The wooden boat creaked beneath my feet as we approached Satonda Island, its enigmatic silhouette rising from the morning mist like a forgotten world. Standing at the bow, I watched in awe as flying fish skipped across the waves, their silver bodies catching the light of the early sun. Pak Wayan, our captain, a man weathered by years of life at sea, shared hushed stories about the sacred island. “The lake,” he said, his voice tinged with reverence, “holds secrets older than my grandfather’s grandfather.” His words hung in the salty air, stirring both curiosity and respect.
The journey to this remote corner of Indonesia had been arduous, a series of flights, a bone-rattling ride across Sumbawa’s rugged terrain, and this serene boat ride at daw
n. Yet, as the island’s contours grew clearer, I knew the effort had been worthwhile. Satonda is a place where geology and mythology entwine, creating a harmony that feels almost otherworldly.
As our boat rounded the island’s eastern shore, I glimpsed the black-and-white sands marbling the beach, each grain a testament to the island’s fiery volcanic origins. Wading through the crystalline shallows to land, we were greeted by vibrant fish darting around our legs, while sunlight danced on the water’s surface like a scattering of diamonds.
“Watch your step,” Pak Wayan cautioned as we began the ascent towards the island’s crater lake. The trail snaked through a dense, verdant forest alive with the rustle of unseen creatures and the lilting songs of tropical birds. The air was heavy with humidity, infused with the faint, sweet scent of wild orchids. Each pause to catch our breath offered a new perspective a kaleidoscope of blues and greens where the sea kissed the horizon.
Reaching the crater’s rim, I caught my first sight of Satonda’s legendary lake, its turquoise surface gleaming like a mirror to another world. Encased within the volcanic heart of the island, the lake’s saltwater shimmered with a brilliance that seemed to defy nature. “It’s more saline than the ocean,” Pak Wayan explained, “a gift of the great Tambora eruption.” This unique feature, born from destruction, had become the cradle of local lore and scientific fascination alike.
Encircling the lake, I noticed trees bearing not fruit, but countless stones tied with strips of cloth. “These are the wishing trees,” Pak Wayan said with a knowing smile. He described how visitors, drawn by the island’s mystique, tie stones to the branches while making heartfelt wishes. If their dreams come true, tradition demands they return to reclaim the offering. I found myself moved by this ritual, its simplicity echoing the universal human longing for hope and connection. Almost instinctively, I picked up a smooth pebble and added my own wish to the growing tapestry of dreams.
The afternoon passed in a haze of wonder. Snorkelling along Satonda’s reefs, I drifted above coral gardens that seemed plucked from an artist’s palette, vivid purples, fiery oranges, and soft blues. Schools of fish wove around me like living rainbows, while a graceful sea turtle glided past with serene indifference. The juxtaposition of the island’s volcanic edges and its teeming underwater life was mesmerising, a reminder of nature’s power to create beauty from chaos.
As the day waned, I found myself drawn back to the crater lake. Alone on its shores, I watched as the sinking sun painted the water in hues of gold and amber. The air was still, the moment timeless. I understood then why the island is considered sacred, a place where the tangible and intangible coexist, offering a sense of peace that transcends words.
When it was time to leave, I lingered at the water’s edge, reluctant to let go of the serenity that had settled within me. As our boat pulled away, Satonda receded into the twilight, its mysteries intact. Pak Wayan, usually full of stories, sat quietly at the helm, his silence speaking volumes. When our eyes met, he nodded, a gesture of shared understanding.
That night, as we crossed the starlit waters back to Sumbawa, I thought about the power of places like Satonda, places that leave an imprint on the soul. My stone remains tied to one of the wishing trees, a quiet promise to return. Whether or not I ever reclaim it, Satonda has already given me something far greater: a reminder of the profound beauty that lies in listening to the world’s whispered secrets and embracing the wonder of the unknown.
In the heart of Indonesia’s Sunda Strait lies a place where the raw power of nature has left its mark on the world, Krakatoa. The name alone stirs curiosity and awe, conjuring images of fiery eruptions and skies filled with ash. To understand Krakatoa is to journey through a story of devastation, resilience, and the ever-changing face of our planet.
