A quick trek to dangerous yet enchanting Krakatau
Maybe better if you hire a driver…" Our friend Laila was not entirely convinced that our grand plan to take a self-guided tour from Tangerang – just outside Jakarta – to Krakatau Island via Carita Beach by way of local transportation would result in a successful outcome. "Maybe you will find the bus station, but your friends...no,” she continued as I tried convincing her that I had already safely navigated many parts of the world on my own. Surely reaching one of the world’s most famous volcanoes would be a piece of cake. “Maybe I will find you a guide. Trust me, or you will not arrive at Krakatau,” Laila stated matter-of-factly. After ten minutes, we finally reached a compromise whereby her co-worker, Agus, would chaperone my friends Rick and Candace, along with myself, to Krakatau the next morning. Just after sunrise, under Agus’ tutelage, we were underway on foot to catch our first angkot along a main road already choked with rush-hour traffic. At the time, the three of us didn't know enough Bahasa Indonesia to carry out a conversa- tion beyond a sentence and a half. Agus knew even less English, and trusty Laila was no longer at our side to steer us clear of mishaps. Even so, as we stood in the mud waiting for the right overcrowded shared van to come along, I still reckoned I could have figured this out for myself. Two short angkot rides later however, while clambering into a smoky intercity bus on the side of another major road at what was clearly not an official stop, I be- gan to see that Laila had been right. None of us would have made it this far on our own, and we were barely three kilometres into our journey. Hiring a driver would have been much easier but definitely not the deep immersion into everyday Indo- nesian life that we sought. By now, Rick, Candace and I all agreed that travelling with Agus was the only way to go. Somewhere along the way, inside that stifling hot bus, I had worked out how to continually ask “are we there yet?” in Ba- hasa Indonesia, and Agus was always on hand to reply with a swift “belum,” which means “not yet”. Almost five hours later, much to our relief, "belum" finally became “we’re here” as yet another angkot from Serang to Carita Beach deposited us at a waterfront condominium complex. Agus quickly negotiated a two-bedroom unit for the next two nights and a boat for the next morning, and we caught our first glimpse of the 813-metre tall Krakatau rising like a perfect triangle from the Sunda Strait be- tween nearby southern Sumatera and our beach at the end of West Java. Prior to the August 27, 1883 erup- tion, Krakatau had been a single five- by-nine kilometre island with three volcanic peaks, the highest reaching 820 metres. The island’s northern two-thirds disappeared in the blast that was heard over 3,000 kilometres away in Perth, Australia. All that remains today is the southernmost peak we were admiring in the distance. By August 1930, ongoing underwater eruptions had played a part in the creation of a new volcano called Krakatau Anak, or Child of Krakatau, which emerged from the ocean where the northern part of the island once stood. It now rises 324 metres next to its parent, and in a very active state too. To approach Krakatau by boat is to ex- perience the pages of a National Geographic photo spread come to life. The over- whelming smell of sulphur enveloped us as we rounded an area of the volcano that had been stripped of its normally lush green vegetation by rough dried lava that had flowed into the sea. Since none of us on that boat could communicate in anything Krakatau Anak’s summit above us. This A was as high up as we would climb, but the C views out over the water were spectacular B nonetheless. We spent almost an hour en- joying Mother Nature’s finest, and joking that she’d better remain asleep. I will admit to feeling anxious that other than smiles and broken Bahasa, we had to place our full faith in Agus that he would guide us away from any danger. Our captain ploughed on through the rough waves, and Krakatau Anak now came into full view. Suddenly we dropped anchor at a black-sand beach lined with tropical trees and purple flowers. We jumped off the boat into ankle-deep warm wet sand, and I struggled to contain my excitement. I could not believe that my lifelong dream had come true. A large sign welcoming us to Cagar Alam Krakatau, or Krakatau Na- ture Preserve, gave a false impression that Krakatau Anak was a safe national park rather than a dangerous volcano. We thought our adventure had come to an end here at this pretty beach, but Agus motioned us towards the woods. An unex- pected 20-minute trek up a path of ash and dried lava took us to a windswept plateau overlooking both nearby Krakatau and this napping giant might roar back to life as I watched several vents spewing smoke on the side of the mountain. After all, an island growing by 13 centimetres a week under the ground that we were standing on could easily knock us from our feet at any second. Scientists have advised against coming within three kilometres of this park due to a good chance of an eruption, and Anak Krakatau did indeed launch a large ash plume not too long after our visit. Looking back on this trip, I no longer see Krakatau as the ultimate destination but as a stop on a journey that opened our eyes to all that Indonesia has to offer, from food to scenic beauty. By placing our trust in Agus, our mission to unlock a version of Indonesia well off the tourist trail was a great success and indeed one we never would have figured out on our own. Exactly as Laila had said to me in the first place.
(By Jake Russack on Jakarta Java Kini Vol 22 No 2 February 2015)
