Long drives are now the norm alongwith poor road surfaces, large potholes and poor toilet stops. I won’t waste any more time dwelling on them, except to say that, by the time we arrive at the mountain base, dusk is already upon us and the rain has started to fall (also the norm now!). We have to transfer to minibuses but the minibuses that await us are not what we expected. These obviously double as ‘passion wagons’ by night, painted black with flames and logos down the sides and blacked out windows all round, even the windscreen, with only a thin slit across the top for the driver (and passengers) to see through. I clamber, very unladylike into ‘Sexy Girls’ and try to sit on the bench seat. Unfortunately, ‘Sexy Girls’ wanted his girls to lie along the benches rather than sit with their feet on the floor as they are too close together. As we start to thread our way around narrow hairpin bends on a steep gradient, the rain is thundering down on the roof and we can see a river coming down towards us as we try to peer through the steamed up narrow slit in the window. Opening the side windows to let some air in only results in being immediately drowned by the flood that comes in. As we climb quickly up to 2000m the temperature drops rapidly. I am cold, wet, disoriented and carsick with a touch of altitude sickness from the rapid climb but by the time we reach the top the rain has stopped. From the hotel we have a direct view over the plain below and Mt Bromo opposite. It is a stunning conical shape with a thin plume of smoke coming out of the top. Isabel’s beaming face at the sight of more beautiful mountains is the last thing I see before I hit the floor.
In the morning, it’s a 3.30 wake up call to see the sun rise over Mt Bromo from Mt Panajakan. I’m a bit nervous as it means another steep ascent to 2700m in the cold mountain air but am determined not to miss it. There is a long line of 4x4s following the track to the viewpoint and we jostle for the best position at the top. The moonscape below looks surreal as the morning mist swirls around the perfectly shaped volcanoes and I half expect one of the Clangers to climb out of one.
On the way back to the hotel, we ask the driver to drop us off near foot of Mt Bromo so we can climb to the crater edge before breakfast. A long line of miniature Arab ponies is waiting to gallop us across the plain and up the steep slope to the bottom of the final 250 steps to the crater. Bless! As I look at their perfectly arched necks, tiny backs with a dinky saddle perched on top of their spindly legs, they would not look out of place on a carousel and I feel I should be carrying them, rather than the other way round. Even their diminutive grooms look incronguous atop as they weave in an out of the crowds of hefty Europeans, Americans and Aussies bartering the price of laziness .
Despite the temptation of a gallop across the plain, I fail to spot a suitable cart horse to carry me. The walk is not arduous, and we only stop to admire the view from each 5m ascent up the steps.
As we reach the top, I am ready for the thrill of a gurgling lava lake spitting out fumes from the crater. It is therefore somewhat disappointing, after all that effort, to be only able to see the thin plume of steam escaping from a crack in the surface between a couple of boulders. We stand there for half an hour, peering down into the crater surface, aching for a glimpse of red in all the grey as the sun climbs high in the sky, but eventually hunger calls us back for breakfast.
Disappointed from the morning’s efforts, a few of us decide to return to the crater for sunset. This time, there are no ponies or 4x4s offering to carry us across in the afternoon heat and we make the whole trip from the hotel on foot. Once again, we climb the 250 steps, stopping to admire the view as we go. This time, we have no expectations, only hope. We are a small group, alone at the crater edge as the sun heads for the horizon. Once again, we peer down. This time there is much more smoke swirling around inside the crater before clambering its way out into the early evening sky. The grey of the crater becomes more pronounced as the sky turns golden behind it. Then, just as we are giving up to make our way back to the hotel before darkness enfolds us, the smoke clears briefly and we spot a glimpse of red below us. It is bubbling and churning around as the smoke swirls around, obscuring our view, then revealing the earth’s innards below. It is enthralling and we stand mesmerised as the the sun sets and our view of the magma becomes clearer. In the still of dusk, we can even hear the thunder of explosions below and every so often it escapes into the evening, like gunshot. But night here has no light apart from the moon and eventually we have to leave to make our way by torchlight, down the rocky slope, across the sandy plain and up the escarpment on the other side.
In the morning, it’s a 3.30 wake up call to see the sun rise over Mt Bromo from Mt Panajakan. I’m a bit nervous as it means another steep ascent to 2700m in the cold mountain air but am determined not to miss it. There is a long line of 4x4s following the track to the viewpoint and we jostle for the best position at the top. The moonscape below looks surreal as the morning mist swirls around the perfectly shaped volcanoes and I half expect one of the Clangers to climb out of one.
On the way back to the hotel, we ask the driver to drop us off near foot of Mt Bromo so we can climb to the crater edge before breakfast. A long line of miniature Arab ponies is waiting to gallop us across the plain and up the steep slope to the bottom of the final 250 steps to the crater. Bless! As I look at their perfectly arched necks, tiny backs with a dinky saddle perched on top of their spindly legs, they would not look out of place on a carousel and I feel I should be carrying them, rather than the other way round. Even their diminutive grooms look incronguous atop as they weave in an out of the crowds of hefty Europeans, Americans and Aussies bartering the price of laziness .
Despite the temptation of a gallop across the plain, I fail to spot a suitable cart horse to carry me. The walk is not arduous, and we only stop to admire the view from each 5m ascent up the steps.
As we reach the top, I am ready for the thrill of a gurgling lava lake spitting out fumes from the crater. It is therefore somewhat disappointing, after all that effort, to be only able to see the thin plume of steam escaping from a crack in the surface between a couple of boulders. We stand there for half an hour, peering down into the crater surface, aching for a glimpse of red in all the grey as the sun climbs high in the sky, but eventually hunger calls us back for breakfast.
Disappointed from the morning’s efforts, a few of us decide to return to the crater for sunset. This time, there are no ponies or 4x4s offering to carry us across in the afternoon heat and we make the whole trip from the hotel on foot. Once again, we climb the 250 steps, stopping to admire the view as we go. This time, we have no expectations, only hope. We are a small group, alone at the crater edge as the sun heads for the horizon. Once again, we peer down. This time there is much more smoke swirling around inside the crater before clambering its way out into the early evening sky. The grey of the crater becomes more pronounced as the sky turns golden behind it. Then, just as we are giving up to make our way back to the hotel before darkness enfolds us, the smoke clears briefly and we spot a glimpse of red below us. It is bubbling and churning around as the smoke swirls around, obscuring our view, then revealing the earth’s innards below. It is enthralling and we stand mesmerised as the the sun sets and our view of the magma becomes clearer. In the still of dusk, we can even hear the thunder of explosions below and every so often it escapes into the evening, like gunshot. But night here has no light apart from the moon and eventually we have to leave to make our way by torchlight, down the rocky slope, across the sandy plain and up the escarpment on the other side.
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