Sometimes it’s just not worth getting up in
the morning. Literally. Our 3-am ascent of Gungung Prau in Central Java’s Dieng
Plateau was one of those times. But you know, if everything was 100%
predictable, the wins just wouldn’t be
the same.
The saga began, as usual, with a 4-am Uber
ride to the Jakarta airport at the beginning of another long weekend here in
Bogor. We have definitely dialled-in early-morning rides to the airport and
getting out of town quickly and efficiently – no easy feat in this 35-million
mass of humanity. Arriving in our target city of Yogyakarta (AKA “Jogja”) after
a quick 50-mins flight, things were looking good.
That came to a screeching halt upon a call
for the ground transportation I had pre-arranged. Our real target was the small
enclave of Dieng, a collection of houses about 80 kms northwest of Jogja. Now,
here again as has been explained in previous posts, 80 kms in
Canada….what?...45 mins maybe. In Indo, could take you most of the day,
depending on your luck. Our luck was bad today. Our “prior arrangement” went
sideways and we were informed that they could only pickup at 2 pm this
afternoon, maybe. It was 8 am. OK, plan B.
Plan B was asking someone at the airport
about buses. Our wishful thinking that there might actually be “a” bus to where
we wanted to go, were instantly dashed. We were directed to a city bus stop,
and told this would take us to a bus station, where we could then find a bus in
the right direction. Well, OK, this is going to be “fun”. And you know, it
kinda was!
The first bus actually took us to a
transfer station, where we got on another city bus that took us to the bus
station. From there we did indeed find a bus going in the right direction, and
onto another bus, another, and yet another two more. All told, we took 6
buses for our epic 80-km journey. The last one was particularly “interesting”.
Upon entering the second-last bus, we were assured that it was going to Dieng,
our final destination. In classic chicken-bus fashion, after 30 mins +/-, the
bus comes to a halt on the side of the road, whereupon all passengers with
their chickens and coconuts, promptly and briskly exit the bus and collect
outside – the two stunned Canadians left wondering: er, WTF?!
After some initial chaos, and no idea where
we were, or what the h was going on, we start walking with our roller bags,
because that’s what everyone else was doing. And then we see it. Ahhhh. The bridge is out.
Of course! OK, we get it now. Walk across the bridge, then get on another bus.
All makes perfect sense. Interestingly, there was no talk of the bus fare we
had already paid to get us to Dieng, and now the new bus guy wants money for
the final leg of the journey. But you know, for 50 cents, I didn’t make a stink
(very big of me, I know J).
All in all, 6 buses, about 7 hours, at a
total cost of 4 bucks each, it turned out to be a fun day! Just like the old
days really. Ah, it was good to be back on the road in the middle of it all. J
The bus dropped us off at the door of our
accom, which turned out to be a backpacker dump. You know, dumpy, dirty,
smelly, and noisy. Basically a firetrap. The part of dirt-bag travel we could
do without. Course, after a couple beers and some soup, life was good again.
The staff were remarkably friendly, and gave us everything we needed to know
for a self-guided hike up our ultimate target on this mission: Gunung Prau
(translation: Mt. Boat). So beers and soup done, recon info in hand, we settled
into our smelly room for the night.
In keeping with the Indonesian tradition of
getting up in the middle of the night, the alarm was set for 3 am. The plan:
hike up the ridge with headlamps, to arrive at the summit for sunrise, and thus
be rewarded with what is supposed to, one of the most spectacular views in
Indonesia: the Dieng Plateau at sunrise.
This is the “not worth getting up in the
morning” part. Upon stepping outside in the dark, there was a very obvious wind
situation. The metal sign across the street that was blown off its hinges and
flailing in the wind was….wait for it….not a good sign (ha!). Anywhoooo, we
trudged on with our headlamps, up the rain-soaked ridge, listening to the wind
break branches off trees. Sensing a completely failed mission, we hunkered down
at the first exposed ridgetop location, and waited for first light.
Amy at this point had her down jacket on,
my down jacket on, and a gortex shell on top of it all. She was still freezing.
Remember, this is Indonesia….where you could literally live naked on the beach
without the slightest discomfort. However at 2600 m, and dark and stormy, it was maybe 7 degrees C. It was just plain miserable and stupid up on
that ridge. Unbeknownst to us, the rangers had actually closed the trail, and
we had somehow just slipped through. I was wondering why we were the only fools
out on the ridge that morning. Stupid bules!
Anywhooo, it got light, and hey, guess
what, no view! In fact, it was hard to make out the tree beside us that was
bending in half from the wind. OK, enough of this stupidity, back to base. We
climbed back down the ridge, licked our wounds, had some breakfast, then hit
the road back to the big smoke of Jogja. We arranged a driver this time, which
was infinitely more civilized (although we still had to walk across the
bridge).
Getting back to Jogja actually saved the
weekend. Amy loves Jogja. As Indonesian cities go, it’s way above par. Lots to
do, good restaurants, and great high-value accom. We checked into our boutique
hotel, chilled by the pool, went out for a fantastic dinner of pizza and wine
(a treat for us coming from wineless Bogor). The next morning, before heading
back to the airport, we had time to take in the traditional Javanese music and
dancing at the Sultan’s palace (AKA, Kranton). All in all, a good 24 hours
relative to the previous 24.
Ahhh, but hey, it’s all part of the fun. No
regrets!
