Graz – Salzburg – Munich Days -2 to -1
Leaving Graz
We’re off and the Meyer sisters are in town. And we made this stupid schedule where we went from Graz to Pernesdorf to drop off the dog, to Salzburg to drop of the car (!) and then to Munich to get on the plane to Dubai and then Kuala Lumpur. Vicky and Debbie went from Graz to Salzburg where we all stayed overnight and then on with us on the train to Munich. Just remember for next time – Pernersdorf to Salzburg is nearly four hours by car!
Kuala Lumpur Days 1-3
Petronas Towers
The Sheraton Imperial Hotel… and suite. We did try at Munich airport to suggest that they could bump us again – we wouldn’t mind. After all, the woman had said it was a very full flight. Unfortunately, this time there was nothing doing, so next year we are going to have to pay for our flights. So we’re making the most of it.
Somehow, German followed us from Munich right into a very overcast KL. Our seat neighbours on the flight were from near Munich and were on their way to Java, Indonesia. And then on arrival at the hotel, the girl who checked us in turned out to be on her internship from Frankfurt. We could have perhaps hoped for an upgrade, but we had already booked the best suite on offer, with access to the executive lounge. The bedroom had a view of the Twin Towers (right) and the suite’s living room was equipped with 40" plasma and home entertainment system. And that was the idea – we’ve seen KL before, so let’s enjoy the spa and hotel in probably the one city in the world where we can afford a suite at the Sheraton!!
Somehow, German followed us from Munich right into a very overcast KL. Our seat neighbours on the flight were from near Munich and were on their way to Java, Indonesia. And then on arrival at the hotel, the girl who checked us in turned out to be on her internship from Frankfurt. We could have perhaps hoped for an upgrade, but we had already booked the best suite on offer, with access to the executive lounge. The bedroom had a view of the Twin Towers (right) and the suite’s living room was equipped with 40" plasma and home entertainment system. And that was the idea – we’ve seen KL before, so let’s enjoy the spa and hotel in probably the one city in the world where we can afford a suite at the Sheraton!!
KL - Bario Day 4
2 of the 16 passangers (full plane)
Flying into Bario is where the experience begins. Like flying into Mulu National Park, we flew from KL to Miri, cleared Borneo’s version of immigration (they consider visitors from the Malaysian peninsular to be international guests – you even get a new stamp in your passport) and there the similarities ended. We flew Air Asia, of course, from KL, which cost approximately €100 for the pair of us for the 2 hour flight. It means that you have to start early – we were up at 4.30am, and in the taxi by 5am for the 45 minute ride to KL’s ‘Low Cost Carrier terminal and Asia’a airline which can only be compared to Ryanair in terms of prices – everything else on Air Asia is incomparably better. Unusually for them, the flight was a little late getting in – only 15 minutes, but enough to have us worried. We only had 55 minutes for our transfer to MASwings and standing at passport control we could see on the screen that our connecting flight had been moved up by 20 minutes. Now with only 20 minutes to make the connection, we didn’t fancy our chances. But make it we did, a triumph for Hofstede and his theories of cultural perception of time. With less than 10 minutes before official take off time, the check accepted our bags without complaint. We were weighed, complete with our hand luggage and once again had to clear security and were waved through immigration.
The plane itself was a Twin Otter – for those it doesn’t mean anything to, that’s a twin propeller 19 seat plane, where the pilots leave the doors open so passengers can watch (and photograph the takeoff. Our fellow travellers were a surprising group (but then isn’t every group who comes out this way?) – from what we could tell there was one local returning, a group of three French, two (Australian?) guys travelling together and a very eclectic group of English being led by a middle-aged blond woman. The rest of the group ranged between their teens and late twenties and we feared for them later seeing their bags as they hauled them on their shoulders – 90 litre backpacks stuffed to the brims and as large as the people pulling them onto their backs.
The plane itself was a Twin Otter – for those it doesn’t mean anything to, that’s a twin propeller 19 seat plane, where the pilots leave the doors open so passengers can watch (and photograph the takeoff. Our fellow travellers were a surprising group (but then isn’t every group who comes out this way?) – from what we could tell there was one local returning, a group of three French, two (Australian?) guys travelling together and a very eclectic group of English being led by a middle-aged blond woman. The rest of the group ranged between their teens and late twenties and we feared for them later seeing their bags as they hauled them on their shoulders – 90 litre backpacks stuffed to the brims and as large as the people pulling them onto their backs.
