Indonesia’s mountains of fire

Spectacular volcano peaks, part of the huge Tengger Massif in Java. (Dennis Walton/LPI)

While Indonesia’s volcanoes are often noted for the beauty of their spectacular peaks, steaming craters and view of the earth’s bubbling core, Mount Merapi, the country’s most active volcano, took centre stage this past October as a clear reminder of their deadly activity. Many of Indonesia’s volcanoes do erupt, sometimes with shocking consequences.

Due to Indonesia's placement on a significant segment of the Pacific "Ring of Fire", two large crustal plates (the Indian Ocean and western Pacific) are forced under the massive Eurasian plate, where they melt, approximately 100km beneath the surface. Some of the magma rises and erupts, forming the string of volcanic islands across Indonesia.
But with tectonic activity comes devastating earthquakes and tsunamis, such as those of Boxing Day 2004, off Java in July 2006 and Sumatra in 2009, and just recently around the surfer's paradise of the Mentawai Islands. Here is the lowdown on Indonesia's most beautiful, and its most volatile, volcanic monsters.
Gunung Bromo, Java
A landscape of epic proportions and surreal beauty, Gunung Bromo is one of Indonesia's most breathtaking sights. Surrounded by the desolate Sea of Sands, its peak is sacred and eerie. It may not be Java's tallest volcano, but it is easily its most magnificent. From the summit you can see two other volcanoes (one in various stages of activity), all set in the vast caldera of yet another volcano.
Compared with Java's other major peaks, Gunung Bromo is a midget. But this volcano's beauty is in its setting, not its size. Rising from the guts of the ancient Tengger caldera, Bromo is one of three volcanoes to have emerged from a vast crater that stretches 10km across. Flanked by the peaks of Kursi and Batok, the steaming cone of Bromo stands in a sea of ashen, volcanic sand, surrounded by the towering cliffs of the crater's edge. Nearby, Gunung Semeru, Java's highest peak and one of its most active volcanoes, throws its shadow - and occasionally its ash - over the whole scene.
Gunung Krakatau, Java
Take a boat trip to see the remnants, and the new beginnings, of one of the world's A-list volcanoes. Few volcanoes have as explosive a place in history as Krakatau, the island that blew itself apart in 1883. Turning day into night and hurling devastating tsunamis against the shores of Java and Sumatra, Krakatau quickly became vulcanology's A-list celebrity. Few would have guessed that Krakatau would have snuffed itself out with such a devastating swan song. Krakatau may have blown itself to smithereens, but it is currently being replaced by Anak Krakatau, which has been on the ascendant ever since its first appearance nearly 80 years ago. It has a restless and uncertain temperament, sending out showers of glowing rocks and belching smoke and ashes.
Kawah Ijen, Java
Spend the night at a peaceful coffee plantation before climbing this volcano to view its remarkable turquoise sulphur lake. The fabled Ijen Plateau is a vast volcanic region dominated by the three cones of Ijen, Merapi and Raung. A beautiful and thickly forested alpine area, these thinly populated highlands harbour coffee plantations and a few isolated settlements - Gunung Ijen is Javanese for "Lonely Mountain". Access roads to the plateau are poor, and perhaps because of this visitor numbers are low. Virtually everyone that does come is here for the hike up to the spectacular crater lake of Kawah Ijen. But with sweeping vistas and a temperate climate, the plateau could make a great base for a few days up in the clouds away from the crowds.
Gunung Agung, Java
Take one of the numerous routes up and down Bali's tallest and most sacred mountain. Gunung Agung is an imposing peak seen from most of South and East Bali, although it is often obscured by cloud and mist. Many references give its height as 3,142m, but some say it lost its top in the 1963 eruption and opinion varies as to the real height. The summit is an oval crater, about 700m across, with its highest point on the western edge above Besakih.
Gunung Kerinci, Sumatra
Brave this challenging ascent up into the heavens on Sumatra's highest peak. Dominating the northern end of the park is the 3,805m Gunung Kerinci, one of Sumatra's most active volcanoes (it last erupted in 2009) and Indonesia's highest non-Papuan peak. On clear days the summit offers fantastic views of Danau Gunung Tujuh and the surrounding valleys and mountains.
Kelimutu, Nusa Tenggara
Wonder at the ethereal scenery atop this volcano, with its three differently coloured crater lakes and lunar landscape. There are not many better ways to wake up than to sip ginger coffee as the sun crests Kelimutu's western rim, filtering mist into the sky and revealing three deep, volcanic lakes - each one a different striking shade. That is why the tri-coloured lakes of Kelimutu National Park have long been considered a Nusa Tenggara must. During our research one was turquoise, the other dark brown with flecks of rust and the third was black glass. Colours are so dense that the lakes seem the thickness of paint.
Gunung Rinjani, Lombok
Join pilgrims at the summit of this sacred peak, which has a huge crater lake overlooked by the active cone of Gunung Baru. To the Balinese, who come once a year, Rinjani is one of three sacred mountains, along with Bali's Agung and Java's Bromo. Inside the immense caldera, 600m below the rim, is a stunning, 6km-wide cobalt-blue lake, Danau Segara Anak (Child of the Sea). The Balinese toss their jewellery into the lake in a ceremony called pekelan, before they continue toward the sacred summit.
Gunung Api, Maluku
Scramble up this volcano in the Banda Islands to experience the awesome sunrise views. This devilish little 666m volcano has always been a threat to Bandaneira, Lonthoir and anyone attempting to farm its fertile slopes. Its most recent eruption in 1988 killed three people, destroyed more than 300 houses and filled the sky with ash for days. Historically, Gunung Api's eruptions have often proved to be spookily accurate omens of approaching intruders.
Gunung Semeru, Java
Part of the huge Tengger Massif, the classic cone of Gunung Semeru is the highest peak in Java, at 3,676m. Also known as Mahameru (Great Mountain), it is looked on by Hindus as the most sacred mountain of all and the father of Gunung Agung on Bali. Semeru is one of Java's most active peaks and has been in a near-constant state of eruption since 1818. In 1981, 250 people were killed during one of its worst eruptions, and it exploded as recently as March 2009.

