“It is really cold and really windy and everything you have is going to be wet because it rains everyday. Bring gloves. Bring plastic bags. There is a 1000 meter drop on either side. Its dark. You cannot see anything. Bring a flashlight. I was shaking so much, I actually thought I was going to die.” Those were the last words we heard before we were hopping into the back of a truck to begin our three day trek up the second largest volcano in Indonesia.
I had zero confidence left.
Day One was hard. We started hiking around 9am and we didn’t stop, except for lunch (and the occassional few minute catch-our-breath break), until 5pm. We were in the jungle and constantly going up. The first couple of hours, I thought I was melting; sweat was dripping off my body at such a rapid pace, I looked like I had just gone for a swim in the sea, fully clothed.
Come lunch time, everything started to spiral downhill. The air had started to cool off, fog was creeping up on us, we couldn’t see farther than 15 feet in any direction, and as soon as we sat down to wait for lunch, it started to down pour. The rain was cold and hard and fast. There was one little shelter for the seven of us to escape too, however, three other groups were already huddled underneath. An hour later, the rain still hadn’t stopped and we were about finished eating. We suited up and continued on the never ending climb to Base Camp Two. It was steep and I lost my footing every few minutes because it was muddy and slippery. The raincoat I borrowed from the village was soaked and not at all waterproof. Nothing was going as it should have. Periodically, the rain eased up, but it never lasted. I was in a constant state of struggling to stay warm, while simultaneously trying to not slip down the side of the volcano. Position Three was our last break before getting to camp. Bihan, our guide, said we were less than two hours away. Which, would have been great, if the incline hadn’t turned into a 45 degree angle. My lungs were burning, I felt like my legs were cement, and the rain started coming down like it had a point to prove. It was hard.
We arrived at base camp a little after 5pm. Our porters (also known as the super human men that carry all our food and camping equipment up the very same path that we can barely make it up with small backpacks) hadn’t made it yet. Bihan said not to worry, they should be right behind us.
An hour later, we still had no porters, no camping equipment, no food, no water, and the rain was coming down even harder than before. Everything was awful. No one was happy. We were drenched and hungry and cold and regretting coming up on the trek in the first place. One porter showed up right before it turned really dark. He had one tent. At 7pm, all seven of us climbed into the single, barely big enough for two people, tent. My hands were blue. I couldn’t feel my fingers. Talk of climbing down the volcano in the morning and giving up occurred - the summit was not worth the amount of pain and discomfort we were in.
By 7:30, all of our porters made it. We each climbed into our own little homes for the evening. Jess and I changed into dry, warm clothes and instantly felt significantly happier. The day was absolute shit, but we had a sliver of hope that tomorrow would be better.
On the morning of Day Two, we awoke to breakfast in bed and a stunning view. The sky had cleared and we could see the hillside; it was covered in vibrant layers of green grass and scattered trees. To our right, the sun was coming up over the mountain that left the clouds glowing in a pretty shade of pink. Everything about that morning was refreshing. It took less than a few seconds for Jess and I to look at one another and, with giant, overly excited smiles, nod in agreement about our decision to trek up the volcano.
Day Two of hiking started shortly after breakfast and we knew what to expect: two hours down, three hours up. Our easy day. It only took about ten minutes of walking before I was left in disbelief once again. A football fields length away from where we slept, situated right there in the middle of Rinjani, was the most spectacularly blue lake. What was even more unbelievable, was the smaller volcano in the center. Here I was, 2600 meters abover sea level on the side of a volcano, staring at a smaller volcano, with a body of water surrounding it. I cannot even begin to explain what I was feeling… amazed? Surprised? Shock? Confused? Speechless? Don’t get me wrong, I saw pictures online, I knew the lake and tiny volcano were there, but actually SEEING it? Standing right there, on the edge and taking it all in - it blew me away. I cannot believe something so breathtaking exists and everyone in the world doesn’t know about it.
Everyone took pictures, gawked for awhile more, and we carried on down the mountain to go swimming in the lake. Well, that was the plan. The water was a bit cold and there was just enough clouds passing in front of the sun to make fully submerging ourselves into the lake a little unappealing - especially after the night before. After about twenty minutes of laying around and taking in the beauty, Bihan said it was time for the hot springs - music to my ears.
We walked around the lake and over a hill and we came upon a small waterfall. I had no idea there WAS a waterfall to begin with, so it was a nice surprise. Come to find out, this cute little waterfall was actually the hot springs. Everyone was thrilled. The waterfall itself was cold water, but at the base of it, hot water was bubbling out of the earth. There were all these boulders situated in just the right way that created a bunch of varying temperatured pools. After climbing around for a bit and testing out each pool, I found the perfect place. It was hot like a jacuzzi, but not very deep; the cool breeze passing through the little canyon did the perfect job of keeping me comfortable. We laid around resting our achey muscles for at least an hour. Sadly, Bihan said we had to move on. We got our hiking clothes back on, and walked for a few minutes to the place where we were having lunch.
The food that our porters made for us every meal was easily the best food I have had in Indonesia thus far. I am being serious when I say they are super human - much stronger of a breed than the rest of us commoners. We had curry and rice and, of course, it was incredible. We were dreading the next few hours because we knew that the last part of our day was going to be much more difficult than the first part.
