I met a
couple of guys from Holland who invited me to join them on a “short hike up a
volcano nearby.” Not having any other
plans, I booked the guided hike through the hostel. I asked the front desk about the tour and was
told, “you will get picked up at 10pm, stay in a tent and hike up the volcano
in time to catch the sunrise,” which sounded awesome. It was not.
Our
driver arrived right at 10pm, and we were told to bring warm clothes because it
can get “chilly” on the volcano. I took
the only things I had: track pants and a light pullover (going to SE Asia
during the hot season, one does not expect to need jackets). I asked the driver what the plan was, and was
told, “hike start at 1am, it take three to four hours.” I laugh at his funny joke. He does not.
Two
hours later, we arrived at the base of the volcano. Since there was no light, it was hard to
gauge its height, which I later find out is a comical 2930km (1.85mi). We met our guide, a
short man in his mid-fifties, wearing what looked like rain boots, who promptly
smoked two cigarettes before we even leave for the hike. This was one non-fuck giving dude.
One hour later, I was out of breath, my legs
hurt, the tiny bottle of water I brought was almost empty, it was pitch black
save for the guide’s small flashlight, and the temperature dropped below 60ºF
with a gusting wind. It was the most
strenuous physical activity I ever remember trying, including that one night that we all agreed to never talk about...At this point, I hated my life and cursed
myself for months of eating fatty European food and sitting on my ass. We were a quarter of the way there.
Hour three of the death march: we reached the
plateau before the top. I was beyond
exhausted, my legs gave up on me and started to cramp up, it was still pitch
black, I was out of water and starving after eating the only thing I brought
with me: a small pastry, the temperature dropped below 50ºF, and the wind cut
through my thin pullover like locals in line for a sale in Hong Kong. To be fair, all three of us were unprepared
for this “short hike up a volcano.” The
difference was that I was barely in shape to walk 3km on flat ground let alone
ascend that distance on a sketchy path, loaded with slippery rocks in the dark.
At this point, I did the first
reasonable thing all night: I gave up. I
told the others to go on, and that I’d wait for them at the plateau. The guide, while smoking his eighth cigarette
of the night, looked at me in disgust.
The Dutch guys gave me a few words of encouragement since we were so close to the top, but they could see
that I was defeated.
After
they went ahead, I struggled to get back down to the plateau area only guided
by the dim pre-dawn light. It was cold
as fuck (that’s the proper scientific term), so I looked for a large rock to
shield me from the wind. I was now
balled up behind a rock, 2.5km up a volcano in the middle of Indonesia at 5am,
with no food or water, and had been up for over 24 hours – not the vacation I
had been envisioning.
I did get to see
the sunrise, and it was pretty amazing.
I also ran into another group of stragglers who did not make it all the
way to the top and decided to go with their guide back down the volcano. Another fun-filled two hours later, I’m
finally close to the bottom. I have
nothing on me and am now carrying a makeshift walking stick while slowly descending to avoid sliding on the rocks. There is
nothing more disheartening than to go through the night I just had and almost
reaching the bottom only to have to step aside while a seventy year old woman,
carrying 20lbs of hay, runs right by you…
Would I do this again? Absolutely not. Was the sunrise worth the hike. No, not at all. In hindsight, am I glad I did it? No. I'm very happy not climbing anything. Did I learn anything from the experience? Yes! Always find out the details before agreeing to do anything. Also, volcanos are stupid.
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