In a scene reminiscent of the Kafkaesque landscape that the 20th century author had painted in his books, we trudged through this vast fog-bound lava plain, along with a horde of humanity, some on horse-back, others on motor-bikes, and still more like us, led by a determination to reach the end of the stretch into the dark grey beyond – but to what destination? And for how far?

As the sun broke briefly in the early morning sky, a magnificent mare in the distant, against the faint outline of a near symmetrical mountain, conjures up another imagery of the desert and its skillful horsemen.

We started climbing next, alongside and avoiding the work-horses in their deep trenches that has been created by their tracks while making out a distant gully that was made of more damp and fine lava ashes.

Sudden, we were above the fog-line, and it was as if a veil was lifted from the brooding Martian landscape a moment ago, into a bright and crisp morning. Around us, the fog or cloud line floats effortlessly in space, and as we looked back towards where we were in this grey limbo, we could make out the distant fog that still enveloped the ground. Tradesmen dangled edelweiss bouquets at us – to ‘appease the gods’ and within the bowels of the cauldron when we crest the rim.

And then we saw these long linear steps that represented the final ascent up to the rim of the volcano, and eagerly joined the mass of humanity that congregated to ascend this pathway. Turning into the sun, we were sudden aware not just of the gradient of the slope around us in this final ascent, but also the wisps of smoke that emerged from the ground just about everywhere, and with just a faint hint of sulphur, a reminder of the living caldera that we were intruding into.

And then we were at the top of the flight of steps, barely time to catch our breaths, a feeling of mild nausea and a hacking cough interrupting the gasps for more air. Peering into the edge, it was almost anti-climactic, as the masses of humanity struggled to get a foothold for a deep stare into the deep smothering caldera over the edge. Around us, a crowd had gathered to amass further up the ridge.

We turned to examine the long, almost 6 kilometer path that we had taken up to Mount Bromo which stands tall at 2329 m and is the most iconic and the most hiked mountain in Indonesia.

The fog had lifted and what stood beneath us clearly was the entire pathway in the bright yellow tinge of the sun; a short moment to linger and savor before we descended towards our vehicle line in the distant. On our way down, we pass two working horses, on a brief respite in the sun.

(Lumix GX85, 12-35 mm lumix March 2018)