Yet another volcano in the bag

If you've been following my blog for some time you may be aware that I have a ridiculous desire to climb mountains. But not just any old mountain, I love volcanoes. Active volcanoes are fascinating, with their sulphur spewing vents and that sense of being close to something that feels alive and unpredictable. Call me an adventure junkie if you will, but once you've seen one volcano they almost become an addiction. No two are the same, and you can't help but be mesmerised by the immensity and power of them.

Now desire is one thing, the required physical fitness to achieve it is quite another. See the thing about volcanoes is they really are the stereotypical cone mountain. They require considerable effort to climb up, often over fairly steep slippery scree, and there's no respite from the continuous rise in altitude. You climb up, and up, and up and up, then when you get to the top, you get to turn around go down and down and down and down again. You need strong legs, or in my case, bloody mindedness makes up for the shortcoming in the legs department.

Sure I'd been skiing for a month just prior to leaving for Indonesia, but it's over a month since I'd done any more strenuous activity than a 7km shuffle around Laruntuka one evening. You can't train for a climb except by climbing, and well, I'd not been doing that had I? Plus the swelling in my injured knee hasn't completely resolved such that I still can't fully extend it, so it was going to be one big test of both fitness and determination.

Of course I did it, but I was a complete blithering mess by the time I hobbled back to my homestay 12 hours later!

It started with an SMS to my ojek driver to pick me up from the hotel in Lewoleba at 2pm on Sunday afternoon. That morning I had a sleep in and a late breakfast, then packed my bags. I bought a couple of bottles of water to pour into the hydration bag I'd brought especially and some biscuits and lollies for energy. Aside from the clothes I'm wearing, I throw in my puffer jacket and my long sleeved shirt, my trekking poles, the tripod head and puffer jacket, and it all fits in the small daybag I've got. I'm only taking the one lens, the wide angle. I decide to pack the poncho and the dry bag in case of rain. I also bring some extra cash, just in case some ikat takes my fancy. I leave the big bag at the hotel, no problem.

After a couple of missed calls, my ojek driver arrives a little earlier, and we are away. He goes clockwise around Ili Api, obviously the shorter and better maintained route. It takes less than an hour and costs me 50,000Rp. He can't take me back tomorrow as he has a meeting in Lewoleba all day, starting at 8am, so he arranges for his younger brother to take me back. I get taken to meet the Kepala Desa (village headman), and we sit around by the beach for a while. They offer me some local arak, which is rather soapy and not quite to my taste so I just have a small amount. Unfortunately they don't offer me some beer. They are all lovely and friendly, and after a while Mr Lintus shows up, who is to be my guide tomorrow. He then takes me off to Mama Essie's house, where I will stay. I meet her husband, Pak Tinus (short for Justinus), and a gaggle of kids which I gather are extended family. 

I'm given a room at the front of the house that catches a little of the sea breeze but it's still very hot. I try for a sleep but it's hard when the humidity is so high. Just before sunset I head down to the beach and catch an amazing red ball setting over the sea. I've only got the wide angle unfortunately, but I still manage to get some nice shots. The locals are gathering fish that they've been drying on the hot rocks on the beach, not the nicest smell in the world!

Back at the homestay I have a mandi. Mama Essie gives me a towel and sarong to use, then I have a meal and head early to bed to try and get some sleep. We plan to leave at 1am as it's a long way from here though apparently less steep than going the Jontona route.

Mama Essie wakes me before 1 and insists that I have something to eat. I eat a little rice and vegetables, but can't stomach much else at that time of the morning. Then we wait for Mr Lintus to turn up. He's a little late, arriving about 1:20, but we are soon on our way. I have my little head torch, it's not as bright as Mr Lintus' light but it's good enough for me to see where I'm going. The path begins from behind the village. We go up some steps, stop at his house for him to grab his backpack and parang, then we walk up more steps to where the old village, or rumah adat is. I can't see much in the dark, but am looking forward to seeing it on the way down.

Then we begin along a path through fields of corn and other crops, and past a pig. We are joined by three teenage boys, one of whom is Lintus' son, who accompany us on the climb.

It's a slow steady climb, following a ridge the entire way up. Early on Lintus needs to hack a way through the undergrowth, as it's likely we are the first ones on this route this year. He obviously knows the route really well, and I'm glad I have a guide as there's absolutely no way I could have done this without one. Especially not at night.

