The Bali Bubble

With no plan, we started our day with a surprisingly excellent breakfast, which was included in our £4 room rate. We set off, then arrived at the ferry port and joined the short queue of waiting cars and bikes. Amongst the little scooters was something we hadn't expected to see – another pair of overlanders Manu and Ivana. It was a lovely surprise, and it turned out that they were also acquainted with Frank, one of the German bikers we had met in Laos. The world of overland travelling is rather a small one I suppose. It wasn't a long crossing by any means, but with Manu and Ivana to talk to the time passed quickly, even if we did have to shout over the din of Indo-pop blasting from the speakers.

Once we had had our licences checked by the police (same for all scooter riders) and exited the port, we waved goodbye to the others and got on our way towards northern Bali. The quality of the road was excellent, much better than we had dared to hope. The driving also seemed to be immediately better than the standard we had become used to in Sumatra and Java, which was an added bonus. We cruised along at a very decent average speed (for Indonesia), eventually turning off from the coast and heading south through the centre of the island.

The road here changed to a narrow, steep pass, snaking its way over the mountains. It was at this point that we decided to take back our earlier statement that the driving was better in Bali. The cause of this retraction was the seemingly endless coaches. The drivers of these just careered down the mountain at dangerous speeds, not being at all fussy about sticking to their side of the road. We had to dive out of the way several times, leading us to wonder what they would do if they came around a blind bend to see a 4x4 rather than our relatively narrow bike.

The traffic on the descent was almost solid, a reminder of what it was like in Malaysia's Cameron Highlands. We negotiated it as best we could, overtaking wherever it was safe to do so. Things did eventually start to flow a little better as the road straightened out, but the going was still pretty slow.  Oli was following behind a 4x4 and trying to overtake, when suddenly they just slammed the brakes on. Oli did likewise, but it wasn't quite enough. We ran into the back of them, hitting the rear bumper with our front tyre, bouncing off, and crashing over. I got thrown slightly further than Oli, but got up pretty speedily when I realised I was lying in the opposite lane.

Although a little shocked we were totally unhurt, another testament to always making sure we wear our safety gear. Some local boys helped us pick up the bike, then we just gave everyone the thumbs up and carried on. Admittedly we should not have been following the car so closely, but the safe gap just doesn't exist in Indonesia. If we do try to leave one it just gets filled with scooters or the car behind overtakes and sits in it, which is a little frustrating. By no means do we ride recklessly, but Oli resolved to be even more cautious from that point onward. Still, it was a little ironic that we had made it through the worst of it (Sumatra and Java), only to have a crash in Bali.

Our accident had occurred only about twenty minutes before our destination. With our lack of research, we were headed to Ubud for no better reason other than Diah (our Medan CouchSurfing host) telling us it was nice. Thankfully for the last part of the drive we turned off the main road, and wound our way through increasingly narrow streets. The scenery was beautiful, with endless rice paddies stretching to the horizon. We also spotted plenty of examples of Balinese architecture, unique and interesting. We had never seen anything like this style of building before, and immediately started to appreciate why Bali is such a popular destination. Unlike most of Indonesia, Bali is strongly Hindu, which gives it a very different character.

We arrived in Ubud and commenced the search for rooms. We saw some beautiful places, but all were way outside of our ideal budget. We briefly considered treating ourselves, but decided we couldn't really justify the expense. We carried on looking, but were beginning to get a bit disheartened. The fact that it was a weekend definitely wasn't helping matters, as the more affordable places all seemed to be full. Seeing that we were looking for a room, a man approached us and said he had a place very nearby. We thought we might as well go and check it out, and were pleasantly taken aback to find that it was beautiful. Seeing the room we assumed it would also be out of our measly price bracket. When he said it was 200,000 (£10), we were so amazed we didn't even bother to haggle.

Whilst we had loved Sumatra and Java, they had taken it out of us. Our hotel was the perfect relaxation spot for us. We spent the next few hours just relaxing on our balcony, as well as taking ridiculously long showers. It had been a long time since we had enjoyed the luxury of hot water, and it really did feel like a treat. The bed was super comfy and enormous. We turned in early, and slept like babies.

