96 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



SUMATRA PROBABLY HAS THE MOST REMARKABLE VEGETATION IN THE WORLD 



Here are seen the giant "elephant ears" and other characteristic plants and vines which 

 the jungle sends out to recover the land stolen from it. One plant, the tjindawanmatahara, 

 has a blossom more than three feet in diameter. 



sided with strips of split bamboo or rat- 

 tan, carelessly thatched, and appearing as 

 if the first strong wind would blow them 

 to pieces. 



The interiors were dingy, littered with 

 utensils, and filled with smoke and soot 

 from the open fires that burned in the 

 center of their bamboo floors, while dogs 

 and chickens shared with the owners what 

 little space was left. 



Sumatra's largest lake 



About two miles from Kinalang the 

 road descended in a sharp curve, plunged 

 through a narrow cut. and. emerging 

 abruptly on the sheer edge of the plateau, 

 revealed a superb view of Toba Lake, 

 over a thousand feet below. 



Toba Meer — the Sea of Toba. as it 

 is called — is the largest inland body of 

 water in the Dutch Indies. It covers an 

 area of nearly eight hundred square miles, 

 entirely hemmed in by the mountains 

 of the Boekit Barisan, at an altitude of 

 about 3,100 feet, and it averages nearly 

 1,400 feet in depth. 



We followed the uncompleted road to 



its sudden end, about two miles below, 

 and then stopped to eat our tiffin and en- 

 joy the magnificent view. The rugged 

 mountains rising precipitously from the 

 dark water, and the narrow, fjord-like 

 recesses of its winding arms, gave an 

 extraordinary beauty to the great high- 

 land lake, which from that point was not 

 unlike the Bocche di Cattaro seen from 

 the Montenegrin Pass. 



A cataract tumbled down the mountain 

 side opposite ; far below us the fantastic 

 roofs of the village of Harangaul showed 

 picturesquely above a grove of fruit trees 

 in the midst of the green paddy fields of 

 the rich ravine, while out in the lake the 

 long, narrow canoes of the Batak fisher- 

 men slipped through the blue shadows, 

 with an occasional glint of wet paddles 

 and dripping nets. 



We left reluctantly to return to where 

 the road had branched off, backing up to 

 the plateau again because the unprotected 

 trail was too narrow to enable us to turn 

 the car, then continued down the lake. 



The road had dried off rapidly and for 

 more than half the distance was vastly 



