We Went Camping for the Sunrise and Never Saw It

Some trips stay in your memory because everything went exactly as planned.

This isn’t one of them.

Back in February 2020, a group of friends and I decided to spend a weekend camping at Sukawana Sunrise in Kintamani. The plan sounded simple enough: ride up together, grill some food, spend the night under the stars, wake up early, and watch the sunrise.

We accomplished some of those things.

The sunrise wasn’t one of them.

Looking back, though, I think that’s exactly why I still remember this trip.

The Night Before

Like many trips with friends, this one technically started before we even left.

On Friday night, we gathered at our usual hangout spot, Sekopi Renon, to figure out who was actually coming. I had ordered some chicken for us to grill the following night, so after class, I picked it up, dropped it at home, and eventually joined everyone else.

Despite the rain, seven of us committed to the trip: Arsa, Wistika, Wizi, Dana, Krisna, Wati, and me.

We decided to meet at Wati’s house the next day since it was closer to Kintamani.

The planning probably could have taken 30 minutes.

Naturally, we stayed until almost 1 AM.

Eventually, we remembered that we were supposed to ride to Kintamani the following morning and decided sleep might actually be useful.

The Chicken

Saturday came, everything was packed, and we were finally on the road.

Arsa rode with me, Wistika rode with Mikhael, and Dana went on his own. As usual, some of them seemed determined to reach the destination as quickly as physically possible.

I wasn’t.

I happily stayed behind at my normal speed, chatting with Arsa as we rode.

Then, somewhere along the way, I had a realization.

“Hey… I think we left the chicken.”

“Mikhael brought it, I think, no?”

I called him.

No answer.

We hadn’t gone very far yet, so I turned around.

Back at Mikhael’s house, his grandmother opened the door and understandably looked confused to see me again.

“Why did you come back?”

“I think we left the chicken.”

I checked the refrigerator.

There it was.

Our dinner, sitting peacefully in the fridge while the rest of the camping group was already on its way to Kintamani.

Thank God for that random feeling that we’d forgotten something.

Chicken secured, we started the journey again.

The Long Way to Sukawana

By the time Arsa and I reached Wati’s house, everyone else was already there.

Mikhael greeted me with a grin while looking at my face, which had collected enough dust and pollution along the way to show exactly how my morning had gone.

After a short break, we continued through Petang and crossed the Tukad Bangkung Bridge in Plaga.

The journey itself was part of the fun.

There was traffic, potholes, trucks, the scorching sun, and a lot of overtaking between members of our group. At one point, we wanted to stop at a minimarket, but Dana and Wizi were so far ahead that they completely missed it.

I honked.

Nothing.

I honked again.

Still nothing.

Eventually, I had to speed up just to tell them there wouldn’t be another minimarket anytime soon.

Since we were already close to Sukawana, we took a slight detour toward Batur and eventually found an Indomaret.

And that’s where the trip gave us another unexpected moment.

Someone we knew approached us in the parking lot.

It was Dana’s ex-girlfriend.

She was there with her brother, and after the usual “What are you doing here?” conversation, she invited us to visit her house.

Wistika and Mikhael immediately had more important concerns.

“Do you have Mujair Nyat Nyat?“

Apparently they were hungry.

She laughed and said no.

Meanwhile, Dana mostly stood there smiling awkwardly.

Some memories really don’t need embellishment.

Finally, Sukawana

After buying snacks, water, and whatever else we’d forgotten, we continued toward the campsite.

The road became steeper and more winding as we approached Sukawana. Some of the downhill sections were sharp enough to make Wati, who was riding with me by then, understandably nervous.

Eventually, after plenty of adrenaline, we arrived.

We checked in, paid, and were shown to our tents. Thankfully, everything had already been set up for us, so there was no dramatic attempt at figuring out tent poles while pretending we knew what we were doing.

We dropped our belongings inside and finally had time to look around.

The landscape alone made the ride worth it.

As evening arrived and the temperature began to drop, we started a bonfire and prepared the chicken that had nearly spent the weekend alone in Mikhael’s refrigerator.

Then came the part of camping that I probably remember better than the actual camping.

Eating.

Drinking.

Gossiping.

Taking selfies.

Singing songs badly.

Most of our song choices somehow became slow and melancholic. Since we’d unexpectedly met Dana’s ex earlier that day, naturally we started replacing random lyrics with her name.

