Mijn schrijfsels beperken zich niet tot onze reisblog, regelmatig schrijf ik ook voor de nieuwsletter van de Expatriate Women’s Association of Surabaya (EWAS). Een van onze recente avonturen op een eilandje aan de zuidkant van Java wilde ik jullie niet onthouden:

Our Trekking Adventure on Sempu Island

Only 800 meters away from the southern coast of East Java and a 2½-hour drive south from Malang, Sempu Island had caught our attention because of its legendary lagoon, which apparently could only be reached after a trek through the jungle. We had read the reviews on Trip Advisor and other sites and weren’t sure what to expect. Some called it an easy half-hour walk, others called it suicidal, so, being the trained walkers that we are, we imagined the truth would lie somewhere in the middle: maybe a bit difficult but doable. One warning was quite clear though: the walk was better not undertaken during the rainy season. But after only one week of rains in Surabaya, we thought it would still be quite dry enough.

With five cars, 9 adults and 4 children we left hotel Tugu at 6am and drove the winding roads down to the Sendang Biru beach. It took a while to figure out how we would get on the island, but after asking around we were told we needed a permit, a boat to take us across, a guide and some rubber climbing shoes that could be rented on the spot. Most of us were wearing outdoor sandals or hiking shoes and were in no mood to wear some ill-fitting rental shoes and rental socks at least 3 sizes too small, so we ignored that last piece of advice. In a tiny office where other adventurous hikers were waiting their turn we received more instructions in Bahasa: take enough food and water, because there is nothing on the island, follow the guide and be careful.

We walked towards the colorful boats and waded through the water to climb on board. The trip across to a small inlet on the otherwise densely overgrown island took only 5 minutes. Again we waded through the water to get to the tiny beach. Our plan of maybe staying there with those less physically able, to spend a languid day on the beach, seemed a lot less attractive when we saw how small it was. There was barely enough room for mooring the boats. So we decided to give it a go and set off into the jungle.

What we had actually imagined we don’t know, but by all means not what was coming next. There was no path at all. We had to crawl and climb and slither while holding onto trees and roots, trying to avoid the pools of mud in which our shoes would disappear. Before long we were cursing our useless outdoor sandals and shoes and wishing we had rented the plastic ones. Occasionally we would be overtaken by groups of young Indonesians with giant backpacks, often walking barefoot in the sticky mud. The jungle around us was dotted with discarded shoes, plastic water bottles and packs of cigarettes. After an hour we were all drenched in sweat and looking as if we had had a (voluntary) mud bath. An hour later we had reached the lagoon, but it took another half hour to clamber halfway around, hanging onto tree roots and branches and trying not to fall down the rocky cliff into the water, before we could descend to the beach.

The lovely lagoon we had been promised was hidden behind rows of tents and groups of Indonesians playing football, lounging on the sand smoking cigarettes and splashing away fully clothed in the water. Our clothes were so muddied we followed their example and went straight for the water as well. Just as we settled down to eat the picnic we had brought with us it started to rain. Quickly we moved under the rocks for some protection and chomped on our wet sandwiches. The blue lagoon had turned completely gray.

We didn’t stay long, the return journey was still ahead of us and if it had taken us 2½ hours to get there, who knew how long the way back would take. Surprisingly we went faster. No one cared about dirty shoes or clothes anymore. We doggedly kept going, dodging rocks and tree stumps as before, but this time wading straight through the puddles to try to rinse off the mud. The more nimble-footed saw monkeys in the forest, but I must admit I only looked at my feet, calculating every next step I had to take. Our guide who had probably had more than enough of his share of crazy tourists wanting to do this trip, walked far ahead and never looked back at us. But we didn’t get lost because surprisingly, well into the late afternoon, we still kept running into groups of Indonesians heading for the lagoon. I saw they were now carrying flashlights in addition to their backpacks. It was hard to imagine how they would negotiate the dangerous last part around the lagoon in the dark with only a flashlight to light their way.

As we finally reached the inlet and collapsed into the boat my companion asked me what I intended to write about this trip in my article for the Newsletter. Would I recommend it to others? I gave it a moment’s thought and here is what I would say: for me this was once but never again, but by all means ask the people who saw the monkeys, the people who swam in the lagoon on a hot and sunny day, or the people who went during the dry season or on a weekday, they will probably tell you a whole different story.