A Hill Worth the Detour: Why Teletubbies Hill Should Be on Your Bucket List in East Nusa Tenggara
Some landscapes whisper to your instincts. They don’t scream tourist trap, they don’t bleed crowds. They call softly—like a wolf just out of sight—inviting the curious, the restless, the ones who stopped believing adventure can still be found off-screen. Teletubbies Hill, in the far-flung reaches of East Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia, is one of those places.
Strange name? Absolutely. But don’t let the playful moniker fool you. This corner of the Earth is no children’s show backdrop. It’s a wild, rolling theatre of solitude and awe, folded into an Indonesian island often overshadowed by its flashier cousins. And it deserves a spot on your bucket list—not for its glitz, but for what it wakes in you.
No, You’re Not Hallucinating—It’s Really Called That
The locals started calling it Bukit Teletubbies because the smooth, green hills resemble the dreamlike contours of the TV series’ fictional home. Funny how something so surreal can also feel so real when you’re standing in it, sweat dripping down your spine, the scent of sun-baked grass punching your senses rational again. Don’t expect to find Laa-Laa or Tinky Winky here. Expect instead the sensation that you’ve just stepped outside the modern noise, into a world that breathes slower—and deeper.
Where the Hell Is It?
Teletubbies Hill is tucked away on the island of Kelor in the East Nusa Tenggara province. This isn’t Bali’s overplayed beaches or Java’s thunderous volcanoes. Kelor is a minor island—almost shy—in the Komodo National Park region. Most people skip right past it on their way to see the dragons. But stop. Just stop. Because what lies before and behind the dragons deserves just as much reverence. No fire, no teeth—just undisturbed beauty, swelling across the land like breath held too long.
You’ll need to fly into Labuan Bajo first, the sleepy port town where the air feels charged with both promise and diesel fumes. From there, hire a boat or join a local Komodo tour—it’s about an hour’s ride by water to Kelor. Pack water. Pack patience. And whatever you do, pack humility. You’re about to walk into something quiet and sacred.
The Climb: A Short Suffering
The hike up Teletubbies Hill isn’t Everest, but it isn’t a stroll either. Let’s be honest: it’s hot, it’s steep, and if you didn’t hydrate, you’ll curse whatever romanticized travel fantasy led you here. But there’s a reason you lace up boots and chase the uphill. Because about 15 minutes later—legs wobbly, heart jacked—you hit the top. And then: silence so complete it hammers through your chest.
From up there, the hills unroll like green knuckles under soft sunlight. The blue sea slices the horizon. You see other islands in the distance, floating like myths. No plastic chairs. No Wi-Fi. Just you, some grass, and the low thrum of your own pulse adjusting to the view. The kind of silence that rewires you.
What to Expect: Serenity Coated in Sweat
Don’t look for facilities here. There’s no souvenir stand, no overpriced coconuts, no curated Instagram viewpoints with safety rails. This is raw real estate, owned by no one and claimed by everyone who makes the climb. Summer? Scorching. But early morning or late afternoon? Divine. The grass glows an otherworldly green-gold in the changing light. Sunrise here will gut you—in a good way.
Pro tip? Time your visit during the dry season (April to October) when the hills keep their lush, plush color. Rainy season transforms them into a more muted palette and can make the trail treacherous. But even in the drizzle, it’s a mood unto itself. Bring proper footwear—this is no place for flip-flops and TikTok trends.
Who This Place Is Really For
Not every man wants the same from a destination. Some hunt luxury, some search for mayhem. But Teletubbies Hill? It’s for the men who’ve felt emptiness in the places where they expected wholeness. It’s for the ones who sense the best parts of themselves come alive in stillness, not noise. If you’ve ever craved not just a view, but a shift inside yourself—this place will speak to you, with grass instead of words.
It’s not about the photo. It’s about the pause before you take it. That brief, unspeakable second when you realise—you’re not here to capture anything. You’re here to remember who the hell you are, under it all. The grind. The ego. The distractions. They don’t follow you up that hill.
What to Pack for the Journey
- Water. Don’t test your limits in the heat. One bottle won’t cut it. Bring hydration packs or multiple litres.
- Proper shoes. The path is short but steep. Flip-flops are the enemy. Trail runners or hiking boots are your best bet.
- Drone or camera? Sure, but only if you can look away from the lens long enough to feel it for real. Don’t turn the moment into content.
- Sunscreen. The Indonesian sun doesn’t joke. This isn’t the time for minimalism.
- Open mind. Leave expectations on the boat. Let the place hit you raw.
Narratives in the Soil
I met a fisherman once—barefoot, tanned like driftwood—who told me his grandfather used to bring him to Teletubbies Hill “to talk to the dying sun.” I asked him what they talked about. He blinked, then said: “Nothing. The sun didn’t need words.” That stuck with me.
Maybe the beauty of this hill isn’t just in the view, but in what it removes from you. The noise, the pretending, the need to explain. It strips you. Leaves you alone with the wild heartbeat of the planet. For some, that’s boring. For others? That’s rebirth.
Extend the Adventure
If you’ve come this far, don’t stop at one summit. East Nusa Tenggara has teeth. After Kelor, take the boat onward to:
- Padar Island – Iconic ridges, Jurassic vibes. The hike here is longer, more strenuous, but the views? Apocalyptic in a good way.
- Rinca Island – Face a Komodo dragon up close. It’ll challenge your dominance in all the right ways.
- Pink Beach – The sand really is damn pink. Combine beach-lounging with snorkelling in coral gardens.
But remember—no matter where you go after, the hill stays with you. Not as a destination, but as a reminder. Of breath, of sweat, of a world without edges. It becomes a checkpoint in your personal geography. One you carry home beneath your skin.
Because Some Places Don’t Need a Reason
Let’s be clear: you don’t “check off” Teletubbies Hill. You absorb it. Let it break you open a little. Let it remind you that the best things in life don’t explain themselves—they just sit there, utterly indifferent to your presence, and ask nothing more than your attention.
So go. Not because it’s trending. Not because someone curated it into a reel. But because some part of you needs the quiet. Needs the effort. Needs to remember what it feels like to stand at the edge of something that doesn’t owe you anything—but still gives you everything.
That hill is waiting. And it doesn’t care who you are. Only that you come.