The Twin Otter
It goes without saying that you feel every bump and breath of air crossing the plane – clouds become unwelcome and the passengers applause on landing (which didn’t happen incidentally) would in this case be entirely deserved. The ground crew meet you directly from the plane and greet each individual disembarking passenger with “Welcome to Bario!”. The bags are then unloaded then and there on the tarmac, from the real as well as the nose of the plane.
Jaman was waiting for us in the airport, which really is no more than a tiny wooden structure next to a length of asphalt half as long as Shirley Avenue (the street I grew up on) – perhaps. We actually met him in the best way possible – he had no sign and there was no gate to be waiting besides as we came through. Instead we overheard two Australian ladies thanking someone profusely for their hospitality as they were saying their goodbyes and getting onto the return flight – Jaman or Gem. We sat down and had a drink and a cigarette with him and a friend Hapi while we waited for his son to come back with our ride. He seemed very surprised I didn’t want to have a beer while Hapi wanted to try a European cigarette (Gauloises). They were also curious why the English weren’t coming up to Bario anymore. We surmised it must be because of the Financial Crisis.
Jaman was waiting for us in the airport, which really is no more than a tiny wooden structure next to a length of asphalt half as long as Shirley Avenue (the street I grew up on) – perhaps. We actually met him in the best way possible – he had no sign and there was no gate to be waiting besides as we came through. Instead we overheard two Australian ladies thanking someone profusely for their hospitality as they were saying their goodbyes and getting onto the return flight – Jaman or Gem. We sat down and had a drink and a cigarette with him and a friend Hapi while we waited for his son to come back with our ride. He seemed very surprised I didn’t want to have a beer while Hapi wanted to try a European cigarette (Gauloises). They were also curious why the English weren’t coming up to Bario anymore. We surmised it must be because of the Financial Crisis.
Bario sits in a basin at nearly 5,000ft andthere is a population of about 1,000 people living here.
Gem's Gate
There’s building going on and plenty of “homestays”. To get to Gem’s Guest House, you have to take the “road” through Bario, hang a right and then keep going for an alleged 3½ miles. The road is a rutted dirt track, which even a 4x4 has to take very slowly. Not quite as bad as LippcottPass in Death Valley, but close considering this is a main road. The ground appeared to be a mixture of sand and clay and the rains had cut rivulets in places where the ditches to the side must have overflowed. The guest house itself is a wooden structure on two levels, with four rooms for guests. There are two cold showers, a western toilet (which you can put paper down – eat your heart out Greece) and rainwater collected as drinking water, which for some reason tastes faintly of tea. The generator kicks in, in the evening, so there’s even somewhere to charge the laptop and light to reads our books by. I gather Gem does have a TV, but thankfully, he keeps it hidden away.
Perched above the river, we are right on the edge of the jungle and the wildlife is very close. There are the chickens and spiders just outside the window and some kind of pygmy squirrel living in the trees. Gem told us he got the chickens to sort out the ant problem and apparently they like to eat the snakes too. And then there’s also constant buzz of all the rest of the things that you can’t see, like the cricket whose morning chirp is so loud that nobody in the house will sleep past 8am. The lodge is a stone’s throw away from the village of Pa’Umor, which comprises a longhouse, a church and a few stilted houses and is home to thirty or so families.
Perched above the river, we are right on the edge of the jungle and the wildlife is very close. There are the chickens and spiders just outside the window and some kind of pygmy squirrel living in the trees. Gem told us he got the chickens to sort out the ant problem and apparently they like to eat the snakes too. And then there’s also constant buzz of all the rest of the things that you can’t see, like the cricket whose morning chirp is so loud that nobody in the house will sleep past 8am. The lodge is a stone’s throw away from the village of Pa’Umor, which comprises a longhouse, a church and a few stilted houses and is home to thirty or so families.
