And Ordeal

But the biggest difference was this: every park has its pest, whether it's rats, mosquitoes, dingoes or sand flies, but in Rinjani there are two especially annoying pests, namely monkeys and humans. The monkeys are as annoying as Fraser Island's dingoes: they will open your tent (yes, they know how to operate zips), steal your food and throw the rest of your stuff around, if you don't keep guard. I never left my tent alone, and when I hit the summit one of the guides stayed behind to guard the camp, but occasionally you come across a territorial monkey who's got an attitude. For example, on my second visit to the hot springs, when I happened to be alone, a monkey appeared, slowly loping its way over towards my pack, which I'd left in the shade of a rocky outcrop. I got up and shouted at it, but unlike the soppy specimens I'd come across on the way up, this guy wasn't going to take any nonsense from a pesky human, and he bared his teeth, let fly a vicious screeching, and started running at me, looking for a fight.

There's not much that's scarier than a monkey running at you, full pelt, fangs glinting in the midday sun. Because their faces are so expressive, you can see the evil in their eyes well before they get to you and those teeth are simply savage. Already felt scared and defeated, I stepped back into the hot pool, discovering in the process that monkeys don't like hot water, and satisfied myself with a few feeble expletives, more like a coward who knows she's safe than an all-conquering explorer. Eventually the monkey gave up trying to scare me into submission - well, he'd already succeeded - took a few contemptuous sniffs at my backpack, and wandered back up the hill, casting the odd look back at the springs and hissing at me, making sure I knew who had won...