Later, as we ascend further we are in a eucalypt forest with low grass and rocky ground. The route is a slow steady climb, always upwards, continuously following the same ridge, till at last, a little after 7am, we arrive at the crater rim. 

When we get to the top we can't see down into the crater due to cloud, but after waiting a while the entire crater clears and I can see the fumaroles spewing sulphurous steam from the Jontona side of the rim. It's pretty impressive, and I'm glad I'm on this side. It's possible to walk right around the crater rim, and to walk down into the crater. Many have, as can be seen by the names written in stone on the white sand, but I know I have to get back down the mountain again, and that that's going to tax me even more than the climb up, so I decline the offer to join the boys who head off for an explore, and just sit down and rest my legs for a while.

We all snack up the top, and I sit in the sun while my clothes dry out. I have been dripping with sweat something dreadful, and am thankful that the weather on top is just the right temperature, not cold at all, but also not nastily hot. I'm sure once the sun has been up a few hours it would be pretty hot, but at 7:30 am it's very pleasant indeed.

We didn't manage to get to the top in time for the actual sunrise, as I was just too slow. I saw it from lower down and it was still spectacular. That light first thing in the morning really is magic.

Having brought the tripod attachment all the way up the mountain, there was nothing for it but to pull it out and set up the tripod using my poles and take some selfies with the timer. Once I'd worked out where the hell the timer was!! I'm really happy with the set up, but wouldn't want my camera to be any heavier than it is as I don't think the third pole offers a very steady option. Should I take a third trekking pole with me on the Bibbulman track later this year, rather than the thin one?? Food for thought….

The views from the top are magnificent. You could see Adonara's Ili Boleng, and Larantuka's Ili Mandiri in one direction, and Pantar and even Alor in the other. 

Then we had to head down again. Having climbed quite a few mountains by now I know exactly how hard the descent can be. It's usually a lot tougher on the legs, especially the knees, than the ascent, and it's where the poles really come into play. I extended mine out to their longest setting, tightened my shoelaces, and began the terrible way down. 

I'm really happy with my shoes though. The Salomon's have been really comfortable to wear and have reasonable grip and I haven't felt that I needed bigger heavier boots. Lintus is wearing crocs, the boys just have thongs!

The first bit is over vegetated scree and rock which is very slippery, and despite my poles I have a few falls onto my backside. I try to not rely on the poles too much, but I'm keen to save my quads a bit of pain.

As expected, the way down is torture. I go slowly and carefully, but the going is tough and I reckon it takes me almost as long to get down as it took climbing. I take few rests on the early part of the descent, but towards the end I am absolutely beat. Luckily Lintus opens up a young coconut for me and I greedily guzzle the lot, a welcome refreshment which I relish. My 2.5L of water has been drunk by the time we get down to the old village.

The old village is a collection of 34 grass huts, which is only occupied in July when they celebrate the peanut festival, or Pesta Cabang. There's a large stone quadrangle, where we stop for another rest, and Lintus talks to a couple of ladies who live up there, one of whom offers me a bag of jagung titi, which is the local popcorn. I don't take her up on her offer, by now I am so exhausted I can hardly talk. I also don't take any photos, as the village just looks like a bunch of huts, nothing that really stands out as photogenic. Plus, I'm fucked!

We head down the steps, much easier to negotiate than uneven stones, and get to Lintus's place. There we stop for some water, and I am offered tea, but all I can think about is getting a wash. Even if it means falling into the sea I am so hot, so sweaty, absolutely filthy and just so freaking exhausted. Lintus writes down on a piece of paper my bill: 350,000Rp, more than double what the chaps had told me the other day. I don't argue, I just pay him, thankful I brought the extra cash with me. Then we head back down to Mama Essie's, via a shortcut which is more uneven stones, and really, I would have happily taken the longer way round and done that last bit down the concrete steps. We stop at one lady's place to look at some ikat scarves. They are cheap, but I prefer the wider sarong size, and anyway, I'm just too exhausted to care right now.

At Essie's I am instructed I can't shower straight away as I need the sweat to dry off a little. Given that I never stop sweating in this weather, it's unlikely that will ever happen. They put the fan on for me which is a bit of a help, but I am truly a mess.

