It had been a long time since I last went hiking. Not because I no longer enjoyed it, but because the demands of being a final-year student required to write a thesis had made me forget an activity that was truly challenging. To me, there was nothing more enjoyable than climbing mountains with my friends from the mountaineering club.
Of all the mountains I had climbed, Semeru was the place I visited most often.
Its summit, standing 3,676 meters above sea level, made it the highest mountain on Pulau Jawa, with breathtaking views—especially the beauty of Ranu Kumbolo, which lay in the middle of the hiking route. Though it required no small amount of effort, Gunung Semeru was always a favorite destination for hikers.
Unable to bear my restlessness any longer, I contacted Indra—the head of the mountaineering club at my campus—who remained active and kept up with the schedule despite being busy with his academic commitments.
“Okay, Ndis, you can join us next month. As it happens, we’re going to Semeru, your favorite place. Get yourself ready, okay? You haven’t gone hiking in a long time, so don’t end up troubling the others. We’re also bringing three juniors who want to conquer Mahameru.” Indra warned me over the phone when I told him I wanted to join the group.
“Besides me, are there any other girls going?”
“Mm, I think Tracie’s coming. She’s accompanying her younger sibling, who happens to be making their first climb with us,” he replied.
“Okay, then. Thanks, Dra,” I said.
Fine, I’m ready for this. Even though I hadn’t joined the club’s activities in a long time, I was still fit enough to come along again. At least one more time before I get involved with my future job, I murmured after ending the call.
I kept myself busy by starting to prepare everything I needed. Even though the trip was still a long way off, I had to check the old equipment I’d neglected. A nesting cook set, stove, tent, jacket, first-aid kit, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, and, of course, a backpack.
Of all those things, it seemed my hiking shoes and backpack were no longer fit to use. I would have to buy new ones.
The shoes? Fine, maybe I could still use them for ordinary activities. But the backpack? I didn’t think I needed a new one. Forget it ... I’d just find one to borrow later, I muttered again.
It would be a shame to buy a new one if this was going to be my last climb—unless I married Indra and we went hiking together hundreds of times more.
I pouted at the ridiculous thought. No, there was no way Indra would kneel and hold out his hand to me, asking me to journey through life together. We weren’t compatible in many ways. Our relationship had reached a dead end, so what more was there to hope for?
At last, the day arrived. Riding in Indra’s Jeep, we reached Ranu Pane after passing through Tumpang, Poncokusumo, Gubuk Klakah, and Ngadas. My whole body felt exhausted, proof that I hadn’t done enough physical training over the time that had passed.
“I’ve coordinated with the officials. We can hike today because the weather’s good and the trail conditions are safe. Since there are beginners in the group, this time we won’t spend the night at Kalimati. We’ll stay at Ranu Kumbolo instead.” As the group leader, Indra gave us a briefing before we set out. A few people sighed, perhaps disappointed? Who knew? Maybe they had hoped to see the breathtaking spread of stars at night and watch the sunrise.
The scenery at Ranu Kumbolo itself was no less spectacular than Kalimati’s. It was just that many myths circulated among hikers about the various mystical things that often happened there.
“Remember, don’t do anything stupid or deliberately violate any of the prohibitions around the lake!” he emphasized.
After praying, we continued for three hours through Watu Rejeng, following a trail whose route was already etched into my memory. Back when I’d first started hiking, Indra always stayed behind me. Every now and then, he would match my pace and take my hand while explaining the trail we were passing through. Remembering it made me smile.
The path began to climb, making my legs ache and stiffen. Both my shoulders felt hot from rubbing against the backpack straps pressed against my back. Was the pack too heavy, or was I simply getting old and running out of strength? I forced a bitter smile as I watched Indra far ahead, walking alongside Tracie and her younger sibling. A stabbing pain spread through my chest and upper abdomen. I hurried so I wouldn’t fall behind the group, even though my breathing had grown slightly ragged.
When we reached Ranu Kumbolo, we set up our tents and agreed to fill our stomachs with instant food. I deliberately moved away so I could enjoy my food and drink in peace.
