and enjoying it - in Indonesia

Nigel Hicks goes to Bali not to lie on the beach but to climb to the top of an active volcano

The road was getting steeper and my car - loaded with six people - was in trouble, labouring towards the hill crest barely 200 yards away. By the time we finally struggled on to the ridge I could almost hear the engine's sigh of relief.

But from the passengers came not a sigh but a gasp: astonishment at what now lay before us. Beyond the ridge the land suddenly fell away into a huge circular chasm, a bowl-shaped valley whose walls fell almost sheer for several hundred yards directly from the far side of the road running along the ridge that we were now joining.

Several miles away in the middle of the valley stood a volcano, jagged yet distinctly conical, its lower slopes streaked with black, and tell- tale wisps of steam rising here and there from several higher points. To the right, the valley floor was lost in a curving lake whose far shore comprised cliffs, which rose high towards another mountain peak that was shrouded in cloud.

We had finally made it to Mount Batur, the most active volcano on the Indonesian island of Bali. It was hard to believe that this little island could hide away such magnificent mountain scenery.

A few days later, after I had returned my less mountain-crazy friends to the sand, surf and shopping of the coast, I found myself scrambling up Batur's volcanic slopes. It has become the done thing to climb Batur in the dark and reach the peak in time to see the sun rise above the Bali Sea and Lombok's Mount Rinjani to the east, and then be treated to a stunning view of the perfectly aligned Mounts Abang and Agung, the latter being, at 10,305ft, Bali's highest peak and second most active volcano.

Climbing Batur in itself did not look too difficult - except that we would be setting out in the middle of the night. So the previous day I found myself a guide. There seemed to be plenty around; down at the village of Toya Bungkah, sandwiched uneasily between volcano and lake and from where the main paths up Batur begin, every second person - it turned out - was a guide.

I put my trust in Jero Wijaya, a man of about 30 who seemed to have his advertising, recommendations, information and routes well sorted out. I met him at 3.30 in the morning, and from Toya Bungkah we drove on further round the mountain to an isolated spot on the north-eastern side to begin the climb.

"This is where I was born," he explained as the car bounced along a mud track. "It is also the quickest path up Batur - only just over one hour." And so it was that we began scrambling up the volcano in inky blackness, my boots stumbling and sliding awkwardly on the invisible loose volcanic rubble, Jero's flip-flops skipping nimbly from foothold to foothold. It was not just his light feet pitched against my clumsy ones either. Soon we became a party of six, as men humping cases full of soft drinks miraculously materialised out of the darkness - the ubiquitous vendors of refreshment, found throughout south-east Asia. Even, it appeared, on the remotest of mountain-tops.

The problem with volcanoes is that they get steeper the higher you climb, the reverse of what tiring limbs and lungs would prefer. But then, just as you think you can't take any more, suddenly everything flattens out and there's nothing left to climb - you've made it to the top. So it was with Batur, even more so in the darkness.

Soon after we had reached the summit, the eastern sky turned a fiery red as the day broke, revealing the black conical silhouettes of Abang and Agung, with the grey, silvery sliver of Lake Batur far below. The sea beyond merged with a misty sky, and as the sun rose so the light blue- grey outline of Lombok's jagged Mount Rinjani hung amid the cloud, disembodied from the land below, floating high above the sea.

With daylight, our own position became clear. The gathering number of hikers was cramped together on the highest and widest point of a very narrow ridge that swept around three-quarters of the volcano's main crater, a plunging chasm of rock, grass and shrubs, occasional wisps of steam floating up from the walls the only sign this was still an active volcano.

From our position on the crater rim we had a superb all-round view of the caldera, with its lake, its secondary craters and its black-streaked lava flows. In the distance, the lowlands of Bali stretched away, the coasts of Kuta, Sanur and the Bukit peninsula dimly visible through a haze.

