To the Ende of the earth

It is a couple of hours of uphill switchback roads to reach Moni from the nearest airport at Ende. Moni is a village enveloped by forest at the foot of Mt Kelimutu, one of the highest peaks on Flores, Indonesia at 1639m above sea level. Looking out from the communal terrace at our hostel there is nothing but lush greenery at every compass point. Occasionally the parp of a passing moped punctuates the sound of the Catholic mass emanating from the blue corrugated iron roofed church opposite.

Moni consists of a string of houses spread along a few curves in the main road from Ende to Maumere. A number of homestays and lodgings make Moni the place where most visitors to the nearby Kelimutu National Park break their journey. There’s also Mopi’s Place, the best food and coffee in town with live music and jamming sessions on their stage. It has a warm and welcoming vibe does Moni.

The changing coloured lakes of Mount Kelimutu

Who wouldn’t want to see a lake change colour? At least, this was how we sold it to the kids. In reality the lakes only change colour every few weeks, but more on that later. The three lakes in question sit in the craters at the top of the volcano Mount Kelimutu. Although they don’t change colour with the rapidity of a traffic light, they are nevertheless spectacular.

The lakes are also an important element of local folklore, believed to be the resting place of departed souls. After death, so legend says, one’s soul passes through the gate at Konde Ratu and the spirits determine which lake should be your final resting place. The options are Tiwu Nuwa Muri Ko’o Fai, the lake of young souls, Tiwu Ata Mbupu, the lake of the ancestors or Tiwu Ata Polo, lake of evil spirits. The story goes that the lakes themselves were created through a complicated clash between good and evil which we won’t repeat here, but everyone in the story died and formed the lakes. One lake is the good guy, one is the bad guy and the other is a pair of young twins.

The lakes are close to the summit of Kelimutu. There are two walking routes up from Moni – either walk up the road (2.5hrs), or take a circuitous hiking trail (a little longer due to the rough terrain at ~3hrs). Alternatively you can ride / drive / be driven to the small car park just below the lakes. Our rough plan was to get a taxi up, and then walk back down the hiking trail. The road trip was pretty spectacular itself, offering outstanding views over the surrounding forested valleys and hills, including glimpses of the sea. From the small car park it was at most a twenty minute walk up through the remaining forest then beyond the treeline to lakes, seeing plenty of monkeys along the way.

As for the lakes themselves, the photos do the talking. During our visit two were a deep azure mixed with some yellow sulphur, while the other was a dark black.

Talking of photos, both the kids became minor celebrities with a couple of other groups of visitors. Each group seemed to want multiple photos with these unusual blond children. Odessa is generally more comfortable in front of the lens and dealt with it OK, but the notoriously bashful Rafe did well to get through it.

The Walk Back Down from Mt Kelimutu

There are terrorists in Pomi

Man with a machete tucked in his pants

We had taken a one way lift to the Mt Kelimutu carpark, so after our visit we had a choice of routes down the mountain – down the road, or take the off-road trail. When dropping us off, Tobias, the owner of our lodgings at Bintang Lodge, warned that with recent heavy rain, the jungle path would be treacherous, much too dangerous for the kids. He delivered this message with unusual seriousness and an intensity in his eyes. Moreover, as we descended into the car park a sage old man with a machete tucked in his pants had sidled up to us and warned that “there are terrorists in Pomi”. At least we thought he said “terrorists”, it might have been “tourists”. The village of Pomi lay halfway along the off road trail. Despite both our scepticism of this message (he could have been the brother of one of the taxi drivers) and the potential for having lost it in translation, this nevertheless added to our uncertainty.

We exchanged the kind of casual ‘au revoirs’ that people in the news seem to regret only after tragedy has struck

Rafe of course, enbolbened by the naivety of youth and dreams of Indiana Jones style escapades, was keen to take the cross-country route back. We knew this route was longer than the road and had no options for a vehicle rescue if the weather turned, as the gathering clouds threatened. In the end, we decided to split into two groups with the boys taking the dangerous mountain route and the girls heading down the road. It was decided that the remaining six biscuits and half a litre of water should be split equally between the parties – as RF Scott would have wanted.

We exchanged the kind of casual ‘au revoirs’ that people in the news seem to regret only after tragedy has struck, and were on our way. Some four hours later we were regathered for tea and medals back at Mopi’s Place in Moni – all present and in good order.

The two journeys had taken very different turns. The common factor had been the rain. An initial drizzle had quickly developed into a sustained downpour. Nevermind, at least it was warm. Helen and Dessa, trudging down the road, had taken up the offer of a lift from a passing group of tourists – some of those who had benefitted from photos with the kids earlier in the day. They clearly thought walking was a crazy idea and excitedly chit-chattered for the remaining few km to Moni after making the younger members of their group sit in the boot to make room. By contrast, for Rafe and Jim the walk had been a largely downhill matter, tough on the knees, characterised by trying not to slip on the steeply sloping mud. Mercifully, by the time the rains came they were on the flatter second half, and also through the areas of unlikely terrorist activity.

Murundao Waterfall

Just on the edge of town is a short trail to a waterfall with a swimming pool at the base. The path is signposted and starts just opposite the rainbow cafe. The walk was made a little more interesting by the jeopardy of a rickety bamboo bridge to cross the river. After a little splash about here we set off, over another bamboo bridge on a little hike through jungle and farmland in a loop back to Moni. All-in, around xx Km and a pleasant jaunt.

How we did it

We took a short flight from Labuan Bajo to Ende, which was notable for two things. This was our first turboprop flight of the trip, and second for the not entirely comforting prayer guide that had been placed in each seat back pocket alongside the sick bag. These two facts may or may not be connected. It is entirely possible to take the fifteen hour overland bus ride from Labuan to Ende – people do, including several people we met at the hostel. But tales of booming music, wall to wall vomiting due to the windy roads, and zero sleep meant we felt we’d done the right thing by the kids taking the air route. To each their own though – the bus is probably the right choice for the authentic adventuring experience.