A long time ago in the north of Bali an ancient volcano erupted, leaving a giant caldera in the aftermath. While studies on this past natural disaster are limited, one thing is certain: this part of the island has been blessed with a high amount of rainfall thanks to its geographical location. Over time, water started to fill in parts of the uneven surface of the caldera, eventually forming three lakes in the Bedugul highlands.
Today, a large percentage of people who travel from far corners of the world come to Bali to see its much-publicized beaches – although I personally think those on the neighboring island of Lombok were more spectacular, like Tanjung Aan and Selong Belanak which I visited in 2013. However, those who have heard about the beauty of Bali’s mountainous regions often include Bedugul and Kintamani in their itineraries, two picturesque highlands that were both formed by explosive volcanic eruptions eons ago. Unfortunately, this increasing popularity means the excessive commercialization that has plagued the south has started to creep northward. I will talk more about Kintamani in a separate post. But this time let me take you to Bedugul where its three lakes – each with its own personality – convinced me that the Bali a lot of people have fallen in love with is thankfully not lost.
Let me start with the name itself. Bedugul was derived from two traditional percussion instruments bedug and kulkul. The former was introduced by the Sasak community from Lombok who were (and still are) predominantly Muslim, while the latter has been an integral part of life for Balinese Hindus. The presence of the Sasak people deep in the hinterland of Bali can be attributed to the history of Karangasem, a kingdom from the eastern part of the island which once also controlled Lombok. Founded in the early 17th century, the formerly influential power was defeated by the Dutch in the late 19th century. Subsequently, the European colonial administration began extracting the region’s resources, resulting in the degradation of its forests.
When the Dutch realized they had to restore the natural landscape of Karangasem, they did so by relocating some of its residents to Bedugul and compensating them for the lands they lost as a consequence. Present-day visitors will immediately notice the sizable Sasak community in this part of Bali through the presence of mosques and restaurants serving halal food alongside Balinese Hindu temples and eateries specializing in local pork dishes. This is particularly evident near the first lake I’m taking you to.
Lake Beratan
The most visited and photographed of the three, Lake Beratan is situated next to the main highway that connects the island’s north and south regions, one of the main reasons for its popularity. The other reason? The iconic Pura Ulun Danu Beratan. My first time seeing it up close was in December 2011 during rainy season where a heavy downpour welcomed me as you can see in this post from more than a decade ago. Two years later, and after successfully convincing James to see the island – he was reluctant at first because in his mind Bali was just a very touristy part of Indonesia – we went to Lake Beratan, also in December. It wasn’t raining, but the skies were still rather gray and dull. It’s the highlands though where generally the weather is more in flux than on the beaches.
A few months ago, we returned to this part of Bali. Determined to see Pura Ulun Danu Beratan without the crowds – most people visit this place on a day trip – this time we stayed just 5 km from the lake so we could arrive early without having to wake up at an ungodly hour. Our driver Yana was surprised to see the automatic gate to the parking area of the temple ground still raised. Not wanting to break any laws, he got out of the car and checked if the other gates were working, but they had simply not been activated yet. After buying our tickets, James and I entered the seemingly almost deserted place. It was a little hazy, but it was my first time seeing Lake Beratan bathed in the sun. Magical is definitely not an overstatement to describe what I saw. With the warm sunlight coming from the east, I walked along a pathway that is usually filled with visitors – speaking of which, this time I only spotted a young European couple, a small group of elderly South Koreans, and a few locals. It was very quiet and relaxing, and the main tower of Pura Ulun Danu Beratan with its 11-tiered roof made from ijuk (a fiber from the trunk of Arenga pinnata, also known as the sugar palm) appeared to be floating in the calm water.
Water is so important and sacred to the Balinese they even have their own unique water management system called subak. It is at the core of the success of the inscription of multiple sites on the island onto the UNESCO World Heritage List in 2012. Every lake in Bali has its own pura (Balinese Hindu temple) dedicated to Danu, the goddess associated with rivers and lakes. A centuries-old inscription written on a lontar frond (from Borassus flabellifer, the Asian palmyra palm) recounts the construction of Pura Ulun Danu Beratan in 1634 by a ruler who later also commissioned Pura Taman Ayun, the royal temple of Mengwi, another local Balinese kingdom.
