Two Days in the Ravine: Trunyan Mountain Fall Survivor Reveals His Harrowing Story

Ivan Kandalinsky’s fall on Mount Trunyan has captivated local news, with a tale that seems straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster.

The fitness trainer plunged 300 meters into a ravine and spent two days stranded as locals, police, and even the military mounted a search.

We met Ivan at a Denpasar hospital, just as he was being discharged and still unable to walk, where he shared his incredible survival story with bali.live readers.

I spent about $8,000 in total. I didn’t have insurance. They performed surgery, inserted a plate, repaired my joint, repositioned my hip, gave me various injections, and ran numerous tests. They checked my liver several times—thankfully, it's fine.

I came across a popular reel featuring people walking along a mountain ridge with breath-taking green peaks in the background. It turned out to be in Bali, so a group of us decided to recreate the hike. The location was in Kintamani. We found the starting point and began our trek.

Not at all. There's only one path up with no forks or detours. The climb isn't extreme—it's mostly steps, and the terrain is dry with some sand. The path is a bit eroded in places but generally wide. The only challenge might be for those not in good shape, as they could tire quickly. There were even local women begging for money up there. We joked about how they managed to make the climb.

Yes. We found the ridge, which is about 1,800 meters high. After filming with a drone, we began our descent. However, the last 200 meters were extremely steep, almost vertical. We had trekking poles, but they didn’t help much, so we ended up sliding down. I wasn’t wearing proper hiking boots, so my shoes were slippery. I must have stepped on something unstable, though I don’t really remember—it’s all a blur. The next thing I knew, I was at the bottom, severely injured, with my leg in agony and my shoulder feeling like it had been ripped out.

Nope. I spent most of the time sitting and dragging myself along on my butt because I couldn’t stand. I kept moving, convinced I needed to go down. I could see a road through the leaves, so I crawled towards it.

Not at all, and I was actually shocked when I found out. I had no idea where I was or what was happening. I was in such a state of shock that I can’t even describe it.

I think so, though it's hard to say for sure. I might have been out for a couple of hours. What I do remember is clinging to the grass and crawling on all fours, trying to move. It must have looked pretty odd and pitiful—those helpless movements.

Honestly, I didn’t even realize night had fallen. There were trees and thick vegetation all around, so I couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. I didn’t feel any temperature changes either. I wasn’t cold, despite losing a shoe and tearing my shorts. It's funny—some people thought from my rescue photos that I was in my underwear, but those were just my shorts pulled up. I wasn’t concerned about animals; my situation was so dire that everything felt like one long, unending stretch of time.

Not really. Our bodies are surprisingly resilient in extreme situations. From what I’ve heard from others who’ve had near-death experiences, they often don’t fear death when it’s imminent. It’s as if the mind shields us from that sense of hopelessness. That’s what I think happened to me. Those two days felt like just two hours. Honestly, it’s all a blur—I might have slept or blacked out, but time seemed to fly by. All I knew was that I couldn’t walk, had no shoes, and was covered in dirt.

I didn’t think about it at all. My mind went into survival mode—no problems, no fears. My only focus was on getting down. I didn’t even think about needing to use the bathroom. But when the rescuers arrived and offered me water, I drank it with immense relief and gratitude.

Yes, definitely. I heard voices and the sound of people chopping through the forest, and I could tell they were speaking in Bahasa Indonesia. I think I shouted 'help' about four times, but I did it quietly, almost timidly. It was more like a soft 'help' than a loud cry. It seems they found me after my fourth shout.

I talked with the guys afterward. One of them saw me disappear and started searching immediately. But during a group hike, if someone goes out of sight, people don’t panic right away. Everyone was relaxed. It was a sober trip—no drinking involved—so no one thought something serious had happened. They assumed I might have just tripped and lagged behind somewhere. In reality, I fell 300 meters, which is crazy. I completely understand how it took them a while to realize I was in trouble.

I must have lost it during the fall. They found it separately, near the spot where I landed.

I felt immense relief when they arrived. It was like I could finally let go and relax. They offered me water and cigarettes, and that’s when I really began to feel the extent of my injuries—my internal organs were damaged, and my hip was dislocated. The first X-ray was terrifying.

Yes, local villagers, police officers, pecalang (Balinese community guards), and even some soldiers from the Indonesian army were involved in the rescue. The first responders were men from a nearby village, and they were soon joined by more people who figured out how to evacuate me. They fashioned a DIY stretcher and secured my legs with makeshift bindings. Their efficiency was impressive, and I felt confident they would get me out. Some of them were practically barefoot, climbing the terrain while carrying me.

Not really. With a dislocated hip, I couldn’t move fast. It felt like I was making progress because the scenery kept changing, but in reality, I was just crawling in circles, like a bug.

Yes, I learned later that my friends were actively searching for me and even reached out to the king of Kintamani for help. He even hosted them for the night. A businessman, Alexander Boronin, made a significant contribution to the search efforts. Over 300 people were involved, and I heard they were even prepared to send helicopters. I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who helped.

Right now, my focus is on rehabilitation, and it’s all about putting in the hard work. I might need additional surgeries, including at least one to remove the plate from my hip. This experience has been significant for me. As a fitness trainer, I can't imagine how I would have managed if my body hadn’t been in good shape.

Ivan has a long recovery ahead and may require additional surgeries. If you’d like to support him, here’s how you can contribute:

Permata (IDR): 0098-4692-3044 Ivan Kandalinskii

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