Couchpotatoes return to Bali
After two consecutive high points in our trip, Canggu and Echo Beach, the Universe threw us a curve ball. And what's worse, we had the gall to take a swing at it. There is no better way to say it. I don't know why trekking a volcano in the dark in monsoon season ever sounded like a good idea. It doesn't help that in less than a week after we did the crazy, a landslide at the same slopes took 12 lives. But that is exactly what we did when our senses took a vacation on the fourth day of our couch-potato-trip to Bali. Instead of slowly dying of the usual couch-potato mishaps like diabetes and heart attacks, we decided to give a slippery volcano a chance. Without harness, that too. Let me ease you into this one.
Sunrise trek to Mount Batur. When I first heard these words, I had such a positive feeling in me. Why wouldn't it? They were followed by the words, "spectacular sunrise and views ". Count me in, right? After our amazing day at Echo Beach, we came back exhausted and slept for 4 straight hours. I woke up to the amazing Chicken Run burger from PitStop (which had become our go to eatery for quick no-frills food). There was no ominous foreboding while I was munching on the gooey goodness of Chicken Run. If only I knew what was going to happen in a couple of hours!
We got picked up at 1 30 am by Dika who was nothing short of happiness personified for a person who is tasked with driving sleep deprived (possibly hung over) tourists for a physical activity. When we got in, he casually asked if we have jackets. I was armed with borrowed full sleeve sweater, cotton capris and work out shoes. We had summarily (and arrogantly) ignored their instructions to bring jackets. When Dika asked whether we have a jacket, what I should have done is, run back in and put on a couple more layers over my sweater. On second thought, I should have run in, holed myself up in the room and not come out at all. Instead, we smiled and said, "cold wouldn't be a problem, thank you." (In hindsight, face palm moment!)
On a long drive punctuated with talks of Bali and its ways; and Trump, we kept drowsiness at bay. We reached 'the parking lot' which is the meeting point for everyone crazy enough to do this at 3 am on a rainy night. There we met our guide- Tomong. A lean guy with an earnest speech and a genial face. He carried a bulky backpack on this shoulders which he mentioned was the things he would need to prepare our breakfast up top. That BIG backpack he was carrying somehow reassured me if he was going to carry that, then it shouldn't be all that hard to climb all the way up. Such a fallacious thought.
We were handed flashlights as we started following Tomong up the trail. The next half hour was walking amidst a heavy smell of onions. Couple of flashes around made us realize that we were walking through farms of spring onions and chilli. As the walk got progressively harder, I figured "Yeah! This is it! This is why this trek is popular. The thrill of walking into a volcano at night." I wasn't even close. The terrain was slippery. Not slimy slippery, but gravelly-slippery. Black volcanic soil and rock rolled down wherever I stepped. My legs seemed to be extremely unstable while Ruvi seemed to be managing just fine. Tomong kept suggesting we take breaks at regular intervals as the slope got higher and more slippery, so I am assuming he heard the labored breathing and low whining coming routinely from me when the stones gave way under my foot.
By Ruvi's estimate, we had walked about 3.5 km and as we were told that the entire trek was 10 km (5 up and 5 down), we were kinda relieved. Tomong chose that moment to tell us this was the halfway point and the next half is going to be, in his words, "way harder and more slippery"! That is just what I needed to hear. My heart, literally took a swoop to my belly hearing those words. At the halfway point, there were definite signs of things going awry. The rain got heavy to the point of us needing raincoats.
Tomong wasn't exaggerating. The climb got higher and more slippery as we went ahead and the wind was howling like it had a life of its own. Each step was at such an acute angle that a break was needed every 10-12 steps. While I was trying not to stumble, slip and fall to my death, I was imagining all sorts of ways this could go wrong. While I was looking for possible snakes, rolling boulders and earthquakes, I had a major slip and punched the rock edge I was aiming to hold on to which was, unfortunately, pointed. A sharp pain shot up my left hand and I thought I broke my ring finger. As I sat down on the trail nursing my hand, we came across a troop of German tourists climbing the trail. There he was- the most annoying person I have so far had the bad fortune to meet in Bali.
A German tourist who kept repeating "Terimakasih" "Sama sama" "Hati hati" in a forcefully cheerful annoyingly pitched voice, to the guides. The 5 minutes I had to endure that sitting on a weirdly pointed rock holding my hurting finger, I wanted to push him down the slope. The annoyance that came bubbling inside me at that stranger was unprecedented. 10 minutes later, he almost fell off the edge (all on his own) and a guide literally pulled him up with a question, "Are you drunk, man?"! To his credit, he was pretty unshaken for a guy who was just about to fall to his death, but I guess the alcohol had something to do with that! With several more minor incidents, a heart full of sighs and a head full of whines, we reached the first point of Mt.Batur after 2 hours of huffing and puffing.
