Rinjani volcano on Lombok, Indonesia just erupted. According to National Geographic, about a week ago, it erupted simultaneously with two other Indonesian volcanoes in the Ring of Fire, Sinabung and Gamalama.
I have been lucky enough to climb Rinjani. Scaling the second-highest peak in Indonesia was one of the most brutally challenging, but rewarding experiences of my travels to date.
The 3 day summit trek of Gunung Rinjani.
My three friends and I arrived in Senaru from Kuta Lombok in darkness. We went to bed early, needing to be up at 5am the following morning for the beginning of the epic trek we had convinced ourselves was a good idea. Opening the door from our room the following morning, I was greeted with a view of Rinjani in the distance that I hadn't been able to see in the darkness the night before. It was huge. And ominous. This monster was active, and the thought that it could erupt at any second was strangley exhilarating. I tried to imagine myself at the top in two days time but it seemed far too big and tall to be possible.
We jumped in trucks which took us to the starting point. The first day of hiking took us up, and then down many different types of terrain. We reached our first campsite, Senaru Crater Rim, at 2641m just in time for sunset. Suspense and excitement was building as we successfully checked off the first day.
We rose early for another full day of hiking. The second days trek took us via Anak Crater Lake. At 2000m the swim was shockingly refreshing and did the job of cooling us down and relaxing our already aching muscles.
After a quick stop at some hot springs, the climbing began to get difficult. Some sections were almost vertical rock faces and I was scrambling, using both my arms and legs to pull myself up. The relief my legs felt each time we came to a flat(tish) section was absolute bliss, but came with the realisation that they were tuning to jelly and could give way at any moment. To say it was tiring is an understatement, but there was no resting for me. I was anxious that if I stopped I would not be able to stand up and get going again on my jelly legs. The temperature was dropping significantly as we 'rapidly' gained elevation.
As I saw base camp in the distance I was overcome with a burst of energy. An Indonesian lady-boy sat with a box, about 100m from camp, selling 'necessities' like chocolate and Bintang beer, which we bought for extortionate prices, in eager anticipation for the celebrating we would hopefully be doing the following morning.
Upon reaching base camp at Sembalun Crater Rim, 2639m, it was a quick dinner of rice and then straight to bed to try and squeeze in 6 hours of sleep before our wake up at 2am to start the summit climb.
We'd heard about this leg from a friend. It sounded treacherous. 3hrs to gain 1km elevation in the darkness. He was the only one in his group who made it to the top. According to him, a few climbers from other groups also managed to make it up but not before sunrise which was the ultimate goal. We were nervous, wanting so badly to make it in time.
The alarm sounded and off we set on our final ascent in the darkness. By pure chance, and luck, it was a full moon and clear skies so we could make out where we were walking. It was freezing, but the path was uphill from the get-go so we were sweating in no time. Our guide had gotten us up a fraction earlier than the other groups so we were first in line to make it to the top. About 2 hours in we came to a 'corner' for a quick rest. It was starting to get light and we could just make out the lake below. Half our group was missing. Word spread that some people had already given up and returned to camp. Despite being exhausted I was still determined.
We now faced the last kilometre. It was deep ash. It was as challenging mentally as it was physically. For every two steps up, I sank one back. Every minute space in my shoes filled with the gritty, gravelly ash. There was no point emptying them though as they'd only fill again. And time was precious. Very precious. I had less than an hour now. Up I kept going, and sliding right back down again. I was on all fours at some points trying to dig into the ash as best I could to push myself up. I had socks on my hands not only to keep them warm because I didn't have gloves, but to keep them ash-free.
It was all a mind-game in the end. I could see the top. I forced myself to power through 10 steps before I allowed myself to take a 10 second rest. Then again, ten more steps. Sliding back down everytime. Time was going so slow for my feet. Each heavy step was in slow motion. Outside of me, the sky was brightening at a rapid pace. I felt as though I was experiencing two different speeds of time simultaneously.
Eventually I reached the top. But no, it wasn't the top. There was another section that had been hidden behind a rock. Panic was setting in. The sky continued to grow threateningly yet beautifully lighter. There was only one person ahead of me. I tried to walk in his footprints because I realised if I did that, I didn't slide so much. I hardly looked up at all, fixed on my feet, judging where I would place them next. One. By. One. It was slow, hard, work. And utterly exhausting.
But then there it was. Really was. I could see the guy in front of me had reached the top. It was achievable. I don't know how, but I ran that last little bit, feeling like I was now floating along instead of sinking into the ash. The top was solid ground but I hardly appreciated it. I was there. Before sunrise. I had made it before sunrise. I was gasping for breath. Partly because I was out of breath, partly because the air was cold and thin at that altitude, but mostly out of pure joy and relief.
The sun rose, instantly making worth what I had just put my mind and body through. darted from side to side of the summit, seeing the view from all vantage points. It was incredible. Photos can show the beauty of what I saw but nothing can describe the feeling as I looked out. Elation is the closest word I can think to describe it, but it still doesn't do it justice.
Within a few minutes others started arriving. All equally excited and exhausted as the next. Beer was cracked open and many photos taken. We celebrated and shared our individual and collective joy. We frantically tried our best to savour and capture the moment that was destined not to last.
I could have stayed up there forever, awestruck at the view that was getting more impressive by the minute. As the sun rose higher into the sky, burning off the early morning fog, the view became even clearer.
But there was no more time to absorb it. It was heart-wrenching being ushered by our guide to start the descent. Like a child whose parent has come to pick them up from a play-date. Pleeeease... Just one more minute. Finally we relented and begrudging began heading down.
Once I accepted I had to leave, thoughts of a hot shower and non-rice-based meal creeped their way into my consciousness and I was motivated to get down. The ash was soft and deep under my feet. Comparable to at least a foots-worth deep of light-weight gravel, what had seemed like torture on the way up was thoroughly enjoyable on the way down. We ran. Sliding in the ash as we lunged ourselves down, bouncing from one leg to the other. What had taken hours to climb up took only minutes to get down. The view slipped away behind us, it's memory temporarily replaced by the thought of what lay ahead.
We inhaled our pancake breakfast at basecamp, then began our days trek back to reality. In comparison to the days prior we made it with ease, stopping for lunch and the most relaxing mid-hike nap I've ever enjoyed.
After the car trip back to Kuta Lombok, we rewarded ourselves with pizza, Magnums and a steaming hot shower, washing away the ash that had penetrated deep into our pores.
As we were driving away from Rinjani after our descent, I remember glancing out the car window back at it. I had a feeling of disbelief that I had been up at the very top only hours before. I still marvel at the thought of Rinjani. It feels as ominous and eerily beautiful now as it did when it faced me that first morning.
When I read that it had erupted those feelings were solidified. Volcanoes can never really be conquered. We are completely at their mercy. Any achievement I made that day was a feat of mental and physical endurance, not of Rinjani.
If you are ever faced with the choice to climb Rinjani, do it. I have done my best to describe what it was like for me, but it is a hugely inadequate attempt. So, go see for yourself.