Dana, already somewhat tipsy, could do little more than laugh at us.

Eventually, we remembered there was supposedly a sunrise waiting for us in a few hours.

So we went to sleep.

The 3 AM Sunrise That Wasn’t

At some point during the night, I woke up to the sound of the Tri Sandhya mantra.

My half-awake brain immediately came to one conclusion.

It must be around six.

I looked outside.

Completely dark.

It was also raining.

Confused, I checked the time.

3:00 AM.

Someone in a nearby tent had apparently decided that the Tri Sandhya mantra was exactly what the campsite needed at three in the morning.

“These darn brats,” I remember muttering.

Since I was already awake, I decided to go to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, the bathroom was uphill.

Darkness, steep steps, cold weather, and the lingering effects of alcohol are not an ideal combination.

The walk felt significantly longer than it probably was. I had to stop several times, partly to catch my breath and partly to make sure I didn’t lose my balance.

Coming back down was arguably worse.

Eventually, somehow, I found my tent again and went back to sleep.

Surely the actual sunrise would make all of this worthwhile.

Sukawana Sunrise Without the Sunrise

My alarm went off at six.

I stepped outside.

Still raining.

Still cloudy.

Absolutely no sunrise.

We had travelled all the way to a place literally called Sukawana Sunrise, and nature had apparently decided not to participate.

There wasn’t much we could do about it.

So instead of watching the sunrise, we headed to the campsite owner’s shop and ordered something warm.

Some of my friends decided to shower.

I didn’t.

It was so cold that washing my face already felt like enough commitment to personal hygiene for one morning.

Eventually, breakfast arrived.

The fried rice itself was nothing particularly memorable, but sitting together while rain continued falling around us somehow made it taste better.

Maybe that’s what cold weather does.

Or maybe hunger simply lowers your standards.

Either way, we ate everything.

One More Detour

While having breakfast, I remembered seeing photos of a pine forest somewhere around the area on Instagram.

Naturally, instead of going home after a rainy night with very little sleep, we decided we should find it.

I showed one of the campsite staff a photo.

“Oh, that’s in Manikliyu,” he told me.

He explained the route, and suddenly we had another destination.

Before leaving Sukawana, we wandered around looking for places to take photos. The sky remained cloudy, but after travelling that far, we weren’t going to let the weather stop us.

Then Mikhael discovered his shoes.

They had been sitting underneath the tent.

And they were completely wet.

Naturally, the rest of us laughed.

Thankfully, he had sandals.

We packed everything, climbed the steep stairs back toward our motorbikes, thanked the campsite staff, and started riding toward Manikliyu.

Following the directions we’d been given, we eventually spotted the sign.

We turned.

Kept going.

And there it was.

A pine forest stretching ahead of us.

At the time, there wasn’t a fixed entrance fee. We each contributed Rp5,000 before walking inside.

After the rain, the forest felt especially fresh. Tall pine trees surrounded us, the air was cool, and everything seemed quieter than the chaotic weekend we’d just had.

We had gone to Kintamani looking for a sunrise.

Instead, we ended up here.

Looking Back

It’s funny how memory works.

I don’t remember exactly what the Sukawana landscape looked like from every angle.

I don’t remember what songs we sang around the bonfire.

I barely remember the taste of the fried rice.

And I definitely didn’t see the sunrise we’d travelled there for.

But I remember the chicken sitting in Mikhael’s refrigerator.

I remember Dana awkwardly meeting his ex at an Indomaret in Kintamani.

I remember waking up at 3 AM because someone thought playing the Tri Sandhya mantra in the middle of the night was a good idea.

I remember Mikhael discovering his soaking wet shoes.

And I remember that instead of going home disappointed because we missed the sunrise, we simply found somewhere else to go.

Maybe that’s what I miss most about trips like this.

We didn’t need everything to go according to plan for the trip to feel worthwhile.

The weather changed.

We changed the plan.

Something went wrong.

We laughed about it.

Then we kept going.

Looking back six years later, I don’t think the sunrise would have made this story any better.

If anything, I’m glad we missed it.

Because the things that went wrong somehow became the things I remember most.

And perhaps that’s the funny thing about travelling with friends when you’re young.

You think you’re going somewhere for the destination.

Years later, you realize the destination was only where the memories happened.