Captivated Me

You know those excitable people who are always game for an obscenely early morning awakening, if it means doing or seeing something wonderful? I might be one of them… And it’s been a blessing to have found friends along the road of life who have a similar disposition. The flights, hikes and road trips we’ve taken that started hours before the first hint of dawn are numerous. There is something sweet and thrilling about these mornings and the tingle of anticipation that transmits through your body as you embark.

This is such a morning here in Bali. I woke up just before 2 AM, donned my hiking gear and boots, and I now wait outside the villa for the driver who will whisk me away to today’s adventure. The morning is calm, and the day is overflowing with promise.

The van arrives, and in the back seat I meet two other travelers who become fast friends. Hedda is here enjoying a yoga holiday far from her homeland in Sweden, and Luna is visiting Bali for several weeks from Korea. This – this – is one of the things I adore about travel, whether close to home or in far-off lands. If you journey with an open heart, travel will collide your story with the perspectives, ways, and stories of other people who you can share laughter and life lessons with, even if the moments are fleeting. And you can discover greater breadths and depths of God’s creative beauty along the way.

We navigate along dark, narrow, undulating roads for about 45 minutes, feeling safe the whole time because our driver is so expert, and we eventually arrive in the Kintamani Highlands – a calm landscape boasting both volcanic and pastoral views in the heart of Bali. We file out of the van one-by-one and are greeted by our kind hiking guide, Kopang. The air smells of sulphur, and our visibility is limited by the pre-dawn hour and a whimsical fog. But we know that we are standing at the foot of Mount Batur.

Our mission, which we’ve all accepted, is to climb to this volcano’s crest in time to see the sun rise.

Headlamps strapped to our foreheads and trekking poles in hand, we start out on flat ground, briefly weaving through expanses of farmland laden with crops and tin-roofed dwellings. Soon, we meet the trail that heads straight. up. the mountain. And for about ninety minutes, we hike at a steady pace and at an incline that is sure to add shape to anyone’s glutes and hamstrings. The ground under us transmogrifies from rocky terrain to a soft, fine, granular black soot, almost akin to hiking the sand dunes of the Sahara. We ascend higher and higher, even into a blanket of clouds that refreshes us with a light rainfall, and we giggle with delight, encourage each other to persevere, and share insights from our respective holidays as we go. Eventually, we summit to the ominous lip of the volcano’s crater where we sit to sip coffee and eat the breakfast our guide had graciously prepared earlier in the morning.

We sit and sit, awaiting a glorious break in the rainclouds. And we see…

Nothing.

We watch.

And wait.

And watch some more.

The hour for daybreak comes and goes. Our hands and noses are chilled from the altitude. The clouds we are waiting in illuminate from black to a jubilant grey.

No sunrise.

But wait a minute. Looking around, there is actually plenty to see. There are fellow hikers speaking a multitude of different languages. There are hot natural steam vents lining Batur’s crest that we use to warm our hands. There are wispy, dancing clouds and mists blowing around, above, behind and below us. There is hardy vegetation that extends over the edge of the crater and into the inner depths of Mount Batur that are presently concealed by fog. There is no shortage of joy, discovery, or beauty here just because it happens to be a cloudy day. And the sunrise, well, it’s there. We can’t see it. But its light still illuminates our day, and that – in itself – is a blessing.

I wonder, how often do we allow our expectations of an experience to cloud our journey through the experience itself? How often do we focus more on the outcome we hope for rather than on the joy, learning, and beauty to be gleaned from each step of the hike, each memory of sharing smiles and stories with others, each warm gesture that touches something cold or numb within us?

Is life not more rhythmic, more peaceful, and also more exciting when we allow each day to just be what it is – rain or shine – rather than demanding that it meet our expectations? When we lean into the loveliness and spontaneity around us no matter the circumstances? When we simply treasure each moment, each breath, each connection as the gift that it is, without prescribing or judging how it ‘should be’?

We snap some photos from the summit, enjoy the comfort of coffee mugs in our hands, and connect some more among our group. We then descend by the same trail that we rose from, and after returning below the level of the clouds, we are swept away by serene views of the highlands that were invisible to us during our ascension in the dark. We continue to visit, and we learn that today is Kopang’s birthday. We celebrate her before saying a warm ‘goodbye’, as our excursion continues.

Our group of three is escorted next to a collection of nearby hot springs. We enjoy a sweet tomato juice that is just as refreshing as all of the other cuisine and libations we have encountered here in Bali. We soak our muscles in the soothing pools, surrounded by beautiful views of Danau Batur (Lake Batur) and the mysterious Gunung Abang (Mount Abang), another local volcano. We then tour a third-generation coffee plantation to taste-test a variety of herbal teas and coffees native to Indonesia. This includes the acclaimed Kopi Luwak (for reference: http://www.kopiluwak.org/baru/index.html) which is an experience unto itself. We sit near an open-air treehouse on the plantation, overlooking the vast jungle, acquainting more and more. Butterflies flutter by, which bring to mind my grandfather who passed in 2021. I lift a cheers to him with a cup of plain black coffee – his favorite.

Hedda, Luna and I pile into our tour van for the drive home to Ubud, eyes and hearts and stomachs filled with cheer. We exchange contact information and are sure to continue following each other’s adventures.

I am the first to be dropped off, and after hugs and a universal ‘so wonderful to meet you’, I walk to Samyama Eatery one final time for an unbelievable, fresh Indonesian meal. I have pep in my step, partly out of gratitude for the incredible day, and partly because I’m due to meet my taxi for transport to the airport soon.

It’s the night before New Year’s Eve, and I am setting course for Singapore.