For Bromo I trekked for three hours from Ngadas to Cemoro Lawang

“Am I there yet?” I asked myself this question several times as I strove to finish my 3-hour trek from Ngadas to Cemoro Lawang in what seemed to be wilderness in East Java, Indonesia. I passed through the varied landforms of Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park, gasped for air in between short breaks, and lost visibility in the middle of my journey—all these covered a distance of approximately 12 kilometers. At the end of the day, I emerged as a victor.

I could have actually ridden an ojek from Ngadas straight to Cemoro Lawang in more or less than an hour. The fact that doing so is hassle-free and more convenient leaves a big question as to why I pointed my flag on the difficult side. I chose to walk because I found it more adventurous and cheaper; I did not consider the trek as punishment for my uncontrolled intake of fast food in the past few months, but rather as a diversion from the run-of-the-mill realm of so-called professionals. And I thought, if I was able to survive a 3-hour sleep-inducing Statistics lecture back in college, then why can’t I surpass this dynamic journey in a setting less forlorn?

This spot marked the beginning of my 3-hour trek to Cemoro Lawang

Smitten by the Savanna

With two bananas, bokpia, and biscuits in my bag’s side pockets, I departed my homestay accommodation in Ngadas at around 7:30 AM. At first I was relentless with my choice to walk all the way from Ngadas to Cemoro Lawang, but when I saw the mountainside road leading to the direction of Cemoro Lawang, I chickened out. I didn’t buy the image of a narrow road, flanked with trees catching the morning rain, where I could only hear the sound of my own breath and my footsteps. It just didn’t stir the braveness in me.

So I toned down the extremity of my overall journey and opted to charter an ojek bound for savanna from an outpost in Ngadas for IDR 70,000 (I think I bargained for a lower price but I couldn’t remember how much). From the savanna I knew I could safely walk to Cemoro Lawang without worrying much about ghouls, snakes, and dementors. And from savanna, I know my distance is shortened.

In about halfway through our ojek ride to the savanna, we arrived at a ticket checkpoint. One-time entry to the national park costs IDR 10,000 for Indonesians and IDR 72,500 for foreigners. I saw the ticket collector peeled apiece of 10,000-worth of ticket and almost handed it over to me. But when he asked me in Bahasa and I responded with a lost blank face, he scrapped the ticket and charged me the expensive one. Sayang! Tip: If you look like Indonesian and want to save some rupiahs, consider learning some basic Bahasa phrases and you might just clinch the cheaper ticket.

It took us about 25 minutes to reach the edge of the savanna from Ngadas by ojek. Had I pushed through on foot, I bet I won’t make it to savanna that quick. I asked the driver to drop me off, and from there I began my memorable trek.

Couple on horseback riding headed back to the makeshift base camp in the middle of the savanna

Tourists at the savanna await for the landscape hidden behind the clouds to be revealed

Because it was raining that morning, tourists returned to the camp and sought temporary shelter

A man and his horse prepare for the big day ahead

When the rain ceased and the clouds disappeared, we were presented with a breathtaking scenery

And so did I grab my camera for my first set of solo photos

The surrounding hills turned greener and more vibrant after rainwater doused the foliage

When you left a place like this, won’t you turn your back for a second look? Or third? Or fourth?

4WDs capped off their jaunt at the savanna. They returned to Cemoro Lawang

Teletubbies Hill does exist! It’s at East Java, Indonesia!

Here’s another captivating view of the steep hills at Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park

Andris (right) and I met each other on an angkot outside Malang Train Station. He followed a different route and caught a bus to Probolinggo, while I proceeded towards Ngadas. We met again at the savanna when he saw me taking shots of the surrounding while he was on the ojek on their way back to Cemoro Lawang

There were silent moments on this road less traveled that I felt a little bit isolated

When vehicles like this 4WD pass by me, I get an assurance of safety

Belittled by the Sea of Sand

The scenery gradually changed as I stepped further towards Cemoro Lawang. At some point I thought I was traveling in totally different locations simultaneously. But when I turned my back or shifted my eyes somewhere, I knew I was still amidst the expanse of land between Ngadas and Cemoro Lawang.

When I set foot on the flat, barren Laotian Pasir (Sea of Sand), I convinced myself that I was at the point of no return. All I had to do was to move forward and follow where my instinct leads me, or rather, where most passing vehicles head to. Somehow my timing of trek was fitting to walk in this sea of whispering sand—the weather was quite good and tour vehicles still cross over.

I can’t picture myself being stuck alone in this emptiness of land. Without the automobiles moving about I wouldn’t know whom to seek reinforcement from. Good thing I started early in the morning, so I knew I was safe.

But when thick clouds hovered towards the center of the vast desert, I momentarily lost visibility. I neither saw the surrounding mountains nor the tourist vehicles crossing the area. I relied on the sound, the horrifying sound of wind. And I found it fun indeed!

After an hour of walking, I reached the second part of my journey. I took a breather before I entered the Sea of Sand

This sign reads, “Vehicles are not allowed to enter”. I didn’t know that when I was there

As opposed to the green colors of the savanna, everything was dark and barren at the Sea of Sand

Halfway there! Another selfie break in the middle of the desert

These men raised their hands when they saw me shooting them

And here come the daunting clouds! Yes, it looked like a giant wave!

Clouds and sand creeped towards my direction. What made the experience scarier was the strange sound that came from the surface

Alas, a vehicle amidst darkness! But no, I didn’t hitch a ride. I stayed invisible

That moment of silence was an opportune for another selfie. :p

No signs of plant life could be sighted at this expanse of volcanic sand

Two hours have passed until I saw the sign of stationery cars and people. Their presence, even from afar, gave me a great relief

Rain poured when I was about to reach the pack

Almost discouraged by the ascent

Three hours had passed and I finally reached the foot of the hill to Cemoro Lawang. I rested for a couple of minutes before I began my last assault. My trail food and my water had gone almost empty. I was starving. I thought a good rest might overpower the hunger.

Down below the hill I knew that my destination is already near, just a few more walk upward. But the road was so steep that I had to focus my mind on the finish line. Even so, I was happy that Mount Bromo is now close and beyond my reach.

At 1:30 PM, I officially made it to Cemoro Lawang. Andris, the lawyer friend I first met in Malang and saw again at the savanna, had helped me reserve a room at a guesthouse in Cemoro Lawang before he left the village for Probolinggo. And with the added help of an Indonesian medicine—thanks to my Indonesian officemate who texted me the name of the brand—for the slight fever I acquired from the whole trek, I was able to pass the afternoon.

Seen from the foot of the uphill pavement to Cemoro Lawang is Mount Batok

Often mistaken for Mount Bromo, Mount Batok is among the top attractions that make up the national park

Mount Batok as viewed from a roadside spot on the way to Cemoro Lawang

I was gasping for breath already but I didn’t have to courage to ask for a free ride up

Ojek, 4WD, and Accommodation Rates

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