We would have loved to do nothing the next morning, but really needed to try and sort our computer out. To do this, we just needed to download the Linux start-up file. The first net-cafe said the rate was 1000 rupiah a minute, twenty times the going rate in Java. Not willing to be ripped off we went to the next one, which was considerably cheaper. Unfortunately it filled up with teenage girls watching Indo-pop videos on YouTube. The bandwidth was pretty choked, and our file timed out after two hours. To add insult to injury, we also discovered that the crappy computers had filled our USB up with viruses.

We decided to abandon and try again later somewhere else. By this point it was high time for lunch, so when we stumbled across a veggie cafe it seemed like a good shout. The food was actually awesome, and we ended up going back for lunch the following two days as well. However, the clientèle were a little strange, even by Brighton standards. Ageing emo-skater dudes sat talking to Russell Brand look-a-likes, but the oddest people were dressed almost like slutty fairies. One lady was wearing a lace up top that was completely open at the front, meaning we could see way more than we bargained for. She had topped her outfit off with a wooden crown and feathers. Each to their own I suppose. We have to say though, after a long time in relatively conservative countries, the amount of both male and female flesh on display in Bali was definitely a shocker.

On the way home we decided to try another net-cafe. This time the file also failed after two hours, but only because the connection died. Thankfully the owner was a really decent guy, and downloaded it for us overnight without any extra charge. This did the trick, and after Oli did his thing we once again had working wi-fi on our computer.

With the computer fixed we felt we could get on with the important task of relaxing and recharging.  We caught up on our laundry, then went out to wander around town. Ubud is known as the cultural centre of Bali, and there certainly were a lot of interesting and classic buildings around to back this image up. However, we found it a bit of a strange place. It obviously attracts a lot of very rich tourists. The main tourist stretch is lined with exclusive boutiques and fancy restaurants on both sides. A lot of visitors were splashing some serious cash in the shops, and Oli and I were surprised to see so much designer ware on sale.

An obvious  and understandable effect of this is that many of the locals assume that everyone visiting town has this kind of money. Just walking 100m results in six or seven offers of taxis, with the drivers apparently unperturbed by the fact that we had already said no thanks to the previous guy. Sheltering from the rain, Oli and I spoke to a guy who started the conversation by pointing at Oli and saying “You, big money yeah?” I pointed to the holes in Oli's t-shirt, at which our new friend looked appalled. I should have shown him my shoe held together with string to finish it off. The joke of it was this guy owned ten motorbikes and had the kind of fancy phone Oli and I can only dream of these days. Of course we get that we are relatively wealthy compared to the average Indonesian, and we are incredibly lucky to be doing this trip, but regular assumption that we live a millionaire lifestyle gets really grating.

The next day we felt up to doing a little exploring. We had been a little shaken from the crash when we first drove towards Ubud, but were keen to go back and see the area again, hopefully appreciating it a little more. It ended up being well worth it, as we loved cruising past the picturesque rice fields, pretty villages, and endless temples. We finished up with a diversion to see some stunning rice terraces, truly the quiet, beautiful Bali of postcards. Sadly, our memory card decided this would be an excellent time to stop talking to our computer, so all of the photos are currently held hostage. Hopefully we will be able to sort it out at some point and update this, as they are rather lovely if we do say so ourselves.

That evening was our last in Ubud. We decided to treat ourselves to a nice meal out, and ate delicious thin based pizzas in a roof top restaurant, accompanied by fresh mint lemonade. Our extravagance cost us under £7, cheap by European standards, but way more than we would usually spend. We love Indonesian food, but it did feel great to eat something different for a change. It also felt a little odd to be sat in a proper restaurant with professional service. It was lovely don't get me wrong, just not what we are used to these days!

Leaving the next morning was difficult. We were pretty sure we weren't going to find such luxury again, but it had provided a very much appreciated respite from more rustic lodgings. We were also going to miss the mascot of the place, a very tiny, very fluffy toy dog called Dori. I usually don't understand the point of little dogs (apart from Pippin of course), but he was awesome, always insanely happy and excited to see anyone that cared to pay him attention. Those of you who have met Susie will know I appreciate this enthusiasm in a dog.

