Lombok, is an Indonesian island east of Bali. It situates at the geological transition (known as Wallace Line) between topical southeast region and Australian outback. What intrigued me about this less-touristy piece of land was the Mount Rinjani, the second highest volcano in Southeast Asia. Even since my Kilimanjaro climb, I wished to scale to another top, this time around, of a volcano mountain which I had never done before. Initially my plan was to sign for a package from a tour agency, but later my friends persuaded me to go free-and-easy at a much lower expense. And so seven of us, (Isaac, Michael, Chan, my wife Cheng, Boo and Bing couple), touched down on Selaparang Airport in Lombok after 2.5 hours of Silk Air flight. The evening was air-refreshing and windy. The Rinjani mountain was shrouded in heavy clouds, only to rise our anticipation of our imminent trek there. The airport was tidy yet small, as the single baggage conveyor belt was merely beside the custom counters.

Prior to the trip, Michael, one of our seven, had arranged the Rinjani trek with a local tour staff, Manawir. Manawir loaded us up into a mini-van and headed towards Senaru, a traditional village which was as a preparation point for any hikers. The road journey was bumpy at times and interrupted halfway when the driver changed the tyre. We sneaked out the vehicle to gaze the starry sky. When we arrived at the guesthouse Pondok Achita Bayan, we were treated with a welcome dinner. We then realised that Manawir had planned for us a 3D/2N trek even though Michael had agreed upon with him via the phone that we wanted 4D/3N in the mountain. Unsure whether there was a miscommunication or he was out to rise his earning upon our arrival, we had no black-and-white document to rely upon but only resorted to price re-negotiation. After much bargain, we still made a reasonable deal of less than S$200 per person. This was the start of our realisation that mastering the art of bargaining was essential to survive in Lombok.

We re-packed our items in our simple and spacious rooms; putting all unnecessary things at the guesthouse while assigning only four heavy baggages to the porters. The night was cold enough to put blankets into good use, noisy enough to tuck the pillow onto my ears. There were people chatting outside and roosters crowing irritably in early hours. I forced myself hard to sleep, hypnotised myself that subsequent trekking nights would be less comfortable than here.

We were reluctantly woken up much early by the rooster crowing. Joe, in his small but well-toned size, greeted and introduced us as our guide. Accompanied with him were six porters. We loaded up into a tiny pick-up and left Senaru to Sembalun, our starting point. Although the wheeled ride was merely 1.5 hour, I easily felt nauseated while travelling along the winding and undulating road at the hilly area. I closed my eyes to block the shaky view and blurped occasionally. I realised that I was not the only one being victimised because once the vehicle stopped, Chan, my pal, got off his seat and vomited out slightly.

We registered at the Rinjani Information Centre which housed a miniature of the mountain landscape. From Sembalun village, we intruded through a household plantation field and then traversed eastwards along a flat savanna. The captivating Mount Rinjani was right in front of us, looming high up to the clear blue sky and spread its base entirely over the ground level. Cattles were gazing in the grass, oblivious of our camera-shooting. A mile away was a cluster of agricultural greenhouses. We made a short turn into a forest where we had our first rest point on a dry riverbed, and then returned back to the savanna area. As the grass was getting taller and denser, the path was hidden and less evident; sometimes we simply followed any people right in front for direction, provided they were not obscured by the grass as well! We were not alone in this grassland as we spotted few trek groups resting at the Pos I Pemantuan [1300m] and Pos II Tengengean [1500m]. We even encountered black-haired monkeys swinging above the trees. Following us were six porters, each whose shoulder was pivoting a round, thick bamboo pole of both ends tied tightly with our baggages, food and utensils.

Trek Route from Sembalun to Senaru via the Rinjani peak

After trekked for four hours, we stationed under a broken bridge on a dry riverbed layered with black volcanic dust. We were tired but still not yielded to exhaustion. The porters cooked our noodle meals using firewood and served us on a groundsheet. Each noodle, mixed with vegetable and a hard-boiled egg, was not worthy to be a feast, but at least it solved our hungers. The porters brought three skinny chickens, both legs tied, to be slaughtered, but this meal they were spared.

It was a two-hour lunchtime before proceeding towards Pos III Pada Balong [1800m] where other trekkers were having their bites. Beyond Pos III was the toughest part of our trek this day towards our destination. The ascent was draggy and slow. The landscape had transformed into alpine with dry brown grass and short shrubs. As we penetrated through the cloud level, everywhere was creeping with fog and chill. Everyone was utterly exhausted, especially Michael who had carried two set of heavy cameras. A three-hour ascent brought us to the ridge top which was a three-way junction leading east to Sembalun, west to Hot Spring and south to the Rinjani summit. It was only minutes later to arrive at our campsite -- Plawangan II Crater Rim [2630m]. Miraculously, my fatigue wore off.

