Indonesia: Bromo and Ijen
Indonesia. Situated along the Pacific Ring of Fire, this archipelago nation is home to the most number of volcanoes in the world. With nearly 150 volcanoes (amongst which about half are active), this country has had a love-hate relationship with this geographical phenomenon. On one hand, volcanoes have caused immense amounts of suffering and loss to nearby inhabitants, with tens and thousands of people perishing due to eruptions throughout history; on the other, the frequent volcanic activity has made Indonesia an agricultural powerhouse, supporting the 4th largest population in the world. One thing is for sure though: they’re an incredible sight to behold.
If one were to google “Volcanoes in Indonesia”, chances are you’ll quickly run into photos of Mt. Bromo (and Mt. Semeru, the mountain behind it). The mountains are within a giant crater in a sea of sand, and are the crown jewel of the Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park. Mt. Bromo was named after Brahma, the Hindu God of creation - fitting, because witnessing sunrise over Bromo was one of the most otherworldly experiences of my life.
After a brief climb up to the viewpoint in the early hours of the morning, my friends and I braved the cold as we waited for the sun to rise. A bright, full moon killed any chance of decent astrophotography, so I spent hours refining my composition, checking (and rechecking) my focus and just pacing up and down. I had spent years longingly staring at photos of Mt. Bromo, and so I was still partially in disbelief this wonder was right in front of me. Like an athlete before a big match, I was nervous - this was my one sunrise at Bromo, so I only had one chance to capture the photos I wanted.
Rather than shoot from the more iconic (and crowded) Mt. Penanjakan, my group ended up shooting from the top of King Kong Hill, where we got an awesome and unobstructed view of Bromo. Also because I made my friends hike up at 1am, and wait for 4 hours for the sun to rise. We were literally the only people on the hill for nearly two hours.
Sunrise came, and it was better than I could have imagined. The sky, while not the most saturated, provided a pastel canvas for mountains in front of it. Smoke bellowed out of Mt. Bromo itself, teasing with what it revealed and covered. The ridgelines in each of the mountains became increasingly defined, providing dimension and form. Most importantly though, a layer of fog filled the valley floor, making me feel like I was on top of the world. It was magical. The “pre-match” jitters were long gone, and I felt truly calm and present with the scene in front of me. The cold night, the lack of sleep - so worth it.
As the best of the light disappeared, we headed down the mountain and went towards Mt. Bromo itself. Unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea, and so we were stuck in a backlog of jeeps. By the time we had got there, the sun was well and truly up, the fog was long gone, and the temperature had probably gone up by 15 degrees. We explored the crater floor, which was fun, but with the large crowds and lack of soft light, just didn’t compare to our sunrise adventures. Maybe next time, if I’m ever back (and spending more than 24h in the area), I’ll try shoot from the crater floor. Eventually, we decided to call it a morning, and headed back to our hotel. Our adventure was not over though - after a brief rest, we made the five hour drive over towards Mt. Ijen, near the Eastern tip of Java.
As much as I wanted the grand vista shot, I was conscious about getting the “details” too, so I took this shot of where the fog on the valley floor met the edge of the crater.
You can see where the sulphur mining was taking place - where the smoke is rising from.
Mt. Ijen is home to a large acidic crater lake, with an extensive sulphur-mining operation. The whole area seemed much more commercialised than Bromo, and because entry up the volcano only opened at 2am, we were caught up in a large wave of tourists. With steep inclines over nearly 4km, the hike up Mt. Ijen was certainly much tougher than Bromo. There were locals who were offering pulled rickshaw services for $80 USD (how these men half my size would be able to pull another human being up the mountain was beyond me). Still, after about an hour or two of hiking, we made it up to the top. But that was only the beginning. The primary attractions in Mt. Ijen all lay in the crater, so in our gas masks (to protect us against the sulphur), we precariously trekked down to the crater lake floor.
At the base of the crater, we battled hundreds of other tourists to witness the blue fire (I was a little underwhelmed to be honest), while the sulphur miners were hard at work. I must say, these miners were incredible - while sulphuric gas caused most of us tourists to tear up and gasp for air (in spite of gas masks), these miners were maskless, carrying blocks of sulphur (weighing up to 100kg) on their backs up and down the same path that we tourists were struggling on. It was probably the most backbreaking work I’ve ever seen in person, and my respect for them went up for them exponentially through the night.
After the sun had risen (and I had gotten my wide shot), I pulled out my telephoto lens to pick off small details within the landscape. This was probably my favourite part of the morning, and something I should really try to do more, even in Singapore. As much as I enjoy shooting a whole vista, there is something really special about zooming in and observing small details within a scene. Everyone who has been to Ijen (and Bromo) likely has the full landscape, but there are an endless number of compositions once you zoom in.
Final Thoughts
I’m writing this about a month after getting back from Indonesia, and it has really taken me that long to figure out how to put how I felt into both my images and words. For weeks, I struggled in CaptureOne (my editing software) to convey that ethereal feeling from the scene. I hope that I have done both locations justice, and that the photos convey just how special they were. This trip was on my mind for years, and I still can’t believe that I’ve finally been. My mind is often months/years into the future, dreaming about faraway places and adventures. My mum used to say that even when I was on holiday, I would already be asking “where are we going next?” and the fact that I couldn’t just be present in the moment would drive her batty. This trip was a great reminder to enjoy living in the here and now, and not be caught up with what is going to happen. I guess now is the time to stop thinking about what is to be, and to enjoy what is.