We were headed for Kuta. Originally this was somewhere we had sworn to avoid, but bike jobs made a visit essential. Noah (the American biker we met in Thailand) knew a guy that knew a guy, so we had arranged for our new tyre to be sent to them. Our contact Kusuma knew a backstreet mechanic specialising in dirt bikes, which was perfect for us.  Getting there took longer than planned, as helpfully our GPS was painfully unaware of the intricacies of Kuta's one way system. Nevertheless, we eventually made it. Three hours later, we had a new front tyre, fresh oil, and had sorted out the seized brake piston. In hindsight we may have bent the rim of the wheel a little when we crashed, as fitting the tyre was a  bit of a nightmare and took forever.

Our other reason to be in Kuta was entirely a good one. Darryl and Christine, the English couple we met in Laos, were due to fly in from New Zealand the next evening. They had let us know where they were staying, so we thought we might as well go and check it out. It was a lovely little family run place in the quiet back streets. Covered parking for the bike sealed the deal. We emailed Darryl and Christine to let them know that we had already settled into their hotel like creepy stalkers. Luckily they found this amusing rather than alarming, and declined to call the police.

We had opted to add breakfast to our room rate, as the price seemed really reasonable for what was being offered. When it arrived in the morning however, it was looking rather measly. The portion was so small that we assumed it was only for one of us, and that the other would be on its way shortly. When nothing else appeared Oli was dismayed, so went downstairs to check if it was a mistake. It turned out that the “breakfast included” offer meant only one per room. Not always the jolliest when he is hungry, Oli politely expressed his disappointment. This earned us a complimentary extra breakfast for the next day. Nice one.

As our friends weren't arriving until late the next evening, we thought we might as well make use of our day. Our last stop before Australia will be Timor Leste. Visa on arrival is only an option for the land border if you first obtain a letter permitting you to apply. Essentially this involves going through all the motions of a visa application, except for the actual payment and receipt of the visa itself. We had heard that it could take three days for the application to complete. If we were going to get it in Bali rather than West Timor we needed it the next day, so were hoping for the best.

All I can say is that if all officials were as lovely as the visa officer and security guard at the Timor Leste consulate, the world would be a better place. When we asked how long the process would take, we were told three days. Amazingly though, when we said that we had been hoping to get the letters the following day, we were told that it was no problem, and that we could come back tomorrow afternoon. We had come prepared with all the documents we needed, but hadn't realised we needed to provide passport style photos with a red background. I have no idea why it needed to be this colour, but we found somewhere to sort us out quickly. The pictures were so heavily air brushed they didn't really resemble us, but when we handed them in it didn't appear to be an issue. All in all, it was a very painless consulate visit.

Feeling productive, we carried on ticking jobs off our list. After visiting the post office, next up was exchanging some money. The currency in East Timor is the U.S. dollar, and we had read that finding an ATM outside of Dilli might be an impossibility. With this in mind we thought we had better have a little to start off with, especially as we would need to pay the visa fee at the border. The security guards were delighted with the bike, so we left them posing for photos whilst we did our thing. I guess if anyone was planning to rob the bank, that would have been a good time to go for it.

When we got back to our hotel, Oli decided it was time to clean the air filter. To be fair, it definitely needed it after a month on the Indonesian roads. Unfortunately for both of us, he also decided that the best place to clean it was the bathroom. The cleaning spray was a rather strong solvent, which was not ideal when combined with the not particularly well ventilated room. We both ran out to the balcony, where we had to sit for an hour with all the windows and doors open. Eventually the room was safe to re-enter, but we vowed to remember this event for future reference. 

Darryl and Christine arrived later that evening. Knowing that we were friends, the owner had given them the room next door to us. If they hadn't thought we were creepy before, surely they must have then! It was really great to see them both, and we all had a lot to catch up on. Since we saw them in Laos they had been travelling around Australia and New Zealand. We chatted for a few hours, before realising it was pretty late. It had been a very long day for them, so we thought we had better let them get to bed.

Whilst Darryl and Christine recovered from their journey and went to the beach, it was time for us to go and collect our letters. We battled through the Kuta traffic in the heat, cursing the terrible driving as usual. Whilst we were pretty sure we would get the letters with no problems, visa stuff always leaves me feeling a little apprehensive. We haven't actually had any difficulties with visas on the trip apart from not being granted our Pakistan ones, but I always still worry that they might get rejected for some spurious reason. As usual there was no need to stress, as our letters were ready and waiting for us to collect them.

