🌋 From Zero to Rinjani: My First-Ever Mountain Climb Was Indonesia's Highest Volcano (What Was I Thinking?!)
"Absolutely amazing and thrilling" — that's what comes out of my mouth when people ask about my Rinjani climb, but honestly? Those words don't even BEGIN to cover it!
Let me take you on a journey that started with me having zero hiking experience and ended with me somehow standing on top of Indonesia's highest volcano. Yep, you read that right — my first-ever mountain climb was RINJANI. Talk about jumping into the deep end!
My Weird Mountain Obsession
For years, my mom has had to listen to my random video calls that all ended the same way:
"Ma, aku mau naek gunung." ("Mom, I want to climb a mountain.")
My friends were busy planning trips to Europe and saving for Disneyland. Meanwhile, I was daydreaming about... dirt trails and tent camping? Even I thought I was weird!
"Better mountains than malls," I'd insist to my confused mother. "My dream is to live in nature and travel forever!" "I'll go alone if I have to." "I'm BORED here, I'd rather be on a mountain!"
The funny thing? I had NO IDEA what I was actually looking for in those mountains. I never researched trails or difficulties or, you know, actual mountain facts. I just knew I wanted to be there.
Looking back at all my nature experiences — from awkward scout camping trips to waterfall hikes where I definitely did NOT look cute — I realized something important: I never complained during those times. Never felt burdened. Never wished I was somewhere else.
In nature, my normally reserved self found peace. No university drama, no future career panic, no complicated friendships to navigate. Just me, breathing, existing. FREE. ✨
That's my big revelation: Mountains weren't about the Instagram photos (though let's be honest, I took plenty) — they were my escape hatch from the pressure cooker of everyday life!
😅 My Rinjani Adventure: A Series of Questionable Decisions
One day in April 2024, a sudden call from my dad surprised me while I was still interning. He told me that his colleague who usually hiked mountains planned to climb Mount Rinjani next month.
So what happens when a mountain-obsessed girl with ZERO hiking experience gets a chance to climb Rinjani? She says YES without hesitation, obviously!
Here's what my "preparation" looked like:
- Two weeks of last-minute physical training (LOL) - I just did some cardio training (which is only running and incline walking on the treadmill in the gym and going up and down the stairs near my hall, not even a trial hike on the usual Bukit Timah trail)
- Absolutely no research on Rinjani's difficulty level
- Zero previous hiking experience
- "How hard could it be?" attitude
And here's what I actually faced:
- My first mountain climb EVER — with my dad as my companion (love you, Papa!)
- Impulsively tackling Indonesia's highest volcano 🌋
- Taking on Rinjani's trails that veterans call "brutal"
- Being the baby of our hiking group (all 9 other people were adults above 40s – I was the only 20-year-old in the group)
- Somehow making it to the summit anyway (WHAT?!)
- 4 days and 3 nights of non-stop hiking
- Holding back tears the entire time
- Weirdly feeling HAPPY despite everything
- Climbing to the summit with period cramps (because why not add difficulty?)
- 3 straight days of blister pain on both my thumbs AND pinky toes with each step (fun times!)🩹
Was I scared? Nope! Was I prepared? DEFINITELY not! But once I committed, there was no turning back.
Massive shoutout to my superhero mom who, despite not climbing herself, became the ultimate expedition planner. She bought all our gear, packed everything perfectly, and basically made sure we didn't die up there. Thanks, Mama — without you, I'd probably have tried climbing in flip-flops! 👑
The Full Rinjani Experience: Four Days of "What Did I Get Myself Into?!"
Since this whole trip was planned by my dad's colleague, we just followed their lead. And thank goodness for that! We used an agent called Green Rinjani, whose services were BEYOND what I expected.
When I pictured "hiking," I imagined struggling with a massive backpack, eating bland protein bars, and basically suffering. But nope! I only needed to carry a small day pack with essentials. The porters (these SUPERHUMAN beings) carried everything else, set up our tents, and cooked full meals. Breakfast, lunch, AND dinner! While we were dying on the trails, they were whipping up feasts!
The wildest part? These porters did all this wearing — wait for it — FLIP-FLOPS. Yes, the same rubber sandals you wear to the beach. Meanwhile, I'm in my fancy hiking boots getting blisters! They carried 25kg loads ON ONE SHOULDER, practically jogging up trails that had me gasping for air. And they do this EVERY WEEK! I've never felt so humbled in my life.
Day 1: When "Tanjakan Penyesalan" (Regret Hike) Lived Up to Its Name
Our journey began at the Sembalun route. After getting our hiking permits (SIMAKSI), we were dropped at the first post, called Kandang Sapi.