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All at sea in New Zealand

An aerial view of some of the 150-odd uninhabited islands that give the Bay of Islands its name. (Mark Read/LPI)

The best way to explore New Zealand's Bay of Islands is to make like a local and get out on the water, from tall-ship sailing to a journey in a traditional Maori war canoe.

• Related photo gallery: Island hopping in New Zealand

See the Bay through the eyes of New Zealand's first European settlers.
Sitting on the yardarm, 10 metres above deck, all but two sounds disappear. The dull roar of the wind, rushing past at a speed of eight knots, punctuated by the occasional pop of the canvas sail that billows and gusts below my dangling feet. On the deck the crew of the R Tucker Thompson are helping other passengers into safety harnesses, so they too can fulfil the childhood fantasy of climbing the rigging. For those without a head for heights, there are Devonshire cream teas to be enjoyed.
This majestic tall ship, a faithful replica of a 19th-century schooner, first set sail in 1985. Now operated by a charitable trust, the R Tucker Thompson runs summer day sails like this one to fund its work with local children. 'Through the winter we take kids out on seven-day trips,' explains captain Chrissy Gayer, whose sun-bleached hair suggests a life lived permanently outdoors. 'Being on the ship teaches children to work as a team. We'll do sailing, chores, nightwatches - there's a lot to be done on a big boat like this.'
For day sailors, the pace is more leisurely. Most passengers languish on deck as the Tucker T cuts through the sheltered sea of the Bay, keeping their eyes peeled for the dolphins and penguins that occasionally surface alongside like bobbing corks. Others choose to help the crew set the sails, or clamber out to ride the bowsprit. From here, you can gaze down at the ocean shifting through a paint-chart's worth of blues as the ship draws closer to the islands.
At Paradise Bay, Chrissy drops anchor. Only a handful of vessels are docked in the secluded waters that surround Urapukapuka, one of 150 tiny atolls that give the Bay of Islands its name. A young deckhand ferries passengers to shore in a small put-putter of a motorboat, while others swim the distance. Stepping onto the white sands of the deserted beach, crunchy with fragments of seashell, I get an inkling of what New Zealand's first European settlers must have felt when they arrived in this tropical Eden.
Walk across Urapukapuka and the landscape is a curious mix of the familiar and the exotic - rolling green hills taken from a Cotswold postcard descend into bushland borrowed from Jurassic Park. Plants fight for space: ponga (silver tree fern), cabbage trees, manuka (tea tree), and pohutukawa (a coastal evergreen tree), which cling to the land at the sea's edge. Stray from the paths and you'll find hidden coves, mostly deserted but occasionally filled with local schoolchildren on a day trip. Some are snorkelling; others are in canoes. Boys and girls dive for sea urchins, cracking them open on the rocks before sucking out the innards - 'kina' or sea eggs are a muchloved delicacy among Maori people.
Before our own lunch is served back on deck, there's a chance to try out the rope swing. Everyone has a go, even the oldest and most rotund passenger tossing himself into the water with a joyous yelp of abandon. Ship's captain Chrissy is manning the barbecue. 'This is my fifth year as a skipper,' she tells me as she carefully turns pieces of chicken sticky with marinade. 'I came here from Edinburgh eight years ago, got a job as a deckhand and never left. Easy to do; I mean, look at it,' she says, gesticulating with her tongs. All traces of her Scots heritage are gone; she has a Kiwi accent, an Antipodean's tan.
Chrissy is one of a long line of Europeans who came to New Zealand and failed to leave. The first white settlement was at Russell, where the Tucker Thompson docks for the day. Though it now seems hard to believe, this pretty town was once known as 'the hellhole of the Pacific' - a magnet for convicts fleeing Australia, and whalers and sailors too drunk to return to sea. When Charles Darwin visited during his Beagle voyage in 1835, he described it as being full of 'the refuse of society'.
Nowadays Russell is a very different sort of place. Home to some of New Zealand's oldest buildings - such as Christ Church, built in 1836 - the town has the look of a meticulously constructed film set. Elegant houses with white picket fences line the shore, and the many seafront restaurants are full of well-heeled patrons. Eating freshly shucked oysters and sipping a glass of local pinot gris while watching the sun descend over the harbour, the view is nearer heaven than hell.

