I was re-energised by yesterday's sleep, in the refreshing mood to appreciate the morning beauty around the lake. It was almost silent, with minimal activities of fishing and cooking. The pyramidal Gunung Baru, yield quietly to higher Rinjani mountain range arcing around it. It smoked out a bit which spelled no alarm of disaster. The lake was adorned with glittering sun reflections. Breakfast was served with the usual pancake and hot tea or coffee. Having a bigger appetite, I had an additional dish of instant noodle, kindly sponsored by Isacc.

We departed here around eight, walking casually around the lake perimeter, regretfully not staying at the serene lake for another day. Looking behind, the Rinjani mountain grew more majestic at a distance. Then we began gaining elevation through the forest. We acquainted other people who had been trekking from Senaru, and were heading to the Crater Lake and finally scaling the Rinjani top; exactly in opposite of our intended route. Some guys, though bundled their hairs into two sideway, were rugged enough to carry their own haversacks. We panted our way uphill towards the crater rim, determined to scale higher up to attain a better scenic view of Gunung Rinjani overseeing Gunung Baru and Segara Anak Lake. Our first rest point was where many were busily shooting through lens. Michael even crawled up onto a huge boulder to catch a better angle, only to find out that he forgot to load his film roll. A tiring porter came along, unleashed his burden and entertained himself with game on his gadget handphone.

Gunung Rinjani (highest point on the left), Gunung Baru (middle) and Segara Anak Lake

We proceeded furthur upwards. The slope turned steeper and rocky, and we occasionally resorted to scrambling on all four. These low grade rock climbing was challenging enough, but nothing intimidating. Suddenly, we were alarmed by animal screeching. A few grey monkeys were battling and the loser went stumbling down the rock cliff with a loud thump. All the actions happened too quick to be captured in my camera. After three hours of ascent, we finally reached Plawangan I, another end of the crater rim, and greatly rewarded by the salty cookies and, of course, the crater overview. This mountain trek was paid off by simply standing here to watch the Nature artwork displaying right in front.

Rest of the journey was mainly downhill. The route was layered with brown loose soil, everyone was walking at a clear distance to avoid facing massive smoke dusted by the one in front. Rather than walk down step by step which hurt the knee badly, running with the gravity was more efficient, however, with extreme cautions as there were pit holes hidden among the bushes.

It was half past one when we arrived at Pos III, a camp site. We had our 'maggie-mee' lunch under one of two ramshackle shelters, each having raised floor and corrugated iron roof. The newly-built hut was destroyed by a fallen tree during a heavy storm. While I was talking to two resting English ladies, a monkey came in a flash and aggressively snatched two eggs right right under my nose. To take revenge on its theft act, Isaac lured it out with a pineapple slice swirled with much chille sauce. Amazingly, it just ate the tampered fruit without any frown!

We left the place after the meal to the next camp area. The grassland gave way to forest as we were losing altitude. With little effort, we landed on Pos II close to evening and managed to catch up with the fast-moving porters who were pitching the tents and preparing for another meal. After discussed how we should tip the six porter and the guide, Isaac and Chan, thanked to them, helped to consolidate the amount. Our dinner was served on a built-in shelter, followed by rounds of 'Cuo Da Ji' cardgame. The porters watched us throwing the cards on the floor, struggling hard to understand the game rules. Soon, they gave up satisfying their curiosities, and gathered around themselves for their own card play which the loser of each round was forfeited to dangle a heavy torchlight on his ear. Both groups, each in different game, crowded on the same shelter floor which was raised above ground by pillars. I wondered whether it could withstand the total weight or collapse in no time. We would have played longer in the open, only if this last night of trek would be less shivering.

