A ban on climbing Bali’s mountains was recently announced following a string of bad tourist behavior. But some locals say the reality isn’t quite so clear-cut. Columnist Sarah Reid laces up her boots and heads to Mount Batur to find out what’s really going on.
The cool, early morning air fills with the pungent smell of spring onions as we weave through plots of vegetables in the lush, farming-village foothills of Mount Batur, an active Balinese volcano, rising 5,633 feet (1,717 meters) above sea level.
Within minutes of connecting with the summit trailhead, we’re forced to one side of the dusty track as a motorbike growls past in the darkness, then another, with warung (food stall) staff and tourists riding pillion. Combined with the not-so-distant drone of jeeps transporting other groups of tourists to an alternative sunrise spot, it’s definitely not my most serene mountain climbing experience. Yet it’s more fun than I expected, with a jovial atmosphere at rest stops where we banter with fellow hikers and locals selling tea, igneous-rock bracelets and lifts (motorbikes can travel around three-quarters of the way to the summit). I’m also impressed to find the trail is almost spotless, a sign that there are some measures in place to protect this otherworldly landscape.
Our group makes it to the top nearly an hour before sunrise. Bracing to battle crowds, I’m instead ushered onto one of many bench seats lined up around the crater rim, with room for just about everyone to enjoy a clear, seated view as the scarlet sun yawns above a layer of clouds, as if rising above an ocean in the sky. The first rays of light dance on Mount Batur, illuminating a handful of fumaroles—a reminder that this volcano is very much active (MAGMA, the government’s live warning system, currently has a ‘normal’, or lowest risk, rating for Mount Batur).
In the midst of it all, I’m surprised to discover I’m enjoying this moment with at least 700 other people. While I personally preferred the more solitary slog up Mount Agung, Bali’s tallest peak, many years ago, efforts to disperse the crowds on the summit of Mount Batur have no doubt helped to maintain the raging popularity of its sunrise experiences.
But if the announcement made by Bali’s Governor Wayan Koster on May 31 (which he doubled down on in June) comes into effect, hiking Mount Batur could be banned imminently and permanently for religious reasons, along with tourism activities on 21 other mountains on this Indonesian holiday island.
On an island where mountains are held sacred by its Hindu-majority population and tourists are routinely deported for culturally disrespectful behavior, the governor’s reasoning is understandable. But while studies on tourism activities in the UNESCO-listed Batur Geopark have identified scope for improvements to ensure their future sustainability, a blanket ban could be devastating for locals whose livelihoods depend on the industry.
My local guide, Kadek Parwata, whose livelihood is dependent on leading hikers up the mountain six days a week, doesn’t want to think about what he will do if the ban takes effect. “I have two children,” he says nervously as we slip and slide back down the steep trail after sunrise. His colleagues share his concern. “It’s not just the guides who will be affected, but also the drivers, guesthouses and warungs [small family-owned business]—more than a thousand people will lose their jobs,” said my transfer driver Putu.
But the announcement of the ban—an escalation of the governor’s previously stated intention to regulate Bali’s mountain tourism—is already affecting the industry, with confusion reigning in the island’s tourist centers as to whether the ban has taken effect. “Isn’t it closed?” texted an ex-pat friend in Canggu when I shared my hiking plans. A Balinese villa manager I spoke to thought Mount Agung might be closed, but wasn’t sure about Mount Batur. Yet both mountains were open for tourism activities during my July visit.
It’s not the first time Indonesian authorities have made an unexpected announcement (translation: Without broad stakeholder consultation) that has sent the local tourism industry into a tailspin. Just last year, a plan revealed by East Nusa Tenggara’s provincial government to increase the entry fee to Komodo National Park, famed for its ‘dragons,’ by 25 times to around US$250, was scrapped following local protests.
Kadek hopes for a similar result in Bali, with a total ban traded for a compromise such as a requirement for tourists to wear a traditional sarong—an important part of the Balinese Hindu dress code for visiting temples. Capping hiker numbers is another strategy increasingly used on popular hiking routes around the world to help minimize negative impacts. But locals and tourists alike can only speculate as Bali’s mountain tourism industry carries on, awaiting fresh news of its fate.
***
Adventure.com strives to be a low-emissions publication, and we are working to reduce our carbon emissions where possible. Emissions generated by the movements of our staff and contributors are carbon offset through our parent company, Intrepid. You can visit our sustainability page and read our Contributor Impact Guidelines for more information. While we take our commitment to people and planet seriously, we acknowledge that we still have plenty of work to do, and we welcome all feedback and suggestions from our readers. You can contact us anytime at hello@adventure.com. Please allow up to one week for a response.
Sarah Reid is an award-winning travel writer, editor and author with a passion for positive-impact adventures and exploring underrated destinations. Her book credits include The Sustainable Travel Handbook, published by Lonely Planet.
