We felt compelled to combine these two days into one post due to the lack of sleep between them, and in our minds they blur into one massive 48 hour period. You will understand in a second...
We were the last to be picked up for our bus to the little Javanese town of Cemoro Lawang, on the edge of the caldera that includes the active volcano of Mt Bromo. At first, we were happy to be given the last two seats available in the front of the 20 year old Isuzu minibus, but we soon realized that the early birds got the worms in this case. Directly beneath our rickety bench seat was the bus's engine, pumping heat into our helpless bodies for the entire 10 hour bus ride. Also, from our front seat vantage point we had a perfect view of the head on collisions that we somehow avoided every 5 minutes. They technically drive on the left side of the road here, but we spent an equal amount of time on the right side, weaving through buses and trucks. We are lucky to have survived. Our only consolation is that we shared the experience with friendly Danish and Dutch couples, who once again wanted to enlighten us about the American welfare system's flaws. We are starting to become converts to the European way.
The sheer amount of cargo that they can load onto a motorbike or pick-up truck is astonishing. From a motorbike carrying an entire full size bed frame, a dinky pick up truck loaded with 4 cows in the back, a scooter holding a family of 5, to a small truck carrying stalks of bamboo precariously piled so high that it made the leaning tower of Pisa look structurally sound. On the back of one truck we saw an Worhol-style portrait of Obama, which is the first thing Indonesians say when we tell them we're American. They love to point out that his "second daddy" is Indonesian and consider him a local.
13 hours after we were picked up, we arrived at the edge of the caldera, tired, hungry, and dehydrated (sorry Janet). Everyone from the bus piled into the dining area, which only had large cafeteria style rectangular tables. We were soon in the middle of what seemed like a UN delegation, chatting with 2 Austrians, 2 Spaniards, a German, 3 French, 2 Dutch, 1 Italian and 2 Swiss. The Austrians didn't believe we were from the US because we aren't fat, but when we continually refused every offer for cigarettes, they finally believed us (we're not picking up any bad habits, Michael). We enjoyed the European style of enjoying a long, unrushed dinner with plenty of conversation and beer (the restaurant's stock of beer didn't last long).
Everyone in the town had booked 4 am Jeep tours (technically they were 1970s Toyota Land Cruisers) to the top of Mt. Pananjakan to watch the sunrise over the volcanoes in the caldera below. Not wanting to participate in such a tourist trap, we inquired about hiking the mountain instead. They offered us a guide to show us the way for the 2 hour hike leaving at 3 am, but when we asked for him, they returned and told us that he had fallen off his horse that morning and broken his leg. This must be a one-guide-town, as we were told there was no other guide. Even though we were without a map or a flashlight, we were determined to take the path less traveled by... and that has made all the difference.
After a 2 hour nap in our homestay, we departed at 3 am into the active volcanic area with only the light of the moon and the stars to guide us. Bundled in every piece of warm clothing we had brought with us, in addition to the wool hats we purchased the night before, we set out on our adventure. There was absolutely no signage (and absolutely no one else hiking), making it difficult to stay on the overgrown trail and making us constantly question if we were on a trail at all, let alone heading in the right direction. With so little light, we were constantly tripping over roots and rocks, but after an hour and a half summitted to find 500 European tourists that had been driven to the top. This was not what we were hoping for, and after running into the Danish couple from the night before, the four of us headed down to a secluded viewpoint on the trail that we had noticed on the way up. Watching the dawn break over the mountain ridge and light up the volcanic mist filled valley below was like watching a National Geographic special, but real. We don't understand why everyone chose overpriced Jeep tours over the adventurous hike with unrivaled views the entire way up. We felt like we were one in a million (well technically we were 2 in 500, but who's counting?).
Physically and mentally exhausted, we took a 4 hour nap before departing on the 1 hour hike to the active volcano of Mt Bromo. Located in the middle of the desert-like caldera filled with a fine volcanic ash, Mt Bromo looks like the quintessential volcano that students study in grade school, with the top chopped off of an otherwise perfect cone. The surrounding landscape reminded us of pictures from the moon - with no living plants or animals and the surface covered in shades of grey. From the rim of the volcano we could look down into the crater that was spewing thick clouds of steam with the pungent odor of sulfur. Always in search of a better view and a more daring experience, we ventured further down the ridge past the safety of the guardrail (sorry, parents but it's in our nature) and finally felt the unadulterated majesty of this geological wonder. It's hard to explain with words the feeling of being so close to such a powerful force of nature.
