It's been a busy few days in Bali.
After getting back from Amed Cat and El settled down into some serious planning for El's remaining time in Bali.
We spent a day going to Pura Tirta Empul, a water temple dating back to 926 AD. Located in Ubud, its waters are considered to have healing properties. The temple was a bit of a drive, but once we got there we were greeted by some stunning scenery. Set into the forest, the temple is built of ancient stone, peppered with huge holy trees. Gates riddle the compound, ornate and protective, repelling evil spirits from the holy site. Admission was $15, which is somewhat steep for anything in Bali, but it was worth it.
When we approached the pools the water from the spring collects in, we were offered a chance to bath in it. Like many holy sites in Bali, one is not permitted to enter without wearing a sarung. Fortunately a local was kind enough to lend me one and even tie it on.
The water was cold, refreshing, pure. After wetting myself down I felt a sense of spirituality I rarely encounter as a dyed-in-the-wool athiest. It was a special place. Later I snuck in and got a glimpse of the actual spring itself - at the bottom of a great pool the mud boils, roiling in dreamlike clouds as the water exits out of the earth.
A few days later Cat, El, Doug, John and I all attempt to climb Mt Batur. The drive in to the mountain is unusual - the mountain is an active volcano and thousands of years ago the mountain blew, leaving an enormous caldera surrounding the current mountain. It's so big there's a lake, several tiny villages, a large town, some meadows, farmland and even the remains of a lava flow stretched out below the mountain. To drive in you must first climb up, then descend the enormous ridge surrounding the volcano.
To actually climb the mountain itself, you must hire a guide. The hike up is fairly easy, and straightforward. It's a difficult climb, but only because of the sheer steep incline, not because of any technical skill or hazards. There is a group at the bottom the locals refer to as the Batur mafia - nothing goes up the mountain without going through them. Doug had actually managed to successfully sneak in and climb up by himself previously, but this time he was stuck with the rest of us. Initially attempting to charge us a ludicrous $30 dollars a person to "guide" us up the mountain, John managed to talk them down to $20.
Halfway up the mountain we had gone through half our water. The guide himself hadn't thought to bring any and had consumed half a bottle of our supply himself. El was forced to turn back, which was a good call as it only got steeper and more difficult from there.
At last we ascended to the top of the volcano. We were able to see for miles (or kilometers if you prefer) in every direction, and to wander up and sniff the steam vents that peppered the upper slope. It was a tremendous sense of accomplishment, but only half the battle - now we had to get down. First we paused for pictures. We had arrived at the same time as a pair of Canadians, and after John snapped a picture of me with the Canadians (who I had never met, but jovially leaned into the frame as John was taking the picture) our guide suggested that the Canadians might like a picture as well. We all assumed he meant a picture of themselves to remember the occasion, but as they pulled out their cameras he slung an arm around me and leaned in with a cheesy grin. After a moment of nonplussed expressions all around, we went with it - somewhere out there in this big wide world there's two Canadians whose names I don't know with a picture of a Balinese and an American guy they don't know either. Maybe someday the magic of Facebook will bring us together.
To cut a long story short we made it down without incident, but we were definitely feeling the hike in our bones and muscles the next couple days. It had been a great experience, a little bit of a trial, and a remarkable memory to make.
