The vast stretches of cogon grass are a sign that the past still hangs over Way Kambas. To beat back this hardy grass, the forest is being regrown. But restoring a forest is no easy task.
Ekuilibrium Konservasi: Menjaga Keseimbangan di Taman Nasional Way Kambas (TFCA Sumatera, 2017, in Indonesian)
The drizzle showed no sign of letting up. It had been falling on Way Kambas since morning. Undeterred by the wet weather, the reforestation team set off for the heart of the national park. While waiting for the rain to ease, Fajar Sandika Negara and his team took shelter in a simple roadside stall. A cup of hot coffee kept the reforestation coordinator of the ALeRT–University of Lampung Consortium company.
That day, he was heading for the Rawa Kadut reforestation site in the Toto Projo Resort of National Park Management Section (SPTN) II Bungur, Way Kambas National Park. Rawa Kadut lies in the middle of a cogon grass plain at the heart of the park. To the east of Rawa Kadut stretches lowland forest, and to the west lies a string of fragile forest. Although the land is dominated by cogon grass, green forest grows along the small streams. These strips of forest form a network like the arms of an octopus, spreading in every direction along the tributaries.
“Reforestation at Rawa Kadut will link the forest in the east with the forest on the western side of the national park.”
THE FOREST GROWS BACK. Slowly, in the Bambangan restoration area, the national park and AleRT are regrowing the forest of Way Kambas. The ecosystem recovery at Bambangan proves that, with hard work and patience, a forest can grow back.
A work camp in the field, used to guard and tend the seedlings and make sure they grow normally. Activity at the camp is also meant to keep poachers out of the national park. Unfortunately, it does not always work. Poachers still set the land on fire to hunt wildlife.
Had they not burned, the plants would now be about two meters tall, like the tree shading the motorbike. This row of trees in front of the work camp survived the 2014 fire.
The coffee was gone, down to the last drop. Despite the uncertain weather, he set off with the group on motorbikes. Their wheels churned up the muddy track. After crossing a river on a rickety raft, the group pushed through secondary forest. The scent of the forest hung in the air. The trees grew close together. Water pooled everywhere, and the path was thick with mud.
Leaving the forest, the group began cutting across a sea of cogon grass. In every direction, the feathery grass ruled the landscape. On the horizon, the forest stood in sparse lines. Gallery forest grew along the small streams. The odd tree that had survived hinted at the forest's former glory. All 360 degrees around, cogon grass owned the landscape.
From the edge of that forest, Rawa Kadut is about 10 kilometers away. “That's a straight line on the map,” Fajar said. On the ground, he travels much further because the track twists and turns. Across the open grassland, the wind blew freely with nothing to stop it. The sky stretched wide. The rain that had just fallen seemed to leave no trace. The water evaporated almost at once.
This sea of cogon grass is man-made. In the 1970s, Fajar said, a timber company managed the area. Back then, the land that is now the national park was a logging concession, from the 1970s through the 1980s.
After that, illegal loggers kept cutting down trees until the early 2000s. The logging was so relentless that no trees were left. Not even a stump remained. The forest opened up, and the cogon grass moved in.
Sadly, that was not the final blow. Irresponsible people then used the grassland as a hunting ground. They went after wildlife by setting the land on fire. The cogon grass spread even further, and forest trees found it ever harder to grow. Without anyone quite realizing it, repeated burning created a man-made landscape: a cogon grassland ecosystem.
Without human interference, the logged forests of Way Kambas could in fact have recovered on their own. With the right soil and young seedlings, nature can carry out natural succession. Forests are naturally resilient: they can bounce back.
Towering over the grassland, this tree shows that forest once covered Rawa Kadut. Bringing back the vanished forest now takes hard work.
Of the national park's 125,621 hectares, only 78,500 hectares, or 60 percent, is covered by lowland forest. The remaining 40 percent is mangrove forest, swamp forest, cogon grass and scrub. According to the National Park Office, cogon grass covers 27,000 hectares.
In the middle of this sea of grass, the ALeRT-UNILA Consortium is working to bring back the forest that has been lost. As a member of the consortium, the Auriga Foundation leads the reforestation program. That day, Fajar was going to inspect the Rawa Kadut reforestation site, which lies roughly in the grassland at the center of the national park. It is the middle of nowhere. Although it can be reached by motorbike, for the logistics of planting Rawa Kadut is remote: far from villages and from the park's management posts.
