Last day and Final Thoughts.

Thursday was my final day on Lombok, and I would fly to Jakarta the following day. I was still a little sore and tired from the trek, so I had no intentions of doing anything too grand. Instead, I enjoyed the downtime and spent most of the day playing in the waves, which were considerably powerful. I had considered a trip to nearby Gili Islands, but the water was too choppy to get transport. It rained most of the morning anyway, but cleared up in the afternoon. When I wasn't in the water, I spent my time on the strip having snacks and hanging out with the locals. There was a fine pub I ended up at where a certain local and I played pool for a good portion of the day.

This pool table was unlike any that I had played on before. It had the dimensions of a normal pool table and and the usual eight-ball rack. However, the balls were the size of snooker balls (for those who don't know snooker, the balls are slightly smaller and require more precision) and the pockets were rounded like a snooker tables. This means that any shot not hit dead solid perfect at the right speed would rattle out of the pocket. The table was very fast and it made for a very fun game. After a couple of hours of playing and chatting with my Indonesian friend I set back towards the resort.

There was a group of Australians staying in the bungalow next door and I talked to them on and off during the day. These gentlemen traveled together several times a year in search for good surf, and the father of one of them had been to Lombok every year for some time. That evening his son and his friends went down to the beach with me to kick around with some locals that lived on the beach. These guys kicked every evening, and enthusiastically let us play with them. We kicked until sunset and afterwards I hung out with the Aussies and continued to knock the ball around. I talked to one of them, named Doug, over a beer for a while and he told me all about his life in Sydney. Doug is a plumbing technician who works hard but plays harder. He told me that when he is not working he's surfing and hanging out with his friends. Given the opportunity to travel more than a few times a year, he gets together with friends and family and plans trips to other places to surf. What I found really interesting about Doug and his friends was their outlook on life. Doug told me how he doesn't take his life for granted at all and is grateful every day that he was lucky enough to be born where he was. Here was a guy who is really happy with his life and seems to enjoy every day. I've always thought the surfing sub-culture is cool, but this made me want to move to a beach and become part of it.

Doug left to join his friends for dinner and I opted to hang out on the beach. I sat in the sand for hours that evening, burying my sore feet, listening to the waves, and looking at the stars. At several points locals selling things approached me. I'd tell them that I wasn't interested in buying anything there but they were welcome to chat. Several times a person or two or at one time five sat down with me and talked about their island, country, politics, religion, or whatever. They all struck me as open-minded and easy going, and their was never an inflammatory topic that arose. I sat in the same spot for two hours and never got bored. After a while I cleaned up and went back to the strip where I watched an Arsenal game and drank a few pints.

The following morning I checked out and made my way to the airport. I had a seven hour layover in Jakarta that I wasn't exactly looking forward to, but had a good book to read and knew of a nice cheap spa where I could hang out and rest. I read George Orwell's "Down and Out in London and Paris" that day, which made me hungry with the main character working the hobo circuit in search for food. That was the third Orwell book I've read in the last year, and I'd highly recommend any of them (I also read Animal Farm and 1984). I finally boarded the plane at 9:30 pm and would arrive in freezing cold Seoul at 6:30am (There's a two-hour time difference.).

One thing I love about traveling alone is that it affords me time to reflect and think about the future. Indonesia was a very fitting end to an up and down 2007. On the mountain I thought about what direction I wanted to take when I got back and two things consistently popped into my head: soccer and writing. Going into 2008 I decided that these were the two things that give me the most satisfaction and two things that come naturally to me. I felt a renewal when I came back and have since set my energies to these two pursuits. Another key feeling I gathered on the trip was a re-newed faith in humanity. Through all my travels, I've found that people and cultures are generally good when you give them a chance. The people I encountered over this trip didn't discriminate against me because of my background and showed no hostility. I hope that in 2008 more of the world would act accordingly and try to appreciate our differences and live in harmony. Happy new year to everybody and peace towards mankind.

Last day on the mountain.

After a night of bitter cold and tumultuous wind, the weather broke for the better in the morning. I had been bundled up freezing all night in my sleeping bag and was afraid to get out in the morning. When I walked outside, however, the air felt cool, but quite bearable. This first picture is the view from the top, which is distorted by the clouds. This is a cliff that overlooks the entire crater (If you look closely you can barely see the lake). I have no doubt that the view is quite astonishing on a clear day, but there was no luck this time around... being the monsoon season and all. I had a breakfast of fresh fruit and banana pancakes, complete with the aforementioned stout coffee.
After breakfast I put on a wet outfit, which was miserable. I had dry socks, but it didn't matter since my boots were soaked. There was no point in putting on dry clothes, as they would only be soaked within an hour. Even when it wasn't raining, we were walking through dense brush and trees that shed cool water as we walked through them. The weather had changed our plans that day. Since we couldn't see the summit and there was heavier rain coming, the guide said we should hike back down rather than stay the extra day. Having no dry anything and miserably wet feet, I didn't object very strongly.


