We got about eight hours of sleep. This was crucial to maintaining our health. I figured we’d get sick if we mixed little sleep, lots of hiking, and the steep temperature drop from yesterday. Well, we felt great and had lots of energy after eating breakfast at a nearby hotel.
We negotiated with the horsemen, but it appeared to be over budget for us to take a horse round-trip. The descent into the crater, walk to the volcano, and hike up the volcano takes about 2 hours on foot. So we decided on walking there and taking a horse back. This offered us the most diverse experience.
Oh, and that experience was diverse. The landscape was alien. It was like how I imagine Mars: dusty, sandy, windy, sun-scorched, cold. The locals call it the “Sand Sea.”
We acted out some Matrix and Street Fighter moves for fun. It felt right. “Haaaadouken!”
I could see a few motorcycles ferrying people to the volcano. They kicked up a lot of dust. It looked an intro scene from a sci-fi movie.
There was a Buddhist temple at the base of the volcano. We passed that and hiked up the stairs to the top of the volcano. Locals sold food and drink on the way up. You could count the stairs as you went. There were 246. Or you could not think about them. I found that much easier.
We got to the top and marveled at the innards of the volcano. Well, we only saw smoke, but it was sexy, nonetheless. This was real travel.
I negotiated a good price back on horse ($8 for two). I rode the horse without assistance from the horse’s master. Jameelah called me “Cowboy Bill.”
Now it was time to return to Bali. We had a great time on Java–apart from the long-distance journeys to Borobudur and Bromo. The Good Samaritan, breezy motorcyle ride, and celebrity treatment made Borobudur an instant classic for us. And the Batik conspiracy of Jogja gave us something to ponder.
We took a local shared van down to Probolinggo, a town at sea level. It was a cramped ride with local farmers–men and women. Some women brought their crops inside and hoisted the rest on the roof. And a man slung his duck, by the neck, under the seat.
We were dropped off at a deserted restaraunt on the main highway in Probolinggo. A man told us and a few other travelers to wait there for the bus to Lovina, Bali. We waited 3hrs, playing chess and eating Tim-Tams.
A 1st-class bus picked us up at the restaraunt–not the bus terminal. The travel agent had found a bus on its way to Bali that had a few empty seats. I guess he negotiated a discount rate with the bus company to fill those seats. And we paid the travel agent full price. Clever.
I raced on to that bus and found a seat for us two. I knew it was nearly full already, and the pickings were probably slim. J and I got seats right away in the middle of the bus.
But the other few travelers had to fight for some seats in the back by the bathroom. And there were more of them than seats. They were livid at the the bus driver and travel agent. However, the travel agent didn’t care because he got his money, and he knew they had no recourse. And perhaps the bus driver got a cut, so it he’d be fine cramming westerners onboard, too. The unlucky travelers accepted the situation after a few minutes and made do with the space. You do what you gotta do.
I took my Dramamine, reclined all the way, and slept like a baby. 
