2:23am. The crescent moon hung lazily in a sky littered by lights invisible back home. There was a certain clarity in that moment, a certain knowing that this was how things were supposed to be. Singapore might have transformed itself from a sleepy fishing village to a cosmopolitan metropolis but not without relinquishing its identity and romantic charm so often documented by travellers in the 70s. Those graphic depictions of the city state can never be conceived by its citizens in this day and age.
The van meandered along skinny roads lighted only by its powerful headlights. Around it, the landscape was bathed in darkness. Over the horizon, it seemed like I was staring out to sea. Houses like lighted ships dot the vast sea of darkness, rudely interrupting its homogeneity. I knew then that I made the right decision to wake up at this godforsaken hour. I was in for something special.
The van pulled up amongst other similar looking vehicles. Around me, like-minded people gathered presumably to make the climb. No words were needed as we smiled at each other. I was introduced to our guide, Made. Conversation came effortlessly. He is a day older than me and works as a full-time trekking guide. Soon, we were joined by Kesti, an 11-year-old girl on school holiday earning a living transporting soft drinks up the mountain for sale. Decked in fashionable Nike sneakers and jeans, she ambled up the terrain effortlessly.
I made it a point to take in everything by engaging all my senses on this climb instead of just focusing on the terrain. I stopped momentarily at various intervals to soak in the experience. Above me laid the mountain, the full 1,717m. The starlight surrounding it served as a spotlight of sorts, lending it some form of stardom. After all, every morning, groups of people made this journey to its peak. Surely Mount Batur enjoyed celebrity status. Behind and below me were fireflies lining the trail like a landing strip albeit a crooked one; the other climbers were spread out comfortably. I looked ahead and stared into darkness; surely there must be groups ahead of us. It was then that I was reminded of what a friend said while we were watching planes one night - light travels in a straight line. Human beings do require constant reminders of seemingly obvious truths for we tend to get lost amongst the cacophony of day to day activities. Soon, I saw the fireflies ahead as the trail zigzagged up the mountain.
Being a Hindu, our guide stopped midway at an altar erected somewhat randomly along the trail to make offerings. Out in the wild and stillness of twilight with only the crickets interrupting the silence, his deliberate act only seemed more deliberate, more pure. I watched on from a distance, not wanting to disrupt his ritual. Taking in all that my lungs allowed, I felt privileged to be breathing this clean, unpolluted air.
We continued heavenward after the short break. 'Sun not wait for you, you wait for sun. You reach top and knock on door of sunrise', Made joked. Another reminder that time and tide waits for no soul. Our party of 5 reached the peak at 5:34am, just as the first sign of dawn pierced through the darkness. Many climbers positioned themselves for that National Geographic worthy shot, braving the cold winds. Others huddled inside a makeshift shelter, a refuge from the elements, in keen anticipation for the much-vaunted sunrise.
I decided to descend onto an outgrowth of lava rock for an unobstructed view. Having severely underestimated the weather, in T-shirt and shorts, I could not feel my fingers after awhile. Deciding to focus on what is before me took away much of my 'suffering'. Ethereal clouds streamed in with the winds and they caressed the mountains ever so gently. God is indeed amazing. Before long, sunlight peeked from behind Mount Abang and Mount Agung like a shy child. Being alone out there on the outgrowth rock allowed me a certain stillness, a sort of serenity. I guess I can understand why the ancients retreat to the mountains to find themselves and to meditate. Nothing else matters somehow when one is up there. The hustle and bustle going on down below is merely ant-like activity; there was a form of dissociation, a beautiful one no less.
I felt that I was meant to be exactly where I was, where stars aligned and made me being there possible. I have never seen a sunrise before in all my 26 years on Mother Earth. It was a disgrace. To defend myself, I did on 3 occasions placed myself in sunrise situations but it was either the weather or clouds that thwarted my experience. Made explained on the way up that the group yesterday was left disappointed by thick clouds but he believes that today will be a success. I somehow knew even from the night before, with quiet confidence deep down inside, that I was going to witness my first sunrise. His assurance confirmed my confidence.
