Bursting with travel potential, Banten on the western tip of Java is perhaps the country's most surprising province. Text by Adam Fenton.

You don't have to go to the ends of the earth to find adventure. Some times it's right in your own backyard. For the province of Banten on the western tip of Java, this is certainly true. Banten is perhaps the country's most surprising province. So close to the capital Jakarta, (Soekarno-Hatta International Airport actually falls within its boundaries) it is home to...if you'll pardon the cliche, a 'treasure trove' of attractions for visitors.

The untamed frontiers of Ujung Kulon on the very western tip, only just connected to Java by a narrow isthmus, form a world heritage National Park that is the last refuge for the Javan Rhino. It is a spectacular place to visit with rugged windswept beaches, dense forest and a bewildering variety of wildlife. For the adventure traveller and hiker this is an incredible find. The Badui villages of the interior, take you on a genuine time warp, to witness a way of life that has somehow managed to resist the tides of time and technology. This is not a tourist attraction, it is real. And Krakatau volcano... (the Krakatau!), brooding and smoking, occasionally belching rocks the size of refrigerators hundreds of metres into the sky, squats amongst the churning waves of the Sunda Straits - growing slowly yet steadily every year, the child of the original - born of one of the world's greatest cataclysms. If you dare, Banten is here, just over here, waiting to take you on a ride that you'll never forget.

There is an irrepressible sense of Amazonian adventure that wells up in your chest as you paddle up the Cigenter river in a dugout canoe. Muddy mangroves gradually give way to dense forest on both sides as you penetrate deeper into the interior. While we weren't fortunate enough to see any, this is rhino country. As part of the World Heritage-listed Ujung Kulon National Park, the Cigenter river basin is one of the last known places in the world that the endangered Javan Rhinocerous is said to frequent. But it's not only wild rhinos that you can run into on your upriver excursion. As you glide into the heart of the jungle along this watery pathway, keep an eye out for crocodiles, pythons and even leopards. Sadly the magnificent Javanese tiger is now extinct, but if you tune your senses to the activity in the upper canopy, you can't mistake the deep swooping sound of the great hornbill. In between the quiet dipping of the paddles in the water, you might catch the rhythmic call of the burung tebug sounding like distant war drums...black langurs, silver leaf monkeys and macaques frequently crash past on their way through the upper canopy. Wild boars and banteng cattle can also be sighted here as well as an ornithologist's textbook of wild birds like the beautiful blue-breasted kingfishers that swoop and dive into the water to snatch a fish. No words or pictures can convey the emotion of being on the river during a brief downpour. The glistening green of the leaves - towering dipterocarps, swathed in creeping vines with huge buttress roots punctuate the shore, filtering shafts of sunlight onto patches of the river. Steam rises off fallen tree trunks as they slowly disintegrate in a symphony of life, death and renewal. Nowhere have I felt the poignancy of life so deeply as within the folds of this tremendous forest. As the river wound its way from left to right further into the jungle we occasionally had to lie down in the canoe to pass under a fallen tree. Just as we were about to pass under a tree, one of our party spotted a 2-metre-long python languishing on an overhanging branch. With a few hasty back-paddles we stayed out of its way, which was just as well, because with one almighty spasm of its body it leapt off the branch and into the water never to be seen again. Who knows what chaos might have ensued had it managed to jump into the boat?

Depending on your time availability, Ujung Kulon has enough to keep you busy for anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. A short boat ride from the main guest house at Pulau Peucang, takes you across to the very western tip of the island. Here you'll find a lighthouse tower that was erected near the foundations of a historical lighthouse dating back to the 1500s that was destroyed by the eruption of Krakatau in 1883. You can climb to the top of the slightly wobbly 40m tower for spectacular panoramic views of the surrounding points and the open ocean. This promontory was known to Dutch sailors as Java's First Point, because it was their first sight of land after the long voyage from the Cape of Africa, and a sign that Batavia was not far off. Walking tracks snake their way around most corners of the park, with trekking shelters at convenient intervals. For the hardy hiker who doesn't mind hefting a backpack with supplies, you will be rewarded with some spectacular and completely isolated trekking, especially along the rugged windswept shores of the south coast where the waves of the Indian Ocean pound against a rocky shoreline. Out here it is hard to believe that you're on the world's most densely populated island, but it is one of very few corners where you will find this kind of isolation.

