March 28, 2025
JAKARTA – Words cannot fully capture how kind and gentle you were. But let me share your story in my own way.
One day last year, while scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon a fascinating account filled with posts of a middle-aged woman who loved outdoor adventures, especially mountain climbing. I smiled as I scrolled through her feed. Unlike me, whose account is locked, she wasn’t shy about sharing her passion with the world. Her reels had the energy of someone much younger.
Curious, I clicked “follow” on the account called Mamak Pendaki and sent a friendly message. I told her I was also a hiker, 52 years old, and that I admired her posts.
Within minutes, she replied: “Hello! Apparently, I’m not the only one with nothing better to do than chase crazy ideas in our 50s.”
And that was how I became friends with Lilie Wijayati Poegiono, an Indonesian six summiteer born in Malang, East Java, 59 years ago.
For the love of climbing
Soon, we were regularly commenting on each other’s Instagram stories. Through our chats, I learned that Ibu Lilie had loved hiking since junior high school.
But for many years, hiking took a backseat as she focused on her education and career, and later her family, after marrying her colleague at PT Telkom Indonesia, Frigard Harjono.
Mamak, who once described herself as an Alpha personality, was the glue that held the group together.
As she neared 50, her best friend, dentist Elsa Laksono, encouraged her to start hiking again as a birthday gift. With her children off to college, she decided to give it another shot. Their first attempt was at Mt. Semeru, though they didn’t reach the peak.
Her love for climbing, however, was reignited.
By 2020, in her mid-50s, she would finally reach the summit of Mount Semeru and mark the start of her Seven Summits challenge — climbing the highest mountains in each of the country’s main islands.
By the time she passed away four years and four months after summiting Semeru, she would not only complete this challenge, becoming perhaps the oldest Indonesian woman to do so, but also leave behind a thriving community of inspired climbers and followers.
We call her ‘Mamak’
One day in January, Ibu Lilie messaged me: “Ma’am, would you like to join us on a trip to Inner Baduy?”
I hesitated. I had been there before and had never hiked with a group as I always preferred solo trips. But something told me I should say yes. She seemed like someone worth knowing.
I finally met her in person last Jan. 18, 2025, and quickly realized why she was called Mamak.
Despite being busy coordinating the group, she greeted me warmly with a cheek kiss and called my name. I was the newcomer, but she reassured me with a playful comment, saying not to worry, the group didn’t bite.
As we sat in the Olive Hotel, our meeting point, her friends approached me one by one. They were welcoming, friendly and chatty. As someone not used to socializing with strangers, I found their camaraderie refreshing. They teased each other, warning me not to take their jokes too seriously. Just like Mamak, they had a way of making everyone feel at home.
Indonesian Seven Summiteer Canro Simarmata once told me that her previous Instagram handle, LBF Adventure (named after her fashion label, La Belle Femme), was difficult for netizens to remember. Since she loved creating hiking content, Simarmata suggested she rename it Mamak Pendaki (Hiking Mother).
The name stuck, and soon her account skyrocketed in popularity, amassing over 39,000 followers.
The mountain turtles
That motherly persona was evident when I met her and her hiking group, Kura-Kura Gunung (Mountain Turtles), a group who moved slowly but always reached the summit.
Mamak, who once described herself as an Alpha personality, was the glue that held the group together.
During hikes, she played a crucial role in bridging the generational gap among hikers. She paid attention to people’s personalities, observing their texts, conversations and Instagram posts. It was as if she had a special radar for selecting the right people to hike with. She made sure no one felt left out.
Her turtles and closest friends described her as exuberant, caring, energetic, youthful yet disciplined, motherly yet firm, and above all, someone with a beautiful heart.
She also had another gift: Cooking.
Her signature dish, rawon (black beef soup), was a favorite. Every hike with her was incomplete without it. She would cook it at home and carry it to the mountains, where we would feast on it in the cold, foggy air.
She even brought fresh chilies and a grinder in her backpack to make sambal (chili paste) on the spot. While most hikers survived on instant food, we had the luxury of enjoying her homemade rawon.
As a wife and mother of two, she was incredibly responsible. During our hike to Inner Baduy, she made sure we finished early so we could eat on time.
She also loved the camera. She posted her active days on Instagram, inspiring at least one follower, me, to keep moving, no matter our age. Chatting with Mamak always felt like talking to an old friend.
The final summit
Eventually, I learned that she was preparing for her final challenge, which was the highest of Indonesia’s Seven Summits, the Carstensz Pyramid in Papua. She planned to go with her best friend, Elsa.
I told her I wanted to write a feature about her for The Jakarta Post once she successfully reached the top. She was excited and promised to take as many pictures as possible, despite the harsh conditions.
But on the morning of March 1, 2025, our WhatsApp group received the devastating news:
“Our two Srikandi [warrior women] have passed away,” wrote Bambang Sarwoadji, the group’s elder.
It was unthinkable. Both were healthy, fit and mentally prepared.
Our hearts shattered as crying emojis flooded the chat. Mamak and Elsa reached the summit but had succumbed to hypothermia on their way down.
We struggled to process it. We had seen her rigorous training: Gym workouts, trekking and rock climbing. It didn’t seem real. We waited anxiously for an official confirmation. When it came, the grief hit us all over again.
Her husband, Frigard Harjono, described her as a loving and understanding partner, though sometimes impatient. She was a dedicated homemaker, an exceptional cook and an independent, strong-willed woman.
Her sons didn’t see her as just a mother, but as a mentor, a protector and a playmate. She was their biggest supporter, always encouraging them to chase their dreams.
For Kura-Kura Gunung and its closest friends, she was the heart of the group. Losing her feels like losing our identity. But her legacy remains.
Yes, Mamak, as you always said, there is no age limit for adventure. We know you would want us, the turtles, to keep chasing our dreams, no matter our age.