Unexpectedly, that melancholy feeling came over me, and my tears spilled freely, some of them falling into the steaming bowl in my hands. It hurt to see Indra so close to Tracie and her younger sibling, as if he were deliberately ignoring me. Was I being overly sensitive? Maybe. We had broken up a long time ago. It was only natural for him to look for a new harbor.
I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there. The noodles in my bowl had gone cold and swollen, untouched. I turned toward my group because the surroundings had suddenly grown quiet. There was nothing to be seen.
Where had they gone? Why couldn’t I see any of the tents? When had they packed everything up?
Panic seized me. I set the bowl on the ground, immediately stood, and ran toward where our tents had been. Without realizing it, I kicked the mess tin beside me and spilled everything inside.
I ran back and forth, searching for my friends and shouting. Strangely, they seemed to have vanished without a trace. Cold sweat soaked the shirt beneath my jacket. Every joint throbbed, and even my bones ached. As far as I could see, there was nothing but grass and purple flowers in bloom. Wait! It seemed I had gone far beyond Ranu Kumbolo.
I collapsed, exhausted. Thirst and hunger made me cry helplessly and hopelessly. I felt as though I had been running for several hours without stopping.
Where was I now? How had I ended up here? This place seemed familiar, I thought. Wasn’t this Tanjakan Cinta?
The certainty of where I was made my head begin to throb. The air was cold enough to pierce my bones, and my wet clothes completed my misery.
God, I’m exhausted! How did I end up here? Where were my friends?
I lay down on the grass and stared at the sky, feeling all my exhaustion while trying to think clearly. There were no answers before I finally fell asleep, worn out.
I woke to a bone-chilling cold. The sun was almost setting. The ground beneath me felt wet, soaking part of my body. I got up, water dripping from strands of hair, my jacket, shirt, pants, shoes, and even my socks.
I looked around at the fog-shrouded landscape. A faint shadow appeared in the distance. I rubbed my eyes to sharpen my vision.
Why had I suddenly ended up here? I felt confused.
A long-haired woman in a white dress was dancing with her back to me. Faintly, I could hear a Javanese song accompanying her dance. I tried with all my strength to stand.
Unexpectedly, the woman turned around and waved at me. Startled, I stumbled backward until one of my feet became trapped in the mud. Something was wrong with me, but what?
The woman took several steps backward, still waving. The thick fog did not obstruct my view. She seemed to be standing on the surface of the water. She continued moving backward, slowly sinking into the water as her dress and body disappeared beneath it.
I gaped. She was going to drown. I couldn’t let that happen.
With all my strength, I pulled my foot free from the mud and stepped forward. Somehow, I failed to realize that the water had begun to cover my feet, knees, waist, and finally my neck. In the distance, the woman began reaching through the air for help. She must not have known how to swim, because her hands kept appearing and disappearing beneath the surface.
I began paddling toward her. Something seemed to pull me from below, dragging me toward the bottom. I fought with all my strength and tried to rise to the surface, my chest and ears feeling as though they were about to burst. The pressure of the water made me realize that I was already far out in the middle of the lake. Fortunately, the parachute jacket I was wearing had air pockets and was fully buttoned, so even though my clothes were soaked, it helped keep me from sinking.
Someone grabbed my hand and hugged me, bringing me to the surface. Exhaustion left me silent, and I let the person keep holding me until a commotion rose around us. Several people helped carry me to a drier spot.
I still couldn’t move as someone pumped my chest and tried to perform CPR. The drops of water falling from my hair and the scent of the perfume they were wearing made me think of someone. I coughed, water spilling from my chest and bringing another burst of commotion. The person hugged me again.
“Oh, thank God ... you’re awake, Ndis?” they asked, holding me close. I could even hear their pounding heart and the breath they were holding back to keep from crying. “I can’t lose you again. Don’t go,” they continued, their body shaking. I was too exhausted to react or say everything I was thinking. So exhausted.
Note: This short story has been published in an anthology book.