Gem's Guesthouse
There was plenty of the day left when we arrived, as once we got to Gem’s it was barely past noon, but travelling fatigue and overuse of the complimentary bar in the executive club at the Sheraton had caught up with both of us and we had to take a nap. In the afternoon we discussed hiking options with Gem – an Anglo-Dutch family had just arrived back that day, which also meant a guide would be available. Gem finally suggested that we try the “Jungle Hilton” to see if we would be up for a longer trek later. The Jungle Hilton consists of a walk into the jungle, where the porter and the guide then make camp. They take hammocks with them and build a kind of lean-to shelter as a roof. Then we sleep in the open jungle a few feet off the floor. Jungle survival is also a part of this – or in other words we eat the fruit, wild spinach and anything else that is available, including hunted animals and fish. And if we want they can show us how to do these things too. Tomorrow is to be a rest day for the guides and for us. I guess we have some time to think it over.
In the evening, before dinner, we took a quick walk past the Pa’Umor down to the river to stretch our legs.
Then, we got to eat Sumi’s excellent cooking (wild boar, wild spinach, curried pinapple, green beans and Bario rice) and chat with the Anglo-Dutch family. They had been for an overnight trek, staying in a village about 10 miles from here and then returning by boat – with the same guide. The teenage daughters were ready for the beach, but otherwise the experience (and guide) came highly recommended. The dad, David, explained how on their trek, they had been told about a helicopter crash a few years before near the village they overnighted in. The jungle in the area was so thick, that it took the locals 21 days to find the site of the crash – a sobering thought when thinking about the tiny plane we came in on, and the mountains we skimmed over on the way here … and that we’ll be scooting over again on the way out.
Hiking trail sign
Bario Day 5
The 'road' into Bario
Dumb, dumb, dumb! Referring, of course, to Cam & I. Nothing much planned for the day – reading a little, maybe going for a short walk. In the end, we decided we’d take a quick walk into Bario to stretch our legs after a morning of lounging around the lodge. The road is very clear into Bario and also particularly open. The 3½ miles took us little more than an hour in the heat of nearly midday some where near the equator and when we reached Bario, we found the “town centre” as described by the Lonely Planet – a stretch of yellow buildings containing sleepy cafés, where we stopped for a drink. A little girl, Angeline, befriended Cam without a word of English and was obviously quite taken with the idea of her nose stud. She appeared with a drawing she’d drawn on the back of an L&M cigarette carton and after getting a positive response, disappeared, returning 5 minutes later with her name written on it.
Bario's Paddy Fields
Boa Ice Cream
We moved on down the row of buildings and stopped in at the one handicrafts stall selling all manner of rattan goods. It was a Penan store, one of three minority tribes in the area, the others being the Kelabit (after who the Kelabit Highlands are named) and the Barawan. (The majority tribes are the Iban and the Kayan.) Rattan is a kind of wicker used in weaving and the tribespeople make everything from bangles to backpacks out of it.
From there, the Penan store owner told us we should carry on through Bario to the school – today was sportsday for the kids. It must be a good mile further along the track to the school, which lies at the top of the hill. As you walk through, the classrooms lie on one side of a concrete path and the dorms on the other. Kids come from various mountain villages and nobody bats an eyelid that a foreigner should be wandering through. Instead, you are greeted with “hellos” from both staff and children alike.
The sportsday hadn’t started and on the other side of the school, we found a local café, this time full of workmen and sat down to get out of the sun and have a coke. Cam noticed a tree behind us which looked like it had large runner-beans hanging from its branches and before long one of the workmen had pulled a couple off the tree and had presented them to us.
“You know this? The kids call it ‘fruit ice-cream’ and take it from the tree after school.” He opened it for us. “You eat the inside.” I pulled out a piece and, thinking “what the hell” bit in. It tasted awful.
“You have to take the seed out first,” the workman said (did my expression give me away?!). Once you remove the beetle sized black seed pod from the middle of the fruit, it becomes quite edible.
From there, the Penan store owner told us we should carry on through Bario to the school – today was sportsday for the kids. It must be a good mile further along the track to the school, which lies at the top of the hill. As you walk through, the classrooms lie on one side of a concrete path and the dorms on the other. Kids come from various mountain villages and nobody bats an eyelid that a foreigner should be wandering through. Instead, you are greeted with “hellos” from both staff and children alike.