Getting our visa authorisation letters completed our list of jobs for Bali. With a couple of hours to spare before night fall, we thought we should leave our back street haven and see what the tourist strip of Kuta was about. In all honesty, it was not for us. It seemed to cater to tourists that were keen to see the beach and go shopping, whilst simultaneously experiencing as little of the local culture as possible. A short walk was quite enough for us. We ended up diving into a supermarket to pick up something for breakfast, and were pretty amazed to see some of the items on offer. Surely nobody has ever woken up and thought “You know what I want? A chocolate and cheese doughnut!” On the off chance that anyone has though, such goods can be found in Kuta.

We had a dinner date with Darryl and Christine, eating at a good value place just around the corner from our hotel. They had collected some great stories since we had seen them in Laos, and the time passed ridiculously quickly. Being able to meet up again in Bali was such a bonus, and definitely the closest thing we have had to a social life for a while!

That evening was the last one for us in Kuta. We were headed for Padangbai the next morning, where we were hoping to meet up with Frank. In the event, his bike ended up being in the workshop for a day longer than planned. This meant he couldn't make it, but we still enjoyed the stop. Padangbai was a surprisingly pleasant little town, even if people did try to sell us boat tickets for the Gili islands every time we left our hotel. We used the afternoon to do a little Lombok research, then went out for a tasty meal.

When we woke the next morning we couldn't quite work out whether we were going to miss Bali or not. The beautiful landscapes were a huge point in its favour, and the easy availability of home comforts had been a nice treat after Sumatra and Java. However, tourism is very established there, and a lot of people make their living from this. This is all well and good, but sometimes the atmosphere was just too pushy for us, and we often felt like we were seen only as walking wallets.  When we contrasted this with how it was in Sumatra and most of Java, it seemed like a shame that things have gone this way in parts of Bali.

The ferry port was a thirty second drive from our hotel, so it wasn't exactly a taxing journey. We rolled straight on to a ferry, ready to sit out the four hour sailing to Lombok. As soon as we made it to the passenger deck we were pounced on by a lady selling coffee. We said no thank you, but she kept insisting, following us around as we looked for seats. We kept saying no thank you, then eventually got fed up and said to just ask somebody else, gesturing to all the Indonesian people that she was ignoring. At this she informed us that we were rich, so we should buy it. I told her she shouldn't assume, and that we were just trying to say no politely. Eventually she did leave us alone, but she had wasted all her limited sales time in hassling us.

We set sail for Lombok. We were quite happy with where we were sitting, but Oli thought he might as well go and do a recce of the boat. He came back pleased as punch, proudly informing me that he had found us the perfect place on the top deck. I happily gathered up our things and made my way there. At this point we realised that Oli had forgotten to share the pretty crucial fact that there were no benches, so we would have to sit on the floor. We stayed there despite this though, as it was wonderfully quiet, and we had the most incredible views of Bali as it receded into the horizon. From our secret spot we even saw a couple of pods of dolphins, splashing and playing about as we passed.

The shores of Lombok appeared surprisingly quickly, but it was still a fairly long way to the harbour itself. The ferry treated us to tantalising views of deserted beaches, jewel green hills and completely undeveloped coastline. It was possibly one of the most scenic ferry rides we will ever have the privilege of enjoying. With this first glimpse of the island we couldn't wait to get off the boat. We didn't exactly have a solid plan, but we were sure we were going to like this place.

Through the Ashes to the Golden Sunrise - End of Java

Our rest day in Jogja started well. We got up late, had a tasty breakfast at our hotel, then relaxed whilst drinking acceptable coffee. Ideally we would have done little else, but unfortunately needed to sort out payment for our new tyre. The front has worn rather quickly, so we were arranging for a replacement to be shipped to Bali. Luckily, like Thailand, it is possible to easily make payments to a local account just by popping into the relevant branch.

