We are off on a tour through the highlands of East Java and will be visiting 2 active volcanoes in the following days. The first is Mount Bromo. On the map, this is just 120Km from Surabaya, hardly any distance at all. But on Java’s busy, single lane roads it’s a 5 hour journey – made worse since the demise of a major bypass in 2005 when an Indonesian company drilling for oil struck boiling mud instead. The mud engulfed 17 villages as well as the bypass and is still gushing out millions of cubic metres every day. International experts have been called in, but no-one seems to know how to stop it. The Government is containing the spill by means of an earth bund, currently 30ft high, but this will presumably keep growing as the mud lake deepens. A great many people have lost their homes and livelihood, and many more just outside the bund have seen their properties blighted. But the compensation offered by the company responsible is not enough to replace the houses lost so far. Our guide – Katung – looks on the bright side, “It’s Indonesia’s latest tourist attraction” he says. We are not convinced. But it does show how unstable the earth’s crust is here. East Java has at least 8 active volcanoes and we are about to see two of them.
But first Tim insists that we discover another Javanese attraction. It’s durian season, and stalls along the road are selling the famously smelly fruit, so we have to stop at one. Durian is an acquired taste – it is said to be so evil smelling that it makes it difficult to eat the fruit. But the Javanese variety hardly smells at all, and Robin and I are happy to sample the fruit. There are many small segments inside the spiky durian, each with a little creamy flesh wrapped around a large stone. It’s hardly worth the effort of eating it. And while it’s not disgusting, it is very filling. A little goes a long way. Think I’ll leave this addiction to Tim. So does Robin. But our guide has other ideas and a few miles later stops at a durian orchard for Tim to see the fruit growing on a tree. And the very hospitable owner insists that we have yet more durian. Even Tim has had his fill by now.
As we leave the orchard the road begins to climb into the highlands, and the temperature drops. We no longer need the air-con and can just open the window to feel the cool, damp air. The higher we get, the more fertile the land. This is crop growing country, and every square inch is used – no matter how steep the incline. It looks very different to lowland Indonesia. Both the landscape and the people living here – the Tengenese – look different. The population is exclusively Hindu and many men and women have sarongs wrapped around their upper bodies to keep them warm. The houses are also different to lowland houses, with more windows and colourful woodwork and renders.
It’s almost dusk by the time we arrive at our home for the night, the aptly named Lava View Lodge, this is inside the lip of a huge old volcanic crater. While the outer walls are lined with rich red fertile soil, inside is a grey lava field. We are just a few kilometres from Mount Bromo and Mount Batok – both within the larger crater. Batok is a small, perfectly conical volcano that has not yet erupted. Bromo’s top is missing and we can see from its smoky plume that it remains very active. Its last eruption in 2006 lasted only a few minutes, but in 2002 lava poured out for 3 months and the area was evacuated.
We are in bed by 9pm, and up again at 3.15am in the vain hope of seeing the sunrise over Mount Bromo – and light up the far larger Mount Semeru, that stands over 3,670m and is clearly visible a few miles away behind Bromo. Our 4WD takes us in darkness to a viewing point at the top of the old crater, to join several hundred other hopeful tourists. But its rainy season, the clouds are thick in the sky which, together with the plume of smoke from Bromo means we can see virtually nothing of any volcano in the area.
Robin is not an early riser and has to be cajoled out of bed for these pre-dawn starts. And today is his birthday. He’s not a happy camper, but consoles himself by planning a new website “Why the f*** get up at dawn?” It would show photographs of every viewpoint tourists are conned into going to at dawn, taken on the one perfect day of the year when the sun can actually be seen rising, and contrast them with the reality of everyone else’s cloudy day or fog-bound shots.
The 4WD takes us back into the main crater – a sea of volcanic ash and lava fields – where we swap four wheels for four legs and clamber onto horses to take us to the base of Bromo. The horses are the Indonesian variety – ie too small for us – the stirrups aren’t adjusted and I have no reins to hold onto as my horse is being led by a small boy, who is probably 32. I don’t think he trusted me to do anymore – despite the small stature of the horse, I still couldn’t swing my leg over and fell off the first time I tried to mount it. Tim must look equally incompetent as he is also led. But Robin, who earlier claimed that he and horses didn’t get on, proves a natural, and is soon off the rein, overtaking everyone else, and thoroughly enjoying himself. It doesn’t take long to get to Bromo, and it is such an established tourist attraction that it has a concrete staircase leading up to the crater rim. We climb the 252 steps and peer into the cone - my first live volcano experience. As the wind blows the sulphurous plume you can clearly see the open “plug” below. Tim throws a bunch of flowers into the cone, the traditional offering to placate the fires below. Then it’s back down the steps and onto our trusty steeds for the return journey. Once again, Tim and I plod along on our old nags, but Robin’s frisky horse charges ahead and is soon out of sight.
By 9am, we have breakfasted, showered, checked out of the hotel and are on the road to our next volcanic destination. Once again, it’s a distance of perhaps 120km, but on the journey takes most of the day, and it lashes down with rain most of the time. We stop for lunch at a restaurant known for its ice cream. When he learns that it’s Robin’s birthday our guide orders us the house speciality, durian ice cream. We are fast becoming durian experts, but are puzzled that it’s served as an appetiser rather than a dessert.
The rains stop around 4.30pm, just as we reach the coffee plantation where we are to spend the night. The setting is rather beautiful, and Katung takes us to see the steaming waterfall in the forest and the natural hot springs. The waterfall is a powerful torrent of brown water, which I find quite disturbing and destructive. Maybe it’s the colour of the water, but I can only think of it as a destructive force. Apparently locals come here to meditate at the full moon - I’d be tempted to exorcise the evil spirits in the water rather than spend time in contemplation. Fortunately the water for the hot springs has already been tamed, and contained within two concrete pools, the first containing warm water, and the second, hot water. The warm water is hotter than the hottest bath you can imagine, and we have to sit on the side, splashing water over our bodies to try and acclimatise before getting in. The hotter spring is almost unbearable, and we can only stay in for a matter of seconds before jumping out again. The water is also very murky, and I daren’t think what’s in there, but hope the sulphur in the water has killed the worst of any bugs lurking. But it’s another first for Robin’s birthday and we’ve brought a few cooling beers along to toast him.
No comments:
Post a Comment