The hike on the third day proved to be much easier than the first two. Funny how going down a mountain is so much easier than going up. The scenery was pleasant and the air felt refreshing and clean. Of course, it promptly started raining and the pancho came out once again, making it difficult again to get pictures. I was looking forward to going back to the hotel and drying up, but also was cherishing the nice hike. We would hike for 3 1/2 hours and eat lunch, then another 2 after that to the base, where a ride would be waiting to take us back to Sengigi.

Here is a picture of a very deep gorge just by the shelter where I had my last lunch on the mountain. We walked over many of these that day. The picture does not give a perspective of how deep this is. I was throwing rocks into this and couldn't hear them hit the bottom, and it was dead quiet in this spot. I could see how dangerous it could be to wander the mountain without a guide. There are plenty of ledges where one could step off and kill themselves, which has happened. After a lunch of fried noodles with eggs (pictured in "Food for thought") we set out on the final leg of our great hike. We walked non-stop until we reached the base, passing many more gorges and rivers, along with a field of oxen and villagers. We reached the base around 4:00, and took a bus back to Sengigi.

The drive was very scenic and took a good two hours. My favorite part of the drive was the presence of monkeys on the roadside. I had expected to see more on the mountain (I only saw one), so I was relieved to see these critters just hanging out on the side of the road. I must have seen fifty or so on the way back. Since I missed a day on the mountain the trekking company put me up in the same hotel. I arrived there a little before seven and put on my remaining dry clothes. Apart from having a meal on the strip and a couple of beers, I did very little that evening. My body was fairly sore and I was looking forward to a full day of relaxing on the beach. That night I slept very well in my comfortable, dry bungalow.

Trip to the top

After the long morning walk the guide and I took a well-deserved break on the lake. It had stopped raining by this point, but a fine mist remained in the air. We had gotten a head start over the porters, who stayed behind to pack up the camp. I felt a little sheepish being coddled by the porters. Along with the guide they did all of the cooking, cleaning, pitching tents, and so forth. All I had to do was walk. That was a chore in itself and after the hard morning hike I was ready for a rest. The egg and cheese sandwich I had for breakfast had tied me over, which was good since the porters were a good hour behind us and had all the food.
Waiting for the porters allowed plenty of time to bathe in the hot springs, which were a short walk from the shelter on the lake. These springs come from the volcanic core and are quite hot and loaded with minerals. The locals say they have healing powers, and I could see why. The water spews out of the cliff and into a large pool where pipes run the water into three seperate smaller pools which were not as hot. The hot mineral water felt great after walking in the cold rain all morning, and the cool mist was perfect for keeping me from over-heating. The pools were in a valley with a river, and the mist and clouds gave the area a mystical quality.

After a long soak, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated we made our way back to the shelter just as the guides arrived. We had our usual delicious lunch and I drank two cups of black, stout, grainy coffee. It was crucial to gather strength at this point, as the rest of the afternoon would be the most difficult walk yet. I was able to get some shots of the lake from higher up, but the afternoon would prove to be as difficult for taking pictures as any other time. We would reach the top by early evening and camp near the summit. The plan was to wake up early the next morning and hike to the summit to watch the sunrise.


Unfortunately, nature had other plans. It began raining again shortly after lunch, and the camera went into the bag shortly after this last photo was taken. We walked over many deep gorges such as this one. It's difficult to gage the depth in this photo, but it was quite deep and very long. There's something really cool about crossing these bridges. As it got wetter that afternoon the incline became steeper and rockier. This would be the hardest work of the trek. We walked steeply upwards for three hours or so. Again and again I marveled at how the porters managed to make this trip with all of the baggage on their shoulders. It's a very dangerous profession and I gained a deep respect for what they do. As we got above 10,000 feet the temperature dropped considerably. The wind that had disappeared in the crater was back in full force. Despite being soaked, I was okay as long as I kept moving. For this we didn't take any more breaks and moved upward full steam.

