The best Bali hikes with unforgettable landscapes

Whether you’re chasing altitude, jungle or coastline, these Bali hikes cut straight to the island’s most spectacular terrain.

Lace up your shoes. Bali hikes reveal the island at its most raw and immersive – where jungle trails, rice terraces and volcanic slopes connect into one shifting landscape.

From Bali trekking through misty highlands and village paths to coastal cliff walks above crashing surf, each route offers a different way into the island’s rhythm and daily life.

For many, the draw is a volcano hike Bali experience – a pre-dawn ascent into darkness that breaks above the clouds at sunrise. But beyond the headline peaks, quieter trails reward the slower traveller with waterfalls, ridgelines and glimpses of Bali at its most elemental.

1. Campuhan Ridge Walk

Campuhan Ridge Walk in Ubud, Bali — Walk through lush landscapes. (Credit: Getty/ljubaphoto)

A soft-entry stunner. This paved ridge meanders through alang-alang grass and palm-dotted valleys, a stone’s throw from Ubud. The end-to-end walk tracks above the gently flowing Wos River – a place of deep spiritual significance linked to divine feminine energy.

Come at sunrise or golden hour for a quieter, dreamlike stroll when light brushes the grass burnished blonde. There’s little shade so skip the midday heat.

Difficulty: Easy
Distance: ~2 kilometres return
Where: Access via Jalan Raya Campuhan near the Warwick Ibah entrance.
Accessibility: Paved but uneven in parts; not suitable for wheelchairs.
Do: Linger at a nearby cafe for a post-walk coconut or coffee.

2. Sidemen Rice Terrace Walks

Sidemen Rice Terrace Walks in Bali — Thread through rolling green Sidemen Rice Terraces against the dramatic backdrop of Mount Agung. (Credit: Getty/Igor Tichonow)

Swap crowds for calm in Bali’s lush east. In this serene valley, trails thread through viridian rice paddies, over bamboo bridges and past village life. Wade knee-deep in gentle river crossings fed by the icy run-off from Mount Agung, the lifeblood of this fertile landscape that feeds the UNESCO-listed ‘subak’ irrigation system.

This is a walk for meandering – and noticing. Coconuts, snake beans and corn thrive here in this abundant food bowl. Pass grunting pigs and tethered cows. Expect a friendly “selamat pagi" (good morning) from grinning farmers.

You can go it alone. The main public walking trail is on the outskirts of Sidemen village. Look for the roadside bamboo ticket booth, pay around A$2.50 and follow the signs. A local guide adds depth and supports community employment. For ease, book online with Get Your Guide with tours from around A$20.

Difficulty: Easy
Distance: ~3 kilometres return
Where: Karangasem Regency, East Bali
Accessibility: Not wheelchair-friendly: paths are uneven and unstructured.
Do: Bring small amounts of Indonesian rupiah for entry fees and guide tips. 

3. Munduk Waterfall Trek

Munduk waterfall in Bali — The stunning Munduk Waterfall cascades down a mossy rock face in the mountain highlands, north of Bali. (Credit: Getty/bloodua)

Mist clings to the hills in Munduk, where jungle trails stitch together five waterfalls hidden deep in Bali’s cool highlands. Clove and coffee plantations perfume the air as paths wind past dripping vines, moss-slick steps and sudden reveals of cascading falls.

The falls all have their own character. Melanting is the most powerful, best after rain when it thunders through the valley. Labuhan Kebo is quieter, with warungs nearby for a cold drink and a rest stop. Belong feels more secluded, a softer cascade framed by dense greenery. Red Coral is known for its rust-hued rock face and photogenic drop, while Golden Valley has a cafe perched beside the falls – ideal for a scenic pause. Choose-your-own-adventure.

Difficulty: Easy–Moderate
Distance: 2 – 4 hours
Where: Munduk village, North Bali highlands.
Accessibility: Limited; uneven paths and steep sections.
Do: Wear shoes with grip; bring a light raincoat.

4. Nusa Lembongan Cliffs

turquoise waters of Nusa Lembongan — Local outrigger boats (jukung) bob on Nusa Lembongan’s turquoise waters. (Credit: Getty/Nuture)

Along these drop-dead-gorgeous coastal paths, limestone cliffs shear into an aqua-marine ocean. Sunlight refracts from the surface, sparkling like a disco ball. Waves detonate in white plumes against the rock, sending spray skyward.

