Expedition to Karangetang Volcano

Our journey to Karangetang Volcano began in Manado, the capital of North Sulawesi. Manado offered a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Indonesia’s larger cities. To reach the volcano, we opted for a local ferry, a decision heavily influenced by the recent crash of the sole local airline’s only plane, a tragedy that sadly claimed all lives on board.

Manado’s port was a chaotic scene. Overcrowded with massive ferries jostling for space, it was a navigational hazard further complicated by the presence of half-sunken, abandoned vessels. Our own ferry, the Barcelone VA, didn’t inspire much confidence either. Despite a fresh coat of bright paint, it leaned precariously to one side.

Scheduled to depart at 4pm, we were met with the classic Indonesian “jam karet” (rubber time), and finally set sail at 5:30pm – just as a menacing storm rolled in. Dark clouds enveloped us, followed by relentless lightning and torrential rain. We even witnessed a tornado in the distance. Despite the ominous weather and the ferry’s concerning tilt, the Barcelone VA bravely revved its engines and began the four-hour voyage to Siau Island.

The ferry crossing was a nightmare. As the wind howled and the waves swelled to menacing heights, the boat pitched and rolled violently. Passengers throughout the vessel succumbed to seasickness. We, however, were fortunate enough to have secured a “VIP” room – a basic but blessedly private space with two bunk beds and, crucially, air conditioning. It was a haven compared to the alternative: attempting to find comfort on the hard, undulating steel floor of the main deck. After five agonising hours of this maritime ordeal, the flickering lights of Siau Island finally emerged from the darkness, signaling our arrival.

We woke to uninspiring weather the following morning. The Indonesian Meteorology Service had issued a severe lightning and rain warning for the island, and international weather models confirmed the grim forecast. Climbing Karangetang in such conditions was out of the question, especially given the volcano’s propensity for producing dangerous lahars we had no desire to encounter.

With our climb postponed, we decided to explore Siau Island instead. A narrow ring road once circled the island, but recent lava flows and lahars had rendered sections impassable. We stopped at one site where locals were diligently clearing debris from a lahar flow. They described an ongoing challenge, with new lahars frequently undoing their hard work.

Undeterred, we ventured to the northwestern part of the island to witness firsthand the destructive power of the recent lava flows that had severed the road and reached the ocean. Here too, efforts were underway to clear the solidified lava and reopen the route.

As evening fell, we embarked on a jungle trek, culminating in a rare and exciting encounter with an elusive tarsier.

Fortune smiled upon us the next morning. We awoke to clear skies and perfect climbing conditions – a welcome contrast to the previous day’s gloomy forecast. Our plan was straightforward, yet daunting: ascend Karangetang, a rarely climbed volcano with no established trail. This meant forging our own path through dense jungle, followed by a 500-meter scramble up treacherous old lava flows. Our goal was to find a suitable campsite before nightfall and then tackle the final 1000-meter push to the summit the following day.

Loaded with gear and accompanied by a team of 15 porters and local guides, we plunged into the hot, humid jungle. Knowing that venomous creatures, including cobras, lurked within the dense foliage, we were grateful for our snake gaiters. The jungle itself was a mesmerising world of towering, alien-looking trees. While a rough track existed in some parts, we often relied on machetes to hack our way through the dense undergrowth.

Emerging from the jungle after four hours of arduous trekking, we found ourselves on an old lava flow dating back to the 1980s. Here, we were granted our first unobstructed view of Karangetang’s summit – a menacing sight. The exposed lava dome appeared alarmingly unstable, as if poised to collapse at any moment. The ever-present threat of a pyroclastic flow added to the sense of danger. Looking back, however, offered a breathtaking panorama of Siau Island.

The next stage of our ascent proved treacherous, demanding careful navigation across a field of massive basalt boulders. These rocks, unstable and shifting underfoot, presented a constant risk. Sharp edges and the threat of a long fall kept us focused. The terrain varied, alternating between dizzyingly steep inclines and flatter stretches that offered brief respite. Despite the strengthening wind, I managed to launch the drone, capturing a unique perspective of our precarious position. We were following a narrow, channeled lava flow that snaked its way up the volcano’s flank.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, we began the search for a suitable campsite. Flat ground was at a premium; what little existed was strewn with rocks, some alarmingly large. Undeterred, we set about creating a semblance of comfort in this challenging environment. With no space to pitch tents, we resigned ourselves to sleeping under the stars. Everyone pitched in, clearing rocks, shifting ash and lapilli. Gradually, we carved out a small, flat area. Our incredible porters even managed to rig up a tarp, offering some shelter. As darkness fell, however, the humidity intensified, soaking our bags, sleeping bags, and gear. To make matters worse, our campsite was situated in a major channel – directly in the path of any potential pyroclastic flow. Buffeted by fierce winds, we endured a long, uncomfortable night with little sleep.

Before finally succumbing to exhaustion, I ventured out to try my hand at astrophotography. Despite the challenging conditions, I managed to capture a stunning image: two of Karangetang’s glowing cones silhouetted against the night sky, with a comet streaking dramatically across the frame.

Dawn brought improved conditions. The wind had subsided, and the sky was clear. We packed up our bags and began the final push to the summit. Early into the climb, we faced a critical decision: ascend from the west, avoiding the thick volcanic gases but risking exposure to rockfalls from the unstable lava dome, or choose the eastern route, where the air was choked with potentially harmful gases. Reasoning that gas, mitigated by our masks and protective gear, posed a lesser threat than falling rocks, we opted for the western flank.

As we ascended, it became clear that the climb would be more demanding than anticipated. Sections of steep, stable boulders offered secure handholds and footholds, while others consisted of loose scree, requiring careful negotiation. At times, we resorted to scrambling on all fours to maintain our progress. With seven of us climbing, we were acutely aware of the need to avoid dislodging rocks that could injure those below.

As we neared the summit, a wave of relief washed over us: the wind had shifted, blowing the noxious gases northwards. We would reach the top without being suffocated. After many hours of arduous, painstaking progress, the first lava dome emerged into view, marking our arrival at the summit. Despite the ferocious wind that buffeted us, we were elated. The sheer scale of the lava dome was awe-inspiring. Significant degassing, a potent mix of sulfur dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, vented from fissures in its surface. Brilliant yellow sulfur deposits adorned the dome, adding a touch of beauty to the scene. But the overwhelming sense was one of impending danger. Standing there, I couldn’t help but think that its eventual collapse would unleash catastrophic consequences.

Karangetang’s second active cone and lava dome, though still imposing, presented a stark contrast to the first. Darker in color and less active. Standing between these two menacing and volatile geological giants was a surreal experience, a stark reminder of nature’s disinterest in us.

With a sense of both accomplishment and apprehension, we decided it was time to retreat. The summit had been conquered, but lingering in such a precarious location was unwise.

Karangetang was something else. The jungle, the lava flows and lava domes… it was intense! But standing on the summit, looking out at those smoking cones – totally worth it. This is one adventure I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

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