A Fateful Day in History
Before the eruption in 1883, Krakatoa was not a single peak but a collection of three prominent volcanic cones: Perboewatan, Danan, and Rakata. These peaks rose majestically from the turquoise waters of the Sunda Strait, each contributing to the island’s striking silhouette. Perboewatan, the northernmost cone, was the most active, often releasing plumes of smoke that could be seen from nearby islands. Danan, situated in the centre, and Rakata, the southernmost and largest cone, stood tall with lush vegetation blanketing their slopes, teeming with tropical wildlife.
The eruption, however, dramatically altered this landscape. Perboewatan and Danan were obliterated in the massive explosion, leaving no trace of their existence. Rakata, though heavily damaged, survived as a towering remnant of the former island. The once-unified peaks were replaced by a caldera partially submerged under the sea, giving rise to a jagged, hauntingly beautiful crater rim. This catastrophic transformation left the area almost unrecognisable, a stark testament to the volcano’s power.
Before the eruption in 1883, Krakatoa was a lush, green island rising dramatically from the turquoise waters of the Sunda Strait. Surrounded by smaller islands, its slopes were covered with dense tropical vegetation, teeming with life. The island was part of a volcanic chain, a towering peak framed by the blue expanse of the sea and dotted with small fishing villages. Locals lived in harmony with the land, unaware of the hidden forces simmering beneath their feet. The tranquillity of the landscape belied the tremendous energy building deep within the earth.
The Events Leading to the Catastrophe
Among those who first noticed the changes in Krakatoa were the local fishermen and villagers living along the shores of the Sunda Strait. Their observations, often shared with passing sailors and traders, eventually reached Dutch colonial officials such as Governor-General Johan Wilhelm van Lansberge in Batavia. Scientists of the era, including geologist Rogier Verbeek, relied on these firsthand accounts to document the increasing volcanic activity. Verbeek later pieced together these observations to provide one of the earliest scientific analyses of the disaster, paving the way for modern volcanology. These were people whose daily lives were intricately tied to the rhythm of the sea and the land. They observed the unusual warmth of the waters and the dwindling fish populations with quiet concern. Some spoke of the ground trembling beneath their feet, a sensation that was both alarming and difficult to explain. Others, tending to their crops, noticed faint plumes of smoke rising from the volcano’s summit, marking the beginning of its restless stirring.
Traders and sailors passing through the busy maritime route near Krakatoa also reported strange occurrences. Some saw flashes of light at night, glowing faintly on the horizon, while others described the acrid smell of sulphur carried on the wind. These signs were unsettling but not entirely understood, as few could comprehend the scale of what was about to unfold.
In Batavia (modern-day Jakarta), Governor-General Johan Wilhelm van Lansberge received reports of unusual seismic activity but were unable to predict the scale of the disaster. Similarly, in Telok Betong (now Bandar Lampung), local Dutch administrators, including Hendrik Willem van den Bosch, noted the escalating volcanic activity and sent urgent messages to Batavia. On neighbouring islands, officials like Jan Pieter Heutsz in Sumatra heard unsettling accounts from villagers but could only observe the events unfold from afar, as communication and understanding of volcanic phenomena were still limited.
The Tragedy at Anyer Lighthouse
Another tragic chapter unfolded at the Anyer Lighthouse, situated on the western coast of Java. This lighthouse, a vital guide for ships navigating the busy Sunda Strait, stood proudly near the shoreline. Its keeper, Johannes Lindemann, was an experienced seafarer who had managed the lighthouse for years. As Krakatoa’s activity increased, Lindemann and his family became increasingly anxious but remained committed to their duties, ensuring the lighthouse beam stayed steady to warn ships of potential danger.
On August 27, 1883, the massive tsunami triggered by Krakatoa’s final explosion swept across the coast, obliterating the lighthouse and the nearby town of Anyer. Lindemann, his family, and the other lighthouse staff were among the thousands who perished in the disaster. The lighthouse, once a beacon of safety, was torn from its foundation and carried inland by the colossal wave.