The sheer amount of cargo that they can load onto a motorbike or pick-up truck is astonishing. From a motorbike carrying an entire full size bed frame, a dinky pick up truck loaded with 4 cows in the back, a scooter holding a family of 5, to a small truck carrying stalks of bamboo precariously piled so high that it made the leaning tower of Pisa look structurally sound. On the back of one truck we saw an Worhol-style portrait of Obama, which is the first thing Indonesians say when we tell them we're American. They love to point out that his "second daddy" is Indonesian and consider him a local.
13 hours after we were picked up, we arrived at the edge of the caldera, tired, hungry, and dehydrated (sorry Janet). Everyone from the bus piled into the dining area, which only had large cafeteria style rectangular tables. We were soon in the middle of what seemed like a UN delegation, chatting with 2 Austrians, 2 Spaniards, a German, 3 French, 2 Dutch, 1 Italian and 2 Swiss. The Austrians didn't believe we were from the US because we aren't fat, but when we continually refused every offer for cigarettes, they finally believed us (we're not picking up any bad habits, Michael). We enjoyed the European style of enjoying a long, unrushed dinner with plenty of conversation and beer (the restaurant's stock of beer didn't last long).
Everyone in the town had booked 4 am Jeep tours (technically they were 1970s Toyota Land Cruisers) to the top of Mt. Pananjakan to watch the sunrise over the volcanoes in the caldera below. Not wanting to participate in such a tourist trap, we inquired about hiking the mountain instead. They offered us a guide to show us the way for the 2 hour hike leaving at 3 am, but when we asked for him, they returned and told us that he had fallen off his horse that morning and broken his leg. This must be a one-guide-town, as we were told there was no other guide. Even though we were without a map or a flashlight, we were determined to take the path less traveled by... and that has made all the difference.
After a 2 hour nap in our homestay, we departed at 3 am into the active volcanic area with only the light of the moon and the stars to guide us. Bundled in every piece of warm clothing we had brought with us, in addition to the wool hats we purchased the night before, we set out on our adventure. There was absolutely no signage (and absolutely no one else hiking), making it difficult to stay on the overgrown trail and making us constantly question if we were on a trail at all, let alone heading in the right direction. With so little light, we were constantly tripping over roots and rocks, but after an hour and a half summitted to find 500 European tourists that had been driven to the top. This was not what we were hoping for, and after running into the Danish couple from the night before, the four of us headed down to a secluded viewpoint on the trail that we had noticed on the way up. Watching the dawn break over the mountain ridge and light up the volcanic mist filled valley below was like watching a National Geographic special, but real. We don't understand why everyone chose overpriced Jeep tours over the adventurous hike with unrivaled views the entire way up. We felt like we were one in a million (well technically we were 2 in 500, but who's counting?).
Physically and mentally exhausted, we took a 4 hour nap before departing on the 1 hour hike to the active volcano of Mt Bromo. Located in the middle of the desert-like caldera filled with a fine volcanic ash, Mt Bromo looks like the quintessential volcano that students study in grade school, with the top chopped off of an otherwise perfect cone. The surrounding landscape reminded us of pictures from the moon - with no living plants or animals and the surface covered in shades of grey. From the rim of the volcano we could look down into the crater that was spewing thick clouds of steam with the pungent odor of sulfur. Always in search of a better view and a more daring experience, we ventured further down the ridge past the safety of the guardrail (sorry, parents but it's in our nature) and finally felt the unadulterated majesty of this geological wonder. It's hard to explain with words the feeling of being so close to such a powerful force of nature.
Though no less dangerous (or foolhardy?) than rock climbing without instruction, this adventure plucked at my heart strings. It very well may have been something I would have done in my youth or even done with you now had I been there!! What a total thrill. There is something so rewarding about doing something the masses wouldn't do.
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of the time my buddies (Jenny included, Ashwin) and I hiked up Mt Beirstadt and across the sawtooth to the top of Mt Evans only to find overweight men in Hawaiian shirts (and socks under their sandals) and their mule shod wives in short shorts who had driven up the other side!! OR the time Anu and I got up at 5:30 to walk to the San Pietro in Vincoli basilica to see Michaelangelo's Moses alone before the masses arrived.
In any event I am very happy that you had this wonderful experience and that all went safely.
P.S. I am constantly NOT surprised by how like India Indonesia (maybe all of SE Asia) is.
was this set of photos taken with your lumix, ashwin?... and the zoo ones were taken with danny's? I'm stll trying to assess the camera situation. these photos are really clear and good quality!
ReplyDelete