Page 88 - Cross Country Travel Guide 2019

POSTCARD FROM INDONESIA
Ah the sweet smell of vol biv,” I thought as I laid out my kit on
the crisp white sheets of the hotel bed. My co-facilitator Rubby
“Emir and I had just finished three intense days working with
50 inspiring Indonesian clean-energy activists. Now I was ready to
get out and experience the beauty of the world we were fighting for,
flying ridiculous solar-powered plastic bags through the mountains.
The destination? Mount Kerinci (3,805m), the roof of Sumatra.
To my delight Rubby, also a keen outdoor enthusiast, agreed to join
me. Between breaks in the meeting we organised the trip. Then it was
a quick debrief before the long trip to Padang followed by a seven-
hour drive to Kayu Aro, a village nestled at the foot of Kerinci.
Pak Hendra, a fellow pilot, a mountain ranger monitoring the
elusive and threatened Sumatran Tiger, and possibly the first person
to ever fly from Kerinci, had organised everything and assembled
a team. Pak Heri, a skydiver and one of Indonesia’s most senior
paragliding pilots, agreed to take Rubby on his first tandem flight.
Rubby and I would be carrying our own gear but we had porters for
Pak Heri’s tandem set-up. They carried tents and enough food to last
four days, in case we needed to wait out bad weather.
We started walking to the raucous play of monkeys. Bird song
enveloped the canopy. I hoped to see or even hear a Sumatran Tiger
but it was not to be.
The track headed straight up the mountain. For two days it did
not relent. A late start meant we stayed the night at Shelter One.
“Perfect weather for flying,” I thought as we watched the summit
88 CROSS COUNTRY TRAVEL GUIDE 2019 INDONESIA
cCROSSWIND
A tricky early morning launch
from 3,300m on Mt Kerinci
Photo: Rubby Emir
and rainforest turn gold and pink in the fading light, 1,300m
above us.
That was the end of the good flying weather.
Sometime in the early morning the heavens opened. When dawn
broke it was inside a cloud, wet and thick. By 6.30am I was off,
climbing the worst track I’ve ever seen, deep channels of eroded mud
trenches and a never-ending ladder of roots. Three hours later Rubby
and I reached Shelter Three and the tree line. The rest of the team
was still hours behind us. After the most amazing lunch of pooled
supplies – noodles, miso soup, chocolate milk and mung beans –
Rubby and I hiked up to the summit.
An hour and a half later we reached the top, eyes stinging and
lungs burning from sulphur fumes. For a few moments the clouds
parted and the sun dried us out. The Indian Ocean spread beneath us,
to the south-west. Below was the crater, deep and foreboding. Behind
us, a blanket of cloud. Beside us, towering cumulus castellanus.
When we returned to camp the team had already set up. That night
the wind buffeted our tents. The tents flapped and snapped. I tossed
and turned. The hope of a flight seemed unlikely.
We woke before sunrise. Below us the sky was clear but an easterly
buffeted the mountain. It rocketed up gullies on either side of the
spur we were camped on. The wind flowed round the mountain like
giant hands continuing to mould Kerinci’s classic volcanic cone.
Our plan was to take off from Tugu Yudha, a monument to
climbers who had died, about 30 minutes below the summit. The