The loss of the Anyer Lighthouse was not only a devastating human tragedy but also a symbol of the eruption’s far-reaching impact. Years later, a new lighthouse was built further inland to replace it, a tribute to those who had lost their lives and a testament to the resilience of the coastal communities in the face of such overwhelming destruction.
Among the most haunting tales of the Krakatoa eruption is that of the lighthouse keeper at Fourth Point on Sebesi Island, just 21 kilometres from Krakatoa. Jacobus Haan, the keeper, had dedicated his life to ensuring the safety of passing ships by keeping the lighthouse’s beam steady. As the volcanic activity increased, Haan reported seeing ominous black clouds rising from Krakatoa and hearing thunder-like booms that shook the lighthouse. Despite the escalating signs, he remained at his post, recording his observations diligently in the logbook.
On the day of the eruption, as the ground quaked and the sky darkened, Haan witnessed the colossal explosion that obliterated much of the island. Moments later, a massive pyroclastic flow raced across the sea toward Sebesi Island, followed by towering tsunamis. Haan’s final entry in the log described the sea’s sudden withdrawal and the approach of a wave that dwarfed anything he had seen before. The lighthouse was swept away in the deluge, its beam extinguished forever.
Although Haan’s fate was sealed that day, his logbook was miraculously recovered, providing one of the few detailed eyewitness accounts of the eruption. His dedication and courage, even in the face of unimaginable destruction, stand as a poignant reminder of the human stories intertwined with nature’s power.
The Eruption Unfolds
On August 27, 1883, Krakatau unleashed one of the most catastrophic volcanic eruptions in recorded history. During its most violent phase, the volcano sent ash soaring 50 miles (80 kilometres) into the atmosphere, blanketing an area of 300,000 square miles or 800,000 square kilometres and plunging the region into darkness for over two days. This ash circled the globe, creating halo effects around the sun and moon and filtering solar radiation. In the year following the eruption, global temperatures dropped by as much as 0.5°C (0.9°F), with conditions not returning to normal until 1888.
The final explosion of Krakatoa produced the loudest sound ever documented, reverberating across more than 10% of the Earth’s surface. Reports likened it to distant gunfire, with the sound reaching as far as Australia and Mauritius, over 2,800 miles or 4,600 kilometres away. Within hours, pressure waves from the eruption rippled around the globe multiple times, with instruments in Great Britain and America recording sudden spikes. The energy released by the eruption is estimated to have been equivalent to 200 megatons of TNT, dwarfing the largest nuclear explosions ever conducted. By comparison, the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima in 1945 released energy equivalent to 15 kilotons of TNT, meaning the Krakatoa’s eruption was over 13,000 times more powerful.
As the eruption reached its climax, the island collapsed into its magma chamber, creating a caldera 3.8 miles (6 kilometres) wide. Explosions hurled up to 5 cubic miles (21 cubic kilometres) of rock fragments into the air. The event triggered a massive pyroclastic flow, an unstoppable torrent of hot gases, ash, and volcanic debris. These flows, capable of travelling over 50 miles per hour (80 kilometres per hour), obliterated everything in their path, their temperatures soaring between 200°C and 700°C (390°F–1300°F). Entire landscapes were scorched, and any vegetation or structures were either burned or buried.
The devastation did not stop there. The eruption spawned colossal tsunamis that radiated outwards, some waves reaching as high as 135 feet (41 metres) in the province of Banten. These tsunamis wreaked havoc on the coastlines of Java and Sumatra, sweeping away 165 settlements and carrying thousands of people to their deaths. The sheer force stripped islands bare, flattening homes and forests alike. Of the estimated 36,000 lives lost in the disaster, more than 34,000 were victims of these towering waves.
For survivors, the aftermath was a haunting scene of destruction. Ash fell like snow, choking the air and transforming the once-thriving landscape into a barren wasteland. The skies, tinged with hues of red and orange, created eerily beautiful sunsets that masked the tragedy beneath. It was a moment in history when humanity stood utterly powerless against the sheer and unrelenting force of nature.
The Role of the Telegraph
The eruption of Krakatoa in 1883 is one of the most well-documented natural disasters in history, largely due to the advent of the telegraph. At the time, this revolutionary communication technology connected much of the world, making it possible for news to travel rapidly across continents. As the events surrounding the eruption unfolded, the telegraph ensured that updates could be relayed almost in real time, allowing scientists, journalists, and the public to piece together a vivid account of the catastrophe.
