Put Your Boots On

The Jakarta Post | Wed, 01/23/2008 10:10 AM

Get ready to climb to new heights. Andrew Whitmarsh takes you along every step of the way.

Congratulations, you have decided to climb the active and spectacularly gorgeous Gunung Rinjani in Lombok, the second highest volcano in Indonesia (if you conveniently ignore Papua). To begin your adventure you will pitch up at the tiny town of Senaru which lies on the northernmost slopes of the mountain.

Check into one of the many tiny lodgings nearby and ask the caretaker how to go about climbing. I hired a porter for the haggled price of Rp 80,000 per day plus cigarettes and food.

As you prepare for bed you will notice the prowling monkeys outside your room. They are not happy, fun, circus monkeys. They want to eat you. Keep a constant eye on them and lock your door tightly. In the middle of the night they attacked my room in force, hanging on the barred windows and pounding on the door. I slept little. You will not sleep at all.

Hit the Trail
Daybreak comes with pineapple pancakes and the arrival of your thin, chain-smoking, strong-as-an-ox porter – a father of five or ten children who’s been up the mountain a hundred times. A motorcycle man will whisk you to the trailhead where you’ll pay a fee and off you’ll go.

The trail is steep but in good condition. Large trees tower overhead and monkeys chatter and raise hell. It will take you many hours to reach the crater rim and when you finally do, you’ll stagger at the sight and almost fall in. It’s incredible and if it were edible you would gorge yourself. You will be at 2,641 meters.

Next is one of the tricky and potentially deadly parts. Your porter will lead you down a very long and very steep trail, into the heart of the volcano. The inner crater walls are rugged, drop hundreds of feet vertically to a shimmering lake and hold a precarious grip on the rocks and boulders embedded in them.

These stone-age bowling balls are ripe and ready to bust loose on your head, especially if it’s been raining lately. You’ll feel like a rock climbing superstar once you reach the water’s edge.

If you are doing this in the rainy season as I did, you will find the trail has disappeared into the lake. You’ll need to slog through the water, eventually reaching a partially underwater bridge. It looks uncannily like a beaver’s dam and is mildly frightening as it holds a very deep lake on one side and plummeting waterfalls on the other. If you slip, it’s your choice which way to fall.

Setting up Camp
You’ll pitch your tent on the lakeshore, exhausted from 10 hours of hiking. I was the only Westerner there, surrounded by a multitude of village men fishing before hauling their load back down the mountain. Most stay the night. My porter Ari warned me that they might try to rob me after dark. You should hope that you don’t suffer a similar warning as it makes for a sleepless night.

In the morning you can hike down and soak your feet in the hot springs or just hit the trail. It starts as a nice stroll up verdant, grassy slopes. You will be struck over and over by the overwhelming beauty. You will get emotional and cry; don’t be ashamed of this, unless you’re a guy.

The trail winds brutally upwards, eventually getting you to camp at 2,700 meters. It will be cold, it will be windy and your porter, if anything like mine was, will be woefully unprepared. If you are a compassionate person you will loan him an extra jacket, your spare headlamp and a chocolate bar. If you’re not, you’ll let him suffer.

Reach the Summit
Every person’s summit climb is different. I woke at 3 a.m. but Ari refused to budge. It was dark but clear – very cold and blustery. I had only a vague idea of how to reach the peak as I set off. The initial forty-five minutes was solid, straight forward climbing but then I reached the clouds. They were thicker than bubur ayam and visibility was reduced to mere inches. It began to rain and I was barely better than blind. My glasses were covered in condensation and my headlamp began to flicker.

With the headlamp on, all I could see was fog. With the headlamp off, all I could see wasthe dark, foreboding outline of the ridge to my right. To the left, pitch black. I was terrified of falling off the plummeting ridge which the invisible trail theoretically followed. I had no choice but to get down on my hands and knees and feel my way along. With ripping winds pushing at me and my hands spread in preparedness I exhaustedly inched my way along.

By 5:30 a.m. I finally escaped the clouds and could see the summit. I staggered up the scree strewn trail and reached the pinnacle at 6 a.m. The final five meters were across a narrow bridge of rock which finished at a small slab that hung over black nothingness. I yelped a barely audible ‘summit’ to announce my arrival and then huddled against the gusting wind and freezing cold to await sunrise at 3,726 meters. Minutes later I was wrapped in clouds and streaking lightning bolts. I’d had enough and quickly scrambled down, turning back occasionally to see the summit get pummeled in a storm.

Go Home By the time you return to your camp the weather will be perfect and your views magical. Your porter should be cooking pancakes and cradling a cup of coffee for you. Your hike off the mountain will be five to six hours of steep downhill and then crossing the grassy plains to Sembalun Lawang, the village at which your adventure shall finish – at least for the time being.

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