Here's where I got my first taste of what was coming: To save time (remember, our group was mostly people in their 40s and 50s), we took "ojek" (motorcycle taxis) from post 1 to post 2. Sounds convenient, right? WRONG.
This wasn't your typical city ojek ride. Picture me clinging for dear life as we bumped over rocks, dipped through valleys, and skirted along cliff edges on what felt like a stunt motorcycle. The engine actually DIED halfway up a steep section, and I swear my heart stopped with it. I almost jumped off several times, convinced I was about to become a cautionary tale for future hikers: "And this is where that girl flew off an ojek and rolled down the mountain..."
After surviving the death-ride, we hiked from post 2 to post 3, had lunch, and continued to posts 4 and 5. Between posts 3 and 5 was the infamous "tanjakan penyesalan" — which literally translates to "the slope of regret." The guide mentioned this name casually, like it was some cute local nickname.
Let me tell you, there was NOTHING cute about it. That slope was so steep I was practically crawling on all fours, questioning every life choice that led me there. My legs were on fire, my lungs were screaming, and I genuinely considered calling a helicopter rescue (if only there was reception!).
We started hiking at 11 AM and reached Plawangan Sembalun (post 5) at 6 PM. Seven hours of hiking on my first day EVER. As soon as we arrived, though, we were greeted with the most breathtaking sunset I've ever seen. The summit of Rinjani was clearly visible, surrounded by whispy clouds in golden light. In that moment, my exhaustion temporarily vanished.
Our guides quickly set up camp and prepared dinner while urging us to sleep early. Why? Because we'd be waking up at 1 AM to begin our summit attempt. Yes, you read that right — after seven hours of hiking and barely recovering, we'd be climbing through the night to reach the top.
Sleep? What sleep? My dad snored so loudly our tent practically vibrated. The temperature dropped to around 5°C, and I was shivering under every layer I brought. I maybe got 1.5 hours of broken sleep before our 1 AM wake-up call. Perfect prep for the hardest physical challenge of my life, right? 🙃
Day 2: Summit Nightmares and Lake Dreams
During our pre-summit briefing, the guide casually mentioned that the success rate for reaching the summit was only about 40%. FORTY PERCENT! Why didn't anyone tell me this BEFORE I started?! He also mentioned we should go at our own pace and turn back if we couldn't continue.
The climb to the summit happened in three stages, each one more brutal than the last. The first stage was a bizarre mix of everything — tree roots, dirt, sand, rocks, uphill climbs, and downhill scrambles, all within a few meters of each other.
By the time we reached the second stage, I was already running on fumes. My stomach was also starting to act up (more on that disaster later). But somehow, I pushed through.
And then came the final boss: "Letter E." They call it that because the path literally looks like the letter E from a distance — a series of steep switchbacks up loose volcanic sand and gravel. How steep? Try 80 DEGREES. It was practically a vertical wall of shifting, sliding sand.
We had to wear gaiters (these weird fabric leg covers) to keep the gravel from filling our shoes. Every step forward meant sliding halfway back down. It was two steps up, one slide back, over and over and OVER.
And here's the kicker — I was unknowingly hiking with the beginnings of period cramps. Because clearly, this wasn't challenging enough already!
After countless rest stops, butt-slides down loose sections, and crawling back up others, I somehow made it to the summit second in our group (still can't believe this). It took us SEVEN HOURS to hike just 3km to the summit. That should tell you everything about how difficult it was.
When I finally reached the top at around 8 AM, I was speechless. The view was BREATHTAKING. Other mountains looked tiny from up there, and the world stretched out forever in all directions. All the pain temporarily faded away.
Oh, and remember that stomach issue I mentioned? Here's a fun fact: both my dad and I were silently suffering from stomach problems the ENTIRE summit climb. We didn't tell each other until afterward! So all those times I smelled something funky on the trail? Yep, that was my dad's silent suffering. Family bonding at its finest! 😂
Going down was somehow WORSE than going up. Letter E, which was a nightmare to climb, became a death slide on the way down. I had zero control over my descent speed and relied entirely on my toes to brake, which explains the massive blisters that followed. Pro tip I learned too late: use your heels, not your toes, to control downhill momentum!
The scariest part? In daylight, I could finally see that we had been hiking along the edges of massive drop-offs THE ENTIRE NIGHT. Thank goodness it was dark during our ascent or I might have frozen in fear!
