palace of winds

My Last Mountain

The alarm goes off at 3:40, and 5 minutes later we get our wake-up knock. Shortly before 4 am we’re hitting the road, flashlight beams bouncing ahead of us, on our way to climb Gunung Batur. Our guide Jero looks like he could be no more than 15, but says he’s been leading treks up the mountain for years, and has a wife and 2 year old son.

We take rutted, winding alleyways through the small lakeside village of Toya Bunkah; they give way to a well-worn trail up into the forest. The nighttime is full of sound, a riot of insects, frogs, and lizards chirping and clicking away. We take our first rest at a small temple, after which the trail gets narrower and steeper. Halfway up the mountain the trees give way to volcanic rock and scrub.

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We have a leisurely poolside breakfast with books again on Saturday morning. The plan is to hit the internet cafe, ATM, and art shop to snag those paintings, check out at 11, then go grab lunch before our car at 12:30 to Toya Bunkah.

Unfortunately at the internet cafe I ignore the tiny niggle of doubt and plug my camera’s memory card in via USB. It is immediately infected with a virus that makes it look like the card has been wiped — though the properties still show over 2GB of data. We spend a ridiculously long time trying to sort it out, hampered by computers whose mouses quit working (I get a nasty shock trying to change to a new one), whose USB drives don’t work, and whose processor is taken up by two mysterious, unstoppable tasks. We finally get all the pictures copied over to a harddrive and try to format the card in my camera. It erases all the pictures but unfortunately not the virus. In the end we put all the pics back on the card and bring it to a photo store to have them burned on dvd.

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This morning we snag the raised pavilion by the pool for our breakfast spot, and have the mie goreng (a stir-fried noodle dish), fresh fruit, and tea/coffee. After a leisurely meal we take a stroll around the resort, exploring all the hidden little passageways.

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I’m sitting on our front porch looking out at the morning sun on the rice paddies, listening to the coo of birds and the far-off brash cawing of roosters. Someone has brought around fresh hibiscus flowers for our door and the little shrine next to it (and tried to arrange a cab or shuttle for me), and the main concierge has just come through sweeping the stone walkway (and asked if we want to go to a program today). It is kind and helpful but I admit I’m a little weary already of walking down the street to the constant call of “Taxi?”.

Two — pigeons? something that coos loudly — have recently come walking past on the stone pathway, and paused just in front of the turn-off for our cottage to have a little dance/fight — circling one another and periodically leaping a few feet off the ground in a flurry of beating wings.

An older man just came with our day’s fresh offering, which he set on the little shrine and sprinkled with holy water; he also lit a new stick of incense and tucked it beside the offering’s woven bowl. It was all quite casual & everyday — as he asked if we wanted to arrange a program for today.

Despite lashings of sunscreen I’ve managed a bit of a burn on my neck and shoulders — always the way. At least I remembered to bring aloe!

In life in general lately I’ve been doing an unusual amount of worrying about the future. My resolution for the rest of the trip is to try to let go of that, to embrace the spirit of Bali and live just in this moment.

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