May 14th Skies over Gunung Luhur

Failed to see the sunrise, but I still got the best view beside me

I’ve always loved mountains. Not in the way people love things they have already known, but in the way one longs for something from a distance. The cold air, the quiet mornings, the silhouettes resting beneath the sky, I had admired them all long before I ever set foot on a trail.

And yet, despite all that affection, I had never climbed one.

That changed when my “partner in crime” and I decided, almost without warning, to finally go. There was no grand plan, no carefully arranged itinerary. One moment it was merely an idea, and the next it was a journey waiting to happen. Perhaps that is why some memories stay with us for so long, they arrive unexpectedly, carrying a kind of magic that planning can never recreate.

We left at night, hoping to reach the basecamp in time to rest before dawn. Looking back, that ride may have been one of the most memorable parts of the entire trip. The roads stretched quietly before us as our motorcycles cut through the cool Bogor air. Above us was the night, around us, a city slowly falling asleep.

The hours passed unnoticed as we exchanged stories, jokes, and thoughts that surfaced without invitation. Conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from one subject to another, as if we had all the time in the world. There was something comforting about speaking without caution, allowing every thought to escape freely, like children returning home from school with stories too eager to remain untold.

We do not always agree on everything. In fact, we often see the world from entirely different angles. Yet perhaps that is what makes certain friendships or certain people fit together so well. Not because they are the same, but because they fill the spaces the other cannot.

Of course, the night was not without its moments of unease. There were stretches of road where the darkness felt endless, where even the headlights seemed too small against the silence surrounding us. At one point, the faint scent of jasmine drifted through the air, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing just as quickly. It was the sort of thing that makes the imagination wander to places it probably shouldn’t. Still, fear feels lighter when it is shared. And thankfully, I was not the only one glancing into the darkness and wondering what might be hiding there.

By the time we arrived at the basecamp, exhaustion had begun to settle into our bones. We tried to sleep, though the excitement of what awaited us made rest difficult. The air grew colder as dawn approached, slipping easily through the thin fabric of my jacket. Around us, more hikers arrived one by one, their voices gradually replacing the stillness of the night.

And somewhere between the fading darkness and the first hint of morning, it finally felt real. For the first time, the mountains I had admired from afar were no longer just a distant longing. They were waiting for me just beyond sunrise.

The stars were louder tonight

A few hours later, at four in the morning, we finally began the climb.

The mountain was still wrapped in darkness, but above us the sky was alive with stars. I found myself looking up more often than looking ahead. Perhaps it was because I had never seen the night sky so clear before. Away from the city lights, the stars seemed endless, scattered across the horizon like tiny lanterns suspended in the cold morning air.

Thankfully, we were not alone on the trail. Several groups had started their ascent at around the same time, and their presence made the darkness feel less intimidating. The mountain no longer felt like an unfamiliar place waiting to swallow us whole. Instead, it felt like a shared journey.

The first part of the climb was far from easy. Having never hiked a mountain before, every incline felt steeper than it probably was. My legs complained, my breathing struggled to keep up, and more than once I wondered how much farther we still had to go. Yet, little by little, my body adapted to the rhythm of the trail. What had once felt impossible slowly became manageable.

Along the way, we met strangers whose kindness made the journey lighter. A simple smile, a brief conversation, or words of encouragement exchanged between hikers somehow reminded me that mountains have a way of bringing people together.

Blue hour kind of peace

When we finally reached the camping area, I was left speechless.

The landscape stretched endlessly before us, painted in soft morning light. It was one of those rare moments when beauty feels almost overwhelming, the kind that quietly settles in your chest and stays there. We rested, ate breakfast, took photos, and allowed ourselves to simply exist within the view for a while.

Afterward, we continued toward the summit. Fortunately, the weather was kind to us. The sky remained clear, and the path ahead seemed brighter with every step.

By the time we arrived at the top, the summit was already crowded with hikers chasing the same reward we were. We took turns taking photos, exchanged smiles with strangers, and sat for a while to enjoy the moment we had worked for since before dawn. We did not stay long, though. After enough photos and enough time to catch our breath, we began the journey back down.

To my surprise, descending was far more challenging than climbing.

Every step sent a protest through my legs, and the trail became increasingly crowded as more hikers continued their ascent. At some points, the mountain path felt less like a hiking trail and more like a bustling marketplace. It was chaotic, exhausting, and strangely amusing all at once.

And then, somewhere on the way back to the camping area, something happened that I never expected. Perhaps some moments are not meant to be explained in detail. Perhaps they are better remembered as feelings rather than stories. All I know is that it caught me completely off guard.

There, surrounded by mountains, morning light, and the quiet hum of fellow hikers preparing for their own journeys, an ordinary day suddenly became something I knew I would remember for a very long time.

Bouquets of happiness

After spending some time at the camping area, we continued our descent. Before heading all the way down, we stopped at a flower field to take more photos. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and for a moment, it felt as though the mountain was giving us one last beautiful scene before saying goodbye.

Eventually, we made our way closer to the basecamp. The trail grew busier, the sounds of people became louder, and signs of civilization slowly returned.

He is not the romantic type. At least, not in the way romance is usually portrayed. Which is precisely why the moment caught me off guard. He handed me flowers. Simple flowers. Nothing extravagant. Nothing dramatic. Yet somehow, it felt like one of the sweetest gestures I had ever received. Perhaps it was because I never expected it. Or perhaps the most meaningful moments are often the quietest ones.

Fresh flowers, after all, are temporary. They bloom beautifully, then slowly fade away. But I plan to dry them and keep them somewhere safe, where they can continue to exist as a small reminder of that day. A tiny piece of a memory I never want to lose.

After finally making our way back down to the basecamp, we sat at a small food stall, warming ourselves with bowls of instant noodles that somehow tasted far better than usual. Maybe hunger has a way of improving everything. Or maybe food simply tastes different after a mountain has humbled you.

The journey home was less magical than the journey there. We were exhausted, sleepy, and running almost entirely on determination. Still, neither of us wanted to make things harder for the other. We carried our fatigue quietly, shared what little energy remained, and kept moving forward. And as the roads stretched behind us and the mountain slowly disappeared from view, I realized that perhaps the most beautiful part of the trip was never the summit itself.

It was the journey, the conversations, the laughter, the unexpected flowers, and the feeling of sharing all of it with someone beside me.