The sportsday hadn’t started and on the other side of the school, we found a local café, this time full of workmen and sat down to get out of the sun and have a coke. Cam noticed a tree behind us which looked like it had large runner-beans hanging from its branches and before long one of the workmen had pulled a couple off the tree and had presented them to us.
“You know this? The kids call it ‘fruit ice-cream’ and take it from the tree after school.” He opened it for us. “You eat the inside.” I pulled out a piece and, thinking “what the hell” bit in. It tasted awful.
“You have to take the seed out first,” the workman said (did my expression give me away?!). Once you remove the beetle sized black seed pod from the middle of the fruit, it becomes quite edible.
The sportsday still hadn’t started and it was already mid-afternoonish, so we thought it best to start on our way back. About ten minutes out of the school, however, we bumped into the owners of the Penan stall who had told us about the sportsday. They pulled over, asked if we had seen the school and then simply, “come to ours and have a coffee”! We about turned and followed the moped a short way back up the hill and came to a large longhouse under construction. To the right of it, we could see them waiting by the door of Raja View for us. Stewart ushered us in and we found a well decked out homestay – replete with TV and DVD in the lounge, the first we’ve seen since getting into Bario. We also then met Mike – we’d seen a westerner wandering around the school, but had assumed he was a tourist like us. In fact he was teaching at the school for a month, through a company called Trek Force. He’d also been in the jungle for a short time and was at the end of a four month trip – this trip in place of his previous work in the financial sector in the UK.
Bario from the Raja View hostel
A Bario house
Mike had to head back to the school for the sportsday – in fact he was more than the English teacher by the sounds of it – he did art, sports and pretty much anything else that came up – and sounded like he was loving every second of it. We then went out onto the balcony, marvelled at the view from the top of the hill and shared a cup of tea with Stewart and Salomah. It turned out that most of the visitors coming through Bario were part of either the World Challenge group or Trek Force, explaining the small groups of predominantly British teenagers around the town. And the question of petrol in Bario was answered – in fact there is a road and the tankers bring the petrol to a fuel dump about 5 hours from the settlement. Then, weather permitting, much smaller trucks leave Bario to haul it in – I’m sure it’s still cheaper here than in Tahoe though.
With a little more than an hour’s walk back to Gem’s, we made our way back to the road at 3ish, wondering if we should have offered them any money for the tea. They didn’t seem to want any and would it have been offensive to ask? Anyway, we’ll go shopping in their shop. On the path again, it didn’t take us too long to realise our mistake for the day – we had both been rather blaze in the morning about the walk – “just into town”. Well, just into town turned out to be a ten mile round trip and neither of us thought to put on sunscreen. It’s a rather odd feeling walking in the sun, which was to our backs now, just as it had been on the way into Bario, knowing that you are slowly cooking and the only thing you can do is pick up the pace. I refused to look at my calves anymore, because I just didn’t want to know. Actually, I fared better than Cam, having more of a back to my T-shirt helped out my shoulders more – thank you Don, I think the sun has bleached my shirt a new shade of “salmon”. Still, by the time we got back, we knew that tomorrow’s trek needed to be postponed – no-one would be carrying packs, so another day of repose – out of the sun – is planned for the two el stupidos who should (and do) know so much better.
With a little more than an hour’s walk back to Gem’s, we made our way back to the road at 3ish, wondering if we should have offered them any money for the tea. They didn’t seem to want any and would it have been offensive to ask? Anyway, we’ll go shopping in their shop. On the path again, it didn’t take us too long to realise our mistake for the day – we had both been rather blaze in the morning about the walk – “just into town”. Well, just into town turned out to be a ten mile round trip and neither of us thought to put on sunscreen. It’s a rather odd feeling walking in the sun, which was to our backs now, just as it had been on the way into Bario, knowing that you are slowly cooking and the only thing you can do is pick up the pace. I refused to look at my calves anymore, because I just didn’t want to know. Actually, I fared better than Cam, having more of a back to my T-shirt helped out my shoulders more – thank you Don, I think the sun has bleached my shirt a new shade of “salmon”. Still, by the time we got back, we knew that tomorrow’s trek needed to be postponed – no-one would be carrying packs, so another day of repose – out of the sun – is planned for the two el stupidos who should (and do) know so much better.
