Indonesia is known for its many active and easily accessible volcanoes, among which the Krakatoa and Bromo. But there is one volcano where a harrowing scene has been playing out for decades. One where the victims have now become the protagonists of a bizarre tourist attraction. The sulfur volcano Kawah Ijen on Java. Several times a day miners descend into the crater to chip away sulfur and carry loads of 80 kilograms out of the crater. Without any form of protection against the suffocating fumes. All while being watched (and photographed) by tourists with gas masks.
When reading up on the sights of East Java, you will soon come across stories and images of Kawah Ijen. The active volcano with its kilometer-wide turquoise lake full of sulfuric acid seemed so interesting and photogenic to me that it was one of the first destinations that I included in the tour. For a moment the volcano seemed to throw a spanner in the works. Days before our visit there were some explosions and access to the volcano was closed due to higher volcanic activity. It only lasted a few days, so the volcano reopened in time for us to visit.
3AM. The alarm wakes us up in the middle of the night for the second day in a row. Not much later we lug our backpacks towards the lobby where our driver is already waiting for us. For two hours we drive on a moderately maintained 4×4 track through the highlands of East Java. The jeep bounces around and we regularly don’t go any faster than five kilometers per hour. During breakfast we enjoy a beautiful sunrise over a chain of volcanoes, including our destination: the Kawah Ijen.
We continue our route on the broken road and are not much later confronted with a defective accelerator pedal. Our driver manages to remedy the defect by tying together some iron wires, apparently on the gamble. Somewhat nervous we cover the last kilometers to the Kawah Ijen. You would think that such a route considerably limits the number of tourists. It’s not the case: in the parking lot we immediately meet several trucks and a few groups.
Hiking up to Kawah Ijen
The hike to the rim of the crater takes about an hour. The dusty conditions are tough: strong gusts of wind regularly blow fine sand and ash into your eyes. Halfway the route there’s a small house that functions as a resting place for the miners. One of the sulfur workers who is lucky enough to be alive well past the age of sixty allows himself to be photographed extensively by the tourists present. Meanwhile he tells his life story with a big smile.
A few hundred meters after the rest point a miner in his late twenties joins us. Like us, walks just a little faster than the average tourist. In a somewhat laconic tone he answers all our questions about the work in and around the Kawah Ijen. He has been working here for about ten years. Twice a day he ascends from the crater with 80 kilograms of sulfur. From the crater rim, the sulfur then has to be transported with wheelbarrows to the valley three kilometers away.
When asked if all that sulfur vapor isn’t a huge attack on his lungs, he replies: “No, no! Not bad at all!”, taking an extra deep drag on his cigarette. Well. Salient detail: the print on his shirt freely translates as “healthy together”.
Gradually the climb becomes drier and the vegetation decreases. The wind has free rein here and drives the fine sand around. You can feel it grinding between your teeth. A few hundred meters before the crater rim we get the chance to lift baskets with 60 kilograms of sulfur. It is almost impossible to pose for a photo with those 60 kilograms resting on your collarbone. We try to imagine lugging this a few hundred meters up with another added 25 kilograms or so.
Descending into Kawah Ijen
Once at the top, the boy in front of us takes out two gas masks from his backpack. Our driver had strongly advised us not to go into the crater as did the leader of the Dutch group. Despite all those warnings, we decide to join the handful of tourists who do dare to descend. After all, the miners are able to descend into the Kawah Ijen day after day without protection. While descending the rocky path to the sulfur lake 300 meters below, our mouth and throat slowly dry up. Everytime the wind pushes a thick layer of sulfur vapor our way, the oxygen disappears noticeably from the air and our eyes start to burn slightly.
Ten or twenty meters below us, a miner lumbers towards us with a full basket. He regularly puts his luggage aside on the rocks to regain his strength. While I’m taking some photos, he picks a piece of sulfur and theatrically holds it in the air. The result is a photo that summarizes the poignant story of the miners.
Or not? Right after shooting these photographs, the man asks for money: at least 10.000 rupiah. It is not even a Euro, but since the average daily wage of the miners in the Kawah Ijen is about 100.000 rupiah, it makes a relatively large tip. In fact, some miners collect more money in tips than what they earn from work in the mine, which already pays better than work on a farm. It appears that many of the miners even consciously choose the harmful work in the sulfur mine. It just pays better and the tourist tips turn out to be an extra incentive. I decide to give him a coin of 1000 rupiah. After some grumbling, the man continues his way up, groaning. A feeling of guilt and unease rushes over me. Conscious choice or not: the conditions these people work in for ‘our’ raw materials is downright saddening.
At the crater lake of Kawah Ijen
Due to burning airways and eyes, most tourists turn around halfway the descent. I am determined to photograph the actual work at the sulfur deposit and continue walking. The ever-blowing clouds of sulfur vapor are getting thicker and thicker. Below me I see the steel pipes that lead the solidified sulfur to the edge of the lake. The beauty of the many yellow shades of the sulfur deposits with the turquoise crater lake in the background contrasts sharply with the work of the miners on site.
Once down, the sulfur vapor is extreme. There are times there’s no oxygen coming through my gas mask at all for seconds. On the shore of the crater lake I quickly change lenses to be able to take the picture below. The surface is so acidic that in the few seconds my backpack rests on clean stones the fabric is already damaged.
A little further on I see a miner chipping away pieces of sulfur and collecting them in his baskets. His protection: no more than the piece of cloth around his neck. In a fit of mental bewilderment, I try to take a breath myself without my gas mask. Immediately I feel the acid burn behind my tongue, in my throat and deep into my lungs. Coughing is of no use and will only make it more painful. Again a thick cloud of sulfur vapor follows. The miner holds his breath for a moment and blows the mess out of his nose and mouth. He continues to work as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
As he loads his baskets and prepares to carry them away, he offers me the chance to take some portraits. In exchange for 2,000 rupiah, of course. Another miner offers me a piece of deep orange sulfur for 10,000 rupiah. Similar pieces of sulfur lay scattered everywhere, so I kindly refuse his offer. I end up getting the piece for free.
Ascending back to reality
I take some more portraits and photos of the bizarre lifeless surroundings. By now my lungs and eyes get so irritated that I decide to turn around for the ascent. The combination of the ascent, an oxygen mask and the somewhat thin air make me quickly run out of breath. Wherever possible I keep my oxygen mask off, but the ascent is significantly slower than the descent. It is unbelievable that the miners do this twice a day with a load of more than 80 kilograms. The journey through Indonesia is not yet halfway, but I am sure that the Kawah Ijen will prove to be a major highlight afterwards. However, the knowledge that I have just contributed to the prolonging of this scene does leave a bad taste. Much like the sulfur.
Back at the rim, I settle the bill for the oxygen masks. A total of 100,000 rupiah, equivalent to a day’s loan for the work in the mine.