TRAVEL
Dawn atop the summit
Descending from the top
Peak Performance Too obscure for most bucket lists, climbing Rinjani is the highlight of any trip to Lombok. By Ric Stockfis View of the summit
Rinjani seen from Gili Air
12 I-S MAGAZINE FRIDAY, AUGUST 23, 2013
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t 3,726m it’s the second highest volcano in Indonesia. It erupted as recently as 2010. An entire party of hikers froze to death on its flank, still five hours from the summit, in 2007. And yet, on a glorious blue sky morning, shaking out your legs on a mild, sloping trail up through the grasslands surrounding the sleepy settlement of Sembalun Lawang (1,150m), you’re convinced that climbing Lombok’s Mount Rinjani simply can’t be all that hard. After all, you’ve brought three porters— one for each member of your group—and a guide. And they’re all wearing flip flops! But hard it certainly is. Three days and two nights of consistently tough hiking. Up to the crater rim (2,700m) by nightfall of the first day; leaving behind the open savannah and corrugated ridge lines to scramble up on steep forested trails, before breaking past the treeline for stunning sunset views down into the caldera lake and an exceedingly welcome campfire dinner of boiled veg and instant noodles. Then to bed in your tent by 9pm, in time for a shivering 2:30am reveille and a three hour climb to the summit; the pitch darkness diluted only
by blurry starlight and pinprick lights from another forty or more head-torches. Stunning views from the top, of course—the icy dawn rays exposing first the northern coast, then the channel across to Bali (and the other side of the evolutionary Wallace Line), and now Bali’s own volcanic peak of Agung—but not before the final push; 45 minutes to ascend the last half kilometer, a steep, hands-on-knees slog through thick volcanic ash. Two steps forward, three steps back, with most folks choosing to wait it out until they can see where they’re going. Then it’s photo ops with everyone up top, and a chance to admire the gently smoking cone of Barujari within the crater. (And that’s if you’re lucky with the weather.) Descending down to the rim is that much easier with the sun up, though it’s still a good hour or two before you’re back. That’s five hours hiking and you’ve not yet had breakfast. (In your absence, the campsite’s resident monkey population most assuredly have.) A couple of congealed banana fritters and some sludgy coffee later (who are you kidding? food never tasted so good) and it’s time to tackle what is