Sixteen Years Later, Back at Benang Stokel

I visited Benang Stokel for the first time when I was in elementary school, around 2009. I was simply tagging along with my uncle, who was a junior high school Scout leader. We went on a walk from Aik Bukaq to Aik Berik with his students.

It’s a little bit fuzzy when I recall those journeys. It seems for me, the distance is not that far. I think, back then, walking was just a regular thing. What I remember instead, I was the smallest among those junior high school kids. So, I felt like I had many brothers to look after me.  

I mean, I am enjoying those hikes without feeling tired at all. I know that they are taking care of me, so nothing much to worry about. It was sixteen years ago, it has been a while. I am thinking, what does Benang Stokel/Benang Kelambu actually look like today? Is this beautiful waterfall still as mesmerizing as before? Only one way to find out, I will visit it again. 

Only recently did I remember that I had actually visited again in 2020 with three friends, one from university and two from high school. The four of us went without any special preparation. When we arrived, we simply took some photos and then went home. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t truly present at the time. I had come to the place, but it felt as though I was merely a visitor who looked around, took a few photos, and left.

2026 was different. I returned to Benang Stokel out of curiosity. It had been such a long time since I last went there. This time, I went with a friend. I remember that it was raining that day. We already knew the weather was not on our side, but we decided to go anyway. In the end, we got soaked throughout the journey. Yet when we arrived, I did not regret it at all. Instead, I felt a kind of happiness that was difficult to explain.

Especially when I decided to descend into the small pool at Benang Kelambu. The water was incredibly cold. Its refreshing chill seemed to reach all the way to my bones. And for some reason, at that moment, I felt as though I was meeting myself again. The version of me who, it turned out, really did love nature. Perhaps I had not lost that part of myself over the years. I had simply spent too long holding it back.

There is one incident that still makes me laugh, though it also leaves me feeling a little sad. My friend and I had just finished resting at Benang Stokel while eating some snacks. Afterward, instead of putting the food back into our backpacks, we carried it around in a plastic bag. We knew there were monkeys around, yet we still walked around with our food in a plastic bag. And, of course, the monkeys saw it.

As a result, they chased us, and I ended up shouting at my friend to sacrifice a packet of bread rather than risk being attacked. The funny part was that the people around us simply watched. Nobody came to help.

Well, to be fair, it was our fault, too. But the incident got me thinking. Perhaps the monkeys had grown accustomed to being fed by visitors. Over time, they may have learned that humans came carrying food for them. And when the food was not given to them, they demanded it by attacking.

We then continued our journey to Benang Kelambu. The rain grew heavier just as we arrived at the entrance. We had no choice but to take shelter at one of the stalls, warming ourselves with a glass of coffee and waiting for the rain to ease a little before finally deciding to descend the dozens of steps.

When we finally reached Benang Kelambu, I ordered a bowl of instant noodles right in front of the waterfall. As someone who is very particular about food prices, I knew the noodles cost at least three times as much as they normally would. But that day, I did not care. I sat down, ate my hot instant noodles, and watched the water fall gently like threads.

Simple food with a luxurious view. Perhaps that was precisely why the moment felt so precious. After visiting the same place several times at different ages, I began to see something I had not noticed before. In 2009, I was a little child being looked after by people older than me.

Then, in 2020, I came with friends, but I was still carrying something that kept me at a distance from nature. By 2026, when I returned, I was finally able to enjoy everything fully. During another visit later that same year, I even came with my cousins and younger siblings. There were five of us.

I used to be the youngest child being looked after. Now I had become the older sibling looking after four people behind me. Funny, isn’t it? How a place can become a marker of life’s journey without us ever planning it that way. On my most recent visit this year, I even managed to bring an acquaintance from Solo, who had deliberately travelled from Mataram just to experience the cold water of Benang Stokel and Benang Kelambu.

For some people, a waterfall may be nothing more than a tourist destination. But for me, the place had eventually become something more personal. When I looked back at the photos from my 2026 trips, I could feel something I had not felt when looking at the photos from 2020.

It felt as though the happiness in the 2026 photos could reach right through my phone screen. There, I could see myself getting soaked in the rain, bathing beneath the waterfall, eating instant noodles, and going home with an aching body. And I actually liked myself that way. I liked the small decisions I might once have held myself back from making: the decision to go anyway despite the rain.

The decision to bathe in the waterfall. The decision not to overthink things. And the decision that finally allowed me to enjoy something simply because I wanted to.

I only truly realised this when I finally had the chance to return. Perhaps that was why I felt fortunate. Not because Benang Stokel and Benang Kelambu were still there, but because I had been given another chance to become myself again in that place.

Sixteen years may seem like a very long time. But when it comes to a journey of finding a part of ourselves that we have left behind, sixteen years turns out to be nothing at all.