There were several reasons for choosing such a remote site. “First, we saw Rawa Kadut as strategic. Rawa Kadut is right in the middle of the national park. That means if we want to continue reforesting in the future, we can go in any direction.” In Fajar's view, success at Rawa Kadut can be carried on in every direction. The regrown forest would then become a corridor linking fragmented wildlife habitats.
Wildfires scorch everything in the grassland. Dry grass catches fire very easily. Once lit, the flames blaze up and consume every form of life.
The thinking goes like this. To the east of Rawa Kadut lies a large, relatively intact lowland forest, while to the west patches of forest are scattered about. The cogon grassland of Rawa Kadut stretches in between, separating the forests of the east from those of the west.
The hope is that one day reforestation, starting from Rawa Kadut, will join the forests in the east and the west. Forest cover on the western side is still fairly good, while on the eastern side the forest has thinned out, and also marks the boundary of the national park.
Joining the two sides of the forest would form a vegetation corridor, making it easier for wildlife to roam the national park. Second, Fajar went on, Rawa Kadut sits at the center of the park's problems, above all poaching. “The reforestation program brings more activity to the middle of the national park, which can help prevent poaching. So when there are people working at Rawa Kadut, poachers will think twice and stay away.” In short, having staff on the ground scares poachers off. Those were the non-technical considerations.
On the technical side of planting, reforestation has a few requirements: the nursery must be close to the planting area, and the seedbed
must get enough sunlight and be easy to reach. Above all these, what matters most is a source of water near the nursery. Water is the limiting factor for successful planting. Around Rawa Kadut, water comes from streams, wells and rain.
BLADES of cogon grass rippled in the tropical wind. The still-wet leaves glinted in the sunlight. Pushing through the grass, the sharp, finely haired blades slapped at the knees. Before long, they began to sting. This is no football field of soft turf. Picture it: grass growing neck-high, with razor-edged leaves and hairs that prickle the skin. After passing through gallery forest, the strips of vegetation that grow along small streams, Fajar reached the reforestation work camp. Clouds still hung in the sky.
At the work camp with its loft, Ahmad Tohari and Sutrisno were on duty that day. “A regular shift is usually two to four people for eight days. After that they go home and others take over,” Fajar explained.
Once cogon grass catches fire, the flames rage in every direction. Fire destroyed the reforestation seedlings in 2014. Gusting winds make it harder to stop the fire from spreading.
WILDFIRE is the biggest challenge in restoring the forest at Rawa Kadut. At least 75 percent of the land cover in SPTN II Bungur is cogon grass and scrub, so it is no surprise that fire often sweeps through the area. Every year, Bungur has the largest area burned in Way Kambas. It is this challenge that drains the most energy. Fajar recalled that in 2015 the team had to replant the 2014 plantings that the fire had wiped out. “In the end, we planted all over again. That wasn't just filling in the gaps,” Fajar stressed.
“As long as they don't burn, the plants can actually grow. Technically, the planting is fine. In the dry season the plants will still grow, even if they may be short of water,” Marcelius added. “Even in a drought we always bring water to the planting site. In the dry season, the water disappears completely. Even the well at the work camp dries up. Going forward, we need to dig a deep well, about 15 meters, at the reforestation site. The wells we have now are only 6 - 8 meters deep at most.”
From the planning stage, the team chose pioneer species that are relatively fire-resistant. “Puspa, sempu and sungkai are fire-resistant pioneer species. Once a plant has grown 50 centimeters to 1 meter, its roots are still strong enough even if it burns,” said Marcelius. The great fire of 2014 taught important lessons for restoring the forest at Rawa Kadut and the surrounding area.
Seedlings are collected from within the national park to make sure the species are native.
Seedlings are collected from within the national park to make sure the species are native.
The nursery is out in the field, to help the seedlings adapt and to make it easier to carry them to the planting area.
“We learned a few things. First, early detection has to be faster. That time, the fire was only detected when it was already very close to the firebreak. Second, after a fire is put out, it has to be checked again to make sure the embers are really out,” Fajar explained. Fire prevention has been stepped up with regular patrols alongside the forest police. “We patrol more and more regularly. Every month there can be two or three patrols.”
There are three patrol routes for protection and security operations. “But that time the fire was huge and the wind was strong. The situation was out of control. On top of that, the fire broke out at night, which made it even harder to mobilize people,” Fajar said.
This English version was translated from the original Indonesian text using AI.
Way Kambas, Drowning in Cogon Grass
Putting Out Fires to Protect the Puspa
Restoring the Way Kambas ecosystem into a safe and comfortable habitat for local wildlife, such as elephants, tigers and rhinos.