By the time we reached the top I was completely worn out. My knees ached from propelling myself up the steep slope with the heavy backpack. When I reached the top, there was absolutely nothing to block the cold wind. My clothes were wet and I could do nothing but freeze until the porters arrived. I had one dry outfit and wasn't about to get that wet. Had I done that I'd have froze to death that night. The entire afternoon I was looking forward to getting underneath shelter next to a warm fire, as we had the day before. It was shocking to realize when we reached the top that there was no shelter whatsoever. I found out the next day that seven people had died that year of hypothermia at the top. When the porters finally arrived and set up camp I was shivering cold. The rain would not relent until the morning, and our planned sunrise was impossible because of the cold, wind, clouds, and rain. When my tent was finally pitched I put on my remaining dry clothes and bundled up under the sleeping bag. I wouldn't leave the tent the rest of the night. The wind and rain grew more intense that night and keeping warm was a struggle, even with the cocoon-like sleeping bag made for these kind of conditions. Despite the conditions, I managed to sleep that evening out of sheer exhaustion. It was a strange feeling being in that tent, freezing, and knowing that there was absolutely no way out. It's not as if I could say: "Okay, I give up. Let's go back to the hotel." It was Christmas night and I was stuck on top of the mountain, held hostage in my tent by the hostile conditions. Still, it was perhaps the best Christmas ever.

Food for thought.

There were so many memorable things about the trek, but the thing that really stood out was the food. The locals have got this down absolutely. To the left is Suhn cooking what would be my first lunch. The porters carry a stockpile of fruits, vegetables, eggs, rice, noodles, spices, and cookware. Whenever we stopped to eat my guide would cook an immaculate feast while the porters brewed coffee, tea, and cooked rice. When it came to eating, I wasn't roughing it in the slightest. As a matter of fact, the best food I had over the course of my vacation I had on the mountain.

Every dish was different, but each one was loaded with fresh vegetables and there would be some fresh fruit to snack on as well. Hours of walking up steep slopes really rouse the appetite, and the food was as satisfying as can be. I was so pleased when we stopped the first time and the porter offered me coffee. This coffee was like none other I had. Coffee snobs might turn their noses up at this, but living in Korea has changed my standards when it comes to coffee. Every time we stopped I was served a piping hot cup of the stoutest coffee the world has seen. It was thick, bitter, and grainy, with the consistency and look of used motor oil--maybe blacker. It might sound gross, but wow it tasted great after hiking in the cold. I savored every cup, and drank them down to the thick residue at the bottom of the cup.
Breakfast each morning was also a treat. There were egg, tomato, and cheese sandwiches, fried eggs, and my personal favorite banana pancakes. For lunch and dinner I would enjoy vegetable fried rice, rice with veggies in a satay sauce, fried noodles, noodle soup with vegetables, and chicken curry among other things. Not only was the food delicious, but the guide took special care in the presentation. He tediously chopped each vegetable into perfectly uniform sizes and even went to lengths to cut the carrots into stars, as he did the pineapples. Look at this last picture. Imagine hiking for four hours in the rain and sitting down to this meal with a hot, stout cup of coffee. I'd never eaten as well as I did on this trek. It wasn't just our group either. Everyone else I saw were eating in the same fashion. When it comes to camping, the Indonesians are world class in the cooking department.

Now it starts to get a little rough.

After sleeping through the night having dreams of a clear day of trekking, we ate breakfast and made our way up the mountain. This ascent would prove to be much steeper and challenging than the previous afternoon's. After breakfast it promptly started raining, which didn't really matter since my clothes were still wet anyway. We were getting higher up and the temperature was dropping. The most severe of the conditions was the intense wind, which blew the rain sideways where I was constantly pelted in the face. Yes I wore a pancho, but it served only to keep my bag relatively dry. My clothes, through mix of sweat from laboring steeply uphill with a twenty pound backpack and the constant barrage of rain, were already soaked at this point. We walked over a series of hills like this, with seemingly no end. Every time I'd think the next hill was the peak, there would be another one farther away and higher up, invisible until I reached the ridge. The wind continued to howl and we dared not stop and rest because we'd freeze if we quit moving.
When we finally reached the ridge, we descended down toward the crater lake. The wind ceased immediately as we descended into the crater, and there was a light mist. Clear days grant a spectacular vantage of the lake with the new volcanic cone, but it was barely visible on this day. Still I didn't mind as the rain made it more challenging and the mist gave the crater a mysterious air. The pictures don't do justice to what was truly breathtaking in person. The path down went down gradually for the most part, as we zig-zagged our way down this very steep cliff. The path was easy enough to navigate, but I took caution to watch my step.