Eyewitnesses from ships and settlements near the volcano described the immense explosions, towering ash clouds, and devastating tsunamis that followed. Their observations, transmitted via telegraph, were not only preserved but also shared widely, forming a comprehensive record of the disaster. The eruption’s effects were felt far beyond the immediate area. Spectacular sunsets, caused by volcanic particles in the atmosphere, became a global phenomenon, and many regions experienced a noticeable drop in temperatures. The telegraph made it possible for these observations to be exchanged between scientists and enthusiasts worldwide, fostering an unprecedented level of collaboration.
The power of the telegraph also amplified the public’s awareness of Krakatoa. Newspapers used the technology to publish detailed accounts of the destruction, from the obliteration of nearby islands to the tragic loss of tens of thousands of lives. These reports captured the imagination of readers around the world, turning what might have been a locally contained disaster into a truly global event. For many, this was their first glimpse into the dramatic power of volcanic eruptions and their far-reaching consequences.
The wealth of data gathered through telegraphic communication helped lay the foundation for modern volcanology. Scientists were able to study the event in detail, analysing not only the immediate devastation but also its longer-term effects on the planet’s climate and atmosphere. Krakatoa’s eruption, therefore, became more than a historical moment; it marked the beginning of a new era in understanding natural disasters, all made possible by the invention of the telegraph.
Krakatoa Today
Krakatoa’s story did not end with its catastrophic eruption in 1883. Out of the ashes of destruction, Anak Krakatau, the “Child of Krakatoa,” began to emerge in 1927. This young volcano rose steadily from the depths of the Sunda Strait, formed by ongoing volcanic activity as magma pushed through cracks in the Earth’s crust. The process is driven by the subduction of the Indo-Australian Plate beneath the Eurasian Plate at the Sunda subduction zone, a geological interaction that fuels the Pacific Ring of Fire.
Beneath the Earth’s surface, the Indo-Australian Plate moves northward at a rate of approximately 67 millimetres per year, descending into the mantle where intense heat and pressure partially melt the rock. This melting generates magma, which rises toward the surface through fractures in the Earth’s crust. The interaction of these tectonic plates also produces frequent earthquakes, further destabilising the region and contributing to Krakatoa’s volcanic activity.
The formation of Anak Krakatau involved frequent eruptions of basaltic-andesitic magma, creating a composite cone structure. Each eruption contributed to the layering of volcanic materials, including tephra, scoria, and lava flows, gradually building the island above the surface of the sea. By the mid-20th century, Anak Krakatau stood as a living reminder of the dynamic processes that shape our planet.
Over the decades, Anak Krakatau grew through intermittent eruptions. Its activity included Strombolian eruptions, characterised by relatively mild but frequent explosions of gas and molten rock. These eruptions built the island incrementally, with its height reaching 338 metres by 2018.
The most notable recent event occurred on December 22, 2018, when a series of explosive eruptions caused a massive section of Anak Krakatau to collapse into the sea. The flank collapse displaced a significant volume of water, generating a tsunami that swept across the Sunda Strait. The waves reached heights of 13 metres in some areas, devastating the coastlines of Java and Sumatra. Over 400 people lost their lives, thousands were injured, and coastal infrastructure was severely damaged.
The collapse also significantly altered Anak Krakatau’s structure. Satellite imagery revealed that its height was reduced to about 110 metres, and its overall volume decreased dramatically. The event provided critical data for scientists studying volcanic flank collapses and tsunami generation. The presence of basaltic magma and interaction with seawater likely intensified the explosive nature of the 2018 eruption.
Today, Anak Krakatau remains an active volcano, frequently emitting ash plumes, pyroclastic flows, and occasional lava flows. Its activity is closely monitored using modern techniques, including seismic sensors, satellite imaging, and gas emissions analysis. These efforts aim to predict future eruptions and mitigate risks to nearby communities. Despite its volatility, Anak Krakatau is a focal point for scientific research and a reminder of the Earth’s incredible geological power.
