East Java

I rolled off the ferry and onto Java. It was a short trip but it was late and I had booked a cheap hotel near the ferry terminal in Ketapang. I was now on Indonesia’s most populous island and the centre of government for this huge country. With 150 million people, it was a far cry from the vast empty interior of Central Australia.

I enjoyed a tasty plate of nasi goreng for dinner – the famous Indonesian fried rice. It was delicious. I got out of the hotel a bit later than planned the following morning. I hadn’t been waking up super early in Bali but soon learned I would need to get on the road early and get some kilometres under my belt before the midday heat. I enjoyed breakfast at a nearby warung (a roadside restaurant) and was asked many questions by the curious but friendly locals.

I had been a little disappointed in myself for not tackling the volcanic mountains in the centre of Bali. A quick look on the map showed something that would possibly make up for it. Kawa Ijen is a 2769m tall volcano. It would be a 30km climb with some 1900m of elevation up from the town of Banyuwangi. Time to test the legs.

The first 20 kilometres weren’t too steep but the increasing mid morning heat made for tough cycling. A friendly local waved me over and generously bought me a young coconut juice. I was glad to have a short rest in the shade. As I continued up, I noticed rows of cabbages and root vegetables. I guessed that the climate at higher elevations in the tropics was better suited to growing this type of food.

From here the road only got steeper, boy oh boy – seriously steep. Clouds descended and eventually I could only see a hundred metres or so in any direction. Thankfully as I went up, the temperature went down and when the heavens opened I welcomed the pouring rain.

The incline continued to increase. I ran out of gears and I accepted that I would need to push my bike. The road narrowed, and the farmland scenery gave way to lush rainforest. It was incredibly beautiful, especially with the tropical rain but the road was punishing.

I kept checking the map to see if the gradient would ease. 6km to go. Okay, push for a few steps, pull the front brake, take a few breaths and repeat. I couldn’t believe it – the road was so steep I was struggling to push my bike. I wondered whether I’d bitten off more than I could chew. No – keep going, just take it one step at a time.

A few motorcycles and the occasional car passed me in either direction, the occupants probably wondering why this lunatic was pushing a bike up this stupidly steep road in the pissing rain.

I both hated and loved the challenge – a strange paradox I’d experienced many times on my bike. But this was crazy – I’d never felt like I might not actually make it. The weight of my heavily laden bike made it so much tougher. I focused on some wise words an inspiration of mine (Alistair Humphreys) said in one of his books. Paraphrasing, all I needed to do was focus on this moment, not how far I’d already come or how far I had yet to go.

I persevered for what felt like an eternity until the road finally, mercifully eased and I realised I was nearing the top of the climb. I was drenched from head to toe and completely wrecked as I rolled into a small village with some gloriously flat bitumen. I smashed a can of coke and had a wee lie down.

I planned to pitch my tent at the local campsite and wake early for a sunrise hike up to the Kawa Ijen summit. It was surprisingly cold, especially with my damp clothing. I noticed a few locals sitting around a small fire and asked if I could join them to dry my clothes. I was welcomed with big smiles and we chatted using the Google Translate app on my phone. 

I’d heard that sulphurous blue flames are visible if you arrive at the summit crater before first light. Unfortunately a sign beside the manned entrance checkpoint explained that hikers were not allowed to start walking until 4am ‘due to recent volcanic activity’. I’m not sure what that meant and didn’t think that active volcanoes cared what time it was when they chose to erupt but it looked like I wouldn’t be seeing the blue flames this time.

At 4am the ranger started waving us through. I found myself amongst a large number of hikers as we set off in the dark. The path was super steep and I was reminded of my trip up Mt. Rwetyepme many months prior in Central Australia. First light came lighting the sky up with a spectacular array of colours and revealing silhouettes of the conical peaks surrounding me. I was the first to arrive on the rim of the crater and was greeted by a pungent sulphuric stench not dissimilar to the smell of rotten eggs.

I walked around the rim to get a better view of the vivid blue lake and billowing smoke below. I’d never been near an active volcano before let alone on top of one. Growing up in my small village of Cushendall many years before in Northern Ireland I wondered what it might be like to live in a place where volcanic eruptions or earthquakes were a real possibility and not just a feature of Hollywood movies. And now here I was standing on the edge of a smouldering crater. I silently asked Kawa Ijen not to erupt that morning (please).

As I made my way back down the mountain I encountered local miners on their way to the sulphur pit at the edge of the lake. A few early starters were already carrying their first heavy loads on a wooden pole with a basket on each end.

The miners carry up to 90 kilograms 300m up the steep rim of the crater, then another 500m (3.5km) down the equally steep path to the roadside. I’ve read that these men get paid a pittance for their hard graft and were selling small trinkets carved out of the sulphur to supplement their incomes.

Upon reaching camp I packed up the bike and hit the road. I had a ripper of a day ahead of me with a descent into the volcanic plateau below. The winding road took me through many villages surrounded by fields growing vegetables, tea and coffee.

Indonesia is a major coffee growing country and as I soon discovered, drinking coffee or ‘kopi’ as it is called here is a mainstay of Indonesian life.

I hooped and hollered as the road dropped back down to sea level and the endless rice paddies. I met many more friendly faces on the road – often keen for a photograph together and occasionally a little shy.

What a way to start the mountains of Java! Next up, more climbing and volcanoes in the famous Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park.