• A day sail aboard R Tucker Thompson costs £64, including morning tea, lunch and ferry transfer from Paihia (tucker.co.nz)

Learn about local culture aboard a traditional Maori war canoe
'Tohiki!' the chief bellows, like a warrior calling from a different age. 'Hiiii!' the crew respond in unison, 40 paddles drawing against the water in time with the chant. As the double-hulled waka (canoe) surges forth, Hone Mihaka turns to me with a satisfied smile. 'We are the waka, and the waka is us.'
Hone is a proud member of the Ngapuhi, New Zealand's largest tribe and the one to which most Bay of Islands Maori belong. His company Taiamai Tours offers waka voyages on the Waitangi River, allowing visitors to explore the area while learning about his people's relationship with the land. 'It's about sharing who we are, involving people in our living culture - not turning it into a product,' says Hone. He is scornful of the Maori 'cultural shows' put on by local hotels. 'With us, what you are paying for is a three-hour trip in a canoe with a couple of storytellers. But our customs and traditions, they are not for sale; these are our gift to you.'
The journey begins in the Waitangi River's tidal estuaries, with a lesson in waka paddling skills and chants. As we make our way upstream and the bush land along the riverbanks grows greener and denser, our strokes pull deeper; our rhythmic calls become more emphatic. Hone stands at the waka's ornately carved prow, thumping his paddle in time, but occasionally breaks rank to point out a bird or plant, a good fishing spot, or the family marae (meeting house), a low wood-plank building with a grass-covered roof.
Today I am the only tourist aboard the waka - the rest of the crew are all members of Hone's whanau, or extended family. Cousins, aunts, brothers, grandsons - from a seven-year-old boy to a woman in her 70s - all have come to take their place in the canoe for Waitangi Day. A public holiday, 6 February commemorates the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, New Zealand's founding document, in 1840. Each year, just after sunrise, it is marked by the ceremonial procession of a waka fleet, and tribes from all over New Zealand come to take part. 'For my ancestors, Waitangi Day was about bringing together different tribes, nations, peoples,' says Hone. 'And for me it is the same thing - a coming together.'
There are few 'pure' Maori left in New Zealand, most share heritage with the Pakeha (British, Irish and other white European settlers) who colonised their land. Hone wears a red tartan blanket wrapped around his waist, but when I enquire about its significance he shrugs and laughs. 'This is the first thing that came to hand when I got dressed this morning. You want to talk about my clothing? This is my clothing,' he says, placing a clenched fist on his bare chest, at the heart of an elaborate tattoo: his 'moko'.
Each inky spiral, each dark curled tendril, represents a different part of Hone's tribal homeland. He walks across the design with his fingers - around Taiamai (the Maori word for the inland area of the Bay of Islands), through rivers and forests to Northland's largest freshwater lake: Lake Omapere. 'My head looks North,' says Hone. 'To the ancestors' pathway to our spiritual homeland, Hawaiki.' Maori believe that the souls of the dead walk along 90 Mile Beach, a strip of sandy coast lined with steep dunes, before eventually reaching Cape Reinga. Here, at New Zealand's most northerly point, they take the leap into the afterlife. 'Then,' says Hone, 'the whole of the Pacific Ocean becomes our playground.'
Today, the playground is an earthly one - the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, where the main celebrations for New Zealand's national day are held. The festivities are representative of the strange alchemy that has occurred between the two cultures since the document was signed 170 years ago. Alongside stands selling Maori favourites, such as hangi (meat, steamed in a fire in the ground) and mussel fritters, are stalls offering confections reminiscent of a British village fête: flapjack and Victoria sponge. At four o'clock, local boys perform a spirited haka to welcome the safe return of the canoes after the morning's ceremonial procession. An hour later, the New Zealand navy band starts up, mixing nautical standards with tongue-in-cheek covers of pop hits and showtunes.
Crisp in their pristine white uniforms, the musicians' brass trombones and French horns gleam in the last of the day's sunlight. A Maori family sat under the shade of a tree listen to the band's final number while eating watermelon sundaes: green shells filled with ice cream, nuts and lurid strawberry sauce. As well as New Zealand's birthday, the group have another to celebrate. Presenting a cake to the youngest of the group, a boy, a woman begins to sing softly. Soon she is joined by a dozen voices singing in Maori, all falling effortlessly into three-part harmony. Happy Birthday has never sounded more beautiful.