Stories of Survival
What makes Krakatoa’s story even more compelling are the human voices that emerge from the chaos. Among the survivors was a fisherman named Aditya, who was at sea when the first waves hit. He described watching the ocean retreat rapidly, exposing the seabed, only to see a towering wave rushing toward his small boat. Clinging to a piece of debris, he drifted for hours, the saltwater stinging his eyes and the ash-filled air making it hard to breathe. He was eventually found by another fishing crew, clinging to life but determined to return home to rebuild what he had lost.
In a nearby village, a mother named Rini huddled with her children in a small hut as the ground quaked violently beneath them. When the tsunami struck, she managed to pull her youngest child to higher ground, the roar of the waves deafening her cries. Her village was swept away, but she later recounted how her faith and determination kept her going, helping her family find shelter and begin anew amidst the devastation.
Equally dramatic was the ordeal of Captain Willem Roos of the Dutch steamship Batavia. On the day of the eruption, his ship was navigating the Sunda Strait when the ash cloud descended like a suffocating blanket, turning day into night. Roos and his crew struggled to maintain their course as the sea surged violently around them. At the height of the chaos, a massive tsunami slammed into the ship, nearly capsizing it. Roos ordered his crew to anchor in deeper waters, a decision that likely saved their lives. Though battered and scarred, the Batavia made it to safety, carrying survivors who owed their lives to the captain’s quick thinking and steady leadership.
These stories, and many like them, reveal not just fear and loss, but an extraordinary resilience. People rebuilt their lives, their homes, and their communities despite the odds. Their strength is a testament to human endurance in the face of overwhelming challenges, a reminder that even in the face of nature’s fury, the human spirit endures.
Scientific Observations and Ongoing Research
Krakatoa’s eruptions have drawn scientists from around the world, both in the past and today. Following the catastrophic 1883 eruption, Dutch geologist Rogier Verbeek documented the disaster in meticulous detail, providing invaluable insights into its impact on geology and climate. His work laid the foundation for modern volcanology and remains a key reference in the field.
In recent decades, volcanologists and seismologists have closely studied Anak Krakatau, employing advanced technologies to monitor its activity. The Indonesian Centre for Volcanology and Geological Hazard Mitigation (PVMBG) uses seismic sensors, gas emission analyses, and satellite imagery to track the volcano’s behaviour. Researchers from global institutions, including the Smithsonian Institution’s Global Volcanism Program, collaborate to understand the processes driving Krakatoa’s eruptions and the associated hazards.
Studies of the 2018 eruption revealed how underwater volcanic collapses could generate tsunamis, offering critical data for early warning systems. This research has led to the development of advanced tsunami prediction models, helping scientists better understand the mechanics of wave generation and propagation. Organisations such as the Indonesian Meteorology, Climatology, and Geophysical Agency (BMKG) have incorporated these findings into their monitoring systems, enhancing regional preparedness. Globally, this data has informed the design of early warning technologies, including real-time seismic sensors and deep-ocean tsunami detection buoys, which aim to minimise loss of life in future disasters. The event also highlighted the role of basaltic-andesitic magma in explosive eruptions, as the interaction between magma and seawater intensifies the volcanic activity. Ongoing research focuses on understanding the structure of Anak Krakatau, predicting future eruptions, and mitigating risks for surrounding communities.
Krakatoa’s Place in Culture
Beyond its geological importance, Krakatoa has profoundly shaped human culture and history. While Simon Winchester’s Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded popularised the 1883 eruption, other works have offered deeper and better insights into the scientific and historical implications of the disaster. Dr. Clive Oppenheimer’s Eruptions That Shook the World provides a masterful examination of Krakatoa’s role in global volcanic history, connecting it to broader themes of climatic impact and societal change. Dr. Michael R. Rampino’s extensive research into volcanic eruptions and their environmental consequences offers a detailed and evidence-based perspective on the long-term effects of events like Krakatoa.
These works, along with numerous peer-reviewed articles, have explored Krakatoa’s atmospheric and geological effects, from the global cooling that followed the eruption to its influence on art and literature. Local legends, deeply rooted in Indonesian folklore, describe Krakatoa as a realm of powerful spirits, tying the volcano to the cultural identity of the region.
