Up early Xmas morn for hike to Kelimutu. I was a bit disappointed to find public drive all the way to the top complete with parking space and refreshments stand. Kinda cheapens the whole experience, you know? I appreciate multi-needs access and all but some places demand a challenge. After a short hike from the lot I'm further dismayed to find concrete steps and metal hand rails. Just defeats the allure for me.
Kelimutu is an impressive volcano with three large crater lakes, each a separate hue. Local legend has it that spirits of the deceased ascend the slopes to reside in the different waters. One is a milky turquoise with yellow sulfur swirl in its midst. This is the home of the children who have passed. Directly adjacent is one of deeper shade, home of evil souls (why they gotta be so close to the children?) The last is of dark water on the opposite side of the ridge, a place reserved for the general populace (presumably benevolent adults.)
I ask Alexy if we can off road it. He says it's forbidden but requires only a little coaxing to acquiesce. Evidently some hikers in the recent past lost their footing on the loose scree while traversing off trail, plummeting to their death in the sulfuric waters below. I promise to be careful and we proceed. At crater's edge we find much more photogenic views and resolve to circumnavigate the rim. This is more to my liking. A bit of bush-wacking, some steeper inclines, questionable footing, just enough treachery to induce excitement. With the sun at out backs the photography improves. The entire process takes about an hour and a half. It's neat to witness the expanding swirl of sulfur on the surface of the children's lake. Something sinister is stirring in the depths...
Clouds roll in. Make hasty retreat. A short cut through brush manifests. We answer its subtle call with a bush-wack proper. Fortune favors the bold, we've returned to the parking space.
Alexy must visit his people, for it is Xmas. He invites me along and I accept. His family's house is a wood shack with metallic roof and concrete floor. Because they are partly animist their relatives are buried in the yard outside. Somebody is blaring some random dubstep throughout the village. Interesting to note the penetration of modern culture into traditional life.
After a quick lunch we're off for a walk-about around the grounds. Sweet looking spring with fresh water where people come to drink freely and bathe. Pale river rushes past and ahead a waterfall reveals the source of this odd coloration. Two streams of differing mineral content mix together, producing the odd tint.
Return to Moni proper. Rasta youth are jamming to typical reggae tunes and quaffing arak. At their behest we join them. Finally a chance to beat on a djimbe. It's been so long... Dance party on the muddy front patio. All out sausage fest. I keep asking the girls at the periphery to join me in my broken Bahasa, a request which is met with intermittent results. Eventually boredom sets in. If only we could switch up the music. I love Bob Marley as much as the next guy but I swear we've heard "One Love" one too many times in one hour. I'm going for a swim.
Darkness gathers upon my return to the waterfall. As expected its pool is appropriate for little more than wading. Out here all human noise pollution is silenced by pounding water. Delighted to find bioluminescent fungi clinging to sodden wood as I exit the pool.
Arak addled brain yields headache the following morn. Blessed chance to sleep in. Somebody is belting out Xmas carols in Bahasa from amplifiers across the valley. So odd to hear "Feliz Navidad" rendered in Indonesian.
Eventually we hit the road again, bound for the beach. The highway winds along a jungle ravine, affording ample photo ops along the way. In Ende, a predominately Muslim coastal town, we grab some Padang food to go. Hit the beach. Scrumdiddly grub and I'm into passive waves. Not much of a surf here but nice to float around a bit. After a short sun bath it's back to the tarmac.
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