We reached camp around 11 AM, exhausted and triumphant. But if you think we got to rest, think again! After a quick lunch, we had to pack up and immediately head down to Segara Anak Lake. Because apparently, climbing a volcano isn't enough activity for one day!
The path to the lake was EVEN MORE extreme than the summit climb. All downhill, all rocks, with sections where we had to climb down what felt like vertical cliff faces. I felt like a mountain goat, hopping from rock to rock, praying my wobbly legs wouldn't give out.
Our guide estimated we'd reach the lake by 5 PM if we left at 1 PM. But our group (remember, mostly people in their 40s and 50s) moved slowly. My dad's knee was acting up from an old injury, and my blistered feet made every step pure agony.
As darkness fell, we were still only halfway there. Picture this: exhausted hikers with dying headlamps, navigating treacherous rocky paths in the pitch black, in the middle of NOWHERE. By the time we finally reached the lake camp at 8 PM (THREE hours behind schedule), I could barely walk. I wolfed down dinner and collapsed in my tent, not even caring about the stunning lake I'd nearly killed myself to see.
Day 3: Hot Springs Salvation and Starry Skies
I woke up to the coldest air I've ever felt and the most beautiful view I've ever seen. Segara Anak Lake was a stunning turquoise jewel nestled in the crater, with steam rising from its surface in the morning light.
The highlight of day three? Hot springs near the lake! After two days of brutal hiking, soaking in natural hot water was HEAVEN. My sore muscles practically sang with relief, and I finally felt human again.
Our journey continued to the next campsite, but since weather conditions weren't great (light rain making the trails slippery), our guides suggested we camp earlier than planned. This meant our third day of hiking wasn't as long, which my battered body greatly appreciated.
Dinner that night was a gourmet feast of... instant noodles! One dry, one soup-style. After burning thousands of calories, even plain Indomie tasted like a five-star meal.
The real magic happened after dark. Away from city lights and pollution, the night sky exploded with more stars than I'd ever seen in my life. I lay on my back, staring up at the Milky Way, completely mesmerized. This — THIS moment of pure wonder — made all the suffering worthwhile.
Day 4: Jurassic Park Trails and Spider-Man Moments
Our final day began with another breathtaking sunrise between two mountain valleys. We started hiking at 8 AM on what they called the "Jurassic Park route" (Torean trail). And wow, they weren't kidding! Lush, prehistoric-looking valleys stretched out on both sides, with sheer drop-offs that would make anyone's heart race.
One particularly terrifying section required us to hold onto a rope with one hand while crawling sideways across a cliff face like Spider-Man. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might actually burst out of my chest!
The route was a rollercoaster of ups and downs — literally. Just when I thought we were heading downhill for good, we'd have to climb up again. The one sight I'll never forget was a magnificent waterfall, taller than anything I'd ever seen, cascading down the mountainside in a ribbon of white.
Our luck with weather finally ran out as rain caught us halfway through our descent. We donned ponchos and slogged through muddy, slippery trails in the rainforest. Wet shoes, wet clothes, 100% humidity, and slick rocks — a recipe for disaster that somehow we all survived.
After reaching our final rest point for lunch, we still had another two hours of hiking through dense rainforest before officially completing our Rinjani adventure. By the time we reached the end, I was a mixture of triumphant, exhausted, proud, and slightly delirious.
Things Rinjani Taught Me (That No University Course Ever Could)
The "Easy Path" Is a LIE
Day one, I was SO cocky. "It's just walking uphill, right?" WRONG.
I quickly learned that mountains don't have nice, clear highways to the top. Instead, you face constant choices: Take that gentle-looking slope or the steep rocky steps?
That "easy" sandy path? TRAP! I slipped more times than I could count. Meanwhile, the scary-looking rock sections? Actually stable!
Life lesson delivered to my face: The path that looks easiest often hides the worst challenges. I'll remember that next time I'm choosing classes!
🤝 Your Pride Won't Save You — But a Helping Hand Will
Let me tell you about hitting "the wall." It's that moment when your legs feel like jelly, your lungs are burning, and you're thinking, "This is where I live now. I'm one with the mountain."
Then someone reaches out their hand. They pull you up that impossible section. They share their water. They tell the dumbest joke that somehow makes you laugh through your exhaustion.
No one — and I mean NO ONE — conquers a mountain alone. Now when my friends offer help with assignments, I actually accept it!
Your Squad Makes or Breaks You
For all you independent souls like me: Solo climbing as a beginner is a BAD idea.
Our group had this amazing energy. When I slowed down, no one complained. When others needed breaks, we waited. We cheered each summit victory like we'd won Olympic gold.
