Top of the world, ends of the Earth
Travelife Contributing Editor Dondi Joseph captures an elusive world in Java, Indonesia
The "sea of sand" was otherworldly, and disturbingly beautiful. As the wind picked up, dust devils opaque with ash formed on one side of the volcanic plain. Within moments, rising dust clouds obscured its steep ridges. The wind increased, the wall of ash thickened and dust began to move quickly - in our direction. Ash storm!
We piled into our 4x4 to wait out the storm. Within moments, the flurry hit our jeep, obscuring most of the landscape and scattering the morning sunlight. Colors changed from hues of bright blue and green to shades of yellow and grey; from brilliant to dull and back to brilliant. The light was amazing. We could feel the wind against the jeep and hear the scraping ash. It was eerie but we were all grinning like guilty school kids. After a brief discussion we agreed that there was no point sitting in the jeep while there was a raging ash storm outside. We grabbed our cameras and piled out of the jeep shouting, "Let's shoot!!".
Fun in the sun and ash
We were high with excitement of a recently erupted volcano to our left, and being right smack in the middle of Bromo's version of a cinematic sand storm. Squinting, with our faces turned away from the stinging ash, we spread out to take photos, first of ourselves playing like teenagers in our first ever ash-storm; then of the ethereal landscape as it disappeared and reappeared in the storm.
This was Day 2 of our photo safari to Bromo in Surabaya, Indonesia and we were having the time of our lives.
The Javanese village of Cemoro Lawang is a five-hour drive from the Surabaya Airport. It sits on a spectacular ridge overlooking Mount Bromo and three other volcanic peaks that are surrounded by the immense Tengger "Sand Sea," as the volcanic plain is called. The town is over 2,300 meters above sea level, but very scenic and dusty. Bromo had a series of eruptions about a year ago, disrupting activity and covering most of its surroundings in fine volcanic dust. The dust was everywhere and unavoidable.
Our convoy of seven Filipino and 14 Indonesian photographers were immediately whisked off to shoot. We did not have to look very far. The Tenggerese, who work the rolling fields and walk in clouds of dust surrounded by rolling hills and dramatic peaks under wide skies, were perfect subjects. Most were open to being photographed if you asked them with a smile.
Within minutes, we gave up fighting dust and settled down to shoot. It was easy to get engrossed in the magic of what has to be one of the most photogenic landscapes in Southeast Asia.
To catch a sunrise
The next morning, we were awake by 330 AM for the trek to Mount Penanjakan which at 2,770 meters (over 9,000 feet) is the most popular viewing site one of Asia's most impressive sunrises.
Bundled in my rented jacket and the knitted souvenir scarf and "smurf-ish" bonnet I bought the day before, I began the trek from the base of the view point.
At 430 AM, cold and stiff, I started hiking the dusty very steep incline. It wasn't long before my heart felt like clawing through my chest. I decided to slow down, pausing to catch my breath when I needed to, joining other not-so-intrepid hikers in breathless conversation. My group on their horses easily overtook me and I literally ate dust. Looking up, the trail was a snake of flashlights, twisting and dipping this way and that. I realized that there were at least 150 other sun-risers heading up to the peak. I had to hurry. I was there for the sunrise after all.
30 minutes later, I finally reached the vantage point on Penanjakan. The photographers were setting up gear, while the tourists were just watching in awed near silence, sipping plastic glasses of instant coffee. As the sun rose, the landscape majestically unfolded with astonishing colors, contrasts and textures. The skies, which opened in stunning a rainbow of red, purple, orange, blue and yellow, slowly cleared into cloud-pillowed clear turquoise. Mount Bromo lay at our feet and it seemed like you could see forever.
Nature at its best
I was enchanted. I finally understood why Bromo was worth the inconvenience of a long drive and perpetual dust. The landscape was astounding with an eternal palette of colors. It was like watching one of the great masters of painting at work. This was raw jaw-dropping nature.
The next two days saw us driving deep into the volcanic plain, finishing memory cards like popcorn in a movie. As in almost every trip, there is never enough time. But in those three days, we'd already fallen in love with Bromo.
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