The fog came back during lunch and as we climbed, it became hard to tell if it was fog surrounding us, or if we were right in the middle of the clouds. Either way, the visibility went back down to nearly zero. The entire “three hours up” portion of our day was almost entirely vertical. It was legitimate bouldering straight up the side of the mountain. I don’t think “trail” would be the appropriate way to describe the route we were on; it is more accurate to say we were following the largest rocks, with the least amount of foliage on them. Regardless, we kept on climbing. In every direction, the clouds were hugging the ridges and rocks. Looking up to see how far we were from the top was pointless - all we saw was white mist.
What felt like hours and hours later, we finally made it to the next base camp. Thankfully, it hadn’t rained all day, our porters were already there setting up our tents, and there was a nice little spot for us to sit down and relax until dinner. It was an early night; we were waking up at 2am to trek the summit for sunrise.
After dinner, as Jess and I got comfortable in our sleeping bags, anxiety took over my body. I played through a million scenarios in my head of the following morning and none of them were good. The things the man said to us before we started kept rolling through my brain:
“Bring gloves.”
I definitely did not have gloves.
“Everything you have is going to be wet.”
My only warm shirt was still fairly wet from Day One.
“You cannot see anything. Bring a flashlight.”
I rented one from a guesthouse on the first morning… but what if the batteries died?
“There is a 1000 meter drop on either side.”
Great. My flashlight will die. I won’t see where I am going. Then I will fall off the side of the volcano and die just like my flashlight.
My confidence levels were below zero.
It took a lot of concentration to focus, breathe, and know that I was going to be okay. I was terrified of the unknown. All I knew of the summit was what Bihan told us: an hour of hard climbing, 45 minutes of easier walking, and then an hour of “two steps up, one step down.”
Sleep came and passed much too quickly. We were greeted by our porters in the early morning hours with crackers and hot tea. It was time to get ready for our last trek up. I knew it was supposed to be really cold, so I layered up: one tank top, two shirts, one flannel, one raincoat, one pair of thick pants, two pairs of socks on my feetsies, and two pairs of socks for my hands (I didn’t have gloves -I got creative…). I grabbed my flashlight and I joined the rest of my group outside. It was dark. Really, really dark. The sky was incredible, however. I have never seen so many stars in my life and I probably will never be that close to them ever again.
Once everyone in our group was ready, we headed out. We looked like a line of silent soldiers, marching to our final battle. No one was saying anything - all you could hear was labored breathing and an occassional profanity fly out as someone’s mouth as they lost their footing. At some point, the group was completely split up. Jess and I kept climbing on, never leaving one anothers side. It was probably around 4am when I realized that my flashlight was not doing me any favors. I turned around to look at Jess’s light - it was doing just as poorly as mine was, if not worse. We were completely on our own. On a volcano. With two dead flashlights. In absolute darkness. All I could think about was the 1000 meter drop on either side; I did not want to accidentally find the edges. My anxiety level started to rise and I began to get worried that we weren’t going to make it to the top.
I remembered that I had packed my phone in my backpack to take pictures at the summit. I pulled that out, turned on my flash, and started recording a video so the flash would stay on and light up our path. Surprisingly, it was a significantly better light source than my flashlight had been. I figured that was the only way we were going to be able to continue up. It was not easy climbing with a phone in my hand. Nor was it easy using my phone as a light source for the both of us. To make life even more thrilling, the video storage capped off every four minutes and fifty seconds. I had to stop each time, delete the video, and start recording again.
At around 5am, we got to the last stretch of the climb. The most difficult part. It was nothing but volcanic ash and rocks. Every two steps up we took, we slid a step down. Using your hands and knees was almost necessary. Every time we stopped to restart the flashlight, my legs got more and more stiff. My knees were aching from three days of climbing. My hips were sore. My back hurt. My legs didn’t know how to be legs anymore. But we were SO CLOSE. Jess was losing motivation. I had to keep getting aggressive with her to keep moving. I felt bad, but I was making it to the top and I was not going go leave her, so she was making it to the top whether she liked it or not. My phone ended up dying. For about twenty minutes we were climbing in the complete dark.
The sun started rising aound 5:30ish. It was still below the clouds, but it was high enough that we were able to see where we were going. When we were about ten minutes from the top, we sat down to take a breathing break. I took a minute to look around me. I didn’t know what to think. It was at that moment, that I realized how far we had come. To my left, I could see the little volcano and the lake surrounding it. It looked much smaller than it had the morning before when we were standing in the lake. To my right, for as far as I could see, was clouds. Beautiful, white clouds that were being lit up in soft oranges and pinks by the rising sun. I can’t explain what I was feeling. Tears came to my eyes. It was unbelievable. I looked at Jess and I told her we had to start moving again. We were almost there.
The summit was even better that I could have ever imagined. Whatever I was feeling a few minutes earlier was miniscule to how I was feeling at the very top. Everything hurt. But it didn’t matter. It was absolutely worth every second of the hell we had gone through th last three days. To stand there and look out over the horizon, to be that high above the clouds, to see Bali and the Gili islands across the sea, to realize that I just watched sunrise from the top of the second largest volcano in Indonesia - every single moment of hell and frustration was worth it.
We made it to the summit of Rinjani.
3,726 meters.
12,224 feet.
2.3 miles.
40 football fields.
