Volcanic Action

I arrived on the outskirts of a town called Probolinggo near dusk. My hotel was just off the main road towards Mt Bromo. Unfortunately my hotel did not exist. I cycled around in circles for half an hour even enlisting the help of locals to find a place that apparently wasn’t there and did not have a contact number. So I booked another hotel, making sure there was at least a phone number this time.

I arrived to find the gate locked and nobody home. I gave the number a ring several times to no avail. Not ideal! I found another hotel and cycled to the property to make sure it actually existed and that someone was there. Third time’s a charm!

I’d opted not to camp at lower elevations in Indonesia because it was still quite hot and humid at night. Hotels were super cheap, usually costing less than AUD$10 per night for my own room with a fan and sometimes A/C.

I hit the road the following morning ready to tackle my next volcanic challenge. I would be climbing up into the famous Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park 2200m over 35 kilometres. My nerve had been a little shaken by the insane gradients of Kawa Ijen but I had made it and I would make this one too. Take it slow – one kilometre at a time and I’ll get it done.

As with the previous climb, the road wasn’t too steep to start with but the heat was punishing at lower elevations. My strategy was to try and get a few hundred metres up higher as soon as I could to take advantage of the cooler temperatures.

Fortunately the heavens opened once again and I found myself cycling between dramatic cloud covered ridges. The tropical jungle gave way to darker greens of the sub alpine terrain. I was glad to take shelter in a warung over a double helping of hot mee goreng (fried noodles) served by a nice old lady. I waited for the heaviest rain to pass and continued up the hair pinned road.

It was a long, slow grind up the mountainside. I enjoyed a really lovely moment as I passed a mosque that was playing the afternoon call to prayer from its loudspeakers. The singing was beautiful and added to my sense of wonder as I took in the misty mountain scenery surrounding me.

I took many breaks this time, having learnt from my previous effort on Kawa Ijen. Thankfully the gradients weren’t quite as hard but still tough going. Once again however, the steepest part of the road awaited me near the top. It was now the early evening and a cloudy sky meant it was getting dark.

Night had fallen by the time I rolled into the village of Cemoro Lawang. I paid the village tourist toll and found a cheap guesthouse for the night. I was planning to hike up to a lookout point for sunrise. It was surprisingly cold, especially in my drenched clothes and I was glad to make use of the warm shower.

The village was very quiet and it took me a while to find somewhere to eat. Several men were drinking coffee and tea and welcomed me with the usual questions of where I was from, my age and whether I was married.

The next morning I woke up at stupid o’clock and cycled to the foot of the super steep road up to the lookout. The road was lined with well over a hundred four wheel drives – the preferred mode of transport for most tourists here. A few men were also offering rides up on horseback as I walked through a minefield of horse poo in the darkness. Unfortunately, the dense cloud cover made for a disappointing sunrise. It was still pretty amazing to look down into the caldera below and watch the FWDs zip across the dark sandy plain like beetles.

I headed back to the guesthouse for a nap. Feeling refreshed I cycled up to the rim and then down into the famous ‘Sea of Sand’ below. Luckily the sand was damp and well compressed so I didn’t get bogged too much. The scenery was fascinating – completely different to the jungle down at sea level.

I locked my bike to a sign near the trail to the Bromo crater. A concrete staircase ran up the slope. There was a building roar as I neared the top. I was both nervous and excited to be this close to the source of the sound. The billowing smoke prevented me from seeing the bottom of the crater but it was nothing short of awe inspiring.

I headed back down to my bike, obliging a few selfie requests along the way. Unfortunately the clouds prevented me from seeing the towering peak of Semeru in the distance, another active volcano that erupted in 2021 killing 57 people and causing a lot of destruction.

The steep volcanic mountain sides lining the caldera reminded me of Hawaii. In contrast, some of the hills in the centre were reminiscent of the UK. I climbed out of the caldera and was looking forward to a long downhill ride to the city of Malang.

Be careful what you wish for – the descent was incredibly steep and it was a challenge not to completely cook my brakes with the heavy weight of my bike. I almost ran into the back of a van at one point after my brakes lost all power.

Thankfully the road eventually gave way to more manageable gradients. It was heavenly riding along the winding bitumen back down into lush rainforest. The heat of the lower elevations was tempered by more rain. I was thoroughly drenched by the time I arrived at the home of my host Adi.

Adi was super nice and ran a small noodle restaurant out of his parents’ house. I stayed for a couple of nights, exploring some of the nearby sights and meeting a few other local cyclists.

Adi was a member of a community called Federal Bikes – an organisation I would meet many times during my time in Java. He put me in touch with another member Ovan who hosted me for a night in his town of Blitar.

Ovan was a super jolly guy and took me out for the best BBQ chicken I have ever tasted. Together with some of his friends we explored some of the famous sights of Blitar including the grave of Indonesia’s first president Sukarno.

The next morning I said goodbye and was greeted by a few more Federal guys on the road to a small town called Trenggalek. Kiprok and his friend took me to lunch, coffee and then cycled with me up and over a beautiful pass. It was quickly becoming a Federal Tour of Java but everyone I met was super nice and it was good fun to meet the happy locals.

That night I stayed with a guy whose nickname was Bopo Edy. We enjoyed many cups of tea, coffee and bowls of bakso (Indonesian meatball soup). Edy was super excited to have me, he had many questions and even gave me a cycling jersey. Throughout the evening several guests came and went.

Edy asked me if I liked massages – I said absolutely and within ten minutes an older man with a permanent smile arrived at the door. What ensued was an hour of borderline torture. It was a strange mixture of hilarity, agony and I think some semblance of therapeutic benefit. To add to the comedy of the situation, whilst I was writhing on the carpet everyone else continued to chat as if this was completely normal with even more guests arriving.

I was pretty wrecked by the time I retired at 11pm. Suffice to say I slept very deeply that night. Edy and I had agreed that we would wake up at 5am to eat breakfast then leave at 6am to meet his friends for a group ride. At 4:40am Edy bounded into my bedroom bouncing off the walls with energy. He had cooked me a breakfast of rice, stewed daging (meat) and an omelette. He excitedly watched me take every bite as I continued to wake up.

With great enthusiasm from Edy, we set off at 5:45am to meet the gang running well ahead of schedule. I was finally wide awake as the guys set a good pace and it was fun to be cycling in a group again. There were countless handshakes, selfies and even a female cyclist.

The group took me out for a second breakfast before saying goodbye to me at the provincial border with Central Java. It was a whirlwind couple of days but great to meet so many friendly Indonesians – next up the special city of Yogyakarta.