After these first days the time for the longer trips has come. Still we shall not leave the inhabited parts of the Tengger, but we shall allow a greater scope to our energies and see more widely differing scenes. Tostartwith weall
Fotograph by G. P. Lewis. take the daSSlCal
Tree-fern in the wood. three-dessa trip:
Pruwana. These are called the three Hindoo-villages, though I can see no earthly reason why they should be more Hindoo than say Ngadiwana or Mararedja. However, the trip is interesting enough in itself. It takes about I % hours to ride and 2lA hours to walk; unexperienced horsemen should take a Tenggerese with them, you shall see why presently.
Departing about sunrise to have the advantages of nightas freshness and the warmth of the sun combined, we first proceed along the big road to Puspa, until it turns northward. Here we cross the little bamboo bridge on our right and begin to descend slowly towards the ravine-bottom, edging along the maize-covered
flaming grave from under an isolated group of big trees, with gayly coloured little ferns adorning their branches; and we return quickly through the gathering shadows.
slopes. Half-way down we pass a pantjuran, a waterspout protruding from the mountain-side and yielding clear, cool spring-water. It is a gathering spot for Tenggerese women who come here to wash and chatter; two or three men are lazying about and telling jokes; now and then one of them stoops under the jet with a shivering grin that makes all these grown-up childern laugh with sheer delight. Nor do they put on a reserved countenance at your approach; they are of a less constrained demeanour than the Javanese, and they only know the European when off duty.
Down at the brook, which flows clearly and smoothly on its bed of sand, only gurgling a little when it is hampered by rollers, we may rest our horses for a few minutes, and do some jumping from one rock to the other to visit an idyll of flowers and water, concealed a few hundred yards upstream behind cool mountain-walls and screens of ferns and larkspur and Indian cress: the Nymphean Bath. A small-sized waterfall, where the brook plunges into a quiet, circular pool in two petty leaps; with the sunrays playing radiantly on the disturbed surface of the water. Then we mount on horseback again, and climb the steep zigzag to Wanakitri; on the other side Tosari and the hotel reappear on the shaggy ridge like dollas houses.
At the top, near the village gate of Wanakitri, we pass a side-path on our left; it descends to a waterfall in the ravine, and if you feel enterprising, go and find out; but know, itas far from easy.
We enter the peaceful village and take the second path to the left (blue board), between the bamboo hedges of the premises. This path, a pretty lane of tjemaras, follows the crest of the ridge descending slowly towards the north. On our left are the heights of Tosari; to the right the view is partly barred by a wood-covered ridge; and when the sky is cloudless we may behold the distant tops of Tengger, the giants Penandjaan and Argawulan, clad with shining garments of yellow grass and darker shrubs.
A sort of winding-stairs gives access to Sedaeng, a gathering