Tucked along Bali’s southeastern coast, Goa Lawah Temple is one of those places that sticks in your memory long after you’ve left.
Now, before I ever stepped foot into this place, I’d heard people call it the “Bat Cave Temple.” Thought they were joking. Nope. Real deal. You walk in expecting peaceful Bali temple vibes — incense, soft gamelan music, maybe a few old priests meditating — and instead, there’s this giant cave and thousands of bats hanging out overhead, squawking, squeaking, flapping like they’re in a Batman sequel.
And it’s not creepy, weirdly. It’s actually kinda cool. Like one of those experiences you didn’t know you needed until you’re standing there, trying to not stare at a bat pooping while also taking in 11th-century Balinese architecture.
Goa Lawah Temple is one of Bali’s nine directional temples (they’re called Kayangan Jagat, and they’re placed strategically to protect the island spiritually). This one guards the southeast — Klungkung Regency — and it’s right off the main coastal road. Easy to miss if you’re just zipping between Candidasa and Denpasar, but please don’t. Pull over.
It’s not big. That’s what surprised me. You can walk through the outer and inner courtyards in 15 minutes if you’re rushing — but you shouldn’t be. There’s layers here. Literal ones — from the black volcanic rock carvings that seem to melt into each other, to the gold-lined shrines poking through clouds of incense.
And yeah, there’s the cave. That’s what people remember. The opening is dramatic, with centuries-old shrines set right in front. You can’t go deep into it (unless you’ve got some priestly credentials or you’re part of a local ceremony), but you can see far enough to know it extends somewhere dark and sacred.
Local belief says it connects to Besakih Temple on Mount Agung — like physically underground. Now, I didn’t crawl in and try it myself, obviously. But my driver that day, Pak Ketut (you’ll meet at least five people named Ketut in Bali), swore his grandfather once entered during a ritual and emerged near Besakih three days later. I mean… okay. Bali’s full of these kinds of stories — and honestly, they make the place even richer.
What Makes Goa Lawah Temple Different from Other Temples in Bali
I’ve visited dozens of temples across Bali, and I can say this confidently: Goa Lawah doesn’t blend in.
Most temple visits follow a pattern: dress in sarong, pay your donation, wander past shrines, take a few pics, maybe see a blessing, then move on. But Goa Lawah Temple? It punches different. Partly because of the bats (obviously), but also because of its layered identity.
It’s both a spiritual fortress and a natural marvel. You’ve got the holy cave, yes, but also its proximity to the sea. It’s right across the street from the coastline, where locals often release offerings during nyegara gunung rituals — ceremonies connecting the mountain (Agung) and the sea (Segara). This temple sits right in that sacred flow, making it spiritually potent for Balinese Hindus.
And unlike tourist magnets like Tanah Lot or Uluwatu, this place still feels… local. That’s huge. I went during the Piodalan ceremony (temple anniversary), and it was packed — not with tourists, but families from Klungkung and Karangasem. Women balancing towers of fruit on their heads. Kids running around in little sarongs. Smoke everywhere. Music, chanting, bells. One of those moments where you know you’re just a guest in something ancient.
If you’re into photography, here’s a hot take: skip the golden hour Instagram temples and shoot here during a ceremony. The mix of motion and stillness, color and stone, shadow and light — it’s wild.
And I haven’t even talked about the carvings yet. Goa Lawah’s got these signature Balinese gate towers (candi bentar) made from jet-black lava rock, textured like hardened sponge. There’s moss growing in spots, flowers stuffed in crevices, and that contrast of dark stone against the bright sarongs and umbrellas makes for insane visuals.
Best Time to Visit Goa Lawah Temple (and When to Avoid It, Seriously)
Quick tip from someone who learned the hard way: don’t go at noon.
I did. Once. Thought I was being clever, “beating the crowds” — except I just beat myself into heatstroke. That seaside humidity, the black stone that absorbs every bit of sun, and those thick temple clothes? Brutal. Especially if you’re not used to the equator being basically 5 steps away.
Morning’s best — like before 10 AM. It’s cooler, the priests are more active, and the light cuts through the incense in a way that’s kinda magical. If you’re lucky, you might catch a small offering ritual. Midweek is usually quieter too.
Avoid major holidays like Galungan or Kuningan unless you’re prepared for serious crowds. It’s stunning during those times, but the temple gets packed — and I mean shoulder-to-shoulder. Parking is a nightmare, and unless you’re part of a group making offerings, it can feel like you’re intruding.
Also, if there’s a cremation ceremony or full moon, locals flock here. Again — fascinating to watch, but don’t expect quiet contemplation or wide-angle shots with no humans.
What to Wear, What to Bring, and How Not to Be That Tourist
Okay, real talk: don’t show up in shorts and expect to be let in. Goa Lawah Temple is an active place of worship, not a museum or abandoned ruin. The locals take it seriously, and you should too. The Temple entrance fee is IDR 50.000 per person.