Although it was Saturday, we had been informed that some branches should be open. We usually have no trouble finding ATMs, so assumed it would be the same story with the bank itself. To be fair we left without the faintest idea as to where we should go, so following considerable fruitless wandering we stopped to ask somebody. After much discussion with their colleague, they informed us as to where we could find what we needed. Not to be put off by the intense sun, we ploughed on, weaving our way through the busy streets. Of course when we arrived at our intended destination we discovered that this was not the bank we needed, and that it was closed anyway. The walk back to the hotel rounded the waste of time up to a solid hour, and we were feeling a little put out.

Never sad for long, we thought we would cheer up by going to collect our washing (always an eagerly awaited event whilst on the road). Unfortunately this did not turn out to be the treat we anticipated. Whilst it did indeed smell beautifully clean, my riding top somehow came out dirtier than before. Thankfully the rest of it seemed alright, so I just washed the offending top again in the sink. The evening did look up though, as we enjoyed a brilliant dinner in the pretty courtyard of our hotel, followed by a much needed early night.

Alex (the surfer guy we originally met in Krui) had recommended that we visit Pacitan on our way east. We have heard that the way to find the relatively unknown, super beautiful spots in Indonesia is to follow the surfers, so we definitely couldn't pass up on his advice. The drive there was actually very easy, with crazy traffic seeming to be a thing of the distant past. As a bonus, the roads were mostly excellent, and we arrived in Pacitan to find that it was a very quiet, pleasant and clean little town.

After a filling noodle soup lunch, we decided to head for one of the smaller beaches and see if we could find anywhere to stay. We snaked along narrow, twisty and very steep roads, passing through countless pretty villages on the way. Eventually we arrived at Whatu Karung beach, and what a place. We pulled up the bike, pottered along the sand, then sat for a while in awe of the scenery. Islands of rock stood tall amongst the surf, the blue water crashing down in gloriously blue swells. It was beautiful, so we were keen to stay close by.

We left our seats, and went to turn the bike around. Unfortunately the narrow gravel road was edged by soft sand on both sides. It looked firmer than it was, so Oli rode through part of it, promptly sinking the front, losing it, and dropping the bike. Cursing, we picked it up. In his eagerness to right it, Oli ended up taking almost all the weight and doing his back in. My body decided to help matters by promptly feeling unwell, which was not ideal. We cruised around the village for a while looking for somewhere to stay, only spotting one surfing lodge that looked a bit expensive. In our confusion we ended up riding all the way back to Pacitan, definitely feeling like we had failed a bit.

Happily the feeling of failure didn't last too long. We ended up finding a very reasonably priced guest house, run by a lovely, kindly man. At first we were the only people staying, but were later joined by a young Swedish couple, in Pacitan for the surfing. We got chatting, and all went out for food together at a brilliant family run restaurant. Oli and I went to bed happy, rather pleased that the evening had looked up.

We toyed with riding towards Bromo the next morning, then decided to have a rest day instead. Our brakes have seen more action in Indonesia than possibly the rest of the trip put together, so we thought it would be worth checking the pads. Amazingly they were still fine, but we discovered that one of the pistons had seized ever so slightly. We spent a few hours cleaning it and bashing it with a socket wrench (Oli would like me to correct this and say that it was a little more technical than that). It is no longer stuck, but is not moving as freely as it should. Hopefully we will sort it out properly in Bali.

Having spent most of the morning on the bike, we decided to try round two of making the bank payment for the new tyre. We had spotted the relevant branch in town, so thought it would be quick and simple. This started to unravel at the first hurdle, as I found myself unable to withdraw any cash. Some of the machines in Indonesia use software that will not work with international cards, despite proudly stating that Mastercard and Visa are accepted. Unusually, almost all of the ATMs in Pacitan used the cursed system, and we drove around for almost an hour before finally finding the goods. We got back to the bank ten minutes before closing time, where the very friendly and efficient staff sorted the payment out in two minutes flat. Phew.

By the time we returned from our expedition it was late afternoon. Thinking we had better check out the beach, we just took a quick pit-stop at home then headed back out. The beach was beautiful and wild. Steep hills formed a horse-shoe shaped bay, with waves rushing in to the shore. Lush green mountains ring the edge of the sea and the flat valley beyond. The currents make it too dangerous to swim, but even so it made for a very pleasant walk. We strolled along in the evening sun, spending an embarrassing amount of time drawing pictures in the sand with a stick Oli found.

