“Anak” in Indonesian means child, and Anak Krakatau is the child of the old volcano that explosively self-destructed in 1883. The kid was born in 1927 and has indulged in bouts of adolescent rage ever since. When I was living in Indonesia many years ago, I had the opportunity to visit the island on two separate occasions, both of them quite exciting.
On one trip, tossed about in a leaking old tub by the swells of the Sunda Strait, and hanging on to my young daughter for dear life to stop her sliding overboard, we had the delightful experience of being “rained on” by sand. The wind had carried the cloud of drifting ash from the kid’s latest outburst to where it simply fell on us with a gentle pattering sound. I still have a small bottle of the product, and there it is in the image at the head of this post – newly born volcanic sand.
But this is not just any old sand – it’s rich in iron and titanium and therefore of some considerable interest to illegal sand miners – and yes, sand-smuggling is an occupation pursued the world over. During the last two years, the extraction of volcanic sand from the shores of Anak Krakatau has gathered pace. We’re not talking about a bunch of guys with shovels, but huge barges, dredges, and pumps, removing hundreds of thousands of tons of sand. For some time now, arguments over making this legal and issuing the required permits – for mining in a designated conservation area – have rumbled on in, I have to say, a very Indonesian way. In February, the Jakarta Post reported as follows:
Anak Krakatau’s natural exploitation opposed
Oyos Saroso H.N., The Jakarta Post
The South Lampung administration’s plan for sand mining around Mount Anak Krakatau has been met with opposition as green activists have said the activities threaten the environment.
Opponents of the plan also claim that the alleged mask of disaster mitigation is not justifiable.
Regent Rickyo Menoza was reported to have made the proposal for the permit with the Forestry Ministry, Lampung Natural Resources Conservation Body (BKSDA) and the Volcanic, Geological Disaster Mitigation Center.
Environmental watchdog Walhi feared the administration’s plan to dredge the sand would threaten the environment. The project, however, is expected to augment the administration’s income.
“The on site disaster mitigation efforts are only tricks to obtain permits that will allow entry to the Anak Krakatau area to dredge up the sand. On the other hand, the volcano and its surroundings are a designated conservation area that has to be protected,” Walhi Lampung chapter chairman Hendrawan said.
Sutono, a government official, denied the accusation.
“We are conducting these activities as part of a far-reaching program. We will build a drainage system to allow for lava flow so that the impact would not be severe in the case of an eruption,” Sutono said.
Hendrawan said he would file his complaint with police headquarters and the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) if the permit was issued and the sand mining operations were carried out.
Hmmm - “disaster mitigation efforts” – I’m not really convinced by that either. I’ll keep you posted.
My other visit to Anak Krakatau was one of those enormously enjoyable trips that could well have been my last. The volcano was in a particularly explosive mood – no lava, but ejection on a grand scale. If you look closely at the image above, you can see very large lumps flying through the air and cascading down the flanks of the volcano. Similarly in this photo below (taken, I hasten to add, with a good telephoto lens).
I recently discovered that, a while ago and completely forgotten, I had written up a brief account of this encounter with the bratty kid:
The critics liked it: a controlled performance, but one of passion and spontaneity. The performer was Anak Krakatau the small child of the monumental volcanic parent, Krakatau. We were correctly, west of Java, in a flotilla of three small Indonesian boats, out on a day trip to see the performance, swim, eat, drink a few beers and enjoy a rare opportunity for socialising between the Indonesians and expatriate Brits from the office.
Our pleasure craft hardly fell into the category of luxury yachts – indeed they were of quintessential local character, weather-beaten, patched, in need of a makeover, their mechanical systems hardly throbbing with vitality. But they seemed to work, their crews were cheerful, the sun was out, the sea was blue, and the volcano beckoned. Anak Krakatau has emerged from the sea in the midst of the wreckage of its parent’s explosive end, a substantial and very active volcanic island surrounded by a small jungle-covered archipelago which is all that remains after Krakatau finally overdid its incandescent rage. Entering the outer ring of islands we could see in detail what had been apparent for the entire trip from the mainland – Anak Krakatau was erupting regularly and spectacularly, but, by mainstream volcanic standards, modestly. Roughly every twenty minutes a great cloud of ash and small rocks welled into the sky from the crater, the rocks tumbling down the side in plumes of dust and ash, the ash cloud driven by the wind and raining volcanic dust in its path. We had had an excellent opportunity to build a simple and informal statistical database as we approached, timing the episodes, observing where the ash fell and comparing the size of each event. Rigorous analysis of these data supported what we had determined before our departure – the eruptions were small and regular and circumnavigating the island (at a circumspect distance) was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. So we did it.
Staying a couple of hundred metres out from the shore gave a spectacular view, along with the sound effects, of a couple of eruptions, and allowed collection of the fine volcanic grit as it drifted out of the sky onto the boats (and us). This was, you will understand, an intensely romantic experience for a geologist. Steam rose from the sea where newly-minted hot rocks continued to build the island. Unfortunately steam also rose from the engine of one of the boats. The other two gathered around and, while we watched the display, water was passed over to the invalid. It took about twenty minutes for the fever of inadequately-cooled internal combustion to be assuaged, and the sounds of coughing and decaying plumbing announced that we could get under way. It was approaching lunchtime and the decision was made to head off to anchor for sustenance and recreation next to one of the parental vestiges a kilometre or so away from where we had been stopped.
The sound of opening beer cans was overwhelmed by a particularly violent volcanic expostulation which accompanied, when we turned to look back, an equally, and unusually, violent eruption. We raised our beers to nature red in tooth and claw and were making the appropriate ooing and aarhing sounds when we began to realise just how big this one was. The cloud of georubbish was being hurled much higher than before, and the rocks were not landing harmlessly on the slopes of the volcano but were plummeting into the sea.
Including one, approximately the size of a bus, which created a huge plume of water as it landed at the same spot that all three boats had occupied twenty minutes before.
Recently, Anak Krakatau has grown into a more fluid phase of adolescence, erupting copious amounts of lava (photo Tom Pfeiffer, at Explore Volcanoes Now). I shall perhaps have to bring some prudence and discretion to planning my next visit.
Wow. That is truly stunning. I'm glad you missed that bus, though.
Posted by: F | April 14, 2011 at 04:40 AM