I have a mandi and change into the long sleeved shirt. I'd not needed it for the walk as it hadn't ever been cold, so it's clean, and not sweaty, whereas my black polo is soaked with sweat. I have to put my bra and knickers back on, but that's OK, and I have the option to mandi again back at the hotel and change into clean clothes. My trousers are filthy, and I discover that my shoes let dirt in, so my toes are also filthy. Ah well, being goretex free and easy drying, I guess the air and dirt goes in as well as out!

By now my feet, especially the balls of my feet, are quite sore. I was concerned that my toes might get bruised, as the shoes weren't quite tight enough to stop my feet slipping forward against the front of the shoes, but aside from being a little red and sore, my toes are fine. The mandi is wonderful. Throwing cold water over my body never felt so good, and soaping all that filth and sweat off me makes me feel so much better.

Essie gives me a meal, and suggests I have a sleep, but I'm keen to get back to town to change clothes and pack and get some food for the overnight boat trip. I explain that if my legs get cold they'll seize up and I won't be able to walk, so I'm best to leave now. They send one of the girls off to find my ojek driver, then make me a cup of coffee. Once I've drunk that I say my goodbyes. I asked Essie how much she wanted for the homestay and she says it's up to me. I give her 100,000Rp and she is delighted, really delighted. So much happiness for a mere $10!

The ride back in to town is uneventful. I walk in to Hotel Rejeki, repack my main bag, go off and get some food for the night ferry and take an ojek to Waijarang where I need to take the ferry  to Alor from.

I am exhausted, a little sore, and ready to sleep on an overnight ferry. That's next...

It just had to be in monochrome, well mostly....

With only 2 ferries a week heading to Kalabahi from Lembata I have the choice to leave in one day and miss out on seeing a few places, or stay another five days and spend some time staying in local villages. I'd never really contemplated the former, and with an itinerary that was always flexible to change I felt happy to be spending over a week on this wonderfully friendly island. Particularly as I'd been looking forward to visiting a small coastal village in Southern Lembata, called Lamalera. This village is famous because the people continue the centuries old tradition of sustainable whale fishing.

Lamalera is in a glorious coral reef fringed bay, with a black sand beach and rocky headlands. It's a good 3 hour ride in a bus or truck, along potholed, barely surfaced roads to this little village where there are a few simple homestays available for those hardy tourists willing to brave the discomfort of getting there. The people are friendly, relaxed, and, surprisingly for a village which has had tourist trade for a long time, not at all pushy about selling their wares. The ikats I am shown are made from handspun cotton, use natural dyes, and feature motifs of sea creatures like mantas.

As you come into the town you are greeted by an avenue of whale bones lining the road. Yes, it feels surreal.

Down on the beach are the first tourists I have seen since Larantuka, although I haven't had a conversation with another foreigner since Sunset Cottages at Maumere. These ones aren't particularly friendly, and the next day they've all left, despite one couple arriving the same time in the afternoon as me. Now that's travelling a bit too fast for my comfort! I have checked in to Mama Maria's Homestay, and am her only guest, the others are obviously staying elsewhere.

The entire length of the beach houses locally built boats sheltered in lontar palm thatched boat sheds, which also hold the fishing gear, an assortment of livestock, and drying produce from their fishing expeditions. There is the unmistakeable smell of whale blubber which wafts around the entire village. It's not overpowering, but it's always there.

The whaling season starts on the 1st of May and continues through till October. Purpose built boats, which are rowed, not machine driven, are used to hunt their prey. In fact, as Jeffry, Maria's son, explains, they don't consider it to be hunting, because the whales are seen as ancestors that are being given back to them by a higher being. They catch 20-30 whales a year, and have been given exemption from any international anti-whaling laws due to their continuance of traditional fishing in a sustainable way. They even continue to barter whale meat with nearby villages for other food supplies, although a cash economy is also present.

My first evening I enjoy the sunset, and watch a group of men return in a boat and drag it up the beach to its little shed. The boats are treated with great care and respect here, no standing out in the sun for these important tools of their trade.  Each has a home, is regularly painted, and the roofs are continuously rethatched to keep the weather out.

My three days are spent doing little. I wander up the hill to get some panoramic views of the little bay with its coral reef. 

I go snorkelling then supervise the kids as they all take turns borrowing my goggles. Like kids everywhere, they get greedy and someone needs to make sure the older kids give the younger ones a turn. I am impressed by the cleanliness of the town and beach, and there is very little litter anywhere. Jeffry says it's because there is little plastic used here, the villagers still use a lot of environmentally friendly products. One afternoon I sit and watch the men making the Lontar palm thatching, everything is fully biodegradable, not even string is used.