Banyan Trees

Most of us were awakened early by the unusual rooster crowing in such deep forest as well as loud snores from Boo (and me?!). The porters had already set up the fires for cooking and boiling. I sighted black-haired monkeys scuttling amidst the trees, only were grateful that they did not disturb our night. We had an unformal tip-giving ceremony for the porters and guide in appreciation of their hard work, before we set foot furthur down. Walking along the forest trail was comparatively easy, except that the exceeding humidity provoked us to sweat profusely. We came across three gigantic Banyan trees which their roots were apart and its canopy highpoint uniquely converged and twisted together, shaping like one standing tripod. Here we encountered the Lombok Red Cross group preparing for the Rinjani expedition and one of the female members made good acquaintance with our ladies.

Sha, strapped in a havesack, was leading the way while Joe, still suffering from headache since the summit climb, was covering behind. Sha showed us a small red fruit, resembling strawberry, and I tasted it bitterly. Along the way, having footwear of only slipper, he cut his toe by a sharp treeroot protrusion. Cheng and I provided enough medical attention to him and he was alright. Soon, we found ourselves landing at a village, meaning that we were not far from finishing our whole trek. Hence, all of us treated ourselves with coke drink as short celebration. An old lady was pounding flour, in great proficiency, with a long wooden rod onto a vase-liked container. Isaac playfully performed the pounding act, only to be teased by us of his clumsiness and unskilfulness.

Once we crossed through the farmland and arrived at Rinjani Trek Centre, we accomplished the four-day trek, unharmed and contented. Chan, Cheng and I bought certificates at the centre as trophies of our accomplishments. Our next destination was the recommended Sindang Gila waterfall. We grumbled slightly when we entered into the forest again. However, our complains were not justified when we stood over the gorgeous waterfall, plunging the water over hundred meter into a shallow river. The porters were quick in action to jump into the water and we were still fumbling our bags to get our toiletries. We had a thorough wash-up, rejuvenated away from our weary for the past four-day hike. We even challenged one another to stay beneath the waterfall for as long as possible. Pounded hard by the high water under gravity, I couched still while covering my ears from the pain of impact. Oh boy, I enjoyed more here than from the hot spring!

We dressed up and travelled alongside a irrigation canal, partly losing itself inside tunnels. Within minutes, we were back to the guesthouse we stayed four days ago. We were congratulated by Manawir. It was now having a lunch in a proper setting of table and chairs. Later, we gathered our baggages and jumped into a bus (bemo) which Manawir charged at outrageous price.

Now we bid farewell to the high mountain and headed down to the sea island called Gili Trawangan. The bemo, blasting the hoarse English pop music, speeded us off along the road track for more than one hour to Bangsal Harbour. The harbour was the convenient gateaway to the Gili Islands, however it was also notorious of its tourist tout and Mafia presence. We were instructed not to go to any restaurant normally opened by Mafia, and not to let our items carry by any pretentiously helpful locals. Fortunately, the bemo driver was kind enough to park in front of the ticket office, avoiding any tout pestering. The moment we alighted from the vehicle, Boo was stopped by a young 'Ah Beng' asking for sweet and he frowned at Boo rudely when he did not get his begging gift. The ticket office, with a few broken benches and its ceiling crawling with cobwebs and dangling a fluorescent lamp waiting to fall off anytime, was indeed badly maintained. The staff encouraged us to charter a private boat which would leave immediately at a price multiple fold than that taking a public boat. We insisted on buying the cheaper tickets to board the public boat. And to our expectation, in less than half an hour, the boat had accumulated enough passengers to depart. The boat, two sides out-stretching parallel bamboo beams to enhance its balance, sliced through the water in motor-speed for around an hour to the Gili Trawangan.

