My First Camping Trip on Mount Kelud

July 27, 2018. It was barely 9 a.m., and I was busy wrapping up a small giveaway contest I had hosted a few days earlier. The prize? Domain names. The turnout was… modest. Eight grand prizes, eight participants. Perfectly balanced—what a coincidence. :'v

But that’s not the story I want to tell.

On WhatsApp, my friends were already chatting excitedly, talking about camping preparations. I had said I’d leave at 11 a.m., before Friday prayers, hoping to pray somewhere along the way so no one would have to wait for me. Reality, however, had other plans. A college friend suddenly dropped by and started chatting. Kicking him out would’ve been rude, so there I was—stuck.

By the time I finally finished showering, it was already 10:30. I hadn’t picked up the tent, stove, or any gear yet. No food. No gas. Everything felt chaotic. And to make things worse—I was starving.

I asked my friend Megi, who happened to be staying at my place, to help buy breakfast. Unexpectedly (and tragically), he took my motorcycle and went off to buy food. In hindsight, my fault—I should’ve told him to buy something nearby. With no choice left, I walked to the minimarket near my boarding house to buy gas and supplies, hoping Megi would be back by the time I returned.

He wasn’t.

The short hand of the clock pointed at 11. So I calmly packed my spare clothes, lit a cigarette, and took a deep breath. Somehow, everything felt lighter. Thank you, cigarettes.

Almost everything was ready. All that was left was picking up the tent I had booked earlier. By the time Megi finally returned, I rushed through the traffic of Gajayana, MT Haryono, and Panjaitan like my life depended on it.

Leaving at 11? Completely failed.

Too embarrassed to admit I’d be late, I simply told my friends not to rush. I prayed Friday prayers at a mosque near my place, then immediately set off to pick up Idris—a friend I met through the Introvert Indonesia community. There’s a special kind of joy in traveling with people who share the same wavelength.

I arrived at Idris’s place around 1 p.m. He was in a hurry packing, but we still ended up late meeting Mas Yasin. More than half an hour late. When we reached the Wlingi gas station, Yasin’s sour expression said it all. Well… at least I apologized. Hehehe.

The three of us finally headed toward the base camp. Dark clouds hovered above—slightly worrying. None of us brought raincoats, yet we stubbornly pressed on without buying any.

We arrived at base camp around 4 p.m. Before the hike, we registered our names, contacts, and equipment. The starting point of the hike was still 1–2 kilometers away. We planned to walk, but for “community service reasons” (apparently), we were required to take motorcycle taxis. Ten thousand rupiah—cheap enough.

Bismillah.

We took our first steps, breathing in cool mountain air and witnessing scenery we had never seen before. This was our very first hike and camping experience. Every step felt electric—joy, caution, and awe blended into one.

We reached the first post at sunset. One by one, we prayed Maghrib, taking turns because the space was tight and only I had a prayer mat. We rested briefly, built a small campfire, and prepared warm drinks to recharge our bodies. After that, we continued toward posts two and three. Darkness swallowed the forest, making the vegetation hard to see. Still, it felt like Mount Kelud was dominated by tall, dense trees and humid air—rarely any dry shrubs that could easily catch fire.

We decided to pitch our tent at post three. Guided purely by instinct, our first dome tent finally stood—though it looked far less impressive than the one next to us. Understandable. It was our first time. Soon after, we rested, enduring the freezing cold of the highlands.

Around 6 a.m. the next morning, we left the tent to continue toward the summit. Along the way, we found plenty of edible plants—especially parijoto fruits growing abundantly. There were also many fruits from the Ficus genus, resembling awar-awar, though I wasn’t entirely sure they were safe. We even found wild trees with leaves like cherry trees, but with tiny mulberry-like fruits. Sweet. Questionably edible. Thankfully, I’m still alive today—despite eating quite a lot of them.

After post four, the terrain turned rocky. Trees grew sparse, but beautiful edelweiss flowers appeared everywhere. If you’re lucky, you can even find ripe wild raspberries to enjoy along the way.

The path to the crater demanded extreme caution. To reach it, we had to edge along steep rocky cliffs. In Javanese terms, you must be tatag—steady, alert, and fully in control of your body. One wrong move, and you’d be remembered only by name.

I don’t remember exactly when we reached the crater. Unfortunately, the view was covered in clouds. Still, we didn’t skip taking photos. After soaking it all in, we headed back down, our water supply nearly gone.

We spent one night in the tent—from the afternoon after returning from the summit until around 6 or 7 the next morning. Once the tent was packed and everything double-checked, we headed home with deep satisfaction. The sky was clear, revealing the surrounding scenery in full. Parijoto fruit was everywhere—if only we could bring it all down, we might’ve carried dozens of kilograms of it.

My first camping trip. Chaotic, exhausting, cold—and unforgettable.