• A half-day tour with Taiamai Tours Heritage Journeys costs £63 (taiamaitours.co.nz)
• Waitangi Treaty Grounds (waitangi.net.nz)

Find your sea legs yacht racing
At 40 foot, Revs is the biggest yacht at Opua Cruising Club. The colour of a fire engine and capable of speeds of 20 knots, she is worth over £250,000. But in the Bay of Islands, sailing isn't just something rich people do - everyone's at it. 'There's no class division,' says Reece Hesketh, the Club's Vice Commodore. 'We're labourers, teachers, small businessowners - people from all walks of life.' Reece, who runs a plumbing company, doesn't even own a boat. 'I don't need one,' he says. 'If I want to go sailing, there's always a place for me in someone's crew.'
This inclusive approach extends to outsiders - the club is happy for anyone who wants to try their hand at sailing to take part in one of their race nights. Aspiring sailors are taken under the wing of an experienced seadog and shown the ropes, free of charge. 'We get a buzz out of seeing you guys get a buzz,' says Reece.
Down at the marina, I am welcomed aboard Revs. A horn sounds the start of the race, and as the boat begins to pick up speed I taste the metallic tang of adrenalin. Silently, Reece hands me a bottle from a cooler stacked with Tui beer. As a beginner, my role is chiefly to act as ballast - scampering from one side of the boat to the other when instructed by an emphatic shout of 'Tack!' from the captain. 'The flatter she is, the faster we go,' Reece says.
Chitchat is minimal, as all hands are on deck. Ropes are pulled taut then swiftly uncoiled, mysterious terms and numbers are bellowed from port to starboard. There is a perpetual sense of urgency, and all eyes look upwards and all hearts soar when the wind catches at Revs' mighty, blustering sail. In its shadow, smaller vessels weave their way around the buoys marking the course: tiny 'trailer sailers' crewed by husband-and-wife teams, a vintage-looking sail boat with blue rigging, a sporty, orange-sailed catamaran.
It's the latter, Orange Peeler, that takes victory at the finish line, but the result seems almost irrelevant to the Revs crew. They are quickly absorbed into the bonhomie of the clubhouse, generously batting away my offers to get a round in. From a neighbouring kitchen hatch, portions of roasted pork belly with kumara (sweet potato), steak with chips, and battered local fish appear. Famished racers spill out onto the sundeck, plate in hand.
Sat at a table sinking a beer, Reece is elated. 'Words can't really explain the way I feel about sailing, but it's like a sun burning inside of me,' he says, his face flushed with boyish pleasure. 'I don't consider myself a spiritual person but it is sort of spiritual - there's something about the water that I'm drawn to. Ask anyone on the boat and they'll tell you the same.'
Born in Kent, Reece is, like many of New Zealand's immigrants, evangelical about the great outdoors. 'The Bay of Islands is so accessible - it's easy to explore, and there are lots of places you can drop anchor and be perfectly safe.' Oke Bay, about 11 miles from Russell, is one of Reece's favourite spots. 'I like to get out there with my wife or some friends and kick back. You can have a glass of wine, some scallops if you've been diving. You've got to be here, doing it, to know just how special this place is.'

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A perfect day in Miami

By Adam McCulloch, Lonely Planet

Skate your way through the classic Art Deco district on Ocean Drive. (Witold Skrypczak/LPI)

The city of Miami thrives on attention, from its much-photographed Art Deco architecture to its celebrated beaches, glitzy clubs and hotels where the lobbies are more like catwalks. But there is also a more refined side to this multicultural metropolis, which boasts an art and design scene equal to any in the world. Whether you are an arty type or a party type, Miami is one unforgettable 24 hours.

