Discovering Indonesian’s secretive Mount Bromo Part 1

The temperature may not have been below freezing point, but we were icy cold. We huddled, rugged up in warm clothing, jackets, head gear and gloves. Cold wind rushed past my ears and I tried to pull my beanie down to cover them. In the darkness of the morning, dimly lit by tiny torches, we could only see the silhouettes of some human figures. They too were wrapped up warmly in head gear and jackets.

Who could imagine anywhere in Indonesia could be so cold?

They looked like a mixed bunch of locals and tourists. There were some children among them. They just stood around waiting for the sunrise, softly murmuring with anticipation.

The journey

We had travelled the 120km, about a four-hour drive, from Surabaya the afternoon before.

The only information about this trip was from my faithful driver who told me there was a place to see at sunrise and it was up in the mountains. I knew it was a volcano and it was active, but I knew no more.

My driver had never been there and only heard about it from friends. Being a best kept secret in this part of the world, there was no other information as to how to get there and what to expect.

The Toyota Avanza we travelled in was not a great performer on the mountainous road. It struggled up the hilly terrain and we went off tack a few times.

It was already evening and only the occasional village lights or flickering colour from a valley in the distance guided our path. We eventually got to a hotel, not before stopping several times to refer to the great Indonesian GPS - the local bystanders.

It was pitch black as we made our way into Bromo Cottages, at Tosari.

It was quite a well-kept place, with a large reception and dining area.

We were asked to pay about $150 for bed and breakfast for two, which also included the vehicle and driver we would be allocated the next morning to take us to see the view. We were also requested to standby at 3.30am.

After a meal and eventually settling into the hillside hotel room, we had only rested a few hours before the loud call woke us up. We managed to crawl out of bed and have a quick shower before we gingerly rugged up in our warm clothes to head to the reception area.

It was already cool. In fact, it was pitch dark outside.

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There was quite a gathering of people in the dimly lit hallway and on the hotel steps, most of them Caucasians (bules) chatting in various languages or in English with varied accents. This was quite a surprise because the hotel had as quiet as a monastery when we had checked in.

As many as 50 aged Toyota Land Cruisers rolled up to the hotel, picking up groups of people who were allocated to the vehicles, one by one. A maximum of five people piled in and the vehicle roared off into the darkness, to be replaced by another and another.

We waited quite a while for our turn since we were the last to check in, and so were the last out.

These rugged vehicles are driven by locals whose sole job is to drive the tourists up to the mountain and back.

Finally, we piled into our vehicle and speaking Bahasa Indonesian, I tried to extract some information out of the driver about the trip but little was revealed.

The vehicle roared off and we drove into the dark for some time, up the side of Mount Penanjakan, around tight corners, never seeing where we were going until the next corner and the next, and passing people as they walked up the roadway, in the dark, carrying farm tools.

The summit

Up, up we drove until we felt the vehicle almost reach the summit.

The other vehicles had got there before us and we could see the dim lights of the street hawkers and torches ahead of us.

We alighted the vehicle and made our way up the walkways to the top, ignoring offers of hot drinks, warmer jackets, souvenir scarfs, beanies and gloves.

The darkness and cold on top of the mountain made the scenario a little eerie. We followed a well-signed path to a lookout but could see little.

A local crouched over a small fire to keep warm. The people were wandering around finding their way with those light emitting diode (LED) lights to look for a strategic point to take photos and view the sunrise.

Many assembled facing the sunrise, when just off to the right was the true prize they had come to see, as soon as it chose to reveal itself in the dark.

Looking over the edge we stared at a pitch black valley. If I squinted, I could see a yellow glow in one spot. The mystery deepened and the curiosity began to rise.

So we waited for the sun god to rise from beyond the shadow of the mountain, so far away. It was a long wait.

Suddenly a tiny light appeared and slowly the sun sleepily began to rise to light up the sky.

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Our first glimpse

Now we watched the time lapse sequence as the morning’s glory unveiled the scenery below in the once valley of darkness, frame-by-frame.

At first there was an outline; a grey form, a mystical sweep of cloud.

The grand splendour of the scene below was greatly intensified by the time it took to reveal itself.

Teasingly, like a magician’s wand conjuring rabbits from thin air, and frustratingly like an announcer revealing a reality show winner, the glory of the morning light finally revealed the magnificent sight of Mount Bromo and her sisters - the much hidden secret of East Java.

On the mountain, photographers are clicking away, some getting into some dangerous positions on the outlook’s edge to take the best and the most snaps.

It is nothing like we have seen before. The colourful contour from the volcano’s last eruption, where the lava has flowed down the mountain, is absolutely breathtaking.

Contrasting imagery of the grey mountain and the brown earth craters are one that a photographer can only dream of and that only a skilled artist can paint. The Sister Mountains appear like a bunch of barnacles with the tall, conical Mount Semeru, Java’s highest peak, puffing white in the background.

There was also a white cloud hovering on top of Mount Bromo’s crater while this active volcano continued to puff its wrath, indicating the possible dangers of this sleeping giant.

All is forgotten; the lack of sleep, the cold and the long wait. We can now take a moment to consume the existence of one of nature’s marvels with awe.

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At this moment, we did take some time to think about the human lives that have been endangered from the volcano’s eruptions, with its most recent rumblings spewing over nearby farms and villages and halting Indonesian air traffic until it cleared.

So is this it? What about that tiny light down below. What is it?

We were told to wait because there was more to see.

Mount Bromo Part 2

The next leg of the trip was a curious mystery. This part of the journey came as a complete surprise. The hidden secret of Mount Bromo visit. The morning sun was beaming now warning up the poor frozen souls. We all huddled in to that rugged Land cruiser again. The beanie clad driver navigating the vehicle down death defying terrain of the colourful mountain side. We hung on to our dear life we descended down a 45 degree angle.

We now could see Mount Bromo surrounded by volcanic ash and some of the other colourful mountains around it.

Destination was the foot of the caldera. Down here we were greeted by South America style ponies and riders who offered a ride to the top. Not really to the top. The ponies could only get up to certain point before the steps. We could see some lazy tourist opting the pony ride.

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The trudge up the hill was not overly taxing to even an unfit body, you could rest if you were huffing and puffing anyway. As you trekked up accompanied by ponies, walkers and hawkers, the rest period can be well camouflaged in the pretext of taking photos.

Last leg is a flight of steps, with part of the hand rails missing due to last eruption. Once on top surrounding terrain is breathtaking but the real treat is that you are staring down the puffing cauldron with not a guard rail in sight. One slip and you are sliding down the volcanic sand to journey of no return. There are signs that a pre-existing rail, which suffered the safe fate as the hand rails of the steps up.

it is worth the while spending time up there, and watch the locals throw stuff in to the crater. The rational is to stop the nest eruption which does devastate the local habitat. During the Muslim holidays, money is thrown down ; live goats and chicken get a good barbecue if someone does not catch the animals with a net first.

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The way down is just as enjoyable because now you are looking directly down. That little light, during sunrise, a Hindu temple at the foot of the volcano offering protection with fire offerings their gods.

Now it is time to head back to the hotel on the faithful four-wheel drive now on the 45 degree incline all the way to the top with the crazy driver dodging the oncoming traffic. Back at the hotel there is time to relax a while and take our own vehicle back to Surabaya though Malang.

One the back we stopped at Teman Safari wild life and theme park, which is another story.

Check out-

http://mahesaabey.wordpress.com/2013/10/05/taman-safari/

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