Back in the interior of Banten, around an hour's drive from the town of Rangkasbitung in the Kendeng mountains south of Lebak you will find an enclave of villages concealed in the folds of the volcanic valleys. At Ciboleger you leave your car, and the modern world behind, and walk. An undulating path leads across shallow riverbeds and through clusters of houses and small thatched rice-barns on stilts. These villages are home to the Badui. Similar in some ways to the Tengger people of Mt Bromo in East Java, the Badui claim to be descended from the original pre-Islamic inhabitants of the Sunda highlands. At one time they may have formed a kind of secluded order of priests, and today they maintain their own religion, a complex mix of Hindu gods and ancestral and territorial spirits and deities. Their way of life is absolutely traditional. This is not a sideshow novelty kept alive for the sake of gawking camera-toting tourists, this is their real way of life. In the outer villages, outsiders are allowed to enter, but are shown no kind of special recognition. You are tolerated, and apart from the occasional curious glance from a giggling child, you are ignored. The otherwise ubiquitous cry of 'hello mister' is thankfully nowhere to be heard. The villages of the inner Badui are off-limits to outsiders. On the verandahs of the traditional thatch-roofed cottages, wizened old women clack away at their looms producing beautiful woven fabrics in box patterns of blue, purple and yellow known as kain tinun. Beautiful pale-skinned girls, quintessential Sundanese maidens, take care of the business of hulling the rice by pounding it with a pestle in a canoe-shaped lesung trough. Money for other essentials comes from selling handicrafts; woven tinun, thick black tunics that are as characteristic of the Badui as the blue batik bandanas worn by the men. Rustic cutlery made from coconut shells and carved wood can be bought as well as string bags in all shapes and sizes made from twine.

Back at the coast, steaming away in the choppy waters of the Sunda straits, is another highlight of any trip to Banten, Krakatau volcano. While there have been greater volcanic explosions in recorded history (Mt Tambora, Sumba 1815) the explosion of Krakatau in 1883 remains one of the most legendary cataclysmic events in the history of the world. In the early days of June that year, a series of tremors began to shake the earth around the seaside town of Anyer. By the end of the month, two great columns of steam rose from the island, and the once-luxurious vegetation was stripped down to some bare tree stumps. A party of sightseers at the time reported a 'fiery purple glow' every five to ten minutes from which 'a fire rain fell'.

On the afternoon of August 26th, it finally happened. The mountain literally exploded into fragments with a huge roar of global proportions. A 26km high pillar of ash shot up into the atmosphere, which would later have some curious effects on the weather in several parts of the world. It gave rise to the expression 'once in a blue moon' and also inadvertently provided the miserable inspiration for Mary Shelley's classic horror story, Frankenstein. Huge tsunamis or tidal waves caused by the explosion wrought havoc and general destruction on the coastlines of Java and Sumatra. No one knows the death toll, but many say that it was around 35,000. A Dutch gun-boat was found washed up two kilometres inland near Teluk Betung, Sumatra. When the dust finally settled, the island had been cleaved asunder, leaving a massive cliff face where the peak had formerly been. Travellers can still visit this island, the original Krakatau, (Pulau Rakata), which is now densely forested and provides a good hike to the peak for spectacular views. You can also stop here for lunch and a refreshing swim. Anak Krakatau, or Krakatau's child, first broke the surface of the Sunda Straits in 1928, and since that time has grown at a remarkable pace. It now stands at around 150m. A grey dusty cone, it has some vegetation on the lower slopes, and is dwarfed by its three neighbours. But it makes up for its lack of height with constant activity, and regularly erupts with bursts of ash and dust. You can land on Anak Krakatau but must exercise caution and seek local advice on weather conditions before setting out. The trip can take several hours each way depending on the boat and the weather. Only embark on a trip to Krakatau with a reputable tour operator.