Bali Echo Magazine Edition 52 | Mountain Mysticism

night air as the others stayed back at the camp with most of the gear. l stumbled into rocks, not having really woken up and it took a while to get back into it again. It was much steeper and l had to stop after a few meters to catch my breath. The "goat" was
patient. Around us were still only rocks and a few shrubs. l was on my last batteries, but l knew sunrise was not too far away. l was fully focused on that peak, to slump down and enjoy the view. l was truly knackered by this stage. l fingered the Kratingdaeng in my pocket. Instant energy. 'd have it

I later. l popped a few more coffee sweets. Finally after a concerted push we made it to the peak. A large group of young men were crowded at the top waiting for sunrise, although most of them were asleep. One was occupying himself with hacking off a branch of a tree to feed the fire. It didn't seem quite right though. For sure, an anticlimax. l felt disappointed. After a few minutes some light appeared in the sky and l could make out our position more clearly. l turned around and saw the mountain top looming up behind us. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Ari" but this isn't the peak, is it?" "It's one of them," he replied. After a little bit of confusion it was decided to go to the top. After an hour we made it to another peak, higher, but the ridge was still above us. It was a good view and it was getting lighter quickly. Of course, the sun was on the other side of the ridge. The final path looked a bit dangerous falling away steeply on both sides. If l had the legs for this last bit l didn't have the head. So we stopped there calling it a day. The ridge was only 45 minutes away Do l regret l didn't just grin and bear it and push on a little bit more? Sort of, but the final path would have meant me crawling along it pitifully. The three of us stayed there for an hour enjoying the view and l felt damned good to be so high. It's a great feeling and is obviously addictive. To feel small on the big mountain. As Ari said, we are really just nothing, so very tiny. I guess it's called perspective. Strangely, no-one went to the very top that day. As it turns out, most people don't intend to get to the, very top as the last section is very difficult. My feet were in surprisingly good condition, with no blisters on my ever-so-soft skin. I was proud of them. As l looked back at the path we had taken (which could be seen now) l was surprised that we had followed a ridge for a while. Ari said, it's easier to climb at night because you don't know how close you are to the edge. Comforting, seeing as we were still at the top! We got back to the camp and were given a heroes welcome. Not really, but l felt like a little hero. We had a celebratory breakfast of noodles. Post Four is interesting because of the big rock there
	called "Watu Gubug". l was told about its significance before we set off and l was again warned about it at the village before we set off. It's said the rock is protected by spirits and is dangerous for climbers who do not heed the warnings. You must not climb onto the rock or seek shelter in an opening at the base, which forms a little cave. l was told that two climbers who sought shelter woke up in the cave to see two eyes of burning orange staring fiercely at them. You must not urinate in the area of the rock either, but it was not specified how big this area was. People do not make fun of these stories and on the mountain people talk respectively (if at all) of the spirits. It's clearly something deeply engrained in these Javanese people. The old animism, the mystical worldof spirits and magic. Mountains have a strong association with this mysticism. The strangest story l heard was from Merapi mountain. On the mountain at a certain place called "Pasar Bubrah" ("pasar"
means market) you can hear all the noises of a busy market. You can hear people bartering in noisy conversations. It's as clear as the real thing, but of course there's nothing there, but big rocks scattered on a sandy surface. It's said it's an old village which once existed, perhaps destroyed in an old eruption from the powerful volcano. Despite the altitude at Post Four it was getting warm quickly. We didn't want to hang around too long as by mid morning it would become very misty and difficult to follow the path. Their idea of descending from a height of 2500m is to run hell for leather. So we ran down. l wouldn't do this in flip-flops. This is a great shock for your knees and it took mine a few days to recover from the experience. We got down in record time. Even at that speed l was amazed at how little time it took to get down. We were soon walking past the vegetable fields again (we didn't run the entire way!). In fact we, the hardy climbers that we were, were feeling pretty, well, hardy, when an old woman trotted past us carrying about half a ton of wood on her head. These people are something else. It was a quick glass of tea in Kopeng and then we're back on the bus. Thankfully we could sit down this time as the bus sped down the hill taking corners on two wheels. Back in Salatiga we were fussed over by the woman folk as we spun exaggerated stories of dangers overcome. Back home, Ari and his brother, Dwi, were in full flow recounting many storiesm of spirits and magic. l particularly liked the one about the tiny people who you can't see, who have long finger nails as long as they are tall and are mischievous little urchins . Dwi swears one of them stole his wallet one day and couldn't be persuaded otherwise. He told me they had really long hair, but then l also heard they were bald. Perhaps it's just the older ones.