Krakatoa is illusive. And spotting her wouldn’t be easy. Later, I’d survey three volcanos. One loomed larger than life on the way to Merak, the port town where the Ferry plies back and forth to Sumatra and Java. I swore that was Krakatoa. But my driver, Indra, said it was one of the bigger volcanoes on Sumatra. But when I arrived to the most westerly point of Java, I didn’t see that large volcano.
It had disappeared.
I’m no volcano expert, and no, I wasn’t on drugs!
I really wanted to track her down. Like the 1883 spontaneous eruption, I made a similar snap decision. “Let’s go to Krakatoa,” I said to my friend at the apartment I was staying at. A flurry of calls, then Rudy the security guard drives up with a rented car. “It’s going to take your hours to drive there,” said Indri.
I decided renting a car and driving to the Western most tip of Java and trying to have a peek of Krakatoa from there. Seemed an easier option. And it afforded its fair share of impressions and guesswork.
“I’m off to Krakatoa.” I sms-ed my fallow travel writer, Miss Anderson. “I’m green with envy!” she replies.
The thought of seeing Krakatoa had me excited to. I speak singular but there is three Volcanoes that constitute the Krakatoa family. It’s little kid, known as Anak, or Baby Krakatoa, reared its newborn head in 1936. Ever since then it’s being growing at a rate of 8 inches a year.
Krakatoa has entered the lexicon of Indonesian words. It’s used as an exclamation of shock, “Krakatoa, you scared the shit out of me!”
Indra is our driver today. He use to be an advertising executive. Recently he fell ill. I was told that his partner, who fell out with him, put a spell on him. “There’s a serpent around our house,” said one of his family members. But only those with ‘occult’ eyes could see it. But the doctor said that Indra just had a heart attack from a two pack a cigarette and ten cups of coffee a day habit.
The mention of doing a road trip really excited him. He jumped at the opportunity. The last time I saw Indra excited was when I woke up at five minutes to twelve on New Year’s night, and bumped into down stairs, as we both ran to get our cameras to capture the new year fire works.
The highway to the port town is a tollway. It’s a state of the art highway, two lanes going in both directions. We paid the 70 000 Rupiah First sighting of Krakatoa. A large conical shape mountain loomed as pulled into the petrol station for a coffee break. It was massive. I took a picture of it on my iPhone and sent it to my traveling friend in Australian, with a note, “Here is the elusive and majestic Krakatoa.”
We arrived at the port town of Merak. The loud whistle sounded the departure of the ferry that bridged the nation, a similar one I had caught from Bali to Java. This was heading to Sumatra. It was tempting to get on that ferry and make our way to Sumatra.
But Indra had found an ideal viewing point for seeing Krakatoa on the Javanese side. On the way, I decided to take out the camera and snap from the front seat. I really thought that I wouldn’t see Krakatoa, so I was prepared to make the most of the trip. Besides, my bum was starting to get sores from all the sitting. So I thought I better get this story going with a few pictures.
We had to make out way to Marlboro Point. We drove along the coasts The first 20 kilometres of road was good. As soon as we made it to Krakatoa Industrial Estate, the paved road turned into potholes. Every shop owner was hosing down his or her part of the road. Trucks kicked up dust. A convoy of busses from the chemicals factory caused one major gridlock track jam. You’d think we were in Jakarta.
I got out of the car to take a picture of a chemical processing plant. To the left was a spanking new oil refinery. During the day, it looked bland and ugly, but on the way back, the processing towers were lit up like Christmas, and glowed all the colours of the rainbow.
The action that takes place outside my window is very interesting.
A hobo, with matted hair and a Rasputin beard walks by. I show Indra. “Crazy man!” he laughs. I’m not sure what was funny. But told them that in Islam, one of the tenets is to be charitable to those less privileged. He laughs again.
White beaches, hidden coves and bungalows. A very low key Bali. The transition from heavy industrial zone to a tourist destination, in such a small time, was welcoming, as the dust settled. The trucks and dirty road stopped, and bungalows and paved bitumen started to appear.
