There are very few things that feel appealing at 1:45am.
Waking up for a sunrise hike is one of them – at least in theory.
In reality, it meant setting an alarm after barely three hours of sleep, dragging myself out of bed while my body very clearly preferred the slow mornings and sleep-ins I’d settled into in Bali. For a moment, I questioned was I really this adventurous?
But a couple of hours later, standing at the base of Mount Batur in the dark, headlamp on, rain starting to fall – it was already too late to turn back.
The hike began quietly.
A slow line of lights moving up the mountain, the sound of gravel shifting underfoot, rain tapping against jackets. It wasn’t the dramatic, cinematic start you imagine – just a steady climb into the dark, with not much to see beyond the few steps in front of you.
When the rain picked up, I remember thinking we’d probably reach the summit to nothing but cloud. I tried to reframe it quickly – at least it’ll be a good workout. Not every experience needs to be perfect to be worth doing.
The trail was steep almost immediately.
Slippery in parts from the rain, dusty with volcanic sand, uneven enough that I was very quickly grateful for the hiking stick I almost didn’t take. What felt unnecessary at the bottom became something I relied on within minutes – using it to balance, to steady myself, to pull myself up over the steeper sections.
It was a tough climb. Everyone was puffing, stopping, starting again.
Our group moved fairly quickly, passing a few others on the way up, and I won’t pretend it didn’t feel good to notice that. Not in a competitive way – more in an internal kind of pride. There was a time I would’ve taken this much slower, and being able to move confidently up a mountain in the dark, in the rain, felt like something I was proud of.
A reminder, of what my body can do much easier now.
Somewhere along the way, the clouds started to shift and open up.
Just enough to reveal the faint glow of the town below. Small clusters of light breaking through the darkness. It was the first moment I felt that flicker of excitement – that maybe, just maybe, we’d actually see something from the top.
And then, eventually, we did.
The summit was busier than I expected.
Dozens of people gathered, waiting for the sky to change. But somehow, it still felt quiet. That kind of shared stillness where no one needs to say anything.
Layers of cloud drifting across the landscape, the first soft light starting to break through, the kind of view that doesn’t really hit you all at once. It unfolds slowly, the same way the morning does.
And scattered amongst it all – small offerings.
Carefully placed, simple, intentional. A quiet moment of gratitude woven into the top of an active volcano. It grounded the whole experience in a way I didn’t expect. A reminder that this isn’t just a viewpoint, or a checklist item, but somewhere that holds meaning beyond the people climbing it before sunrise.
I think that’s what made it feel so special.
Not just the view, but the fact that it required something to get there.
The early wake up. The rain. The climb. The moments of doubt along the way.
It would’ve been so easy not to do it. To stay in bed, to choose comfort, to never actually know what I was missing. And that’s the strange thing about experiences like this – you don’t regret the ones you never knew existed.
But when you do say yes, when you show up anyway, when you push through that initial resistance… you’re reminded exactly why you do.
This felt like one of those moments.
A reminder of why I chose this lifestyle in the first place. That there’s still so much to see, to experience, to step into – and that my body is capable of taking me there.
Sometimes I feel like I have to keep up this version of myself – the one who’s always saying yes, always chasing the next experience. And if I’m honest, that can feel exhausting.
But then I find myself standing somewhere like this, watching the light hit a volcano in the middle of Indonesia, and it clicks back into place.
Not because I have to do these things.
But because, I fucking love it!
Good morning from the top of an active volcano.
Practical details: Mount Batur sunrise hike
If you’re thinking about doing this while in Bali, here’s what it actually looked like:
Booking
I booked through GetYourGuide (this one was gifted as a creator), and honestly it made the whole thing incredibly easy. Everything was organised, which meant I could just show up half-asleep and not think too hard.
What’s included
- Pickup from Ubud (very early… obviously)
- All transport to and from the mountain
- A local guide for the hike
- Breakfast at the summit
- Post-hike hot springs (very appreciated after)
- Coffee plantation stop on the way back
How hard is the hike?
It’s not easy – it’s steep, a bit slippery (especially if it rains), and you’ll definitely feel it. But it’s quite short (1.5hrs) and very doable if you take it at your own pace. There are plenty of stops along the way and no pressure to rush.
What to bring
- A light rain jacket (very necessary for me)
- Good shoes with grip
- A hoodie or layers (it’s cold at the top before sunrise)
- Water
- Don’t skip the hiking stick – even if you think you won’t need it
Would I recommend it?
100%. It’s one of those experiences that feels a little bit wild in the moment, but so worth it once you’re standing at the top.
Discount code
Use code: ALEXXSADVENTURES5 for 5% off your first GYG experience!
– Alexx
Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase through these links, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. I only recommend tours, hotels and services that I’ve personally used or genuinely believe will add value to your trip.
Alex's Adventures 