The Pacitan area definitely deserved more time than we were able to give it. We regretted leaving the next day, but were also very excited to get going. The roads were amazing, almost traffic free for the first part of the day. Java has a bad reputation amongst overland travellers as one long jam, but we found that it is possible to escape from the madness by taking the back roads...sometimes. We twisted and turned our way along pristine asphalt, cruising past rice paddies, looming mountains and volcanoes. The traffic did catch up with us towards the later part of the day, but all in all, it was a pleasant drive.

We hadn't expected to make it as far as Bromo, but progress was good and we got further than anticipated. We spotted a road sign that disagreed with our GPS, and weren't quite sure which to trust. We stopped at a petrol station and asked the way to Cemoro Lawang (the village we wanted to stay in), and were pointed in the direction that corresponded with the road sign. Still not 100% sure, we acquiesced, and off we went.

The road began to climb rapidly, snaking through the mountains in a narrow, twisted ribbon. The scenery was incredible, but the light was rapidly fading so we didn't feel like we had time to stop for photos. Riding in the dark is never ideal, and sometimes driving through the last hours of daylight feels decidedly like a race against time. With this in mind, we were not impressed to find that this road took us through a national park gate. Knowing that we only wanted to use the road, and that it would be necessary to exit the park again before Cemoro Lawang, we didn't want to end up paying the entry fee twice. We tried to explain this, but one man put his hand on the bike and started aggressively yelling that if we didn't pay we could turn back. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure if he worked there. The actual ticket guy was far more reasonable, and when I explained we had just taken the wrong road and wanted to visit the park the following day (when we would buy our tickets) was happy to let us pass through.

The road became even more beautiful, but ridiculously steep in some sections. We climbed higher and higher, leading us to remember what it actually feels like to be cold. Sunset was well on its way by this point. We were getting a little worried, but thought we would be okay as long as the road remained in good shape. However, our anxiety disappeared entirely when we rounded a corner and were suddenly confronted with the most amazing views over the Bromo crater. The sunset lit everything in soft pastel colours, whilst the mist rolled gently over the mountains. It was amazing, and we would have loved to have stopped to see the sunset through to its conclusion, but thought this would be a little foolhardy.

We continued up the road, pausing again to look at the colourful sky over the other side of the ridge. All was going well, and according to the GPS it looked like we were getting close. This was until we came to a dead end. Somewhat understandably, we were confused by this. I even got off the bike and had a look around to check whether we were missing something. We concluded that we had missed a vital turn-off in our excitement at seeing the volcanoes, U-turned, and went back.

From this point the road plunged steeply down the mountain side in a series of hair-pin bends. Unfortunately, although our GPS was still in all confidence showing a line, the road abruptly ended. We swiftly realised that we were supposed to carry on through the crater itself. Forget asphalt, the surface here was a thick layer of volcanic ash. In places it was nice and compact, but alas in others it had the consistency of very soft sand. The route was not at all obvious, and when we coupled this with the failing light and our crappy headlight, it was a rather dubious situation. We limped along, occasionally straying from the route, and correcting it with the aid of the GPS. I really don't want to think about how difficult it would have been without the aid of this, as with no artificial light it was pitch dark down there. On the plus side it was pretty epic, and I have now found something I dislike more than riding in sand... riding in volcanic ash in the dark.

After what seemed like an age and a few u-turns, we triumphantly rejoined the asphalt. The village turned out to be a lot smaller than we anticipated. The only place we knew of to sleep was full, but one of the guys hanging out there said he would show us to a home-stay. The first one he took us to was ridiculously overpriced, 250,000 rupiah for a damp, tiny room off a smoky lounge and with a shared bathroom. As we walked out the price instantly dropped by 100,000, but it wasn't enough.

From here we went to another place just up the road, where we had a super clean room with hot water and nothing living in it for 150,000. Fair enough it was basically an extension of the garage, but it was definitely the better option. As the nights get pretty cold in that area we asked if we could use one of the extra blankets (there was nobody else staying), and were told we would have to pay for it. This surprised us a bit, so we just said never mind, and settled on just wearing all our clothes instead. On a positive note however, we could park the bike right outside our door.

