My Bali volcano adventure was unforgettable. Hiking to the summit just hours before an eruption gave me a story I’ll never forget.
When I signed up to hike a volcano in Bali, I had a pretty clear idea of what to expect: a grueling climb, a killer sunrise, and the satisfaction of checking another adventure off my bucket list. What I didn’t expect was a front-row seat to nature’s unpredictability—or the frantic phone call to my mom afterward assuring her I wasn’t in immediate danger. Spoiler alert: the volcano erupted six hours after I hiked down. But let’s start at the beginning.
Picture this: it’s 2 AM, and I’m standing in the dark with a flashlight in one hand and questionable hiking shoes on my feet. The air is heavy with humidity, and I’m silently debating if I should’ve just stayed in bed. The guide assured us the hike up Mount Agung was worth it. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” they said. And they were right—though not for the reasons they’d advertised.
As the trek began, I found myself surrounded by other eager hikers, each of us armed with snacks, water, and varying levels of enthusiasm. The first hour was a manageable incline, filled with polite small talk and the occasional muttered complaint. But as we climbed higher, the terrain became steeper, the air thinner, and my thoughts shifted from “This is fun” to “How much further?”
By the time we reached the summit, the sky had started to glow with hints of orange and pink. The sunrise was, as promised, breathtaking. Sitting at the edge of a steaming crater, I felt a sense of awe and accomplishment—and the smug satisfaction of knowing my pre-dawn wake-up call wasn’t for nothing.
Of course, no hike is complete without a few mishaps. I’d underestimated how much water I’d need, so I spent most of the descent desperately bargaining with myself: “If I make it down without passing out, I’ll never complain about tap water again.” Spoiler: I complained about tap water two days later.
Fast-forward to six hours later, when I’m back at my hotel, scrolling through the news while sipping a much-needed iced coffee. That’s when I saw it: “Mount Agung Erupts, Sending Plumes of Ash Thousands of Feet Into the Air.” My stomach dropped faster than the time it took to hike down that volcano.
The eruption was mesmerizing (and, let’s be honest, a little terrifying) to watch unfold from a safe distance. It hit me that my timing could not have been more fortuitous. I mean, sure, I’d faced my share of bad luck on trips before—
delayed flights, lost luggage, an ill-fated attempt at kayaking—but narrowly missing a volcanic eruption? That was a new one.
But the adventure didn’t end there. We were scheduled to leave the island a couple of days later, but because of the eruption, the airport was closed. We extended our trip by five days before realizing we needed to find an alternative way off the island. Our hotel arranged for a private driver to take us on a five-hour journey, which included a ferry to a smaller, alternative airport.
When we arrived, the airport was packed with stranded travelers, and we ended up spending the night outside on the pavement. It wasn’t glamorous, but at least we weren’t alone in our struggle. The next morning, we boarded a short flight to Jakarta—or at least we tried to. A significant delay left us sprinting through the Jakarta airport, luggage in tow, desperately trying to make our connecting flight. We barely made it, rushing through the gate just as the stewardess was closing the doors.
One of the layovers was in Oman, where we “bathed” in a luxurious family restroom, trying to feel somewhat human again, before grabbing breakfast and boarding our final flight. Nearly 72 hours later, we made it home—only to discover that the Bali airport had reopened just 24 hours after we left. I like to tell myself we probably would’ve had to wait just as long, as they likely needed time to reschedule everyone. It’s the only way to make peace with the chaos.
Looking back, this trip taught me more than just the importance of wearing proper hiking boots. It reminded me that travel is, by nature, unpredictable. No matter how much you plan (and trust me, I’m a planner), there will always be surprises—some good, some not so much. And honestly, those surprises make the best stories.
So, what’s my advice? Say yes to the hike. Pack extra snacks. And when the unexpected happens, embrace it—even if it means dodging a volcanic eruption.
