Mount Bromo still dangerous, but then who's telling?

Jacqueline Mackenzie, Contributor, Mt. Bromo, East Java

From just before dawn, hundreds of people crowd the steep staircase on the final climb to the summit of Mt Bromo in East Java, crowding the small fenced viewing area on the lip of the crater to see the gray clouds of sulfurous gas spewing from the volcano's vent.

Nothing out of the ordinary for a weekend morning at Java's most accessible active volcano, except that the peak of Mt Bromo is still officially closed because of a continuing danger of eruption. That's something most visitors, my family included, are unlikely to find out before they make the climb.

The 2,392 metre Bromo, the most popular tourist destination in Probolinggo regency, erupted without warning on the afternoon of June 8, shooting out hot rocks that killed two hikers (identified as 13-year-old Singaporean boy and a 21-year-old Surabaya man) and injured at least seven others.

On top of the tragedy was the worry that the volcano had given few of the usual signs prior to the eruption, such as gradually increased seismographic activity.

Naturally, the mountain was closed to tourists after the eruption, with an exclusion zone set with a one kilometer radius from the summit. But within weeks, visitors began trickling back. It seems they, as my family did, assumed that if visitors were once again climbing to the summit, the mountain had been declared reasonably safe.

In fact, ever since the eruption, the Volcanology and Geological Disaster Mitigation Directorate (DVMBG) says there continues to be significant seismographic activity.

But you're only likely to find this out if you happen to visit the Cemorolawang volcanology office and small museum. It's a mere hundred metres from one of the most popular hotels, the Lava View Lodge, but hidden just behind the trailhead for the Mt Bromo treks.

There you might meet one of the very polite officials who'll show you the huge framed photos of the June explosion, with purple clouds of ash and rock hundreds of metres high, and then the seismograph wiggling worryingly away.

"I wouldn't be going there, it's still too dangerous. It could, in theory, erupt again at any time," they'll tell you.

If you point out that hundreds of visitors are making the climb every weekend, most apparently ignorant of the danger, they will continue to smile politely and explain that they have done all they can by informing the national parks office, whose responsibility it rightly is to let people know.

Should you then follow up with a visit to the guard post near the mountain, you'll meet equally polite official who'll assure you he has put up signs warning tourists of the danger.

Were you to ask "But where, sir?" he'll show you two faded A4 copies of a warning notice in Indonesian stuck to an office door. These had neither been pointed out to us, nor copies given, when my family registered and paid entrance fees to the park the previous day.

If you then pointed out that the majority of the tourists would be unlikely to see, let alone understand the warning sign, the official would reply he had put a sign up at the edge of the one kilometer exclusion zone around the peak, but someone had taken it down -- perhaps some of the locals who rent horses to tourists for the steep climb. Again, as far as the official is concerned, the national parks office has fulfilled its responsibility.

You might want to follow the matter up with your hotel manager.

"I'm confused" said ours. "Yes, visitors have a right to know, but if I tell them, my business will suffer!"

The idea of hotel managers, tour operators and civil servants cooperating to ensure visitors do know of the warning appears out of the question, even though something as simple as warning signs at reception desks in the main tourist hotels in town would do the job, especially if they were in English and French as well as Indonesian.

Instead, as the volcanologist said as he shuffled this visitor to the door, "with luck, no tourists will be killed".

One tour operator we met does tell his clients that the volcano peak is officially closed, but adds that he believes his guests will be safe "as long as they use common sense". This is despite the lack of warning signs before the last eruption.

He said that while Westerners might interpret the word "prohibited" as meaning people are not allowed to go, Indonesians have a looser interpretation.

It's a sentiment echoed by the official at the National Park office near the mountain.

As I pressed him for a copy of the warning sign in Indonesian, he paused before handing it over.

"Although it says that it's forbidden, it's not really forbidden. It's just that if you decide to go, it's your own responsibility."

But that's a responsibility it's difficult for a traveler to take if they are not aware of the danger.