By the time we settled into our room we were starving, so made our way up the hill to find food. The restaurant was a bit of a tourist trap, but served decent food and was nice and warm. After a month of mainly eating in local warungs and padang restaurants, the price definitely hurt a bit. Usually we can both eat for £1, so paying tourist prices was a shock. Still, it wasn't bad food. We left the restaurant to find that one of the volcanoes must have done a burp, as the air was thick with the smell of sulphur. It burned our throats and stung our eyes, but none of the locals looked too worried about it, so we just covered our mouths and noses and walked home.

Most people come to Cemoro Lawang to watch the sunrise over the crater, otherwise known as the Sea of Sand. We usually are too lazy for such endeavours, but had been assured that this was worth it. The alarm went off at three a.m., and in our excitement it was surprisingly easy to get up. We were relying on what we had read on Wikitravel the night before for our directions. Some might say that following Wiki for information involving active volcanoes is unwise, but it seemed straightforward enough.

We located the correct road, and set off through the night. The Bromo area has almost no light pollution, so the stars were incredible against the dark sky, that alone making the early start worthwhile. We trekked our way along, not seeing another soul for the majority of the walk. It was quite a climb, and admittedly we are not at our fittest these days. We reached viewpoint one with some time to spare, but decided that we probably didn't have time to push on to point two.

For the first half hour or so we were completely alone, watching the orange glow of the sun begin to creep over the horizon. The silhouettes of the volcanoes rose out of the mist, set off by the slowly lightening sky. We were eventually joined by a few other tourists, but there was still hardly anyone there and the place retained a quiet and peaceful atmosphere. As the sky grew lighter and the fog in the crater swirled, Semeru gave out a gentle puff of smoke, as if to compete with the constantly smouldering Bromo. This cloud was colourfully lit by the rising sun, completing a truly awe inspiring scene.

There was not a doubt in our minds that the effort involved to get there and the early start were completely worth it. Photos and words cannot even begin to do it justice. We stood there for over an hour in the freezing cold watching the steady progress of the sun, the scene constantly shifting in the changing light. Eventually we left the view behind, strolling back to the village for a well deserved breakfast.  We decided to skip visiting the crater itself, as there was a lot of cloud. The owner of our guest house also warned us not to go, as apparently people had become lost the previous day in similar conditions. As a further disincentive we weren't completely sure whether the mist was water vapour or sulphurous volcano spewings. Anyway, we had accidentally experienced quite enough of the crater the previous evening!

After a short rest at our hotel we got back on the road. The mountain scenery by the light of day was epic. As we descended, the fresh weather gradually changed back to the normal heat, the sun beating down on us as we rode. Fortunately the traffic was mostly minimal. Quieter conditions always lead to us riding in much better moods, and we felt far more appreciative of just how beautiful Java can be.

We could quite easily have made it to Bali that day, as we arrived in the vicinity of the ferry port by the mid-afternoon. However, we were very tired form the early start and also keen to do a little research before we ventured that way, as lack of internet over the previous few days meant that we didn't have a clue. We spotted a hotel right on the edge of the sea, and thought we might as well ask about rooms. It looked far too nice for the likes of us, but the prices were actually very reasonable. We surprised the receptionist by asking to see the most expensive room (the only one with hot water), and the cheapest one.

We actually liked the cheapest one (£4) best, as it was bright and airy, and we don't mind the bucket shower at all as it is kind of refreshing. It was on the top floor, and had the most fabulous views over the narrow stretch of water separating Java from Bali. The only downer was seeing how much rubbish was flowing in the current. Sadly all over the world some people tend to view the sea as a giant bin.

Although our hotel was equipped with wi-fi, our computer was no longer willing to cooperate. We had experienced the same problem the previous evening, but had put it down to whatever modem was being used. It quite happily finds the wireless networks, but just refuses to connect to them. As Oli and I are too stingy and behind the times to have smart-phones, this knocked out our only internet device. With our planned research no longer being an option, we chucked it in and went out for a lovely meal at the restaurant next door. We would be going into Bali blind, without much of an idea as to where we should start. Still, this is sometimes how the best adventures begin, so we decided to wait and see.