Baluran National Park

Listen first. Dry grass moves in the wind with a soft, papery hiss. Somewhere a peacock calls, a sharp, almost human cry that carries across open ground. The air smells of dust and sun-warmed leaves. On the horizon, a broad volcanic mountain rises above the plain, its slopes creased and grey-green. You are on the far northeastern tip of Java, and for a moment it does not feel like Java at all.

This is Baluran National Park, on the coast of Situbondo regency in East Java. Many Indonesians call it Africa van Java, the Africa of Java. The name is easy to understand once you stand here. Instead of the dense green rainforest most people picture on this island, you see open savanna, scattered trees, and herds of grazing animals. It is one of the driest corners of Java, and that dryness shapes everything around you.

The mountain at the centre of the park is Mount Baluran, an old volcano that has been quiet for a very long time. Its summit area has collapsed into a wide crater, and the slopes are cut by deep gullies. Rain clouds often catch on its upper flanks while the lowlands stay dry. Much of the park lies in a kind of rain shadow, so long dry seasons alternate with a shorter wet season. The landscape changes colour dramatically between the two.

If you are here in the dry months, the savanna turns gold, then pale brown. Grass crackles underfoot, and the trees drop many of their leaves. Animals gather near the few remaining water holes. In the wet season, the same ground becomes soft and green almost overnight. Visitors who come twice, in different seasons, often say it feels like two different parks. Neither version is the true one. Both are part of the same cycle.

The drive in from the main gate tells this story in miniature. The road first passes through forest, some of it shaded and humid, where monsoon trees and thick undergrowth close in on both sides. Then, quite suddenly, the canopy opens. Light floods in. The open plain of Bekol spreads out ahead. This edge, where forest gives way to grassland, is one of the best places to slow down and watch for movement.

Bekol savanna is the heart of the park for most visitors. A watchtower stands near the old ranger station here. From the top, you can scan the grassland in every direction, with the mountain filling the view to one side. Early morning and late afternoon are the best times. The light is low and warm, the heat is gentler, and the animals come out to feed. At midday, many of them retreat into shade.

The animal that stands for Baluran is the banteng, a species of wild cattle native to Southeast Asia. Bulls are dark, almost black, while cows and young animals are reddish brown. Both carry a distinctive patch of white on the rump and white stockings on the legs. Wild banteng are now endangered, and Baluran is one of the few places on Java where they still survive. Seeing one here is not guaranteed, which makes each sighting feel earned.

Other animals are easier to spot. Javan rusa deer graze in loose groups, lifting their heads together at any sound. Wild boar root through the grass. Green peafowl, a rarer cousin of the familiar blue peacock, sometimes display in the open, fanning long glittering tails. Long-tailed macaques and the darker Javan langur move through the trees. The park is also home to leopards and Javan wild dogs, but these are shy, and very few visitors ever see them.

Here is something most visitors miss. Some of the thorny trees scattered across the savanna are not native at all. They are acacia trees from Africa, planted here in the twentieth century, reportedly to act as a firebreak. The plan backfired. The acacia spread quickly across the grassland, crowding out the grasses that banteng and deer depend on. Park staff have worked for years to clear it. So part of this African look is, in a strange way, genuinely African.

From Bekol, a road continues east to Bama Beach on the shore of the Bali Strait. The change is quick. Dry grass gives way to mangroves, salt air, and the sound of small waves on sand. On clear days, you may see the hills of Bali across the water. Here, the park meets the sea. The mangrove forest shelters fish, crabs, and birds, and protects the coast from erosion.

Bama has a second surprise, and it involves the macaques. The monkeys here are bold and well practised. They watch visitors carefully and know exactly what a plastic bag or an open snack looks like. Many people have lost sandwiches, sunglasses, and even phones in a single quick grab. It can be funny to watch, but it is better for the monkeys if they do not eat human food. Keep your belongings closed and close.

The beach is also a good place to look beneath the surface. At low tide, the shallow water over the reef flats becomes clear, and you can see corals, sea grass, and small fish. Snorkelling is popular when conditions are calm. The trail through the mangroves shows a different side of the park, quieter and more enclosed, with roots arching out of the mud and crabs moving sideways into their burrows as you pass.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look back across the open ground toward the mountain. Notice how the light sits on the grass, and how far the horizon stretches. Listen for the peacock again, or the dry rustle of leaves. Baluran is not a place of grand buildings or famous monuments. It is a place of space and seasons. As you walk away, let the quiet of the savanna stay with you a little longer.