The first point is best described as a shack on the mountain side with long tables and benches. There is an elaborate kitchen and a menu from which you could choose your breakfast. All inclusive in our little hell-ful tour package. As lesser mortals sitting at the back of the shack, it felt like the frightful Wind was in a heavy stand-off against the Stone mountain. And boy did I curse myself for not bringing a jacket!
What ensued is an hour of me ruining the trek for Ruvi with my pouts and innumerable complaints. The breakfast of packaged cream bread and eggs was a disappointment in my eyes. I don't know why I expected anything more on a trek. But in my defense, he did carry a huge backpack which he indicated was "for our breakfast". I ordered noodles off the menu which felt like one of the the yummiest things I had tasted ever. It is very probable that it was just your average, under-cooked cup noodles, but the whole "I didn't die on the way up" thing put a tasty spin to it and made it 'oh-so-yum'.
More and more trekkers showed up as we waited at the raggedy shack, freezing. We decided not to go to the summit point - which was yet another 25 minutes of even harder climb. But we made up our minds to go see the crate and the hot steam coming off it just 2-3 minutes walk from the shack. Slowly, the sky started turning bright. But there was hardly any visibility due to the fog. Much to the chagrin of the trekkers, the Sun decided not to grace us with her presence. No sunrise, people. Just light. Many were disheartened at climbing all the way up in vain. Some more than others. One elder lady tourist demanded to Tomong, "No view? Where is the beautiful view I was told of?" Tomong apologized profusely although he had nothing to do with the Sun's indiscretions.
To cheer everyone up, with light came the monkeys!!! The shack which was so far populated by few dogs (wonder how they got up here!), tired trekkers and guides who smoked like chimneys, now saw an entourage of energetic, ferocious monkeys. We are on the 'We hate wild monkeys' bandwagon since I got assaulted by a "spectacle-thieving-face-scratching sum-bitch " monkey at Uluwatu during our last trip to Bali. We promptly retracted our wish to visit the crater once Tomong very kindly informed us that there were just about "a thousand monkeys" at the crater.
Then came the call. The one from nature. Ruvi had earlier excused himself to go to the washroom which he was told was a bush. I couldn't hold it in any longer and off we went behind the bush beside the rocks. Anyone could walk right in, human, monkey or dog. Ruvi stood guard like the true trooper he is. Cold mountain air on my skin while I struggled to do my business on a slippery slope with spectacle-stealing monkeys around, was the finishing touch on the fiasco this trek shaped out to be for me.
The descent - what I was worrying about constantly while freezing in the shack. But as it turned out, the descent was not as much of a terror as I feared. However, at the beginning when I finally saw the trail we hiked in the dark with nothing but a flashlight, my heart skipped a beat. It was a sheer vertical drop to the sharp rocks below, which we unwittingly climbed up without a harness. Tomong was ever the enthu-cutlet quickly leaping from step to step and helping me out in tough spots while humming "Tum paas aaye". He even offered me an extra jacket, which was a life-saver. He surprised us by playing "Tuhi ho mujhko bata de" from Aashique 2 saying its his favorite.
The fog cleared with the background of gayatri mantra streaming out of Tomong's surprising playlist. The age-old shloka I memorized through innumerable listens put the smile back on my face. Suddenly, Batur didn't seem like much of a bully. 'Ohm bhoor bhuvaswaha tat savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhee mahi dheeyo yona prachodaya' played in loops while we clicked some pictures of the beautiful lake as visibility returned.
We took the long roundabout and scenic way out while having interesting conversations with Tomong on religion. He is a die-hard devotee (or shall I say 'admirer'?) of Lord Shiva. He said, "You are lucky you have Shiva. We have more of Vishnu." Of all the things I would consider myself lucky for, never thought 'having more of Shiva' was one. He had pictures of Shiva on his phone which he looked at with admiration while telling us how he climbs up and down Batur thrice some days while sleeping for 2-3 hours. When we expressed awe, he shrugged and said "It's my job". Next year, he is going to be a driver. That's easier, he said. There was a lot to observe in
gowrnair
5 chapters
16 Apr 2020
Chapter 5: The Big Stone Brother
Mt. Batur, Bali, Indonesia
After two consecutive high points in our trip, Canggu and Echo Beach, the Universe threw us a curve ball. And what's worse, we had the gall to take a swing at it. There is no better way to say it. I don't know why trekking a volcano in the dark in monsoon season ever sounded like a good idea. It doesn't help that in less than a week after we did the crazy, a landslide at the same slopes took 12 lives. But that is exactly what we did when our senses took a vacation on the fourth day of our couch-potato-trip to Bali. Instead of slowly dying of the usual couch-potato mishaps like diabetes and heart attacks, we decided to give a slippery volcano a chance. Without harness, that too. Let me ease you into this one.