There were times when we had to use ropes or roots to climb straight down. This was particularly treacherous as the rocks were wet and I had a cumbersome pancho. I took extra care to make sure I didn't snag anything on the rocks. Often throughout the course of this day I marveled at the way the porters make this trek every week carrying 50+ pounds of supplies. As if that isn't amazing enough, they do it wearing flip-flops. Both porters and the guide wore beach sandals this entire trip. I don't know how they do it. It struck me as funny the way Koreans get decked out in serious mountaineering gear to walk up glorified hills with clear and easy paths (think stairs) while the Indonesians casually lope up and down this mountain in t-shirts, shorts, and sandals.
Pictured on the left is the crater lake shrouded in mist and clouds. The air was much warmer in the crater and the mist made the air very favorable. It was a welcome change from the harsh freezing wind and charging rain on the other side of the rim. We had been walking for about three hours at this point and were ready for a rest. We descended another half an hour to the base of the lake and walked half way around the lake to the shelter area, where we would have a well-deserved lunch. I have to say that it was difficult to get many pictures since it was raining and I often stored the camera in the backpack to keep it dry. This would happen a lot in the next day and a half.
Here we have a picture of the new volcanic cone coming out of the lake. This cone last erupted in 2004. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately, it didn't erupt while I was there. The morning had been quite difficult and the break was needed. The second half of the day would be even more difficult, as we went to the peak. Before I describe the rest of the day, I should mention that this day was Christmas. I had completely forgotten about that until my guide said something. The second leg will be coming your way soon. Before that, I will digress in the next entry and discuss a topic that hasn't gotten its proper coverage and was of great significance. Stay tuned.

Day One of the Trek

On Monday morning on December 24th, my guide walked into the resort lobby at precisely 6am. I was ready to go and got into the bus to embark on our journey through the volcano. The drive to the entrance point took two hours and I slept through most of it, missing out on the scenery but needing to gather energy. Fortuitously, there were no other trekkers registered this week and it would be only me, two porters, and a guide by the name of Suhn. The porters carried all of the equipment in large baskets on the ends of a bamboo pole. The first leg of the trek would involve walking through the dense tropical forest.

We spent the first three hours of the morning walking through the jungle where we were surrounded by exotic trees and lush vegetation. The path was quite narrow at times, but the walk was easy enough. I had wanted to take this trek to give myself the opportunity to clear my mind. I had remembered the euphoria I'd experienced in Thailand when I trekked down the coast and had completely cleared my head of everything except the coast. Living in a noisy and polluted city, I relish the opportunities to get away and experience quiet time with nature.

I should mention at this point that I was taking a chance with this trip in that December is monsoon season in this area. I was hoping the sky would open up for this occasion, but also relishing the challenge of climbing the mountain when it's the most difficult. The morning was relatively calm and the dense canopy of branches and leaves kept the light rain off my head. However, just before lunch it really started coming down and I got completely soaked before I managed to put my pancho on. When we got to the first shelter, the temperature had already begun to drop and the wind was picking up. I put on some dry clothes and had lunch. I will go into more detail on the meals in a later post--the food is worth its own entry.

Luckily it stopped raining after lunch, but this didn't last long. My second dry outfit got completely soaked, which would be a common theme the next couple of days. The path got significantly steeper on the second leg and we walked for about 4 hours until we came to the campsite. There were some other campers here who were doing the abbreviated two day/one night trek. I was pretty worn out by the time we set up camp and was eager to eat dinner. I spent the in-between time chatting with an Indonesian family that were there on holiday. I found it more interesting interacting with them and the other guides than the other tourists, who were a bit loud. The people on the mountain were just as friendly as the locals, even though they were selling nothing. I put on my last dry pair of pants and hung my wet clothes to dry in the shelter. The air was so moist there was little hope they would dry, but it wouldn't matter since they were bound to get wet again anyway. This picture is the view from in front of my tent. After the long day I went to bed early and tried to ignore the foreigners singing Christmas carols loudly. If it weren't for them, I'd have completely forgotten it was Christmas eve. I went to sleep knowing that the next day would be colder, steeper, and windier, but the guide didn't think it would rain.

Sengigi Beach and the Nice Locals

I arrived at the island at 2:00 Sunday afternoon. The guide that I had booked for the trek picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at the Dharmarie Resort on Sengigi Beach. This place was prettier than expected and I was very pleased with the room. Pictured on the left is the bungalow I stayed in that evening. The guide told me he would be at the hotel to pick me up at 6am sharp the next morning. I didn't feel like doing much given this and took it fairly easy the first night.