You’ll need:
- A sarong (wrapped around your waist)
- A sash (tied around your middle)
- Shoulders covered (so no tank tops or spaghetti straps)
Most temple entrances rent sarongs if you forgot yours. I always carry one in my backpack though — lightweight, folds up tiny, and has saved me in dozens of spots. Same with a reusable water bottle and a face towel. Sounds random, but you’ll sweat. A lot. Having something to wipe your face feels like a luxury after 20 minutes in the sun.
Footwear? Slip-ons or sandals. You’ll need to take them off at certain shrines, and nothing’s worse than untying hiking boots five times in a row.
Oh, and don’t point your feet toward shrines. Don’t climb on temple structures for photos. Don’t walk in front of people praying. All common sense, but you’d be surprised. I once saw a guy try to fly a drone inside the temple courtyard. Security wasn’t amused. Neither were the grandmas.
How to Get to Goa Lawah Temple
Here’s where things can get a little tricky.
If you’re staying in Ubud, it’s about an hour and a half drive to Goa Lawah Temple, depending on traffic. From Sanur, a bit shorter — maybe 45 minutes. If you’re already in Candidasa or East Bali, you’re golden. It’s just 20–30 minutes tops.
Best option? Hire a private driver. Costs around IDR 500K for a full day (~$30 USD), and you can combine it with other spots like Tirta Gangga or Taman Ujung. Honestly, it’s more chill than renting a scooter unless you’re super confident with Bali traffic.
Public transport exists in theory — like local bemos and shared vans — but if you’re not fluent in Bahasa Indonesia or okay with very loose schedules, it’ll drive you nuts.
Grab and Gojek don’t always work in that area either, especially during ceremonies. I’ve been stuck there once, waving my phone like a crazy person, trying to catch a ride. Not fun.
To make your trip smoother, consider a Bali car rental with driver so you can focus on the views, not the roads.
Goa Lawah Temple location:
Nearby Places Worth Visiting After Goa Lawah Temple
Now if you’re making the trip out to Goa Lawah, you might as well stack it with other cool stops. You’re already in East Bali — which is kinda the underrated gem of the island.
After the temple, I usually head over to:
- Candidasa — Small coastal town, laid-back vibe. Great for lunch or a slow beach stroll.
- Tenganan Village — One of Bali’s original Aga villages. Super traditional, no modern buildings, and you can see the ancient double-ikat weaving in action.
- Tirta Gangga Water Palace — The Instagram spot with the koi fish and stepping stones. Yes, it’s touristy, but still beautiful.
- Sidemen Valley — If you want to end the day in green rice terraces and quiet hills, go here. It’s what Ubud used to be before the smoothie bowls took over.
I usually skip the overbuilt places after this — no malls, no party beaches. After the spiritual punch of Goa Lawah, it’s nice to stay in that grounded energy for the rest of the day.
Want to avoid tour crowds? A Bali private driver is your best bet.
Ceremonies, Offerings, and the Time I Accidentally Crashed a Temple Event
One time I went a little too early. Like, pre-dawn early. Figured I’d get sunrise shots.
Instead, I walked into a full-blown ceremony.
At first, I panicked — wasn’t trying to disrespect anyone. But a kind lady (barefoot, carrying three trays of fruit on her head) motioned for me to sit in the corner and just observe. So I did. And I watched as families prayed, priests chanted, offerings were waved, and the temple came alive in a way I hadn’t seen during daylight.
The bats didn’t even bother people. They were just part of the space, part of the energy.
That’s when it hit me — this isn’t just a sightseeing spot. Goa Lawah Temple is alive. It breathes with its community. That mix of nature, spirit, and tradition? It’s what makes it unforgettable.
If you’re lucky enough to catch a ceremony, stay respectful, sit back, and watch. You don’t need to understand every prayer to feel the rhythm.
What Most Travel Blogs Don’t Tell You About Goa Lawah Temple
There’s one thing that bugged me when I was researching Goa Lawah Temple the first time — most articles treated it like a quick pit stop. Ten minutes here, photo of the cave, then off you go.
Nah. This place deserves more.
It’s a chance to see how the Balinese blend nature with the divine. To see real spiritual life happening, not a staged show for tourists. To feel small in the best way, surrounded by things older and deeper than you.
Also — the bats don’t stink. That’s the question I always get. They don’t. The incense kinda balances everything out, and the open-air setup keeps it from feeling gross.
One more thing? There’s a decent market just outside. You can grab snacks, sarongs, little trinkets. I once bought an entire grilled corn on a stick for like 10K IDR while waiting for my driver. Worth it.
And across the street is a tiny black sand beach — not for swimming really, but great for quiet moments. I once sat there, alone except for a couple of fishermen, watching the tide come in while temple bells rang behind me.
Check also: Banjar Hot Spring Singaraja
