Saturday, July 29, 2017

Lombok Part I – Gunung Rinjani

So Amy’s back in-country, and she’s got a week before she has to get back to the classroom. In other words, we have a week to play! OK, what’s next on the list? Lombok! For those not up on their Indonesia biogeography, Lombok is the next island over from Bali. Some say it’s the new Bali. We’ll see. Either way, our 9-day mission (i.e., leave Saturday morning, come back the following Sunday night) was two-fold: (1) climb Gunung Rinjani, then (2), get some beach time.

Lombok Part I – Gunung Rinjani

As Indonesia’s second-highest, and most famous volcano, Rinjani is kind of a must-do checklist item for outdoor enthusiasts living in Indonesia. With a 3,726-m summit, an 8-km wide caldera, an emerald-blue crater lake, and stunning post-caldera cone, it definitely delivers in wow value. It’s one of those places you know from photos, but really, that first peek upon gaining the crater rim is incredible. I’m pretty sure we both, in fact, blurted out WOW! Followed by “Holy S***”, then maybe “cool!” J

The classic bule (AKA foreigner) Rinjani trip is a 3-day/2-night mission, and unfortunately, typically organized by a local trekking company. Rinjani is no exception to the Indonesian “bules must be guided” rule. In fact, I am quite sure that bules paying ridiculously outrageous prices to semi-competent, low-end trekking companies is so entrenched, that it would be impossible to do otherwise now. It is not, however, something anyone who has any outdoor sense requires. It’s a cash-grab (well, I suppose you could argue the “local employment” angle), and has worn thin for us.

 OK, enough venting about the over-priced and unrequired Indonesian guiding industry, back to the mission. The classic Rinjani route is from the north or east, and sees 500+ people setting off every day. That’s a lot of people – mostly chain-smoking teenagers with packs full of instant noodles – and, because this is Indonesia, a ton of garbage. Indonesia has yet to receive or recognize the “pack it in, pack it out” mantra. Garbage-infested trails and campsites are legendary on Rinjani, to the point where there are, believe it or not, recommended times of the year where one might experience less garbage. So ya, Rinjani has a “garbage season”. Sad but true. OK, I thought we agreed to wrap up the venting. J

To avoid the hoards of chain-smoking, noodle-package-tossing teenagers, we opted for the south route – a scarcely known alternative, that delivers about as close to wilderness as one might get in Indo. True to the rumours we had heard of this magically quiet and unoccupied route, we saw no other humans on our 3-day mission – a seemingly impossible feat for such a popular area. OK, what’s the catch? There is a catch. The south route does not lead to the summit – at least not in any direct, safe way.  In fact, we only got to about 3200 m when Anip, our guide, informed us that we had hit the wall. We were both sure we could go farther, but whatever, the knife-edge crater rim was starting to get a bit gnarly and did indeed look like it fell short of the summit.

Our chain-smoking crew consisted of Anip, the guide, and our porters, Ichan and Paris. Their mothers obviously did not teach them that smoking is bad for you. Amy tried desperately to convince them, but alas, in Anip’s words “no smoking, no power!”. Definitely a culture shift for us clean-air Canadians. All in all though, the crew wasn’t a bad lot. Generally decent lads, with good intentions. Although, the near constant music playing from Paris’s music box, the near-constant smoking, and the near constant smoke bellowing from their smouldering fires was trying at times. Spending 3 days in the mountains with 3 young Indonesian men is indeed a cultural experience, and probably one of the most interesting aspects of the mission (although, Amy’s kinda done with it). I almost lost it when Ichan casually threw his Coke can into the pristine stream we were lunching on, only after throwing his cigarette butt in first. Wow, there is work to be done here in Indo on the environmental awareness front.

So the mission itself was fairly straightforward. Starting from the park gate (Gunung Rinjani is a National Park) at 825 m, it’s a relatively gradual ascent through some very nice tropical forests, indicative of what the rest of Indonesia must have been like before humans arrived on the scene – vines, gigantic tree-sized ferns, waterfalls…you know…jungle. A fascinating phenomenon of gunungs is their localized effect on weather. They pretty much have their own weather systems – the big ones anyway. The result is the regular afternoon formation of cloud at mid-elevations that forms a tell-tale doughnut ring around the peak, and pretty much guarantees a walk through cloud forests. Very cool, if not a bit moist.

The highlight of the hike though was breaking through the cloud and into the savannah (open-grassland) demarking the higher elevations before hitting the crater rim. At one point we could have been cowboys in Montana or some such place. Really beautiful and very surreal. Not what one thinks of when contemplating Indonesia. After about 9 hours – with a 2-hr lunch stop to cook noodles (it’s a thing, camping in Indonesia = instant noodles) – we popped our heads over the crater rim at about 2800 m.

We camped virtually on the edge of the crater rim, which was stunning. Pretty much a case of having to watch where you step for the mid-night pee, cuz it’s a looooong way down (no safety railings here J).  Despite the chain smoking and smouldering fire, it was an amazing place to spend the night. Not another human in sight, and only Rinjani and the stars to keep us company. Again, so surreal for a country with one of the highest population densities in the world. The running joke in the Indonesian guide community seems to be that it’s a “1000-star hotel”. Good one Anip! J

Next morning we hiked up the ridge until we figured we were high enough, took a thousand or so photos, back to camp, packed up and headed back down into the mist. We spent another night in the forest down below, so that was quite cool as well, and yet another cultural experience. Camping in the jungle with the boyz. Lombok, like most of Indonesia, is populated by non-drinking muslims. We had a little rum and red wine that the boyz wanted to taste. The closest we got to them understanding what these substances were, was: the white one, “like rice wine”, and the black one? as Paris inquired: “not as strong”. They didn’t like either of them.


 
 
 
 

No comments:

Post a Comment