The path again
Dark humid warmth welcomes me as I open the door of our villa silently stepping into the night. This will be our last day in Ubud, my last chance to picture the wild nature of the Campuhan Ridge trail. As I walk over the crunching stones to the scooter, passing the sleeping guards I tick the checklist I memorized last evening:
- [x] getting up at 4.30
- [x] shouldering my camera bag
- [x] checking back-mirrors and helmet
- [x] recalling the way to the famous trail
A push on the ignition button and the motor of the Yamaha stuttering comes to life. A slight twist on the handle and I pull out into the night.
A warm breeze is moistening my skin and dampens my hoody as the lights of the never sleeping shops paint glittering fireworks on the visor of my jet helmet. Only few night owls fly through the dark streets like me, the air is still fresh. After a short ride I can see the illuminated Ubud palace looming in front of me and head left down into a dark street overshadowed by hulking banyan trees. Nearly missing the small sign I slow my humming japanese ride at the last moment. Now it is checklist mode again: park the scooter and store the helmet, pack away the damp hooded jacket and take out the phone for navigation.
Eager to finally see the Campuhan Ridge trail I slowly step into the pitch black driveway supposedly leading to it. Only through the guidance of my phone I find the entrance to the trail and begin my breathless ascent. The paved path winds along a rushing water deep down in a gorge. But suddenly I am out in the open, clearly making out the way in the silver moonlight of the almost full moon barely hiding between ghostly clouds. Now it is time for hunting again, I want to find the best spot for taking picture of the sunrise. In my mind the honey light is already flooding a lush green valley with a pink red sun rising above.
For now I slowly walk along the trail carefully measuring every step to not slip glancing left and right searching the imagined view. The valley is green yes, palms staling out between bushes and smaller trees. But the signs of civilization are everywhere. Hotels and villas fighting for the best view on the now touched nature. Colorful lights filling the shadows of the tropical forest. Then all of a sudden I reach the end of the trail marked by the pillars of a small temple, a dog is barking tauntingly. This is it? Where is the beautiful virgin nature? To make matters worse the sky is now shrouded by heavy clouds snuffing out the moonlight.
I take out my camera, the night is retreating and I have to take some pictures. After my deed is done I head back to my ride hopefully still standing next to the Indomaret. Big insects are humming over my head, as the first joggers appear on the trail. Huffing and puffing they pass my by, just pausing to take some selfies on the trail. One even carries a GoPro camera on a gyroscope recording his epic trail run for his timeline. More and more people are crowding the slender path, recording every square centimeter with their phones, even a drone is hissing by. At least they find something on this path. 🤔
A young couple stops me. "How long to get to the end of the trail?" the bearded guy asks. "You already reached the center of the trail", I reply. "Is there still something more to see?", he asks almost anxious. For a second I think of Ephraim Kishons story "Das Tal der Millionen Schmetterlinge", should I tell him how great the reward will be at the end of the trail, just in spite? Then I decide to be honest: "Actually, I think you have seen what there is to be seen. It is only a path." They nod and I go back to my scooter.
The way back takes a little longer. The streets are awake now and fumes begin to fill the morning air. Again this mysterious path I think.