Thursday, April 29, 2010

Merapi

So, I try to get some sleep before my 10pm "wake up call" and I end up taking a 2 hour nap before getting up and meeting the van that would take me to the Merapi base town--about two hours away, most of which I slept.

We then were shuttled into a basehouse of sorts and met the guides and waited for about an hour before the climb.

It appeared to be a full moon overhead, and a nice halo effect of the moon against the high altitude clouds was truly a spectacular sight, as was the silhouette of Merapi illuminated by the moonlight. I wish I had a tripod with me to take the picture, since it was awe-inspiring. Rather than taking the van and going up to the actual base, where the trail begins, we have to walk up a steep paved road, similar in incline to the highest level setting on a treadmill, if not steeper.

You don't think anything of it at first, because it is simply a road, and you figure the trail couldn't be generally any steeper than that. You'd be proved wrong, of course, and as a sign of things to come, one of the German couples struggled to even make it up the road. I somehow was keeping up with the lead group--the experienced mountaineer osteo therapist and his physical therapist girlfriend. Since it is pitch black, you strap on your headlamp, which proved to be a necessity rather than a flashlight.

Lonely Planet describes the climb as steep, but anybody in decent physical shape should be able to get to the top. I honestly don't know who was responsible for that statement, but they were horribly wrong--they should mention that the climb is not for novices and that some mountaineering experience is required to actually enjoy the climb. They should also mention what the trail is like--you are basically following a rainwater drainage path/semi dry streambed, which means lots of lose rocks and gravel, and routine hopping over fairly large boulders. The first 1/2-2/3 of the climb or so are in green forest, with trees and big stalks lining the path. Your quads begin to hurt as you are basically doing a lunge rep exercise for every step you take. In some cases, the path is so steep that it is nearly vertical--there's simply no way to step upwards, and you have to pull yourself up.

Have you ever seen a defensive lineman return a fumble/interception for a touchdown, rumbling, bumbling, and stumbling along the way? That was basically me on Merapi. I was probably on all fours for at least 25-30% of the climb, if not more so. Even though the temperature is slightly cool, you are sweating from places you never knew you had sweatglands because its such a strenuous climb.

I should also note that I'm probably not the best judge of climbs, considering my bias as a novice climber who also has a bit of a balance issue, especially with a backpack on my back--which was reduced to the bare necessities for the trip (My only valuables with me were my wallet, camera, and passport)--there's also the fact that I'm not the most outdoorsy person, and that I was wearing a pair of crummy shoes that are about six years old and are on their very last legs--they will not be returning with me to the U.S., and will likely be disposed of as soon as this monday.

Yet, for whatever reason, I was somehow keeping up with the lead group for about the first 1/2 of the climb, something that surprised me, and I knew there was no way I was going to keep up, mainly since the mountaineers were well equipped and actually brought trekking poles with them. That said, when I was with the lead group, it was I more times than not that offered to help out the girlfriend when I heard her stumble, and the boyfriend never said a word.

Of course, every step you take, you realize that you have to take that same step down, something that I was dreading, since going down for me is worse than going up (and which is why it now feels like there is a baseball sized rock between my kneecaps and my actual leg bone, and it hurts to get up and go down stairs).

After you clear the forest, which in the dark you can't really see much of, you start to get into basically a field of boulders, who were arranged similar to how moguls would be on a gladed run--steep, narrow, huge, and once you are in a track/riverbed, you are pretty much stuck there for good.

Then at around 4 am, 3 hours after beginning the climb you arrive at a plateau of sorts with a view of the summit to determine whether or not the conditions are right for you to get the summit. Whereas the field of boulders has some trees and the like, the very upper part of the volcano is barren and only populated by dried lava bolders. From the plateau, the moonlight eerily backlit the mountain. After resting for about 15 minutes and meeting a pair of American art professors who work in Singapore that were camped at the plateau for sunset and for some various projects of their own--one was photography, the other was poetry via GPS--spelling out words via GPS signals/hits.

Here's the thing about the summit: it is actually hidden from the plateau, and you can't actually see the top, which means that several times during the climb you are thinking you are finished, when you are actually far from it. It appeared to be clear when we started, but that soon changed as the clouds moved in and we were hit with a hard drizzle as we struggled up the slick lava scree. Exposed to the elements, we just had to deal with it. With just about every bone in my body aching, and the lactic acid in my quads screaming "no mas," I thought about quitting several times during the exposed upper region, but since I had come that far, I figured I might as well finish what I started, and to steal Nike's ad slogan, "just did it." While on the upper part of the mountain, the path took us by warm to the touch rocks, and we could hear a faint rumbling of the volcano. At that point I realized that if this thing wanted to go off, I'd be a dead man, and there would be nothing I cold do about it. So I ignored the thought and just kept on.

I finally made it to the top (Merapi is just under 3,000 meters tall--slightly higher than Beaver Creek's base) just as the clouds were getting lighter by the rising sun, and, if there had been snow at the top, would have done snow angels I was so happy! Unfortunately, all we could really see were clouds, and I started to dread heading down.

I'm really glad I climbed up at night, because if I saw in the daylight what I was climbing, I would have stopped right there--I would have thought that there would have been no way that I could make it down--and it was indeed a tough haul down, a fair amount spent on my derriere, both intentionally and unintentionally (remember my previously mentioned balance issues? Yeah, they weren't exactly helped by frequent lose rocks and gravel on the pathway). So the lead group flew ahead of me, including the german couple that had kept climbing, but stopped and waited at the plateau instead of climbing to the top. The view on the way down was generally spectacular as you got a good look at the dormant volcano next door and the surrounding valleys.

Anybody who has been on a hike with me--mom, dad, and clifford--knows how much of a whiner I can be when I'm not happy, tired, and sore. I usually start blaming the person who suggested doing the hike, which means I aim most of my complaints, naturally, at my dad. Well, this time, I couldn't really do that. I was doing this solo, and hiking with people that I had only met hours before. Whining and complaining wasn't going to do me much good, so while I secretly grew increasingly unhappy, I didn't voice it as it would only make me look like an immature spoiled brat.

Instead, I pretended like I was having a great time, and cracked jokes whenever I could--usually at my expense, even if the Germans didn't necessarily get it all the time. Even though it was clear I was struggling at times, and my legs were killing me, especially on the way down, as far as they were concerned I was enjoying myself (even though we all agreed later in the car ride back that it was tougher and steeper than we imagined it to be). Yes, I made them wait, as I took longer than the rest of them to get back to the house used as a base, but, then again, I was the only one who made it to the top. I had an excuse, but I didn't tell them that, even though I was tempted to when the husband in the couple at the very beginning asked me why I took so long, and that because of me, they had been waiting for so long.

Am I glad I did the Merapi climb? Yes, absolutely. Would I do it again? Heck no. Once is enough--I proved to myself that I could do it, and that's all I really needed.

I'm thinking of spending one more day in Yogya just to give my body time to recover before I start wandering around all over again (mainly determined by whether or not I get my laundry back tonight).

Yogya post to come later, I promise...I've just had to run errands all day and had stuff to do.

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