A massive shoutout to our guides who patiently helped us through every tough section. These guys have climbed Rinjani thousands of times, yet they never made us feel inadequate for our struggles or slow pace. True professionals who turned what could have been a nightmare into an unforgettable adventure.
Choose your mountain team like you choose your close friends — people who lift you up when you're down and celebrate your wins as their own.
🧠 Your Mental Game > Your Physical Game
Here's the secret no one tells you: Your body can usually keep going. It's your mind that gives up first. There's a saying when it comes to hiking: you need 40% physical strength but 60% mental strength.
On day three, my blisters were SCREAMING. Each step felt like walking on glass. But complaining would've just made everyone miserable, including me. So I shut up, focused on the view instead of the pain, and kept moving.
The strongest hikers weren't necessarily the most physically fit — they were the ones who kept their cool, didn't whine, and maintained a positive attitude no matter what.
"I Can't" Doesn't Exist on the Mountain
There were sections of Rinjani where one wrong step meant a very bad day. Looking at some of those drops made my stomach flip. 😱
But here's the thing: hesitation is more dangerous than careful action. When you're on a narrow ridge with loose gravel, "I can't" isn't an option. You find a way because you must.
I now apply this to exams, presentations, and basically any situation that terrifies me!
Going Up Is Hard, Coming Down Is HARDER
Everyone talks about the challenge of reaching the summit. No one mentions the knee-destroying torture of coming back down!
Climbing up, your heart pounds and your legs burn, but descending? That's when my knees felt like they were being taken apart and reassembled wrong. My toes smashed against the front of my boots with every step.
Lesson learned: Never assume the "after" part of any challenge will be easier than getting there.
The Summit Is... Kind of Disappointing? 🏆
I had this magical vision of reaching the top and having some profound, life-changing moment. Angels singing. Clouds parting. Enlightenment achieved.
Reality: It was cold. I was exhausted. The view was amazing for about five minutes, then I started thinking about the long way down.
The summit was maybe 5% of my entire Rinjani experience. The REAL magic happened during the journey — sleeping under stars brighter than I'd ever seen, laughing until I cried when our guide told weird jokes, the satisfaction of crossing that impossible-looking ridge.
Life's Downhills Are Never Straight Down
Coming down from Rinjani wasn't the straight reverse of going up. It was this bizarre mix of steep descents, unexpected uphills (WHY are there uphills on the way DOWN?!), slippery sections, and flat areas that teased my tired legs.
Life works the same way. When you're "coming down" from success or recovering from failure, the path isn't straightforward. It winds around, sometimes making you climb again before continuing down. And that's okay!
Everyone Has Their Own Pace ⏱️
People kept passing us on both the ascent and descent. At first, it bothered me — was I too slow? Too weak?
Then I noticed something: Everyone eventually reached camp. Some arrived two hours before us, some an hour after. But we ALL got there.
Some people race through college in record time. Others take breaks or change majors. Some friends are already married with kids while others are still swiping on dating apps. None of these paths are wrong — they're just different routes to different summits.
Know Your Limits (Before the Mountain Teaches You)
The most dangerous person on a mountain isn't the slow hiker — it's the one who won't admit they need a break. ⚠️
Our group had several older climbers who knew exactly when to rest. They weren't embarrassed to say, "I need five minutes." And guess what? They ALL reached the summit!
Pushing beyond your limits doesn't make you a hero; it makes you a liability. When you collapse from exhaustion, you endanger everyone who has to rescue you.
I've started applying this to all-nighters and work commitments. Taking breaks isn't weakness — it's strategy!
🌟 What I Found Up There
So why DO I keep telling my mom I want to climb mountains?
Because in a world where we're constantly planning for tomorrow, worrying about yesterday, and barely experiencing today, mountains force you into the present.
On Rinjani, I wasn't worried about graduation or job applications or Instagram likes. I was completely focused on where to place my foot next, how to regulate my breathing, and occasionally, not peeing my pants before reaching the next bathroom stop (real concerns, people!).
In that simplicity, I found the freedom I'd been chasing all along.
One thing that did concern me was the amount of trash along the trails, especially at base camps. It was a sobering reminder that even these remote, beautiful places aren't immune to our impact. If I return (and I absolutely will), I'm bringing an extra bag just to pack out more than I bring in.
And yes, I already told my mom I want to climb another mountain. She just sighed and started researching hiking boots. Thanks, Mama — you're the real MVP!
P.S. Anyone want to join me for the next adventure? I promise it'll be "absolutely amazing and thrilling" — and now you know exactly what that really means! 🏔️