We wrapped up this peaceful visit on a high note, before large tour groups and day trippers started arriving. There was a palpable sense of spirituality all over the temple grounds, and I’m grateful to have been able to experience it with the soft morning sun slowly rising in the east.
Ornate finials atop different structures at the temple
The indirect light from the morning sun helped illuminate the ceiling of this structure
Garuda holding up a pillar in the northern end of the pavilion
Pura Ulun Danu Beratan, the main reason for most people to come to Bedugul
Lake Buyan
Bedugul, however, also has its fair share of tourist traps. On our second full day in the area, we were pondering the idea of checking out the Bali Botanic Garden, one of four botanic gardens managed by the Indonesian government, which is not too far from Lake Beratan. We’ve been to the other three – all in Java – so a visit to the one in Bali would be nice, or so we thought. It was Sunday morning and Yana told us how busy it usually is on weekends. The prospect of being out in nature with so many cars around us didn’t sound appealing, so without hesitation we asked him to go straight to the other two lakes in Bedugul which we expected to be less busy than the botanic garden.
The largest of the three, Lake Buyan was pleasantly low-key. There were a few pavilions at a campsite along its northern banks, each occupied by small families picnicking in the highlands as well as a small group of friends from Java who were just lazing around. Given the calm ambiance and the occasional breeze, I can’t blame them for dozing off in the shaded shelters. James and I followed the pathway that led to a small pier from which we could better appreciate the expanse of the mirror-like lake.
A few local fishermen in their dugout canoes rowed around slowly, adding to the unhurried ambiance of this place. However, unlike in Lake Beratan, Lake Buyan’s own pura dedicated to Danu – Pura Ulun Danu Buyan – was situated farther away from the water at the foot of the hill that is part of the wall of the ancient caldera. As much as I wanted to see it, I decided not to since devotees seemed to be preparing for a religious ceremony at the temple.
Lake Tamblingan
We followed a dirt path that cut through the dense forests around it. The tall canopy provided us with shade from the sun, which by now was already quite high. We hadn’t seen the lake yet, but this walk turned out to be a lot more fun than we anticipated. “Why go to the botanic garden when we can get this?” James rhetorically asked. Everything around us looked very pristine and somewhat prehistoric, and then halfway to the lake a small shrine came into view. Dozens of canang sari filled with different flower petals were placed on and around the altar, a reminder that this place too has significance according to local beliefs.
A few minutes later we arrived at the southwestern end of Lake Tamblingan where Pura Ulun Danu Tamblingan stood just a few meters away from the water. During the peak of rainy season, the water level can increase dramatically so much so the temple can appear as if it is floating. It’s unclear when this pura was built, but the overgrowth made it look older than what I believe it actually is. I went closer to the temple and realized that the plants sitting on top of the three gateways to the compound were in fact orchids. One even had flower stalks teeming with buds – had we come a few days or weeks later we would’ve probably seen them in full bloom.
A 10th-century copper inscription found in the area alludes to a Hindu temple on the other side of the lake, which gives a hint of the long history of the religion on the island. If it had reached this remote corner of Bali by then, the coastal areas must have been exposed to it much earlier. The Hinduism practiced on the island today, however, is significantly different from the one observed in India. While the latter puts a lot of emphasis on the iconography of Hindu deities, the former is more replete with symbolism, for instance.
Beyond the pura was the soothingly calm water of Lake Tamblingan which looked incredibly photogenic as thick clouds began rolling in from all directions, creating a beautiful and mysterious atmosphere. I had to remind myself that it was almost midday on a Sunday. Yet, this lake – the smallest of the three – felt a world away from Bali’s touristy spots. Big buses and large tour groups were nowhere to be found. There were just a few visitors enjoying a part of the island that is still spared from mass tourism. We left Lake Tamblingan feeling refreshed, while hoping that only those who really appreciate its natural state make the journey there.