Start at Dream Beach, a specky stretch of lily-white sand with iridescent turquoise water – beautiful but with dangerous currents. Head west with the ocean on your left to Devil’s Tear. Blowholes erupt like whales spouting. There are safety rails here, but many ignore them. Don’t. Freak king waves can occur. Continue on to Mushroom Bay for a calmer swim, then settle in for a mojito at Hai Bar & Grill, toes practically in the sand.

A driver to take you to Dream Beach costs around A$15. Ask at the ferry office when you disembark.

Difficulty: Easy
Distance: 2.5 kilometres
Where: Nusa Lembongan island, a 30-minute boat from Sanur.
Accessibility: Uneven cliff paths not suitable for wheelchairs.
Do: Time your visit for sunset or high tide for maximum drama.

5. West Bali National Park Coastal & Jungle Trails

coral reefs on Menjangan Island — Pair your hike with a snorkel off Menjangan Island. (Credit: Getty/Soft_Light)

Monkeys, sure. But elegant deer, snuffling wild boar and squirrels the size of a small poodle? This is Bali at its wildest, a five-hour drive from the airport. Add over 160 bird species, including the endangered Bali starling with eyes rimmed in cobalt blue and it feels more African safari than tropical island escape.

Trails weave through monsoon forest, savannah and mangroves. Pair your hike with a snorkel off Menjangan Island for a coral reef-fringed finale. There are a handful of high-end resorts within the park for post-hike refuelling.

Difficulty: Easy to Hard
Distance: ~5 kilometres and 2 hours for the Tegal Bunder Trail. Gunung Klatakan Trail ~18 kilometres and up to 8 hours.
Where: Bali’s north-west tip. The main visitor centre is at Jalan Raya Cekik-Gilimanuk, Jembrana.
Accessibility: Limited; some paved paths near the visitor centre.
Do: Hire an official park guide; bring cash for entry fees (~A$20 weekdays / A$30 weekends).

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6. Mount Batur Sunrise Trek

The majestic Mount Batur at sunrise. (Credit: Getty/Nikada)

Voices echo in the dark. What looks like a merry string of swaying festoon lights is the head torches of up to 600 climbers chasing sunrise on this UNESCO-listed active volcano.

The 2am hotel pickup, two-hour climb and burning calves are worth it. Perched above the clouds, Mother Nature delivers a light show as the sky flickers tangerine, saffron and gold. As day breaks, steam curls from the earth and monkeys linger.

It’s cold – around 14 degrees Celsius – so pack warm layers. Take care on the descent as loose gravel in sections can be slippery. There’s a basic warung at the top to get hot drinks.

Difficulty: Moderate
Distance: 5-8 kilometres round trip
Where: Kintamani region, about three hours from Seminyak; most hikes start at Toya Bungkah Village.
Accessibility: No wheelchair access, but 4WD jeep tours are available.
Do: Go with a guide; bring water and snacks.

7. Mount Agung Summit Trek

Mount Agung as seen from Gumitir Garden, Bali — The sacred peak of Mount Agung rises dramatically above the marigold fields in Gumitir Garden. (Credit: Getty/Fathoni Novianto)

This is no gentle wander – it’s a pilgrimage. Bali’s highest and most sacred mountain rises in shadow, its slopes steep, shifting and unforgiving. You’ll start in the dead of night, following a narrow beam of torchlight as the jungle thins and the earth turns to loose rock beneath your feet.

The climb is long and relentless, but the reward is otherworldly. At the summit, you stand above the clouds as dawn breaks in silence – a slow unfurling of light across Lombok and the volcanic spine of Bali. On clear mornings, Mount Rinjani reveals itself on the horizon.

This is a deeply spiritual mountain, home to Pura Besakih on its slopes, and many locals climb as an act of devotion. Respect the mountain, the conditions and your limits – this is a serious trek.

Difficulty: Hard
Distance: 6–14 kilometres depending on the route.
Where: East Bali; common start points near Besakih Temple or Pura Pasar Agung.
Accessibility: Not suitable for beginners; steep, exposed and physically demanding.
Do: Engage an experienced guide, pack warm layers and plenty of water. Check volcanic activity prior.

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.