Gunung Ebulobo (June 16, 2008)

No dreams of sugarplums. Rather visions of spewing lava. Fire spitting into the sky with fury. Teetering on the edge of a crater, gazing into the center of the Earth. Admittedly, Hollywood influenced (aren’t most things?). Like in the 90's movie, Volcano. Nevertheless, the mere essence of summiting, of conquering, an active volcano deserves a merit badge. Gunung Ebulobo (Ebulobo Mo.untain). Towering over the base village at over 6,000 feet. A full day climb… likely due more by my level of unfitness than difficulty. Each step seemingly fuelled by the thought of scorching lava traversing the veins beneath foot.

Led by two barefoot 9 year olds armed with a machete. As one may suspect, hiring 9 year old guides is indeed a flawed idea. First, their youthful endurance is breathlessly exhausting. Our incessant pleas for ‘istrihat’ (rest) seemingly an alien notion. Second, their machete cut path is slashed for a 9 year old... continuous ducking under the lingering vegetation required. I wear my sunglasses not for protection from the sun, but for protection from the intrusive branches and thorns at eye level. Half way to the summit, the trees disappear giving way to the rocky volcanic remains. Gazing out onto Flores. Gazing out onto the coast. Living in Bajawa, it is easy to forget about the sea. The rugged hills have such a strong presence, obscuring the aqua that defines the island country. Since arriving, my only encounter with the sea is the view offered by the dusty descent to Mbay. Nevertheless, there it was peaking through the cotton clouds. To the north. To the east. Two bodies of water. Small villages nestled in the valleys between.

I ask the boys how many times they have made the climb. This is the first? I hope something was lost in translation. However, they are barely out of the cradle! The crater more closely resembles Batman’s Batcave than a fiery pit. Sitting with legs dangling down, I fight the erg to take a closer look into its depths. Despite the inert appearance this hole in the ground does lead to the planet’s core.


The air overflowing with the unpleasantness of sulfur. The element prolific. Limey yellow pebbles abound throughout the rocky ash white landscape. Otherwise void of color. Desolate and forlorn. The afternoon clouds completely blanketing the endless view. As the bats begin to emerge, our small posse begins the pebbly tumble down.

As we reach the base village, the children scurry out of their homes to follow me as if I was the Piped Piper. Such a sense of exhilaration, the adrenaline rushing. No doubt the euphoric sensation will pass and my body will hate me in the morning... and probably the next. The next volcanic climbing adventure loams to the south of Bajawa. Its slopes engulfed entirely in rocky terrain presenting a slightly more hostile endeavor. Nevertheless, another volcano? Bring it on!