PLAYING WITH FIRE

Once seen, Indonesia’s most pictureperfect yet eerily brooding peak is not quickly forgotten

Once seen, Indonesia’s most picture-perfect yet eerily brooding peak is not quickly forgotten, writes Emma Day

It’s the sound that hits you first, like a jet engine gearing up for take-off. With your eyes closed, you’d believe you were stood on the tarmac, suitcase in hand, ready to board a flight to an idyllic mini-break. But instead, you’re perilously peering into the belly of an active volcano, which gently belches warm plumes of white smoke into your face.

That’s the otherworldly sight that greets you at the crater’s rim of Mount Bromo, one of Indonesia’s active volcanoes. While compared with the archipelago’s trophy cabinet of fiery peaks, Bromo is not the loftiest at 2,393 metres tall, but it may be the most picturesque.

Surrounded by a barren valley of fine volcanic sand, the foreboding horizon resembles something from a J.R.R. Tolkien novel, with the peak’s tip almost perfectly sliced off, like a freshly boiled egg awaiting a soldier’s approach.

Nestled in East Java’s 800sqkm Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park, the craggy cone is encircled by fellow volcanoes – an awe-inspiring vista typical of Indonesia, whose many islands lie in the eruption-prone Ring of Fire. Mount Bromo hasn’t been closed to visitors since 2016, when it last blasted ash into the air, but despite its relatively docile state it’s not a destination for the unadventurous; indeed, reaching it is a quest in itself.

Lying about 120kms south of Surabaya, the capital of East Java, a journey can be made to the outskirts of the national park via a domestic flight to Malang, followed by four hours on a bus.

But do not be swayed by the time-consuming itinerary – the panorama more than makes up for it. It’s a fact confirmed every morning by the mountain of crowds that arise in the depths of the night to make the eye-wateringly early trek to see the sunrise over Bromo.

For those who’d like to prolong their sleep, rudimentary lodgings can be found at surrounding Tenggerese villages such as Ngadisari and Cemoro Lawang although those who can’t live without a hot shower are better off staying in Malang or Surabaya and braving a 12am start.

The only way to approach the peak is by bumping along the park’s soft, sandy roads on a 4WD, with hire and tour companies prolific throughout Bromo and its surrounding cities.

The most well-trodden vantage point lies on Mount Penanjakan, but instead scale Love Hill, five kilometres across the volcanic desert, to avoid the throngs. You will, however, likely be accosted by street hawkers, peddling woollen garments

It’s the hour-long hike up to the scorched crater rim that really shakes the soul and the soles.

and steaming cups of sweetcorn to temper the early morning chill.

The short but steep stroll up the hill is quickly rewarded as the sun languidly makes its appearance, warmth slowly returning to your bones as the 3am start is (almost) forgotten.

The snapping of cameras will alert you to its appearance before you even notice the sun’s edge peeking above the horizon. It’s a photographer’s paradise, and the hour spent watching the orb trace an arc in the sky over a desolate landscape would leave even the most stoic traveller stirred.

In the distance, on a clear day, you can also witness clouds of smoke wisp from Mount Semeru, Java’s highest volcano dubbed The Great Mountain. However, it’s the hour-long hike up to the scorched crater rim that really shakes the soul and the soles.

From Bromo Desert, the vast expanse of sandy ash at the volcano’s base, you can trek on foot or by pony, the latter easily acquired after haggling with the many horse wranglers cantering around like modern-day Clint Eastwoods. The history of these horsemen, however, stretches back much further than that of The Man with No Name.

“These men are from an indigenous tribe called the Tenggerese,” a local guide reveals, adding that the remote community of Javanese Hindus claim to be descended from princes of the Majapahit Empire. To the Tenggerese, Bromo is less a geological hotspot and more a sacred site, to the depths of which they sacrifice cows, goats and chickens annually. These peace-keeping offerings, the ancient tribe hopes, will dissuade the mountain gods from sending forth a rainfall of boiling lava.

You hope they are appeased as you scale the steep staircase, carved into the fissured peak itself, lungs begging for air. At the top, some 250 steps later, you’re teetering over the smoking crater on a ledge that trembles beneath your feet. You can’t quite see magma bubbling away, but to hear the deafening roar and see the sulphur-tinged walls as the distinctive rotten-egg scent invades your nostrils is enough to make you feel wholly insignificant against such a force of nature.

Make time on the descent back through the sea of sand for a pit-stop at Luhur Poten, a Hindu temple dating from the 13th century. Standing austerely alone in the rugged plain, you can make flower and incense offerings within the black-stoned walls. As you dozily board your transport back to the island’s major cities, hours after waking and with aching limbs, it will strike you that it’s been quite the trek for a one-day adventure. But the memories, of hearing the volcano’s mighty snore and ground rumbling underfoot, will last a lifetime.