For the people living near its shadow, Krakatoa is a symbol of both destruction and renewal. Many survivors of the 1883 disaster carried its stories to future generations, recounting tales of resilience and recovery. The eruption’s global impact, including atmospheric changes and vivid sunsets immortalised in art by painters such as Edvard Munch, highlights how deeply Krakatoa’s legacy resonates across cultures and disciplines. Today, the volcano continues to be a focal point for exploration, education, and artistic inspiration, embodying the intersection of natural power and human creativity.
For the people living near its shadow, Krakatoa is a symbol of both destruction and renewal. Many survivors of the 1883 disaster carried its stories to future generations, recounting tales of resilience and recovery. The eruption’s global impact, including atmospheric changes and vivid sunsets immortalised in art by painters such as Edvard Munch, highlights how deeply Krakatoa’s legacy resonates across cultures and disciplines. Today, the volcano continues to be a focal point for exploration, education, and artistic inspiration, embodying the intersection of natural power and human creativity.
Visiting Krakatoa
Visiting Anak Krakatau is a journey into one of the world’s most dynamic volcanic landscapes, offering not only a unique geological experience but also a connection to the cultural and historical significance of Krakatoa. As the successor to the infamous 1883 eruption, Anak Krakatau is a living reminder of the resilience of nature and humanity, bridging the past and present through its ongoing volcanic activity. The adventure begins in Carita or Anyer, where tour operators arrange boat trips to the island. These boats take visitors across the Sunda Strait, offering views of the surrounding islands and the vast expanse of the sea before arriving near Anak Krakatau. The volcano itself is often shrouded in mist, with steam rising from its summit and the smell of sulphur hanging in the air.
Visitors can hike partway up Anak Krakatau’s slopes, guided by experienced local experts who ensure safety while providing insights into the volcano’s history and activity. The terrain is rugged, covered with black volcanic rock and ash, making sturdy footwear a necessity. While hiking, travellers witness vents emitting steam and occasional minor eruptions that showcase the raw power of the Earth beneath their feet.
Beyond the volcano, Rakata, one of the remnants of the original Krakatoa, stands as a towering and rugged feature of the Sunda Strait. Its steep cliffs and volcanic strata provide a glimpse into the geological forces unleashed during the 1883 eruption. The island’s structure, with layers of solidified lava and ash, serves as a natural archive for scientists studying the sequence of events and the aftermath of the catastrophe. Rakata also offers visitors the chance to witness the resilience of life, as lush vegetation has reclaimed parts of its surface, symbolising recovery after destruction. This island is an excellent location for visitors to explore the lasting legacy of the 1883 eruption. Its rocky terrain and partially forested slopes make it a fascinating site for hiking and geological study. Surrounding Rakata, the islands also offer opportunities for snorkelling and exploring pristine beaches. These waters are home to vibrant coral reefs and a rich variety of marine life, making them a paradise for nature enthusiasts and a reminder of nature’s ability to recover and thrive.
Caution is paramount, as Anak Krakatau remains highly active. Tours are conducted under strict safety guidelines, with real-time monitoring of volcanic activity to ensure visitors’ well-being. The region’s unpredictability adds to the thrill of the experience, but it also underscores the importance of guided tours and adherence to expert advice. For those prepared for the challenge, visiting Anak Krakatau is an unforgettable encounter with the forces that shape our planet.
Conclusion
Krakatoa is not just a volcano; it is a storyteller, its narrative woven into the history of our planet and its people. It represents the resilience of nearby communities who rebuilt their lives after the devastation, and it embodies the scientific significance of Anak Krakatau, whose ongoing activity continues to deepen our understanding of volcanic behaviour and Earth’s dynamic systems. Its eruption changed the world in ways that are still felt today, while its rebirth offers hope and renewal. Visiting Krakatoa is more than a trip, it is an encounter with nature’s untamed beauty, a journey into the heart of one of Earth’s most powerful forces.
If you ever find yourself gazing at Anak Krakatau’s smoking peak, take a moment to reflect on the power and resilience that lie at the heart of its story. It is a reminder of how small we are, yet how connected we remain to the living, breathing world around us.
