Travel is in a sense like knowledge: the more one learns or travels, the more one realizes that there is even more to learn and discover.
During a previous trip to Mount Bromo, an active volcano in Java, I interacted with another Indian guy traveling alone - a rare breed - who mentioned he was next headed to see the 'blue fire' of Kawah (lake in Indonesian) Ijen. Thereafter I came across an article on the place in one of the airline magazines, and I had been itching to get there ever since.
During a previous trip to Mount Bromo, an active volcano in Java, I interacted with another Indian guy traveling alone - a rare breed - who mentioned he was next headed to see the 'blue fire' of Kawah (lake in Indonesian) Ijen. Thereafter I came across an article on the place in one of the airline magazines, and I had been itching to get there ever since.
What was keeping me back was the combination of time taken to get there and lack of any in-person reviews. Once my move from Singapore to Mumbai was finalized , I figured it was a case of now or never and booked tickets for a 3 day trip in order to spend a few hours at a volcano. The pain of travel was well worth it.
I took the evening flight to Bali out of Singapore and stayed overnight at an airport hotel. The next morning I hunted for someone who could drop me to the Denpasar bus station on his ojek (motorcycle) for a fraction of the taxi fare, and found a food vendor willing to do so. At the bus station, I took a minivan headed for the port of Gilimanuk on the north west corner or Bali. It must have made a 100 stops on the 100 km journey and I was the only non-local on board. It was a picturesque journey through the hilly terrain of Bali, traversing rice terraces and running along the west coast black sand beaches at times.
I took the evening flight to Bali out of Singapore and stayed overnight at an airport hotel. The next morning I hunted for someone who could drop me to the Denpasar bus station on his ojek (motorcycle) for a fraction of the taxi fare, and found a food vendor willing to do so. At the bus station, I took a minivan headed for the port of Gilimanuk on the north west corner or Bali. It must have made a 100 stops on the 100 km journey and I was the only non-local on board. It was a picturesque journey through the hilly terrain of Bali, traversing rice terraces and running along the west coast black sand beaches at times.
I can't erase the memory of one middle aged woman who stood throughout the journey without batting an eyelid even though half the van was empty. For a city dweller with a sedentary lifestyle, it was unimaginable that standing for hours came so naturally to someone who had the choice of a comfortable seat.
At Gilimanuk, I hopped onto a huge shipping vessel carrying all sizes of mechanized transport as well as pedestrians across the strait to Banyuwangi, the eastern tip of Java. A local bemo - an Indonesian van for short distance travel - got me to the hotel.
I spoke to a local shopkeeper about arranging an ojek ride for my trip to Ijen and he hooked me up with a friend of his. The guy knocked at my hotel room at 11:30 pm and by midnight I was ready, wrapped up in warm clothes to brave the 30 km chilly and winding ride through the Javanese forests up to the base of the crater.
I started my climbed at about 1 am :the path was wide and only moderately steep, but the combination of darkness and the sandy terrain made even the ascent slippery at times. After a while I befriended a sulphur miner - I forget his name now - and we spoke about his daily grind. This was one of the toughest jobs on the planet. These guys haul 70-80 kilos of sulphur blocks everyday, traversing treacherous terrain for hours and inhaling extremely unsafe air, for a mere 4-5 rupees per kg.
Within an hour we reached the top of the crater and the green foliage gave way to a surreal lunar landscape. It was a moonlit night and we could see the crater lake in the distance, with the famous 'blue fire' - ignited sulphuric acid - burning brightly at one edge.
A warning sign was posted at the start of the descent to the crater lake that tourists were not allowed beyond that point. At this point the miner demanded some money to take me further. I had read online that one could ignore these demands and go ahead by oneself, but the crowds hadn't arrived yet and I didn't want to descend alone into a dangerous zone, more so without a torch. So I bargained with him a bit and agreed on a price, a mere few dollars equivalent.
A half hour descent through tricky terrain got us to within a stone's throw of the blue fire. The close to full moon meant it's glow wasn't at its brilliant best but this was nevertheless one of the most rewarding experiences i have had. It was spooky, lonely and otherworldly: the alien landscape, the eerie silence, the blue crater lake shining in the moonlight, the flames emitting suffocating vapors, and the lack of any other humans except one who barely spoke a familiar language.
The miner collected hot sulphur water from a pool dangerously close to the blue fire and poured it into some moulds he was carrying . A minute later he handed me a palm sized, translucent yellow tortoise as a souvenir. It was too hot to hold on to and I put it in my backpack, and later it turned an opaque yellow on cooling . The crowds were building up in the hundreds as we ascended back up to the top of the crater. The fumes seemed to be getting more noxious as well and I was happy to be back at the rim safe and sound.
After pacing around at the top for about half an hour in order to keep warm, I followed the path along the periphery of the rim in order to catch a panoramic view of the crater lake at daybreak.
The descent from the rim to the car park was extremely slow as I took each step gingerly to avoid a slip. The decline wasn't that steep: most hikers were merrily sprinting down at good pace, but I am one of those who takes less time to climb a hill than to descend it! The ojek trip back to the hotel was more exciting than expected as there was a cop patrol en route and we had to take a few detours: after all, it was illegal for private motorcycle owners to take passengers in exchange for monetary compensation. As we criss-crossed the bylanes of Banyuwangi, I realized it was a pretty town, with tastefully maintained homes.
Once back at the hotel, I took a much needed nap and checked out at noon to make my long painful way back to Singapore. My return flight was not from Bali but from Surabaya on mainland Java, and since I wasn't sure about the logistics of getting from Banyuwangi to Surabaya, I had given myself a day and a half to get there, which in hindsight was way too much. I considered visiting Sukamade beach which is famous for its turtle breeding colony, but the logistics of getting there were too convoluted given the time I had.
From the Banyuwangi bus station, I took the local bus to a place called Jember: if ever I had to pick a place never to visit again in my life, this would be it. It was one big never ending mess of ugly workshops and unseemly homes. I spent the night at a rundown hotel near the bus station and took the early morning express bus to Surabaya, reaching there at 11 am with 10 hours to go for my flight!
It's an oddity, that none of Indonesia's four largest cities, i.e. Jakarta, Surabaya, Medan and Bandung have even one sight worth visiting. The country's appeal lies in it's far flung beaches, remote rainforests and inaccessible volcanoes, and the difficulty of getting to these places mean people think there is nothing more to the country than Bali.
So here I was, stuck with the delicious choice of spending the day either at the bus stop or the airport: I decided to split the difference. But it was a day well spent: I finished reading "Godel Escher Bach". It took me three months to get through it: now I could get back to my normal routine of reading a book a week, maybe one in two weeks . Just like Kawah Ijen, I cannot recommend this book highly enough: both the place and the book are unlike anything I have seen.
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