The campsite was pestered by mountain monkeys in thick grey furs. Sensing human presence, they had ulterior motives to snatch any food within sights. Boo was nearly attacked by an aggressive one when he was taking pictures. We kept a safe distance away from the primate lot by throwing stones to ward them off. The monkey intrusion never deterred us from admiring the awesome scenery. The sea of wavering cloud was afar and below us, as if we were in the fairyland. The cloud, like rolling cotton, was soaring high to surround a peak like a lone island. As the sun squashed into the horizon, it gilded the sea cloud. It was so stunning that we nearly forgot our dinner.

Sea Cloud at Plawangan II

After a chicken meal, we prepared ourselves for tomorrow summit attempt. I had unloaded many unwanted items yet ensured sufficient water supply. I rested early. The coldness triggered my throat which was sored for the past few weeks and I coughed constantly. There were also various noises everywhere that constituted to my insomnia. Strong wind was flagging nosily on our tents and created hollowing resonance in the mountain valley. Our porters were chatting right beside us till late nights. Around 2 am, other expedition groups were shouting commands to get prepared for the climb. I only hoped that my temporary lack of sleep would not get over my will to overcome the summit...

This day was Singapore's National Day. Yet for the seven Singaporeans on a foreign highland and in the dark, freezing night, the air of national celebration was replaced by a mix feeling of worry and anticipation. We geared up ourselves by 3am, waiting for the guide's signal to move on. My nervousness compelled my body to take a last-minute 'big' relief before leaving the campsite. We were told that it took three hours to reach the summit, just in time to see the sunset. But my intuition hinted me not to bet on it, even though the summit looked close...deceptively.

The first part of the summit climb that lasted for an hour or so was a steep trudge along the scree. The ground was slicked with soil powder, and we sometimes resorted to all four limbs. Even Cheng who had been using an umbrella as walking stick, slipped occasionally. In the night weakly illuminated by half-moon, our torchlights were most helpful to shine our imminent path. We were lucky that the wind had already subsided, or else we had to face the wind chills and flying dusts. Flashbacks of the night summit climb in Mt Kilimanjaro last year came back recursively. And the slothful side of me cried out loudly to my mind: "Why are you torturing yourself? Aren't you have enough already?!"

Our second hurdle was crossing a long but gentle-sloped ridge which consumed fairly more than an hour. It was an opportunity to abate our breathless after the sharp climb and resupply our tourchlights with new batteries. Night blinded us from our surrounding and we were unable to gauge how high we were. But we followed the narrow path faithfully, which its both sides were tapered down sharply into darkness. I reminded the rest that we were celebrating National Day at the peak, as a hopeful inspiration.

The Tormenting Summit Climb

Nothing we had been gone through really prepared us for the last 350m stretch to the peak. The scree slope of loose, fist-sized granite stones was seemingly steep and long. Every step sank deep to the ankle, and additional effort was needed to overcome one backward slide in practically every three uphill steps. Personally I felt the ascent was much tougher than what I faced in Mt Kilimanjaro, perhaps I did not condition myself this time round. We unknowingly splitted into two groups. Bing, Boo and Isaac were far in front; whereas Cheng, Chan, Michael and I were struggling behind, disheartened to see how far apart we were and how small the Bing's lot appeared to be. Breathing was difficult in such high altitude and awful ascent. Every little steps we achieved we were compelled to make intermediate breathing stop. Joe the guide responded to our slow pace by taking intermediate sleeps to recover his mild headache.

Michael was struggling along, frequently resting his head on his ski pole. Yet he remembered to bring out his heavy camera to snapshot despite his utter fatigue. I saluted his photography passion. Cheng was making her first-time attempt to reach a mountain top. Never been prepared what she was experiencing now, she plodded her feet through the stones in agony and slowness. Her face was green in beathlessness; she pushed herself by poking my ski pole with both hands in every step. I walked behind her faithfully, supported her with water, words of encouragement and spiritual chants. I never hoped to enjoy timely sunrise view at the summit; only wished that all of us would reach there eventually. Time sneaked the orange sun out from the cloud curtain to reveal the magnificent but daunting view around us. We were along a narrow pathway of width no more than three metre, on the left side opened up the floating cloud while on the right side fell right down to the crater lake. While looking up to the tiny view of summit was demoralising, glancing behind at the downward ridge over the sheer vastness was indeed frightening. And therefore I tried hard to limit my focus on the ground and concentrated my footsteps, just as I advised Cheng to do so.

