I've been hauling ass up-mountain through thick jungle growth for what's been apparently the last three hours. Feels like five. Bushwhacking. Scrambling over rock faces and finding purchase against the steep muddy slope by the aid of manifold sturdy vines (a fly has alighted on the leaf next to me. His body is deepest iridescent ultramarine. Shocking.) I've packed away my sandals long ago. The surface between foot soles and sandal has become wet with mud and my feet slide about inside. Can't have none of that. Stow them for later. Well enough. Naked feet find superior purchase. Toes wrap around and grip roots and rocks, dig into mud, splay out when necessary to assist balance. My focus is narrow with purpose. Escape.
Another short week of work as the Easter holiday looms. You see, here in Indoland religious tolerance means you may claim one of five theisms as your religious philosophy, as long as you have some form of belief in god. This means you may be Muslim, Catholic, Christian (Protestant), Buddhist, or Hindu. Not really sure how Buddhism relates to belief in god, but, you know, not my country. Anyhow, the government in all its generosity provides national holidays for all the major observances. Hence Good Friday is a paid holiday. Therefore, three day weekend.
I'm eager to go for a hike but most of my colleagues have to work on Saturday. One of the Indo teachers has promised to show me a prime hiking spot but backs out for fear of rain. Not sure if I really understand why rain is such a deterrent to hiking. I'm packing my rain jacket, 'nuff sed.
I've decided to try spending the night on this ridge. I don't know, take advantage of the long break. Enjoy the solitude. I think it's a totally attractive idea and completely within the bounds of plausibility. Don't need much, and what I need I've got, namely some water, a change of clothes, some rain gear. I haven't had much of an appetite lately so I think I can manage with a few local fruits. I've got a little bag of Duku (doo-koo) with me. These little gems come packed in segments within a robust brown husk. Each segment peels away from the other, not unlike an orange, producing a translucent white fruit. The best segments are still in development, lacking the bitter seed that more mature segments contain.
As per my colleague's advice I catch an Angkot outta town, saying only "Sukamantri" to the driver, a place name. All the other passangers nod and murmur in concurrence, apparently this is a good choice, or perhaps they're meerly agreeing that this is indeed the correct transport for reaching my stated destination. I got up early for this in an effort to beat insane traffic, an effort that paid off as a half hour later I was dropped off at a narrow road leading towards my adventure. Immediately upon exiting the vehicle I was solicited a ride from an Ojek, an offer I gladly accepted and which worked out to my benefit as the the road proved steep, rocky, and long. By and by we entered the forest as the path continued to climb. Now we teetered on the edge of the slope as the bike fought for purchase in the loose fist-sized gravel. I feared for the safety of mountain bikers we haphazardly passed along the way but we made it without incident.
At the top was a quaint little gate marking the entrance to the park. Large flats spread out to accomodate pit fires and tents. Looks like a nice campground. Not what I came for. End of the line, bogus! I find a little path and dip off into the jungle. Before long I'm barefoot rambling up watersheds that trickle off and I'm making my way through jungle bush with no apparent destination other than up. It's always easier to climb than to descend and the narrow mind looses sight of future challenges. My determination drew me through some hairy terrain and truth be told I'm not sure if I'll find the same route back. Not to worry though. The rushing river below points towards civilization.
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