Thurs 12th March: Javan coffee, Volcanoes and Mistair Alex Fergee

We arrived in Probolinggo around 3am. By my clock it was 4am but I didn't realise the was an hours difference between Bali and Java. I had asked the driver to drop me off at the bus station where I would wait until 6am to get a bus up to Cemoro Lawang high up in the mountains. The driver, however drops me off at his company offices in town. Before I realise it I'm discussing a combination ticket up to Cemoro Lawang and on to Surakarta (Solo) for tomorrow. I'm very tired so I'm equally suspicious of the guy. I don't trust anyone offering deals at 4am in the morning or geezers who call me 'my friend'. However the deal turns out to be ok once its broken down.

I have to wait in the office for an hour or so while we wait on the transport. There's a tv on showing Man U v Inter Milan in the Champions League. There's a group of lads in watching it struggling to stay awake at this hour. THere's been a couple of bets put on the game and the guy I've been dealing with has lost 50,000 (EU 3.00). I wonder has he bumped an extra 50,000 on to my ticket to cover his losses. THis is what I've hated about the backpacking. If I was on my bike none of this double dealing/second guessing would occur. I'd be doing my own thing.

One of the lads brings me a freshly brewed cup of local Javan coffee. I sit back to relax and watch the game. The match is into the 2nd half when I start watching. I think Man U are already 1-0 up. There's a local Indonesian commentator calling the match for this station. The only thing I can understand as I sip my Javan coffee are the repeated references to 'Mistair Alex Fergee'. I begin to enjoy the heady mix of coffee and Fergee at 3.30am in Java. Man U seemed to have a smooth blend over the full roasted Inter and by the final whistle the full ground with fans full of beans with the win Mistair Alex Fergee could no doubt savour the flavour of another decaffinated victory with Jose Mourinho......., Actually........... isn't it fine Maderan wine they tend to drink together, or was that just sour grapes???? Whats that??.... a little milk and one sugar, please. Thanks.

By 4.30am I'm taken by motorbike 6km out to the edge of town to meet a minibus heading for the mountains. I'm on the back while the rider balances my rucksack between his knees at the front. It all feels so clandestine. Negotiations at 3am. Predawn rides to meet an unknown contact on the edge of town. Lads, to be fair. All I want to do is see a volcanoe not hidden treasure.!!! I'm dropped off at the local market where the driver is waiting to fill up with housewives who have come into town to buy produce at the market. The market, at this hour, is in full swing. BOth sides of the road are lined with stalls or groundsheets arrayed with fruit, veg or cereals. Women walk about gracefully with their shopping in baskets upon their heads. The dim light of dawn increases as pink streaks light up the sky with the sunrise. The market is lovely and cool with no sun beating down and trade is brisk. The market will be well finished by 9am and before the real heat of the day has kicked in.

Passengers are rounded up. The larger, buky luggage gets stowed on the roof while the smaller baskets come into the main cab. A woman sitting beside me has a selection of fruit and veg I have never seen before. Finally we leave for the mountains. FOr the next 90 mins we climb through some fairly dramatic scenery. THere is some fairly intensive agriculture here. Rice paddies give way to every concievable type vegetable. Onions, carrots, Potatoes, cabbages, vegetables I don't recognise all stretch up the sides of the valleys. The landscape is a mottled chequerbpard pattern of greens and browns. People in the fields tending the crops are bent down low as they work diligently. We stop in each small village along the way, dropping people off, picking people up. Some schoolkids get on. The older lads clamber up onto the roof. We pass groups of children in uniform walking along the roadside to school. Each school has its own uniform. All the kids are turned out immaculately.

I have to change minibuses at Sukapura and we're off on the last leg of the journey. We're in the high mountain valleys now. We pass through the pretty village of Ngadisiri and crawl the remaining 3km up steep mountain roads to Cemoro Lawang. I'm dropped off at the hostel and showed to my room. Its as simple a room as you'll find. Its cold up here. We're now over 2,000m up. THere was a very threadbare looking blanket on my bed so I nicked a second one from the adjoining room hoping it would remain vacant for tonight.

Cemoro Lawang is a small, sleepy village with a dramatic location. Its perched at the top of a steep valley on the rim of a massive volcanic crater of Mt Bromo. The diameter must be a good 4 miles wide. In the center of the crater rise a number of younger craters. Gunung Batok rises up with a classic cone shape. Beside it the gaping, active crater of Gunung Bromo itself belches a constant cloud of brilliant white sulphurous vapour into the atmosphere.

The hostel overlooks the crater and the view this morning was spectacular. The smoking volcanoes stood out impressively against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. Two plumes rose into the sky. The brilliant white of Bromo and, in the distance, the grey brown plume from Mt Semeru which rises to some 3,700m.

I was tired after the overnight journey. I lay down for about 90mins before heading for the volcanoes. I woke up and struggled up bleary eyed. Outside everything had changed. The blue skies had disappeared, replaced by clouds. With this the temperature had dropped and it was quite cool. Still it was a nice change from the heat, humidity and mosquitoes. I struck out for the volcanoes. I climbed down to the crater floor and followed a small trail across 3km of flat sandy terrain to to the first of the small volcanoes, Mt Batok. The sides of the volcanoe were steep and covered in gorse. It got steeper the closer you got to the summit but it wasn't difficult following the tiny track that winds its way up the slope. I spent an hour at the summit of Batok looking around its dormant crater taking in the views, looking down into the wide, smoking mouth of Mt Bromo.

Descending Batok in bright sunshine the temperatures quickly rose while the sky remained clear of clouds. I reached the sandy base and strolled over to Mt Bromo. I was looking forward to seeing this active crater and imagined seeig a gaping mouth of bubbling lava but when I reached the crater rim and peered down it was very different. Down in the bottom of the crater there was a small opening through which the vapours billowed. There was a continuous soft hiss. Members of a local mountaineering club had climbed down into the crater and written the name of their village in rocks beside the open vent. Alongside me were 4-5 local lads from a nearby village. They had come over on motorbikes and were loungin around on the crater rim smoking and snacking on peanuts and jasmine tea. They had English and we chatted briefly. It appears its a common outing for locals to take a spin over to Mt Bromo of an afternoon.

I started back to Cemoro Lawang. At the base of Bromo there was an old guy with a motorbike who offered a lift up to the village. At first I refused but feeling tired a motorbike ride back sounded good. I went back and we bargained a price, agreed on 10,000 rupiahs, and I climbed aboard behind the auld lad. 15mins later I was back at the village.

During the evening fog descended over the village. The volcanoes had disapeared behind a veil of mist. I bumped into a Scandinavian couple from Finland, Alex and Marianne. They had arrived during the afternoon and were going to head for Bromo for sunrise in the morning. They were a lovely couple and I ended up spending the evening with them, chatting over dinner as we watched the fog become heavier, swirling around the windows of the restaurant. By 9pm I wa wrecked I would be up again around 3.30am for a sunrise trip high into the mountains so I went to bed. It was cold in the room. On top of the two threadbare blankets that covered my bed I bundled my coat and all my warm clothes over me to avoid shivering through the night.