Gili Trawangan was not only the largest of all comparing with its neighbouring Gili Air and Gili Meno, it was also the most noisy 'party island'. Nevertheless, we chose dwelling on this Gili to ensure last-minute room reservation since it provided the most homestay facilities. We took no horsecarts because we knew that they would only bring us around places within walking distance at a unreasonable price. Based on the Lonely Planet guidebook, we eyed on the Blue Beach Cottage which its signpost was not eye-catching enough to draw our attention, so we lost our way even along a one-way coastline street. A hoursecart driver claimed that the cottage was fully booked, trying to bring us to another accommodation. We ignored him in deep disbelief. Then a helpful restaurant staff came to our salvation when he rode his bicycle and directed us the way. The cottage, lined with all the single-floored room along a garden alley, looked cosy and homelike. The cottage staff-in-charge, in his curly hair and charismatic smile, showed us two air-con rooms with spacious toilets attached. Each room placed outside a big pottery vase which hold water for foot-washing and its opening posed a challenge to close it with a tiny rod of different diameter.

It was time to explore furthur around the island after we settled our places to stay. The coast of east island side was packed with mainly Caucasians in bikinis sun-bathing and snorkelling. A wide variety of facilities straddled the east beach: mini-mart, down-to-earth restaurants written its menu in a blackboard sign, 'happening' party pubs, diving centres with in-built swimming pool, hotel serving seafood buffet and projecting latest DVD movies. We asked around several tour agencies to understand the possible activities done around. We had our dinner at Cafe Wayan, pampered ourselves with big potion of tuna steak and concentrated fruit-juices. We hold up our drinks and cheered ourselves to celebrate our achievements at Mount Rinjani as well as successfully reaching the island, up and down all within one day. It was now R&R for us in the rest of days ahead...

When I was immersing myself in sweet dream, I shockingly woke up by the loud prayer call around five. I came to the realisation that this Blue Beach Cottage was 'strategically' located beside a mosque. It went on for minutes and then there was silence. But just when I was about to doze off, the prayer call returned in a short burst. Guess alarm clock was redundant here.

Idling Street of Gili Trawangan

Around seven, everybody gathered for breakfast around a small table under a bamboo shelter. I had toast bread with scramble egg, tea and orange juice. Cheng and I then roamed along the street, quiet with minimal activities in this early hour, and shopped around for snorkelling gears. We met this happy-go-lucky guy called Andy who promised us to get lifejackets, only to discover later that he charged us at ridiculous price. In front of our homestay was the Trawangan Wall of 15m long, populated with swimmers to snorkel. I tried my best to instruct Cheng who was having her first snorkelling taste on open sea; but regretfully the lesson was badly conducted as the current was strong and her damaged mask was leaking into water. We quited snorkelling very soon as the area offered nothing spectacular but dead coral and minimal fish.

In the afternoon we were going to cycle around the perimeter of the island. We had a lunch stop at the Cafe Demo which interestingly, its tables were actually made of raw tree roots and trunks. The food was tasty and cheap. Then as we moved furthur north, the path was getting indistinctive under beach sand. At the northeast corner of isle, we walked on the dried sea bed at low tide. We had a small biological class as we probed out sea urchins hiding between gaps of dead corals and examined closely. Isaac observed even furthur by sadistically killing a sea urchin with his wooden stick! He defensed his murderous act, saying that sea urchin eats coral and thus is a pest. But the fact was that human was the main destroyer of all to the coral.

After waited for Michael who had been taking pictures on locals making wooden boat, we cycled in east direction. But the ride was shortened at the beautiful front of Balikana Retreat. We swayed on a straw-roofed row of soft-padded swings by the elusive beach. When we ordered the drink from the American lady boss, she exclaimed: "I am surprised to see you all around in Gili; Singaporeans do not come here since there are nothing to shop." Deliberately or it, it was a subtle sarcasm. It was a typical example which Singaporeans were stereotyped as hard-core shopping tourists. Buckle up, Singapore, we need to appreciate other aspects of travelling beside going sale and eating!

