The tent pole snapped at 2 AM, and the wind carried the rain fly straight into the dark. My friend Tom grabbed the corner with both hands and screamed something I couldn't hear over the gusts. We were huddled on the crater rim of Pergasingan Hill – a dead volcano next to Rinjani – and the only thing keeping us from rolling downhill was a single rock wedged under Tom's sleeping pad.

We paid 100,000 rupiah each for this. Six dollars. That included a tent that predated me, two bottles of water, and a local farmer named Mr. Irwan who slept at the bottom while we froze.

Official Rinjani treks cost $250 and book out for months. Tom and I took a public minivan from Senggigi to Sembalun village instead. 50,000 rupiah each. The driver stopped for grilled corn. Tom ate two.

Mr. Irwan found us at a homestay (150k rupiah for a room, shared bathroom, a rooster that hated sleep). “You want Pergasingan?” he asked. “I take. No permit. Just walk.” We agreed.

The three-hour hike was a straight burn up a grass slope. Mr. Irwan pointed out a snake. “Small poison. Don't step.” Tom jumped so far he nearly rolled back down.

At the top, Rinjani's crater lake steamed across the valley. No other tourists. Just two local kids flying a kite made from a plastic bag.

Mr. Irwan set up the tent. One pole snapped immediately. He fixed it with a stick and string. “Old tent,” he said. “But a strong spirit.”

Night fell. The wind screamed. The temperature dropped to maybe 10 degrees Celsius. Tom wore every piece of clothing he owned. I had a thin fleece. We shared a sleeping bag that zipped only halfway.

The second pole broke at midnight. Then the third. Tom held the tent roof up with one arm for two hours. I lay there thinking about the homestay bed.

At 4 AM, I crawled out. The stars looked like spilled salt. A meteor streaked across. Then another. I counted seven before the sky turned purple.

Tom joined me at 5, looking like a zombie wrapped in a sleeping bag. “I hate you,” he said. Then the sun came up behind Rinjani's peak, and he said, “Okay I hate you less.”

The hike down took two hours. Mr. Irwan met us with sweet tea and fried bananas. “Good night?” Tom said, “The tent broke.” Mr. Irwan nodded. “Yes. Old tent. You pay only 100k. Good price.”

Afterward, a warung in Sembalun fed us nasi campur with fried chicken and chili sauce that made Tom cry. Two plates, two teas, 40,000 rupiah total. $2.50.

The hidden free spot is a waterfall called Jeruk Manis, twenty minutes by motorbike (75k rental). No entrance fee. A rice farmer pointed at a bamboo grove. Behind it, a 40-meter drop into a pool cold enough to make Tom scream.

Season warning: April to October is dry. We went in late July. No rain, but the summit wind is brutal regardless. Bring a real jacket and earplugs for the rooster.

Two days, one broken tent, zero regrets. Total cost including minivan, homestay, Mr. Irwan, food, motorbike, and the waterfall: $68 per person. Tom looked at the collapsed tent and asked, “Would you do it again?” I thought about the meteor shower and the sunrise. “Next time I'm bringing my own poles.”