Records

mount bromo

7° 56' 34.6740'' S 112° 57' 11.4696'' E

pantai sukamade

8°33'43.7"S 113°53'09.5"E

landed in surabaya.

“We are now driving to see Mount Bromo” said hanif at 10pm.

straightaway our car vanished from the city light into highways, racing the lorries, as if all cars are maneuvering at the same speed on a treadmill.my driver, who remembers every next turn drove by one after another subtly lit village along the curved hilly road.


at a drop of 10 degree in two hours, we began the hilly part with a red jeep, where we crossed the sand field at the foot of mount bromo.


occasionally there’s shooting stars above, while a track of light sparkled on ground as the jeeps dashed across the darkness.

(→ swipe the pictures!)

here comes the sun, here comes the sun. a french lady playing the song on her phone, shivering and pondering her sights towards the greyish blue horizon.

we all quietly waited, hearing the sound of someone puffing breath into her hands. the horizon changes its pantone, from black diamond blue, to misty grey, and flamish dye of pink and orange.

its more beautiful than mount fuji.
perhaps is how i observed different groups of indonesians families, with them wrapped in winter clothing, grannies and kiddos smiling and enjoying themselves under this warm light made me felt so.

there jumping onto the jeep again, we hit the road to climb the crater, breathing in ashes that’s thousands old.

eventually, my hair, nose, possibly anywhere on my body was painted with the volcano ash when resisting the gusts of winds that shook the car.

the myth believed in sacrifices to the mother crater, when they used to bring cows to the top. after years of modification, only beautiful flowers are brought to calm the whispering crater.


climbing the crater steps are similar to walking in the snow. on the steep steps, you watch the foot in front of yours sunk into the layers of sand, with the pile of ashes piled onto your steps that you are climbing over.

the next day we left farms on steeps, and passed through one of the last barriers of jungles in java. the dense layers of green protect the last beach bay in west java, untouched for the visits of sea turtles for egg nesting.

our jeep vanished into the forest during the time of dawn, where i vaguely saw silhouettes of java islands at the open sea behind the trees setting into purple blue nights, when i began to believe in some 18th century oil paintings i had once seen in museums.

arrived in utter darkness, only accompanied by a source of flashlight, whistle of leaves, and sound of wave splashes on our way walking to the beach. i felt droplets of the waves, but had no idea how monumental the waves were until i stepped out of the forest. there were currents of 1-2 meters high white colors splashed into the darkness, with a backdrop of astrological canvas that tightly wrapped around you, not a single corner is not filled with stars.

we waited in silence, forbidding any light and sound emission that may alarm the turtles. we track stars and satellites on the bed of cold sands, while awaiting for the findings from the 3 rangers stationed along the 3 kilometer beach.

after an hour, they spotted a turtle. out of the mere darkness and chill, it was impossible for me to understand how could a turtle be spotted without a light on. as i followed their treks on the wet sand, i saw subtle dots of lights glowed wherever they stepped on.
”its minerals hidden among the sand.” said the locals. as you dragged your feet along the wet sand, once the minerals exposed to the air, the pitch of sand will glow.

unbelievable findings occurred sequentially, as they pointed the sea turtle in front of me in the dark, i began to outline a figure that was almost a stretch of 2/3 human’s height, slowly mobilizing itself in front of us.

“after it laid the eggs, it is on its way returning to the ocean.”

"but how do they know, where to go?”

“they have a memory plankton. they will forever remember the first sight of white waves as baby turtles, and this defined the rest of their home compass in their lives.”

the giant turtle then climbed to the edge of the waves, setting off itself to swim in the thick splashes, and in seconds being engulfed and disappeared.

”it may be 40 years ago, where this turtle was born on this beach. now is their babies turn to depart.”

(the dented sand pitches on the beaches, are traces of the nest dug by the turtles.)

in the end of trip while resting at hanif’s friend place (where he built and designed the whole hut himself), hanif asked, “are you thirsty?” then dashed to the coconut trees climbing up bare foot, and got me dozens of coconuts. this trip would not have felt completed, without hanif, and his driver friend.

best gratitude to him. see you again soon.