Bario Day 6
Water Lilys at Gem's
The day of the aborted trek – well, sunburn or not, we wouldn’t have been trekking today. The rain started in the middle of the night and was enough to wake us both up and it has been going ever since. Right now, it must have been going for 12 hours on and off and it’s not that fine rainthat they talk about in England. But it has given us time to talk through our itinerary one more time with Gem, so we’ll be hiking out tomorrow to a longhouse and village 10 miles north of here and staying there for the first night. Days two, three and potentially more if we do okay we’ll be living rough in the jungle and then we come back to the same longhouse, but luxury of luxuries, we’ll come back to Gem’s by longboat.
Otherwise, today is about getting our packs ready, charging cameras and the laptop and listening to various of Gem’s stories about what has happened to other intrepid westerners on their trips over here. Today, apparently a Spaniard left for the village we’re hading to tomorrow – despite the rain. And he’s planning on coming back this evening doing the whole thing in one day as a round trip. This because he flies out tomorrow. I think it might be interesting to see the state he is in when he returns…
Otherwise, today is about getting our packs ready, charging cameras and the laptop and listening to various of Gem’s stories about what has happened to other intrepid westerners on their trips over here. Today, apparently a Spaniard left for the village we’re hading to tomorrow – despite the rain. And he’s planning on coming back this evening doing the whole thing in one day as a round trip. This because he flies out tomorrow. I think it might be interesting to see the state he is in when he returns…
Overnight Rain
It rained for 27 consecutive hours and the river running past the house must have risen by at least 2 or 3 feet. It made for a good day though. Gem brought us some reports commissioned by the government recording the local heritage sites of the Kelabit tribes. These were undertaken for the first time in 2007, when 88 different sites were documented, ranging from burial grounds (Benatuh) to megaliths (Batuh), stones which have either been carved with specific images or arranged in a certain way. The Kelabit Highlands are one of only two sites on the island of Borneo, where megalithic culture is evident, comparable with the ancient societies of Britain or Spain, and while these countries megaliths are thought to date from around 4,000 – 3,000 B.C., all that is known here is that they must be more than 300 years old, although they are thought to date back as far as 3,000 B.C..
A soaked, but very cheerful Spaniard, Pedro, returned from his hike shortly before dinner singing the marvels of the hike to Pa Langun. Reassuring as this will be our first leg – the final plan is to hike up to the Longhouse at Pa Langun, overnight, and then head out into the jungle (now armed with lots of information about cultural sites to see). The return will again be via Pa Langun, although we’ll come back down the river by longboat.
A soaked, but very cheerful Spaniard, Pedro, returned from his hike shortly before dinner singing the marvels of the hike to Pa Langun. Reassuring as this will be our first leg – the final plan is to hike up to the Longhouse at Pa Langun, overnight, and then head out into the jungle (now armed with lots of information about cultural sites to see). The return will again be via Pa Langun, although we’ll come back down the river by longboat.
Bario Day 7
Hard at work
The second day of the aborted trek – while the rain stopped this morning at around 5am and we had all our packs ready, the ground outside was too waterlogged. Instead we settled in for a morning with our books, or in Cam’s case, her final assignment for the year of her Master’s. Not the worst place in the world to be forced to work – on the bamboo deck of a lodge in the rainforest!
I spent the morning looking around the garden investigating the pitcher plants, a carnivorous variety of orchid which abounds here. The reason for their name is obvious due to their shape – inside they contain mildly acidic liquid, so when an unlucky insect drops in they are slowly digested. In order to make the insect’s life easier (and shorter) the outside of the plant is rough and easy to climb, while the innards are slippery to prevent it getting back out again.
I spent the morning looking around the garden investigating the pitcher plants, a carnivorous variety of orchid which abounds here. The reason for their name is obvious due to their shape – inside they contain mildly acidic liquid, so when an unlucky insect drops in they are slowly digested. In order to make the insect’s life easier (and shorter) the outside of the plant is rough and easy to climb, while the innards are slippery to prevent it getting back out again.