• Related article: A guide to Miami nightlife
  

Morning:
Rise early in Miami Beach - the island community south-west of Miami proper - to join the outgoing tide of joggers as they meet the incoming swell of dishevelled club-goers along the ocean boardwalk, which runs from 21st Street to 46th Street. The scene in tacky-glamorous South Beach (considered by its detractors to be Vegas without the gambling) is high-octane enough that you might want to skip that second espresso at The News Stand Café (800 Ocean Drive; newscafe.com), a 24-hour South Beach fixture. Settle in with one of the myriad newspapers from all over the globe - an increasingly quaint notion in the age of iPads.
This neighbourhood is home to some remarkable examples of Art Deco architecture. In 1926 South Beach was flattened by the most destructive hurricane in American history, and the subsequent building boom celebrated every permutation of Art Deco, from Streamline Moderne to Mediterranean. The Miami Design Preservation League (www.mdpl.org) conducts walking tours, but if you prefer going it alone, just zigzag south between Ocean Drive and Collins Avenue, where many of the most impressive examples of the movement can be found. The Edison (960 Ocean Drive), The Beacon (720 Ocean Drive), The Chesterfield (855 Collins) and The Mercury (100 Collins) are four hotels worth donning Miami Vice pastel for, although film buffs will want to save their adoration for The Carlyle (1250 Ocean Drive, at 13th street), where the classic gangster flick Scarface was shot.
Continue south to the recently restored Jewish Museum (301 Washington; www.jewishmuseum.com). The Jewish population in South Beach has virtually vanished (many preferring North Miami Beach or regions further afield) but, at one time, Jewish hotels, schools and grocers were on every corner.
Lunch:
Stop in at Joe's Stone Crabs (11 Washington Avenue; www.joesstonecrab.com) a Miami institution since 1913, which makes it not much younger than the city itself. The restaurant is only open during Stone Crab season (mid-October to mid-May) when the Atlantic delicacy is plentiful. It is worth lining up for the jumbo claws with mustard dipping sauce. Walk off the calories by heading to South Pointe Park for killer views over the water to Miami's downtown area.
Afternoon:
Swap people-watching for animal-hugging at the mainland Miami Seaquarium (4400 Rickenbacker Causeway; www.miamiseaquarium.com) on Biscayne Bay. Here, you can enjoy a face-to-face encounter with the gentle - and strangely adorable - manatee which graze lazily in the aquatic grasslands of South Florida. Bring your swimsuit as the Seaquarium also offers a swim with dolphins program for anyone over 52 inches (132 cm) tall.
After you have dried off, catch a cab north to Biscayne Boulevard between 36th and 43rd street. More than a hundred galleries pack this area, which has earned the mantle of Miami's design district (www.miamidesigndistrict.net). Even if you miss Art Basel Miami Beach (www.artbaselmiamibeach.com) the swanky design-fest held annually in early December, the district plays host to Art + Design Night on the second Saturday of every month. Galleries woo the public with refreshments and a kind of Art Basel vibe. Head to Locust Projects (155 NE 38th Street; www.locustprojects.org) to check out avant-garde artworks and installations, or 101 Exhibit (101 NE 40th Street; www.101exhibit.com) for eclectic works include the disturbing watercolours of one time Florida resident Marilyn Manson.
After all that art appreciation you have earned a refreshment at the Democratic Republic of Beer (255 NE 14th Street; www.drbmiami.com), a bar that stocks 500 brews from Ethiopia to Finland and pretty much everywhere in between. If sugar is more your scene, head to King's Ice Cream Shop (1831 SW 8th Street) in Little Havana and order a scoop of custardy, tart guanábana flavour.
Dinner:
As the sun goes down, swing by the neighbourhood of Little Havana, the Latin heart and soul of Miami, where Spanish is more widely spoken than English and the strains of salsa and hip-hop pour from windows all night long. Grab a Cuban sandwich at Enriqueta's Sandwich Shop (2830 NE Second Avenue) and settle in to watch the old-timers playing dominoes on the street.
Late:
Head back across the bridge to Miami Beach for a cocktail at the newly opened Soho Beach House (4385 Collins Avenue; www.sohohouse.com), an outpost of the New York private club where you will rub shoulders with models, art dealers and moguls. Finally, it is time for Bed - though not the slumbering variety. At this buzzy club (located at 929 Washington Avenue; www.bedmiami.com), whose conveniently raunchy acronym stands for Beverages Entertainment Dining, scantily-clad guests lounge on mattresses while the air throbs to the beat of an ever-changing array of international DJs.

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