Cheng and I formed an advance party to explore the rest of the island, only to discover later that the rest were too far away to catch up. The next half of the route posed great difficulty to cycle since the path was thickened with beach sand. Occasionally, when the bike skidded off or blogged down, we had to walk and drag our bike. We attempted to head to the lookup hill to have a sunset view of Mt Agung, but missed the leading road, nicely hidden in an attap village. We ended the ride at the jetty, overlooking the cloudy Rinjani mountain range and sea of strong waves. The strong wind made our conversation nearly inaudible. Back at the Blue Beach, while waiting for the rest of the gang, we both learnt how to be truly relax at the balcony. Being as a city dweller, I unconsciously felt uneasy not to move anything. Ashamed to say, I had a long way to appreciate the mindfulness of not doing anything and let everything go.

The night involved a lavishing dinner added with a show screen in a high-class restaurant, yet the price was still affordable. When some decided to catch the next show, the overwhelming after-effect of Rinjani climb compelled me to return back to my room and resort to sleep very early.

It was Friday the 13th. Nothing disastrous happened, nothing exciting occurred either. The advantage of having prayer call before six in the morning was that we would never be late for the sunrise view. We sheepishly walked to the frontier beach and sat on a fallen log, waiting patiently for the moment. The sky was already tinted in red and orange, hanging the half moon at one small corner. The tranquil surrounding was barely disrupted: a middle-aged lady was sweeping and burning the rubbish at the beach while her son was playing at her dustpan. Eventually, the bright orange globe popped out from the horizon gradually beside the silhouette of Mount Rinjani. Michael and Boo, was busily shooting the view by their SLR cameras.

We returned to the Blue Beach to have breakfast of the same menu, before going for an one-day snorkelling event. We had booked a private boat with a deeply-tanned, lively Beach Boy from Perama agency. He offered us the discount rental fee for the snorkel gears, too bad that Cheng and I had obtained the day before. The chartered boat, manned by two other Beach Boys, had its base framed with two glass panels, which we could peep through the sea depth. The first snorkel spot was at Turbo Reef, north of Gili Trawangan, somewhere near the Balikana Retreat. Since the dying coral area was a deep disappointment, we did not swim long. Next we speeded up to the Turtle Heaven, in the north of Gili Meno. One of the Beach Boys led us to promising area where turtles were around. And indeed I caught a glimpse of a half-man sized turtle gliding deep below the deep blurry water. Boo dived in to take a closer look but the turtle proved to be a faster swimmer for him to catch up. Other than the turtle sightings, there were no other reasons to swim any furthur as the fish was pathetically minimal. Then it was a long rocky boat ride which caused motion-sickness for almost everyone. It was a right time to set our foot upon solid ground at Gili Air, to have toilet-break as well as to take our lunch.

Little Fishy Business

The boat anchored by the beach nearby which was a simple restaurant where it served the meals at the attap shelters. The dishes were fabulous, but the portions were too little. After the meal, we simply lazed on the shelters, unwilling to depart the smoothing ambiance. There were a bunch of boys, at the shore, appeared seriously on their childplay fishing. They paired up into two, each group tailing a toy wooden boat. Once they spotted those silvery small fishs, they pulled down the net from their tiny vessel to surround the fish. Then they closed up the net, opened the lid on the boat and scooped up their harvest into a chamber. It was something no city kids even played.

Our last destination was a popular snorkelling area at the coastline of Gili Air, as well as the best one we even had. Unlike the previous two spots, the area promised abundant fish and prettier coral bed. I tried to tuck in my legs in the shallow water, trying to avoid touching any coral. Cheng was beginning to snorkel on her own, though she had to resist the low water temperature. When we returned back to Gili Trawangan in late afternoon, the sea became rough and swayed the boat vigorously. The shakings and poundings reminded Isaac and me of our past water-rafting experiences, and we narrated the rafting thrills to Michael while we were on such roller-coaster ride. I did not really enjoy this snorkelling day as those visited sites were more or less a let-down, especially I hold a biased comparison to the Redang in Malaysia. During dinner time, Isaac suggested we should pamper ourselves again, so we chose to revisit the same restaurant that also broadcast motion pictures too.