Sunrise trek to Mount Batur. When I first heard these words, I had such a positive feeling in me. Why wouldn't it? They were followed by the words, "spectacular sunrise and views ". Count me in, right? After our amazing day at Echo Beach, we came back exhausted and slept for 4 straight hours. I woke up to the amazing Chicken Run burger from PitStop (which had become our go to eatery for quick no-frills food). There was no ominous foreboding while I was munching on the gooey goodness of Chicken Run. If only I knew what was going to happen in a couple of hours!
We got picked up at 1 30 am by Dika who was nothing short of happiness personified for a person who is tasked with driving sleep deprived (possibly hung over) tourists for a physical activity. When we got in, he casually asked if we have jackets. I was armed with borrowed full sleeve sweater, cotton capris and work out shoes. We had summarily (and arrogantly) ignored their instructions to bring jackets. When Dika asked whether we have a jacket, what I should have done is, run back in and put on a couple more layers over my sweater. On second thought, I should have run in, holed myself up in the room and not come out at all. Instead, we smiled and said, "cold wouldn't be a problem, thank you." (In hindsight, face palm moment!)
On a long drive punctuated with talks of Bali and its ways; and Trump, we kept drowsiness at bay. We reached 'the parking lot' which is the meeting point for everyone crazy enough to do this at 3 am on a rainy night. There we met our guide- Tomong. A lean guy with an earnest speech and a genial face. He carried a bulky backpack on this shoulders which he mentioned was the things he would need to prepare our breakfast up top. That BIG backpack he was carrying somehow reassured me if he was going to carry that, then it shouldn't be all that hard to climb all the way up. Such a fallacious thought.
We were handed flashlights as we started following Tomong up the trail. The next half hour was walking amidst a heavy smell of onions. Couple of flashes around made us realize that we were walking through farms of spring onions and chilli. As the walk got progressively harder, I figured "Yeah! This is it! This is why this trek is popular. The thrill of walking into a volcano at night." I wasn't even close. The terrain was slippery. Not slimy slippery, but gravelly-slippery. Black volcanic soil and rock rolled down wherever I stepped. My legs seemed to be extremely unstable while Ruvi seemed to be managing just fine. Tomong kept suggesting we take breaks at regular intervals as the slope got higher and more slippery, so I am assuming he heard the labored breathing and low whining coming routinely from me when the stones gave way under my foot.
By Ruvi's estimate, we had walked about 3.5 km and as we were told that the entire trek was 10 km (5 up and 5 down), we were kinda relieved. Tomong chose that moment to tell us this was the halfway point and the next half is going to be, in his words, "way harder and more slippery"! That is just what I needed to hear. My heart, literally took a swoop to my belly hearing those words. At the halfway point, there were definite signs of things going awry. The rain got heavy to the point of us needing raincoats.
Tomong wasn't exaggerating. The climb got higher and more slippery as we went ahead and the wind was howling like it had a life of its own. Each step was at such an acute angle that a break was needed every 10-12 steps. While I was trying not to stumble, slip and fall to my death, I was imagining all sorts of ways this could go wrong. While I was looking for possible snakes, rolling boulders and earthquakes, I had a major slip and punched the rock edge I was aiming to hold on to which was, unfortunately, pointed. A sharp pain shot up my left hand and I thought I broke my ring finger. As I sat down on the trail nursing my hand, we came across a troop of German tourists climbing the trail. There he was- the most annoying person I have so far had the bad fortune to meet in Bali.
A German tourist who kept repeating "Terimakasih" "Sama sama" "Hati hati" in a forcefully cheerful annoyingly pitched voice, to the guides. The 5 minutes I had to endure that sitting on a weirdly pointed rock holding my hurting finger, I wanted to push him down the slope. The annoyance that came bubbling inside me at that stranger was unprecedented. 10 minutes later, he almost fell off the edge (all on his own) and a guide literally pulled him up with a question, "Are you drunk, man?"! To his credit, he was pretty unshaken for a guy who was just about to fall to his death, but I guess the alcohol had something to do with that! With several more minor incidents, a heart full of sighs and a head full of whines, we reached the first point of Mt.Batur after 2 hours of huffing and puffing.