I visit the barter market. It used to be further away but there was a dispute over land, and now the market is much closer to the village. I join many women walking up the hill with produce in baskets on their heads, hoping to exchange it for other goods. I notice there is also a cash economy, it's not simply barter only, and there are also traders there from Lewoleba. The whale meat is traded far and wide, in fact my hosts in Larantuka showed me some that they had.  It looks and smells horrid.

On Saturday morning I am sad to leave. It's a 3am start for the bus back to Lewoleba. By 6:30am I am deposited outside the Hotel Rejeki and have to decide whether I head off to climb a volcano tomorrow, or leave it till my final day. In the end I opt for the comfort of a cool dark room and put off the pain for another day.

But I will be climbing that volcano, I've booked my transport now.

Oh gosh, that's going to be next…..

Lembata, ikat hunting again

After the weirdly aggressive people of Adonara, it's a joy to be on the relaxed island of Lembata. Aside from the ferry breaking down 30 minutes into the crossing, and us drifting for a while whist the engine was repaired, the crossing was uneventful. At the ferry dock the transport mafia wanted a ridiculous 10,000Rp for what is a short stroll in to town. Instead, I walked.

I was hoping to find the Lile Ili Homestay, but, as I found out a couple of days later, it is no longer operational. Instead I stayed at the Hotel Rejeki, which is run by Richard, who speaks good English and is very helpful for travel advice. Just below the hotel on the waterfront is a small Bajo stilt village, and the people are gentle, friendly and very happy for me to visit and take photos. The difference in the temperament of the people here on Lembata is striking, they are relaxed and genuinely friendly. I feel I'm going to like this place a lot.

I wander around town, having conversations with local people, taking pictures of kids and adults alike, and enjoying being back with friendly people.

That evening I have a wonderful meal of crispy fried chicken with a seriously wicked sambal. After the boring food of Maumere, we are back to hot spicy food again. Halelujah! The fingers on my eating hand tingle for hours that evening, god knows what it's doing to my insides!

The next day I hire a motorbike from Richard, in order to do the loop around Ili Api. Ili Api is a volcano which sits on a peninsula north of town, and there is a very scruffy road which winds through coastal villages all the way around it. It is also the region for good quality ikats and it is from some of the villages that one starts the climb to the top of the volcano.

I head off around 9am, carefully negotiating the pothole ridden poor excuse for a road. Luckily, there is minimal traffic to deal with, and once outside town, almost no other vehicles at all. I take an anticlockwise route, heading along the western flank of the mountain, hoping to find the village of Jontona, the traditional starting point for the climb. Unfortunately, I don't work out which scruffy village it is, but do stop at a few places along the way for some photography, and then turn into a very cute town on the north coast, to ask around about skates.

The town I turn into is Lamagute, and there is a lady weaving in the shade just where I stop. A group of men come over to talk and we discuss climbing the mountain. They suggest leaving at 3 in the morning to make the sunrise, and say it's possible for me to stay overnight in the village. We discuss guide prices, and the cost of being picked up from Lewoleba by ojek, and exchange phone numbers. Phone service is poor here, so I am instructed to SMS only. I take a few pictures of the lady weaving, then say my goodbyes.

Just down the road I find a nice shady cove to have lunch, some leftover biscuits from yesterday, and have a chat with a couple of old ladies spinning cotton. Then it's back on the bike for the second half of the circumnavigation.

The road continues to be poor, but then I see a road off to the right which is smoothly asphalted and I decide to turn down it, hoping there will be a nice beach and the opportunity for a swim at the end of the road. The road stays good most of the way out to the tip of land on the very north west of the peninsula and there is indeed a jetty that I can swim off. Of course there is also a gaggle of young boys to contend with, one of whom is fascinated by my nose. Not sure if he was being cheeky or was a little simple, but they were all perfectly harmless, and certainly not camera shy.

The final ride back to town is along more potholed roads, but by now I am feeling much more confident in my bike handling. I'm fully aware of how easy it is to have an accident on a bike, so I continue to maintain a high level of care and refuse to become complacent. I really must get myself a bike licence when I get home, it just makes any travel insurance claims possible should an accident occur.

Tomorrow I'm off to Lamalera, a traditional whale fishing village on the south coast of Lembata.

See you when I get back!!