Posted by Martin on Tuesday, 20. October 1998 at 03:16 Bali Time:
In Reply to: Don't Stop Now! posted by Susan on Monday, 19. October 1998 at 11:47 Bali Time:
As Rod pointed out it was indeed Gunung Batur, not Gunung Agung that we climbed. We had a great view of sunrise over Gunung Agung from the top of Batur.
I must emphasize that the well written stuff in my previous post and continued below was not written by me, it was written by Fred A. Bernstein and published in the Washington Post on 6.14.98 in the travel section.
Our experience was very similar to that described in Fred's article, except we started at 4.15 am. No special equipment is needed to climb, as pointed out by Rod the climb is probably more accurately described as a hike, and in fact the guides climb in flip-flops and don't even break a sweat (amazing and somewhat humiliating). However, I would strongly suggest good boots, especially because the climb down involves a fair bit of scree running and an hour long hike through a lava field. Also the flashlight/torch provided by the guide was pretty weak and the first hour and a half hike is in darkness so a good torch would be a good thing to bring. A lot of water is also essential. We (2 of us) drank 4.5 liters during the 5 hour trip (plus some cokes from the sprite boy).
After we descended we had a very bad breakfast at the Puri Bening 'hotel', then left in the organization's transport for Ubud. We spent two days in Ubud at the Hotel Tjampuhan, which was great, then headed for Hong Kong. Before Gunung Batur we spent three days in Nusa Dua at the Grand Hyatt Bali. Our experiences in Nusa Dua and in Ubud are very similar to those outlined in other posts, but I'd be glad to give more details if you like.
Martin.
Fred A. Bernstein continues his volcano experience: As we descend, the mountain begins looking more like a science experiment and less like a terrestrial landscape. There are repeated encounters with geysers of sulfurous steam. Although we try to hold our breath while running through the acrid outbursts, we still end up with burning throats and nostrils. And the ground is hot; one Australian scorches her hand reaching for a souvenir pebble.
The scorching and scalding are the price we pay for a glimpse of the caldera. For there, a few hundred feet from the peak, is the holy of holes, a conical depression with an opening at the bottom, like a nibbled-off ice cream cone. Leaning in just far enough, I get a good look at the oft-promised bubbling magma, glowing bright magenta. The sound, of steam hissing out with defiance, is that of a New York apartment radiator. At our feet, along the rim, are offerings to the gods, left by the Hindu locals: banana leaf "trays" bearing smidgens of rice and candies. (There's reason for reverence. A 1917 eruption killed more than 1,400 Balinese.) We make jokes about falling in. (Guide to caldera: "You want to drink some Coke? You want to eat some tourist?")
Soon we are descending through deep powder. The preferred technique is to "ski" -- though some of us prefer to sit and slide. The torrent of pebbles we send rolling down the hill sounds like a steady rainfall. And then, the only mishap of the day: A medium-size rock, loosed by an Israeli 100 feet above me, careers with uncanny precision (like a bowling ball tossed off by a lucky beginner) into my ankle. A minor flesh wound, and little risk of infection (is there anything on earth more sterile than a rock still toasty from the oven?).
Eventually, the moonscape gives way to the terrain I had seen the night before -- lava fields sporting tentative vegetation, an otherworldly mix of gray and green, like a TV badly in need of adjustment. A short hike later, and we are on flat ground for the first time in five hours. A truck waits to drive us back to Toyah Bungkah. My extortionist has now delivered everything he'd promised.
It is 10:15 when we arrive at the hotel. Breakfast -- eggs, coffee and orange juice -- costs 7,000 rupiah (about 62 cents), a reminder of the value of a buck on Bali. Still, I can't say I didn't get my $20 worth from Mount Batur .
And so what if my official government guide had forgotten to mention one minor detail (which I discovered after returning to New York): Given sulfurous gases, bubbling magma (!) and other indications of an imminent eruption, the Indonesian government had closed Batur to climbers several weeks before I got there.
You want to drink some Coke? You want to drink some Sprite? No problem!
Fred Bernstein lives on an island conveniently situated between Kennedy, LaGuardia and Newark airports. He travels to avoid practicing law.
Mount Batur is about 40 miles north of the Denpasar airport, but the trip will take at least three hours. A better staging area is Ubud, a town in the center of Bali, but from there it's still two hours to the mountain.
WHERE TO STAY: If you want to climb Batur at 4 a.m., you'll have to spend the night in Toyah Bungkah. The Puri Bening Hayato (011-62-366-51-234) is unstylish but clean and fairly comfortable. Rooms are about $50. No credit cards, and even traveler's checks are suspect.