Batur's caldera, a huge circular valley with the volcano itself sitting more or less at its centre, was created by the collapse of a massive super-volcano many aeons ago. Today's volcano is a mere pimple in comparison, but it has shown itself to be a fiery creature all the same, erupting 20 times in the past 200 years, most recently in 1974. The caldera presents an impenetrable barrier to Batur's lava flows - thus protecting the lowlands - but for those living within the valley, life is still a gamble, for while the rich volcanic soils offer an excellent harvest, the volcano above perpetually threatens to wipe it out. From Batur's peak, the extent to which the caldera floor is cultivated could be fully appreciated. Tightly packed villages and small, neat fields crowd the space between the volcano's feet and either the walls of the caldera or the shore of the lake.

Jero and I set out to explore some of the scars of past events, strolling the rim of the summit crater. It was an unnerving hike, the ridge at times is barely wide enough for both feet. On the western side of the mountain a steep trail of cinders dropped down towards today's most active craters like a massive black sand dune. Scarred, smouldering holes stretched westwards away from the main peak, with lava flows fanning menacingly outwards across the western caldera.

"That flow was 1974," explained Jero, pointing to a jet- black river of petrified lava. "That one 1963," referring to a rather greyer and and worn-looking area. "Oh, and over there, that was 1926," pointing towards a vast region of ridged and deeply scoured lava, increasingly covered in grass.

Continuing on around the base of the main crater we passed numerous fumaroles, hot steam billowing out into the morning sunlight. Around these humid holes the sparse grasses became a profusion of life; rich lichens at the outermost limits, replaced by increasingly luxuriant growths of mosses, ferns and shrubs further into the steamy atmosphere. But for the most part the mountain's slopes were parched, infertile volcanic rock, stunted trees planted on its slopes struggling against the twin attacks of a harsh environment and local firewood collectors.

The hike ended with a scramble down a steep slope, back to a green and pleasant village, back to my car and a drive up a winding lane and out of the caldera. I stayed around the Batur area for another day, feeling pleased with my climbing efforts and relaxing in the cool mountain air, lodging in Penelokan, a village perched on the caldera rim and with a superb view of that volcanic scenery. It was a very different view of Bali from the usual one of sun, sand and surf.

INDONESIA: MOYO AND MOUNT BATUR

MOYO

Sarah Barrell travelled to Moyo Island as a guest of Singapore Airways (tel: 0870 6088886) and Steppes East (tel: 01285 810267). Singapore Airways has return flights to Bali via Singapore from pounds 585.

Steppes East tailor-make itineraries to destinations throughout Indonesia. A one-week holiday would cost pounds 2,470 per person. This price includes return flights with Singapore Airlines, two nights' accommodation (one either end of the week) in a superior suite at the Amanusa (Bali), along with five nights in a jungle tent at the Amanwana (Moyo), full board, a waterfall excursion, a massage for two people, guided trek, 25 per cent discount on dives, and round-trip charter plane and boat transfers from the airport to Moyo Island (one and a half hours). This trip can also be combined with the Amanjiwo hotel (in Java) and Bali's two other Aman hotels: the Amankila and the Amandari.

MOUNT BATUR

Garuda Indonesia Airlines flies three times a week to Denpasar, capital of Bali, from London Gatwick. Between 1 January and 31 March 2000 a return flight costs from pounds 384 including tax. Call Flight Centre (tel: 0990 666677). Alternatively Trailfinders (tel: 0171-938 3366) has daily flights from Heathrow to Denpasar with Quantas changing in Singapore from pounds 562.30 from 1 January to 30 June 2000.

The best way to get around is to hire your own vehicle. In the main tourist resorts of Kuta, Sanur, Ubud and Nusa Dua cars and four-wheel-drive vehicles are easily hired.

Do not attempt to climb Batur without a local guide. Plenty can be found in the caldera village of Toya Bungkah the day before your intended ascent.

There is a large number of very pleasant hotels in Ubud, the nearest large town to Batur, with prices to match almost any budget. In the Batur area, there is simple accommodation at Penelokan, on the caldera rim. There are also a few simple guesthouses in the villages of Toya Bungkah and Kedisan, in the caldera itself.

FURTHER INFORMATION

Indonesian Tourist Information Centre (tel: 0891 600 180).