Indonesian Trekking Adventures

Mount Rinjani sits shrouded by heavy clouds in the distance. I sit, warm and dry, on nearby Gili Air anxiously awaiting a glimpse of the peak. It remains elusive. I decide to make my way to the mountain. April 1 marks the opening of the trails. By calendar terms, wet season is officially over; however, it is unofficially sticking around.

Hours into the climb, the trekking path bears resemblance to a riverbed, my shoes taking another sip with each step. We take shelter at a covered rest stop and watch hard rain fall for hours before we are able to move on again. My guide, Tarid, drapes a plastic tarp over my head, and we continue the climb to the first night’s campsite. We arrive wet, weathered and wondering if turning back is a better option.

We shed our wet shoes and socks and warm our feet by the fire as our guide prepares Nasi Goreng. The following morning, we awake to clear skies and trek two hours to watch the sunrise. Mount Rinjani sits majestically in front of us, the Gili Islands dot the coastline to our right, and Lombok sprawls out to the left. The active volcano, Barujari, sits in a crater lake of blue and sulfur yellow water smoking away, its black lava base jutting into the lake like a little old lady’s fingers.

A day later, we begin the trek to Rinjani’s summit in darkness, watching as the lava of Barujari illuminates the dark lake pit below to a fiery red. Fine black powder seeps into our shoes as we attempt to scale the giant sand dune.

The repetitive step and slide of our footsteps is interrupted by a deafening clap of thunder. It halts our marching pattern. Tarid calls out for us to look up, shouting “Bagus, Bagus!” (Good!) We watch in awe as Barujari powerfully blasts a mass of rock and smoke into the atmosphere. A heavy gray cumulus cloud of smoke hangs in the air as we continue our ascent. Our weariness overcome with enthusiasm, we reach Rinjani’s peak. We are standing at the highest point in Lombok as we look down on the unfolding of a new day.

We then begin the descent in the same conditions as day one, the cold rain tapping the tarp that has made its home on my shoulders. Rolling green rice paddies come into view and disappear into the ocean ahead. Behind us, Rinjani’s peak is again shrouded in clouds. A world that had invited us in just hours before is now closed. I catch Tarid’s smile out of the corner of my eye. He looks at me and says, “Super, bloody, mega bagus.” I could not agree more.