateway into Aceh marked the moment the journey truly began to feel finished. Passing that border sign brought a rush of relief and quiet pride, the sense of having carried a heavy motorcycle and two tired travelers across the full length of Sumatra. And yet roughly 400 kilometers still separated us from our house in Lamtimpeueng, a reminder that on a ride like this, even the home stretch is a full day’s work.
That final segment through Aceh is one of the more rewarding parts of the whole Trans-Sumatra route. The scenery softens, the traffic thins, and the road unwinds through familiar territory that feels like a welcome home committee of hills, paddy fields, and coastline. For anyone planning a comparable expedition, it is worth treating these last hundreds of kilometers with the same care as the first: fatigue is highest near the end, when the mind starts celebrating early and the body is worn down from days of concentration.
Lessons From the Sumatra Leg
Looking back across the Sumatra portion of Touring Indonesia Harmoni, a few practical lessons stand out for riders considering their own long-distance journey. Plan city arrivals for quieter days when you can, since weekend traffic in places like Medan is noticeably more forgiving than a weekday crush. Build genuine rest days into the schedule rather than treating every stop as an overnight sprint, because two nights in one place can restore far more energy than the distance covered might suggest. And never let familiarity erode your safety habits, since the most dangerous moments often come not on remote mountain passes but in the ordinary chaos of a big city you thought you understood.
This diary entry closes the Sumatra chapter of our ride, but the spirit of the trip carries on. Touring Indonesia Harmoni was always about more than distance; it was about experiencing the country at ground level, meeting the people who make each region distinct, and proving that a well-prepared couple on a single motorcycle can cross an entire archipelago safely. Reaching the gateway of Aceh, with home finally within a day’s ride, felt like the natural reward for every careful decision made along the way.







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