The van meandered along skinny roads lighted only by its powerful headlights. Around it, the landscape was bathed in darkness. Over the horizon, it seemed like I was staring out to sea. Houses like lighted ships dot the vast sea of darkness, rudely interrupting its homogeneity. I knew then that I made the right decision to wake up at this godforsaken hour. I was in for something special.
The van pulled up amongst other similar looking vehicles. Around me, like-minded people gathered presumably to make the climb. No words were needed as we smiled at each other. I was introduced to our guide, Made. Conversation came effortlessly. He is a day older than me and works as a full-time trekking guide. Soon, we were joined by Kesti, an 11-year-old girl on school holiday earning a living transporting soft drinks up the mountain for sale. Decked in fashionable Nike sneakers and jeans, she ambled up the terrain effortlessly.
I made it a point to take in everything by engaging all my senses on this climb instead of just focusing on the terrain. I stopped momentarily at various intervals to soak in the experience. Above me laid the mountain, the full 1,717m. The starlight surrounding it served as a spotlight of sorts, lending it some form of stardom. After all, every morning, groups of people made this journey to its peak. Surely Mount Batur enjoyed celebrity status. Behind and below me were fireflies lining the trail like a landing strip albeit a crooked one; the other climbers were spread out comfortably. I looked ahead and stared into darkness; surely there must be groups ahead of us. It was then that I was reminded of what a friend said while we were watching planes one night - light travels in a straight line. Human beings do require constant reminders of seemingly obvious truths for we tend to get lost amongst the cacophony of day to day activities. Soon, I saw the fireflies ahead as the trail zigzagged up the mountain.
Being a Hindu, our guide stopped midway at an altar erected somewhat randomly along the trail to make offerings. Out in the wild and stillness of twilight with only the crickets interrupting the silence, his deliberate act only seemed more deliberate, more pure. I watched on from a distance, not wanting to disrupt his ritual. Taking in all that my lungs allowed, I felt privileged to be breathing this clean, unpolluted air.
We continued heavenward after the short break. 'Sun not wait for you, you wait for sun. You reach top and knock on door of sunrise', Made joked. Another reminder that time and tide waits for no soul. Our party of 5 reached the peak at 5:34am, just as the first sign of dawn pierced through the darkness. Many climbers positioned themselves for that National Geographic worthy shot, braving the cold winds. Others huddled inside a makeshift shelter, a refuge from the elements, in keen anticipation for the much-vaunted sunrise.
I decided to descend onto an outgrowth of lava rock for an unobstructed view. Having severely underestimated the weather, in T-shirt and shorts, I could not feel my fingers after awhile. Deciding to focus on what is before me took away much of my 'suffering'. Ethereal clouds streamed in with the winds and they caressed the mountains ever so gently. God is indeed amazing. Before long, sunlight peeked from behind Mount Abang and Mount Agung like a shy child. Being alone out there on the outgrowth rock allowed me a certain stillness, a sort of serenity. I guess I can understand why the ancients retreat to the mountains to find themselves and to meditate. Nothing else matters somehow when one is up there. The hustle and bustle going on down below is merely ant-like activity; there was a form of dissociation, a beautiful one no less.
I felt that I was meant to be exactly where I was, where stars aligned and made me being there possible. I have never seen a sunrise before in all my 26 years on Mother Earth. It was a disgrace. To defend myself, I did on 3 occasions placed myself in sunrise situations but it was either the weather or clouds that thwarted my experience. Made explained on the way up that the group yesterday was left disappointed by thick clouds but he believes that today will be a success. I somehow knew even from the night before, with quiet confidence deep down inside, that I was going to witness my first sunrise. His assurance confirmed my confidence.
Seeing the ball of fire popping from behind the mountains blinded me. I put on my sunglasses to better visualise the fiery globe of life. Darkness was banished, the cold lost its sting; life begins with a new day.
