It took me about fifteen years of living in Southeast Asia to cross the equator on the ground. Sure I’d flown over it numerous occasions heading to and from Sydney, Australia, but on the ground? Never. It wasn’t until I was returning from an uber–relaxing stint on the Togean Islands that I managed it.
The Togeans are an archipelago sitting in the Gulf of Tomini towards the north of Sulawesi. They’re approached from Ampana to the south or Gorontalo to the north. We’d spent three weeks there, with a week at a resort towards the centre, then two weeks at a far flung western spot.
Chill time at Poki Poki. Togean Islands. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
It was one of the most relaxing holidays I think I’ve ever had. I learned to dive and we fitted in an awful lot of time doing nothing whatsoever. Eventually though, it was time to leave. We got a sampan from the resort, near Bomba, back to Wakai from where we’d get an overnight ferry back to Gorontalo.
We then had an overnight stay there then a mid–morning flight to Makassar with Garuda. We would then overnight in Makassar, then Sam and the kids would return to Bali with Lionair. I would fly on to Kuala Lumpur. It all seemed simple.
We had timed our departure a little inconveniently and we were on the last ferry out before the end of Ramadan. The ferry was jam–packed and our ticketed seating worthless. With the warm weather we decided to spend the night on the upper deck.
Form an orderly queue please. Departure from Wakai. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
We set up camp. Coasting through calm waters under a starry sky, felt like the perfect way to leave the islands. It was on this evening that I crossed the equator. I woke the kids to tell them, and it would be fair to say they were not interested.
As with boarding, disembarking was chaotic. In no time though we were in the local take on tuk tuks for the ride into town, to the long–running New Melati Hotel. Gorontalo’s backpacker crash–pad, owner Alex was a trove of information and a welcoming guy. We lost the rest of the day washing the grime off, putting our feet up, and eating satay. We ate a lot of satay. The relaxation level remained high.
Hello Equator. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
The following morning, all packed and ready to go, I went to reception to sort out the bill. There was another foreigner there and she looked to be in a real state.
“Good morning,” I said, sidling up beside her, as I waited for her to finish with the receptionist. She turned, smiled, then blurted out something quite unexpected:
“I was in a plane crash last night. Our plane hit a cow.”
The woman and her family had been on the Lionair flight from Jakarta to Gorontalo via Makassar on Tuesday, 7 August 2013. Upon landing, the aircraft either hit a cow “idling” on the runway and skidded off into the grass, or skidded off the runway, then hit a cow. Both are perfectly credible as Lionair pilots do sometimes have trouble finding the runway.
That is not how you park a plane. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
While uninjured, the woman was shaken. She had only just found out they hit a cow (via media reports online). Lionair had told her and other passengers nothing at the time. She said it felt like the plane had hit something before it bumpily halted. Passengers opened the emergency exits, but crew said to stay where they were, despite a burning smell. It was probably the cow.
I asked the receptionist if the airport was open or not. It was closed; so I hoofed it over to the Garuda office in Gorontalo for clearer information. They said the airport was closed, but that we were all confirmed on a Garuda flight the next day.
I have no idea how the cow got onto the runway. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
Early on Thursday August 8 (at 3:17 am) I received a SMS from Gorontalo Garuda notifying of a flight schedule change. The flight would now depart at 13:50, with a note to call a number (that didn’t work) for more information.
We decided to be conservative and headed to the airport early. Arriving at 11:00, we were first in line and Garuda staff at the ticket desk told us the flight was “on time”. We then tried to change our original Lionair ticket for the flight onwards to Bali. Lionair staff said there would be a cancellation charge of 90%, as “there’s no problem in Makassar”. Cost: Almost 3 million rupiah. Happy days.
Travelling with Dad is the best. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
At 12:35, Gorontalo Garuda texted that our flight was cancelled. I asked Garuda staff at the ticket office what was going on, but they said they didn’t know. Other passengers were told by other staff that there would be a flight at 14:00, then at 16:00. In the end, there were no flights.
No staff mentioned that the Lionair flight hadn’t been moved and this was why we couldn’t get out. The airport reportedly lacked the equipment to move it. We heard later they tried to move it with an excavator.
Gorontalo has terrific satay. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
Killing time, I took Will for a walk to see if we could see the plane. Not only could we, we also found a hole in the fence and we wandered through for a closer look. If nothing else, at least the cows all seemed to be gone.
I called Garuda in Jakarta and spent 30 minutes trying to get advice on what we should do. They were unable to tell me if any flight was happening that day or the next. With two tired children, we gave up and headed back to town.
Back at a hotel, we spent another half an hour on the phone with Jakarta Garuda. They said we had a confirmed reservation on Friday August 9. We then purchased connecting flights (with Garuda) to Bali for Sam and the kids. Cost: Another 3 million rupiah.
Arrival at Gorontalo three weeks earlier. Little did I know how useful these can be. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
Other friends who were also hoping to fly on August 9 (with Lionair) headed to the airport earlier than us. Upon arrival, staff said the airport was closed to jets; they called the hotel to tell us. We then spent 80 minutes in total with Garuda Indonesia in Jakarta. We wanted to change our departure city from Gorontalo to Manado, a nine-hour drive away.
In the middle of this, we received an SMS from Garuda Gorontalo advising our flight was cancelled. Despite being on a confirmed flight on Friday from Makassar to Bali, Sam and the kids were now pushed to Saturday’s flight. That flight was full, so they were waitlisted.
On the first call, Garuda said they’d waive charges for the shift to Manado. In a later call, they reneged. We would have to pay an extra two million rupiah to fly from Manado. Whatever.
Hi Manado. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
We then chartered a car for the drive to Manado (that’ll be another 1.2 million rupiah thanks). Lyla was coming down with tonsillitis—it is amazing how much a small body can vomit. That drive—so much perfect.
Roughly five hours into the drive, at 18:57, we received an SMS from Garuda Gorontalo. They wanted to let us know a flight from Gorontalo to Makassar was due to depart Gorontalo at 20:10. An hour’s notice to get to the airport that was 45 minutes out of town. No, I don’t think so guys!
Gorontalo airport then called at 20:33 to tell us the flight would indeed be departing. I explained that we were on the way to Manado and to give the seats to others.
Feels like a lifetime ago. Sunset Beach, Togean Islands. Photo: Stuart McDonald.
The next morning, the gracious Garuda staff at Manado agreed to waive the change fee on the tickets. One and a half hours later we were, finally, in Makassar. Sam and the kids though, were still waitlisted on the flight back to Bali. Lyla’s tonsillitis had flared and her fever was high. The idea of sitting outside the airport for four hours hoping for a seat was not appealing. Business class seats though were available.
We called it a minor emergency; Lyla was sick, the kids were starting school on Monday. We bought the upgrade. Ka–ching—another 3 million rupiah.
We were relaxed when we left the Togean Islands—72 hours later ... not so much. That’s travel!
A different (though now offline) take on this story ran on Travelfish back in 2013.
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