The first point is best described as a shack on the mountain side with long tables and benches. There is an elaborate kitchen and a menu from which you could choose your breakfast. All inclusive in our little hell-ful tour package. As lesser mortals sitting at the back of the shack, it felt like the frightful Wind was in a heavy stand-off against the Stone mountain. And boy did I curse myself for not bringing a jacket!
What ensued is an hour of me ruining the trek for Ruvi with my pouts and innumerable complaints. The breakfast of packaged cream bread and eggs was a disappointment in my eyes. I don't know why I expected anything more on a trek. But in my defense, he did carry a huge backpack which he indicated was "for our breakfast". I ordered noodles off the menu which felt like one of the the yummiest things I had tasted ever. It is very probable that it was just your average, under-cooked cup noodles, but the whole "I didn't die on the way up" thing put a tasty spin to it and made it 'oh-so-yum'.
More and more trekkers showed up as we waited at the raggedy shack, freezing. We decided not to go to the summit point - which was yet another 25 minutes of even harder climb. But we made up our minds to go see the crate and the hot steam coming off it just 2-3 minutes walk from the shack. Slowly, the sky started turning bright. But there was hardly any visibility due to the fog. Much to the chagrin of the trekkers, the Sun decided not to grace us with her presence. No sunrise, people. Just light. Many were disheartened at climbing all the way up in vain. Some more than others. One elder lady tourist demanded to Tomong, "No view? Where is the beautiful view I was told of?" Tomong apologized profusely although he had nothing to do with the Sun's indiscretions.
To cheer everyone up, with light came the monkeys!!! The shack which was so far populated by few dogs (wonder how they got up here!), tired trekkers and guides who smoked like chimneys, now saw an entourage of energetic, ferocious monkeys. We are on the 'We hate wild monkeys' bandwagon since I got assaulted by a "spectacle-thieving-face-scratching sum-bitch " monkey at Uluwatu during our last trip to Bali. We promptly retracted our wish to visit the crater once Tomong very kindly informed us that there were just about "a thousand monkeys" at the crater.
Then came the call. The one from nature. Ruvi had earlier excused himself to go to the washroom which he was told was a bush. I couldn't hold it in any longer and off we went behind the bush beside the rocks. Anyone could walk right in, human, monkey or dog. Ruvi stood guard like the true trooper he is. Cold mountain air on my skin while I struggled to do my business on a slippery slope with spectacle-stealing monkeys around, was the finishing touch on the fiasco this trek shaped out to be for me.
The descent - what I was worrying about constantly while freezing in the shack. But as it turned out, the descent was not as much of a terror as I feared. However, at the beginning when I finally saw the trail we hiked in the dark with nothing but a flashlight, my heart skipped a beat. It was a sheer vertical drop to the sharp rocks below, which we unwittingly climbed up without a harness. Tomong was ever the enthu-cutlet quickly leaping from step to step and helping me out in tough spots while humming "Tum paas aaye". He even offered me an extra jacket, which was a life-saver. He surprised us by playing "Tuhi ho mujhko bata de" from Aashique 2 saying its his favorite.
The fog cleared with the background of gayatri mantra streaming out of Tomong's surprising playlist. The age-old shloka I memorized through innumerable listens put the smile back on my face. Suddenly, Batur didn't seem like much of a bully. 'Ohm bhoor bhuvaswaha tat savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhee mahi dheeyo yona prachodaya' played in loops while we clicked some pictures of the beautiful lake as visibility returned.
We took the long roundabout and scenic way out while having interesting conversations with Tomong on religion. He is a die-hard devotee (or shall I say 'admirer'?) of Lord Shiva. He said, "You are lucky you have Shiva. We have more of Vishnu." Of all the things I would consider myself lucky for, never thought 'having more of Shiva' was one. He had pictures of Shiva on his phone which he looked at with admiration while telling us how he climbs up and down Batur thrice some days while sleeping for 2-3 hours. When we expressed awe, he shrugged and said "It's my job". Next year, he is going to be a driver. That's easier, he said. There was a lot to observe in
Tomong- a 4th grade school drop out who learned English from YouTube videos and loves Bollywood.
He also told us about the three mountains- Mt.Agung, Mt.Batur and Mt.Abang. Literal translation in Bahasa together- the Big Stone Brother. At the end of a long winding road, was our starting point. Never have I been happier to get to a parking lot before. After expressing immense gratitude to Tomong for saving my life multiple times with a RP 100,000. (There you go, folks! The value of my life. Approximately 10$!) We also gave him a list of places he could visit in India before we said good-bye to our smiling Shah Rukh-Shiva-Kajol fan.
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