Ring of Fire - Live Update #27

Bogor, West Java, Indonesia - March 23rd 2004

Krakatau and my Sweetheart!

Two weeks ago In Tanjung Pinang, before setting for Singapore on Wave Master speed ferry, Janick could feel this trip was almost over. The impression must have made its way deeper into my partner's psyche - or was it some unique intuition - for when we got to Singapore she decided to put an end to it and seized the opportunity to fly back to Canada. The woman who has been an inspiration throughout the whole "Ring of Fire Part 2" endeavour (by far, the most challenging mountain-bike trek our spirits ever undertook), not to mention the radiating sun she's been for me since the first day we met, left a month early to prepare the grounds for yet another start-from-scraps-home return, and surround her godchild and his beloved parents with affection. That's my sweetheart!

In the meantime, before our upcoming reunion in Vancouver, I'm re-entering Bintan Island and Indonesia in order to pay a visit to fabled Krakatau, the westernmost volcano of "our" Ring of Fire. Along with its fellow neighbours of the huge Sunda volcanic arc that stretches some 3,000 kilometers roughly from Flores to Sumatra, it technically and tectonically is off the Ring. I plan to pedal to and around other quick-tempered mountains of West and Central Java. Ring of Fire part 3 will deal with the remaining volcanoes of Indonesia: the ones on East Java, Bali, Lombok, East Nusa Tenggara and North Sulawesi!

Following a white night at Singapore Changi International Airport, soaking up all of Janick's company before her 6:00 a.m. departure, I rode to the Tanah Merah ferry terminal and got myself a ticket for the next day's sailing to Bintan. After another night of free and legal camping (in Singapore East Coast National Park this time) my tent pitched by a picnic table and a spic-n-span clean barbie pit on a patch of well-manicured turf squeezed between the bikepath and the Malacca strait, I joined in with a boat load of Singaporean weekend bargain hunters, golf players and simple pleasure-seekers. In Indonesia, one can smoke and spit anywhere without fear of being fined. On the other side of the strait, as they all got swallowed by tour buses, I pedalled across the island to the port of Kijang where I could get on a PELNI passenger ship to Tanjung Priok, Jakarta's harbour: a 30-hour "light sentence!"

Greater Jakarta, known as Jabotabek, ranks as one of the world's largest conurbations along with Mexico City and Sao Paulo. Zones like that are mostly characterised by extreme density and intensity of traffic, smog, noise and stench. Jakarta is no exception! To ride the 15-20K between Tanjung Priok and the centre seemed to take an eternity or few seconds - I was definitely wasted on fumes. My eyes and throat were scorched by pollution, and my skull was pressing on my brain like a vise! There was something exhilarating about it: all the buzzing, dizzying activity whirling around me and my vessel. I stayed a couple of days around Jalan Jaksa area, a countryside-like friendly neighbourhood catering mainly to the needs of welcome budget travelers. It's kind of an oasis amid the overwhelming expanses of concrete, plaster, tar, tiles, metal and glass. It was a long enough stay to organise my next moves on Java, and back to Canada.

Heading to the western tip of Java and the Sunda strait coast first, in order to avoid crossing the southwestern quarters of Jabotabek and causing more damages to my already-deficient brain cells, I gave the train a try and got myself a $0.80 ticket to Serang. That was quite a deal considering that Serang lies some 90K away from Jakarta's center. This was a 3-hour ride of pure unreality! There were people all over the train: crowding inside the toilets, hanging onto the sides, on the roof, finding room even inside the locomotive and around the driver's seat! You might wonder where I was with my 50-kilo burdened faithful mount amid that lively, rolling and roaring jungle. Thanks to the amazing tolerance and readiness of my fellow passengers, we stood right in one of the cars' entrances where people had to climb over and crawl around my gear, wheel and tubes to either get on or off the crazy train. All the while never failing to greet me with a genuine smile!

Got kidnapped upon arrival in Serang by a group of eager English teachers sharing a house in this university and industrial town. We chatted for a while and went for some great food. I camped in their lounge room along with a couple of scooters. That's how I found myself spending one hour the next morning "lecturing" amused students of a Muslim high school. In front of the entire class, one of the male students even invited me to climb Gunung Sari, an extinct volcano in Serang's backyard. I had other plans for the weekend: getting to Krakatau - or what's left of it!

Located in the middle of the Sunda strait, halfway between Java and Sumatra, in 1883 Krakatau was the scene of one of the largest eruption mankind has ever known. The sound of the blast, estimated at a force equivalent to some 2,000 Hiroshima nuclear bombs, was heard as far as Perth, Australia and Sri Lanka! Tsunamis with 40-meter high waves rushing at over 500 km/h to the neighbouring coasts and destroyed many a village and killed some 36,000 people. In the words of Ruper Furneau in his 1965 book Krakatoa:

"At 10 o'clock plus two minutes, three-quarters of Krakatoa island, 11 square miles of its surface, an area not much less than Manhattan, a mass of rock and earth one and one-eighth cubic miles in extent, collapsed into a chasm beneath. Nineteen hours of continuous eruptions had drained the magma from the chamber faster than it could be replenished from below. Their support removed, thousands of tons of roof rock crashed into the void below. Krakatoa's three cones caved in. The sea bed reared and opened in upheaval. The sea rushed into the gaping hole. From the raging cauldron of seething rocks, frothing magma and hissing sea, spewed and immense quantity of water. From the volcano roared a mighty blast, Krakatoa's death cry, the greatest volume of sound recorded in human history."

In 1928, from the wombs of the submarine caldera, whose contour is drawn by the islands of Rakata, Sertung and Panjang, a baby volcano was born: Anak Krakatau (literally "Child Krakatau"). Active and growing, it is now rising some 200 meters above the Sunda strait. On a last and entertaining ride on choppy seas - the outboard ride for this leg of the expedition - I got to both Rakata and Anak Krakatau where I did some "fakir-walking" crisscrossing its steaming sulphur vents covered summit in mere sandals!

It was a great ride from Serang to the coast via byways snaking up and down through the forest and rice terrace-clad heart of the Danau volcanic complex - a wide and extinct caldera this one - all the way to the beach resort of Anyer and onwards to Carita where I found a boat to take me to Krakatau. Leaving the coast and skirting mountains Pulasari and Karang, the two main cones of the Danau field, I kept on travelling on a winding and nervous stretch of pavement lining the northern edges of West Java's volcanic backbone, slaloming amidst more rice paddies speckled by red-tiled roofs villages. Lots of hectic scooters, minibuses and "Hello Misterrrrrrrrrrrrs" - all annoying extras - flying by along the way!

I just arrived in Bogor, a busy hill-town hugging the foot of majestic Salak volcano. Got myself a huge room with sky-high ceilings in a very pleasant Dutch-colonial mansion converted into budget accommodation. Will walk down the street to get a cold beer and sit at a "warung makan" (food stall) to indulge in succulent sate, gado gado or Padang masakan, Janick's favourite!