Climbing Mt. Batur

Bless this girl... and her adventurous spirit.

During Chinese New Year, I spent a wonderful nine days in Ubud, Bali.  The main purpose of the vacation was to do a lot of yoga, reading, laying by the pool and getting massages.  I’m proud to announce, mission accomplished.  It was awesome.

Oh, and I also climbed a volcano.

Before going, my friend Lindsay had mentioned that she was interested in climbing a nearby volcano, Mt. Batur.  When packing, she suggested that I pack a warm jacket as it is cold on the summit.  I, reluctantly, packed a jacket.  Thinking that there was no way I was actually going to climb the volcano, but I should probably keep up the appearance that I would.

When push came to shove and it was time to book the tour, I caved and said yes.  I willingly signed up to climb an active volcano.

At 2:30 in the morning.

I went to bed the night before as early as I could.  I tossed and turned, thinking of the challenge I would face in just a few short hours.  This compounded with the “Bali belly” I was suffering from made for a restless night.  My alarm went off at 2:05 am.

Lindsay and I were picked up by our guide Rocky, who would take us up the mountain.  We then picked up Daniel, an unfortunate Aussie who was suffering from a head cold and a young German couple. I don’t remember their names.  It doesn’t matter. Because from now on, they will be referred to as the German Gazelles.  Because that’s what they were, freakin’ gazelles.

We arrive at the base of Mt. Batur around 3:30 in the morning.  It was crazy dark.  I saw stars that I never knew existed.  Our local guides met us in the parking lot and they passed out a bottle of water and a hand held flashlight—our gear.  Then, off we went.

At first the stroll through the forrest was very nice. Quiet.  Just the crunching of feet over the volcanic gravel.

But then, up a head, I could see the lights of climbers heading up.  Straight up.  And I just then began to get a tiny idea of hell that awaited me on the slopes of Mt. Batur. Yeah, it really was that dramatic.

Imagine if you will—  It is pitch black except for the tiny pool of light provided by your flashlight. The ground under your feet is black jagged crumbly volcanic rock. It rises in front of you at irregular intervals of incline. You know the flat land below you is getting further and further as you trudge upwards, but you have no idea just how far up you are because it appears to be just a blanket of blackness.  You carefully place each step, so as not to turn an ankle, while guides leap up the trail around you… texting as they bound.  They feign care and tell you, “We can stop if you need to,” with a slight tone of condescension in their voices. When you stop for breaks, everyone looks to the person who is bringing up the rear and slowing the group down… you.  The German Gazelles are chomping at the bit to continue their graceful ascent, in their stupid skinny jeans and Pumas.

Oh yeah, and you’re suffering from the internal volcano that is Bali belly.

For two hours.

Needless to say when we reached to observation area and our guide asked if we wanted to go on to the peak, my response was, “Oh, HELL no.”

I copped a squat on a bench with The Unfortunate Daniel and watched the sun come up over the adjacent volcano and mountains.  Meanwhile, Lindsay went with the Gazelles to the summit.  I like to think I had just as good of a view.

The view was beautiful.  It really was a once in a life time experience.  A moment to remember when it seems like the world is against you.  I moment I shared… with The Unfortunate Daniel.

And monkeys.

Anyone who has traveled with me in Southeast Asia knows how I feel about monkeys.  They are screeching, rabies-carrying disease sacks.  They are not to be messed with.

From our bench, The Unfortunate Daniel and I spotted a pack of monkeys descending the volcano to scavenge for food left over from breakfast. The feeding frenzy was intensified when the local guides began calling the monkeys over to feed them from their hands.  They jumped up on the guides and unsuspecting bystanders to search backpacks, coats, and pony tails for crumbs of food.  Disgusting.  I stayed as far away as I could.  When I had to walk near them I warned them in a stern voice.  I think they understood me.  “I have no food.  You better stay away.  I WILL punch a monkey.”

Rocky took us around the caldera, the adjacent holy cave, and we stuck our hands in steam fissures. Really, pretty cool.

Then it was time to go down.

So, you know how they say that the descent is actually more dangerous than the ascent?  Yeah, this is true.  My muscles were shot, but the trail was just as treacherous as before.  And this time, I could actually see how high I was.  It was not really reassuring to see the steepness of the terrain.

Again, our guides resumed their texting and chatting.  They erupted in laughter from time to time, usually after me or The Unfortunate Daniel had a bit of a slip.  I assume we were the butts of some pretty great jokes.  The Gazelles resumed their graceful descent.  At this point, since the sun had come up, I could see the guy’s wispy hipster ‘stache and this made me hate them more.

And I had to go to the bathroom.

Real bad.

When we reached the bottom (and used the facilities), Lindsay asked me again how I felt.  (Bless Lindsay.  She was such a supportive and positive person on the mountain.  If not for her, I probably would have just sat down half way up the slope and waited for my Sherpa.) But I couldn’t even feign pride in a tough job finished.  I defeatedly replied, “I hated every single minute of it.”

“But are you happy you did it?” she asked.

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

I really hoped upon reflection that I would feel different about this experience, but I don’t.  There are activities that fill your bucket with confidence and power.  Even difficult feats can be bucket fillers.  When I finish a particularly difficult yoga practice, I feel full.  I feel renewed.  This— this emptied my bucket.  It made me feel inept and weak.  It made me feel depleted in a way that will take a while to recover from.

I’m working on refilling my bucket.  I’m doing things that make me happy and I am good at, like writing.  But in the meanwhile I say, “Screw you Mt. Batur.”

The best fake smile of the trek.

Yep.  Climbed that.