Towering above the landscape was a lighthouse. And behind that was a communication tower. It was interesting to see the two, side by side, both sending out their pulses to Krakatoa, far out on the horizon. For a bit of light relief, I started singing, if you are happy and you know it, clap your hands. No one clapped. And fair enough, he was driving after all!
To get our bearings, we stopped at one bungalow, and were told to drive further down the road. Before we left, I got out of the car and walked around the resort towards the beach break. To the right of me was a small marine were few fishing boats and one large white speedboat. Indra asked the driver how much it would cost to charter that boat to Krakatoa and back. Eight million Rupiah was his price. But later, when we asked a few locals at the Navy Depot, we were given a better figure of one million five hundred to charter the speed boat for the four-hour return trip.
Like Krakatoa, the lighthouse at the Navy Depot looked like it was from another era. Well it was. Made from sheets of steel and rivets, and white washed, this lighthouse is a throw back from the 19th Century.
The Navy Depok is basically a resort. Bungalows surrounded the lighthouse, and a path with bamboo huts selling snacks lined the shoreline. Ahead were the peaks of the most active volcanoes in the world. It was nearing sunset. We were getting tired. Or I was at least.
Coffee break was needed. But when a man came up and produced a parking ticket for 20 000 Rupiah, I almost choked on my coffee. Then I scrunched up the ticket and threw it on the ground. The parking guy looked on, his face not betraying any emotion.
Then I calmed down looking at a flat-topped island far out to sea, about 40 kilometres. “That’s Krakatoa,” informs Indra. So I take a picture and send it to Miss Anderson. But later, I’d be sending her another picture, which I thought really was Krakatoa. This game of volcano spotting is new to me.
I think if you asked an Indonesian on the street to which volcano was Krakatoa, you’d get as many answers as I got today.
Things are looking up. “For 2000 Rupiah, we can walk up to the light house,” informs Indra.
That works. Twenty cents Australian, what a bargain! Sukano, our lighthouse guide was recently moved from another lighthouse in Sumatra to be a caretaker here. There was none of, “Watch your step,” or, ‘are you taking medication, and physically fit?” I wasn’t counting but the nine floors to top of the 40-meter lighthouse wasn’t easy work.
In fact I was breathing heavily. But that didn’t stop me taking in the views at each level, from one window on each floor; and lighting up a cigarette at the top. Windows were broken on some floors. I opened up a few on others to let some air in. It was a solid structure, but walking up those endless flights of stairs, added with the minimal and empty interior, the feeling of deadly silence and isolation kicks in.
The dead stale air doesn’t help. It had that 1885 vintage taste to it!
The light houses a gift by Dutch King Willem III to honour those who died in Krakatoa explosion. It was built in 1885. It was still a magnificent structure and in dedication to the destructive power of Krakatoa. At the top, the wind blew hard. It was cool up here. All around us, mountain ranges hugged Western Java. And far ahead, in the straight, was a family of volcanos known as Krakatoa. Baby Krakatoa, which first surfaced from the water in 1936, lay east of Mother Krakatoa.
My Indonesian friend texed me. “Don’t go there, it’s still active!” I replied that it was active in 1883. I was glad there was someone else out there just as ignorant on volcanoes as me.
The man who took us up the lighthouse also was in charge of turning the lights on. The sun had set. Then I heard the generator come one. I went up to the last level of the lighthouse, and watched the light rotate. The lighthouse ran off a car battery. It was kind of humbling to know that every boat out there would see the constant twinkling of light from the forty-meter lighthouse. If only they knew that I was I a solitary figure looking over them.
My guide had long gone. And it was time to descend. Excitement over. The interior of the lighthouse was dark. They don’t have any working light on its nine floors. I was playing blind man and had to use the rails to make my way down. Darkness setting in, and rain on its way from the nearby mountains. The view of the terrain that rolls gently to the end of Java, dips drastically into the Strait. And rising far out to sea as Krakatoa.
I’m sure Krakatoa saw us wink at her from the main land. And one day, no doubt, she’d return her own.