Bromo & Kawah Ijen: 3-Day Volcano Hike from Bali with Blue Flames

4.90

(147 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the smell,” our driver Pak Agus grinned as we climbed out of the minibus somewhere near the Bali ferry port. He wasn’t wrong — sulfur hangs in the air even before you spot a single volcano. The journey from Ubud started before dawn (I was barely awake), but sharing snacks with two other travelers and watching the rice paddies blur past made it feel less like a transfer and more like a weird little road trip. Crossing to Java by ferry felt like stepping into another world — everything gets quieter, even the light looks different somehow.

By late afternoon, we reached Cemoro Lawang, this village perched at 2300 meters where people actually wear jackets (in Indonesia!). The guesthouse was simple but warm enough, and dinner was some kind of spicy tempeh stew that I still think about. Our guide, Rina, explained how early we’d have to wake up for Mount Bromo: “You sleep now or regret later.” She wasn’t kidding — 3:30 AM came fast. Riding in a jeep across the Sea of Sand felt surreal; it’s just black ash everywhere and then suddenly you’re climbing steps in the dark, trying not to slip while everyone whispers. At the top, sunrise over Bromo isn’t just a view — it’s smoke drifting sideways, cold wind on your face, and people quietly shuffling closer together for warmth. Someone handed me sweet coffee from a thermos. Honestly, that moment stuck with me more than any photo.

After breakfast (lots of fried bananas), we drove through villages where kids waved at us from motorbikes. Lunch was quick — I tried to ask what was in the sambal but only caught “very spicy” before giving up. By evening we were near Kawah Ijen, eating dinner with our guide’s family (her dad kept refilling my plate). The next hike started at 1 AM under so many stars it almost made me forget how tired my legs were. The climb up is tough but steady; going down into the crater is something else entirely — rocks crunching underfoot, your breath catching from both effort and that sharp sulfur sting.

The blue flames at Kawah Ijen are real — flickering in patches across black rock while miners pass by carrying baskets heavier than they look possible. Our guide Rina used to be one of them; she showed us how they chip away at yellow sulfur blocks and joked about tourists trying to pronounce “Kawah” right (Li laughed when I tried — probably butchered it). Sunrise reveals this acid lake glowing turquoise below pale mist. It’s quiet except for distant voices and clinking tools. We hiked back slowly, legs shaky but happy for breakfast and a hot shower before heading back toward Bali. I keep thinking about those miners’ smiles, honestly.