People continually descended down from the summit and greeted us with great satisfaction. I responded their greetings, hidden my admiration of what they had already accomplished. But I knew no matter how slow we became, we would definitely attain what the others did if we did not give up. Only metres away from the peak, the slower four took a longer break. Cheng surprisingly expressed she wished to yield to the mountain height. I pushed her, saying that we were within reach to the destination, and she would regret in the rest of her lifetime if she did not make it. Chan picked up a bonus when a descending hiker threw away his walking stick right in front. Michael was too happy to stay immobile for a while. When I jokingly asked him whether he wanted to scale for a greater height next time, he negated without thinking. The rest laughed at his prompt response.

Close to 8 am, all of us made it to the summit which was actually a small flat gravelled area. There were no other trekkers around. I was juveniled over our 100% success rate and proud of Cheng who succeeded in her first peak attempt. However, our exhaustions robbed us from any celebrating hugs and shouts. We sat down quietly and admired the grandeur around us. Mt Agung at Bali island loomed afar and above the skyline. Down below was the crescent-shaped crater lake known as Segara Anak Lake (Sea of Children) which its width stretched kilometres apart. In the midst of this greenish-blue lake was the young coned volcano, Gunung Baru [2363m], which its base was enlarged recently by massive lava deposit in its 1994 eruption.

Our stay was short-lived by the raising sun heat. We reversed back same route. The descent along the narrow path that plunged deeply on both sides was terrifying as well as awesome. The rising sun casted a long and deep shadow of the ridge thousands metre down below the crater lake. I believed that if I looked carefully down at the shadow, I might even find my shadow on the lake itself too. To realise the fearsomeness of the plunge, Bing threw a small stone and created a small land avalanche. Still, it was truly fascinating to walk above cloud level. I probed my ski pole forwards, slanted my body to stabilise myself while walking straight down. Every step I took was in constant carefulness. Nobody I heard of fell down from the ridge top, but I definitely were not going to set the precedent. There were few people who were still struggling up the summit at such late hours. Somehow I sympathised them, setting little hope on them.

After the stony scree slope, we continued skirting the ridge top across the hardened brown ground. Then it was a steep trek down the ridge. I preferred to run down occasionally to gain the momentum, arousing puffs of earth dust behind my trail. By the time I landed back at the campsite, my shirt and shoes was smudged in brown. The whole downhill took as long as three hours. I was mildly dehydrated but my will was still intact.

Due to our late arrival, we were served with late breakfast of banana pancake together with lunch at the same time. Nobody could consume fully in such weary conditions, especially when there were chores of packing up and offloading the tent to do. At one in the afternoon, we were going downhill to the crater lake, in deep relief that we had overcome the most unbearable and were looking forwards relaxing at a hot spring. We turned left, heading north-east, at the three-point junction near Plagwangan II. The initial descent was not easy; the steep route was riddled everywhere with jagged edges of rock faces and slippery pieces of rock rubble. Each pebbly step required careful planning of where one leg should land, resulting our movement to be retardingly slow. Alongside hoisted several concrete handrails which were badly damaged; thus instead of easing our walking, they posed danger to us with jutted rusty bars. The misty and open terrain was filled of brownish shrubs and grass. The whole journey to the Crater Lake took up three hours, ended its part with more gentle walking along flat grassland. Porters had already pitched our tents and ready for our dinner.

The Segara Anak Lake was calm with mild intrusions of local people fishing and cooking near cluster of tents. Gunung Baru, tapered upwards to its wide opening, remained motionless. At the other side high up was the peak of Mt Rinjani. I was amazed that I had set my foot at that spot only hours ago. We settled down fast at our tents before impatiently heading to the hot spring near the Crater Lake, which people said that dipping there would extend one's longevity. Sha, a vocal and cheerful porter in his 21, took us for a walk of fifteen minute to an isolated hot spring. Soaking into a sulphuric hot water naturally streaming from cascading waterfall truly repaid the painful climb we had this morning. The ladies, keeping their modesty intact, laid simply still on the water; whereas the guys had more fun letting the waterfall massaging their bodies and swimming around neck-depth pool. I felt my heart was pounding hard, so I guessed that hot spring bathing was not for those with weak heart. We returned back to campsite before nightfall for our dinner. The starry night was charming, but we were too tired to admire it. As early as nine, we all turned into our tents. Overwhelmed by fatigue of ten-hour trekking this day, I slept sound and fast.