The Magic of Mount Batur

by Rachel Lipnoski (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Indonesia

We set out in darkness. It was 3am, and we left for the trek eyes heavy. Climbing the famous Mount Batur to watch the sunrise was one of the things I had been most excited about visiting Bali. I was told it was magical island, and whatever you set forth manifested in abundance. Little did I know how true that would be. The storm raging outside was ferocious. The water was coming down from the sky in sheets, as only jungle rain can. We weren't sure that it was safe, the thunder and lightning looming getting closer by the minutes. Waiting for our guides to make the call, a group of us headed to use the nearby toilets. As we huddled together to shield ourselves from the elements, one of the girls confided that getting struck by lightning was her biggest fear. Calm soothing voices all pitched in to all assure her that we would be ok, that it was still miles away and that nobody would let us traverse the mountain if it wasn’t safe. Would they? The thunder got louder. Out of nowhere there was a huge snap and the electric pole next to us exploded, sending a white spark out a few feet. Lightening had struck inches from where we were standing. We all ran screaming, less one poor soul still on the toilet wondering what was happening. We were all shaking. I remember asking the girl who stated her fear earlier how she felt. I asked how empowered she felt witnessing her biggest fear in the world and facing it head on. I confided to the groups that mine was watching somebody choke. The adrenaline was pumping through everyone now. Our guide made the call despite our fears. We were going. And we began the hike, slowly winding our way up the ragged cliffs, illuminated by only the glow of our headlights. The rain didn't stop, making each carefully placed foot a slippery gamble. The ascent was a difficult one, and the darkness and rain only added to the challenge. Halfway up the mountain there was a resting area, and we huddled under a tent. Dozens of other climbers descending scampered past us, having given up and retreated from the dangerous climb. I stepped outside of the tent and tilted my head to the sky, letting the rain pour down my face. I let it soak me. We trekked on. The last half of the hike was harder than the first. Even though the rain started to cease, the steepness of the trail took my breath away. We stopped right before the summit for a quick rest. The locals had a picnic table in a hut set up where they set out fresh fruit and boiled eggs to satisfy the appetites we had worked up over the past 3 hours. We were almost there. And then it happened. One of the girls started choking, her eyes wide, her hands frantically grabbing at her throat. I started yelling for help, trying not to think of where we were, miles away from help on the top of a mountain. Somebody grabbed her, and as we all watched in horror, strong arms wrapped around her and pumped, one, two. Nothing three four, still nothing. Finally, the food unlodged and she gasped for breath, tears running down her face. We all looked at eachother in disbelief. How is this even possible? We finally arrived at the top of the mountain. Sadly the sunrise wasn't visible due to the overcast sky, I could only imagine how gorgeous it would have looked. But it didn’t matter. We could still see for miles, little houses dotting the lush landscape, the wispy clouds formations seemingly just out of our reach. After we had taken in the moment, we started the journey back down, everyone just a little bit different than when they had first set foot on Mount Batur. Whether it was the shared experience that brought us together, or just the act of witnessing two traumatic events, we were changed. So be very careful what intentions you set forth on this magical soil. Because they may very well come true.