Gunung Rinjani at 7am, from Senaru
Friday 19th September saw me catch two bemos to the little village of Senaru, nestled on the northern slopes of Lombok's towering volcano Gunung Rinjani (gunung means 'mountain' in Indonesian). On the way I got talking to a young bloke called Saina who said he ran a new losmen in Senaru, and could help me get all the equipment needed for the hike up the still-active volcano that dominates Lombok. I refused his offers of a guide or a porter – Simon in Ubud had convinced me they were totally unnecessary – but rented a tent and roll mat off him for 24,000rp, and bought four days' food and some water for 28,000rp, somewhat cheaper than the equivalent costs in Australia and New Zealand. Packed and ready to roll, I spent a night in his new and delightfully positioned losmen, relaxing as the sun went down and the local mosque broadcast its chants over the valleys (Lombok is mainly Muslim, while Bali which is mainly Hindu). The next day I got up ridiculously early to conquer another volcano.
Gunung Rinjani is huge; in fact, it's the biggest peak in Indonesia outside Irian Jaya, which has mountains that make even professionals think twice. The only time you can see the peak from the towns surrounding it is first thing in the morning and last thing at night; it's so big that clouds form around it after a couple of hours of sunlight, shrouding the crater in mysterious grey swathes. At a height of 3726m (12,224 ft) it's a hell of a lot bigger than anything else I've attempted to climb1, and the walk up to the top from the village of Senaru takes a little over two days of solid mountain hiking.
My only map – here be dragons!
Most people, by which I mean about 99 per cent of visitors to Rinjani, take a porter to carry all the food, camping equipment and so on. These porters, who double as guides, are astounding; walking up sheer mountain paths with everything strapped to two ends of a bamboo pole that they balance on their shoulders, they manage to traverse sharp pumice trails with nothing but flimsy sandals on their feet. The weights they carry are nothing short of backbreaking, and you never hear a word of complaint as they trudge their way round the park. So, most people load up their porters and do the walk with just a daypack, carrying maybe some water and warm clothing.
But I decided I wasn't most people, so I packed up my tent and sleeping met, and eight ready-cooked meals of nasi goreng wrapped in banana leaves, and set off into Rinjani National Park with a heavy pack and a hastily copied map of the area that looked more like something from The Hobbit than a serious proposition. The pack weighed quite a bit, the other tourists thought I was crazy, and I started up the track at 7am on Saturday 20th September.
1 A few months after I wrote this I did go higher, in the Himalayas.