In front of my bungalow was a beautifully manacured garden area with palm trees and soft grass. This area led directly to the beach, which was nearly empty. Sengigi is a beautiful tourist area without too many tourists. It proved to be a nice mix and the local people were very friendly and accommodating. After spending some time lazing on the beach, I took to the strip to stroll and find a restaurant and possibly a beer. It was reminiscent of Cambodia the way the locals feed off tourism and try to sell anything. I found the people here to be a bit aggressive, but not nearly as overwhelming as the Cambodians. Many of them, like many Thai people I chatted with in Phuket, were happy just to talk when I told them I wasn't interested in buying anything. For instance, I had a watch salesman who asked if he could sit down and join me when I was in a cafe having yellow curry and a beer. I told him that I wasn't buying a watch and he said that he just likes speaking English and chatting with foreigners. Turns out he had no hidden agenda and he talked freely about his life on the island and family. I told him about Korea and he was very impressed saying that many Indonesians try to make it to Korea because the money is very good for them. However, it's difficult to raise the money to pay for the travel and visas. One thing I didn't get a sense of with this gentleman, as well as with every other person I talked to, was a sense of anti-Americanism. They seem to really embrace certain aspects of our culture and simply don't like our insane war-mongering president (my words, not theirs). I heard many times over the week how these nice people hate war and want to live in peace with all religions and cultures. I said amen to that. I talked to Muslims, Christians and Hindus alike all week and they all seemed genuinely pleased that an American took an interest in their culture. On a side note, I wish I would have taken a picture of the very nice watch-salesman.
The rest of the evening I hung out on the strip for a little while (didn't have my camera with me) and had a couple of beers and watched a soccer game at a pub. I returned a little after dark and had a midnight swim with some of the locals. The ocean was very powerful and I never strayed out very far. I really enjoyed the sensation of the undertow pulling me out and the waves crashing me back into the shore. My underpants didn't appreciate this so much as they became filled with sand--OUCH! After a swim I was tired and ready to go to bed. I had an appointment early the next morning with my destiny--the volcano--and wanted to be well-rested.

First thoughts on Indonesia

First things first. I'd like to wish everyone a happy and productive 2008. Last year was one of transition and change, but it ended very well. I had the week of Christmas off and took the opportunity to travel to Indonesia. I had been eyeing Mount Rinjani for a long time and decided to use my time off to trek this active volcano on the island of Lombok.

There were some concerns heading into Jakarta, where I had a layover. Indonesia seems to bear the label of a dangerous place. With all the concerns of Muslim extremism and anti-Americanism, not to mention the unfortunate and infamous Bali bombing, I had some reservations about traveling there. However, I refuse to let fear govern my actions and decided to go for it. I would be very cautious though.

I spent one night in Jakarta and got no pictures. I don't like the idea of walking around at night taking pictures as it can make one a target. Some research on the internet beforehand led me to the backpackers district of Jalan Jaksa. This was by far the filthiest, seediest place I'd ever been to. I was able to enjoy a little of their nightlife, and found the people to be very friendly and easy-going. I ended up in a dark club with very loud live music. The patrons, all local, drank beer and danced in lively fashion. It was nice to take refuge from all of the people on the street selling any kind of service imaginable (That's about all I need to say about that.). The desperation of people to make a buck mirrored many of the things I saw in Thailand and Cambodia. Indonesia continually struck me as a cross between the two. I didn't encounter the harassment I was constantly barraged with in Cambodia, but there was a little more than I experienced in Thailand.

The night in Jakarta was an inconvenience more than a planned visit. I couldn't help the layover so I did my best to at least get a mental snapshot of the city at night. I wouldn't recommend this place, but it wasn't altogether bad. I had planned for Lombok and was looking forward to my trek. This was Saturday night and I flew to Lombok the next morning. The plane was delayed two hours and I felt as if I couldn't get out of Jakarta soon enough.

About the trek: I had discovered this mountain last year while trying to figure out what to do with a week off. I ended up spending that week traveling around Korea, but the trek stayed in the back of my mind. Mount Rinjani is an active volcano situated in the middle of a tropical island. I would divvy my time trekking and lounging on the beach. I made a reservation with a guide for four days and three nights. Many sources I came across called this the best trek in Southeast Asia--it did not disappoint. This week I'll be posting my experiences on the island complete with pictures and everything. Keep an eye out for the adventures all week.