Carnivores
Intrepid explorers
After lunch, we thought we should get out whatever the weather and it looked like things were clearing up enough. Just a short walk to find a local megalith only 10 minutes walk from the village of Pa’Umor. Gem gave us the following directions:
Clay and sand soon gave way to muddy bog and my flip-flops sank into the earth and remarkably warm water. We came to the first gate and our spirits lifted and kept going along the only path we could find. It led us to another gate, this time blocking the way, which was latched shut. Two days ago at the sportsday, we had been typically western and reserved shying away from the people and not actually going out onto the field where the action was happening. Afterwards, I had asked Selomah at Raja View what we should have done and she told us we should have simply gone and sat down wherever we wanted. “Here you just go,” she had said. This time, taking her advice, we unbolted the gate (which at home I would take for a “don’t come through here!”) and continued boldly on.
- Go to and through Pa’Umor
- Go past two farmer’s gates and go to the rice paddy.
- It’s in the rice paddy.
Clay and sand soon gave way to muddy bog and my flip-flops sank into the earth and remarkably warm water. We came to the first gate and our spirits lifted and kept going along the only path we could find. It led us to another gate, this time blocking the way, which was latched shut. Two days ago at the sportsday, we had been typically western and reserved shying away from the people and not actually going out onto the field where the action was happening. Afterwards, I had asked Selomah at Raja View what we should have done and she told us we should have simply gone and sat down wherever we wanted. “Here you just go,” she had said. This time, taking her advice, we unbolted the gate (which at home I would take for a “don’t come through here!”) and continued boldly on.
Pa'Umor Megalith
The trail led on and opened out onto rice paddies and a water buffalo – we’d found it! Except, as we looked around, there wasn’t much to see except for waterlogged fields and the same water buffalo (who was still eying us). We continued along the path (actually the rice paddy wall) discussing as we were going what to do if a water buffalo charges you. Do you stand or run? In this case we decided we should have the edge on him as we were two paddies away and he’d have to swim at us. Just about at this point we came to another gate – past two gates or through two gates? This next gate led into another paddy field and to our left a suspiciously large rock, which as we came around to view, proved to be our megalith Batuh Narit Arur Bilit.
At the top, the carving of a warrior is visible, with arms and legs outstretched. Under his legs and not clear in the picture are 26 horizontal lines, each of which denotes a head the warrior has taken. Just as we were trying to work out how to get a clearer view of our warrior friend, the heavens opened (Asian style), so back we went to the paddy field to duck under a roof for shelter. Enough, rain or no rain, tomorrow we would go, but (as Gem also later agreed) maybe not to the Jungle Hilton just yet.
At the top, the carving of a warrior is visible, with arms and legs outstretched. Under his legs and not clear in the picture are 26 horizontal lines, each of which denotes a head the warrior has taken. Just as we were trying to work out how to get a clearer view of our warrior friend, the heavens opened (Asian style), so back we went to the paddy field to duck under a roof for shelter. Enough, rain or no rain, tomorrow we would go, but (as Gem also later agreed) maybe not to the Jungle Hilton just yet.
Bario Day 8
So, instead of the Jungle Hilton, we decided to take the five hour trek to Pa Lungan. Our guide, Redi, arrived at around 9am with a French couple in tow, Aurelian and Olivia. Apparently their guide hadn’t turned up, so they would come with us to Pa Lungan. The rain had stopped, but it had been raining throughout the night, so the path was muddy. In fact, in places the only way to keep moderately dry were the cut bamboo poles and logs laid out along the path. A walking stick is an absolute necessity for balance, otherwise you find yourself knee deep in the bog. Of course, we didn’t have anything like that, but Gem presented us with a couple of sticks as we started out from the lodge.
The route takes you back towards Bario from Pa Umor and the path is an innocuous junction less than ten minutes out. The path leads over the typical sandy clay ground to the village of Pa Ukat which is much like Pa Umor – a small collection of wooden huts, a couple of rice paddies and friendly local children picking limes as we were walking through the village the fun in the mud really begins.
The route takes you back towards Bario from Pa Umor and the path is an innocuous junction less than ten minutes out. The path leads over the typical sandy clay ground to the village of Pa Ukat which is much like Pa Umor – a small collection of wooden huts, a couple of rice paddies and friendly local children picking limes as we were walking through the village the fun in the mud really begins.
Pa Lungan Megalith
The next village on the trail was our destination – Pa Lungan and the total walking time was 4½ hours. Once through Pa Ukat, the path begins undulating, ensuring some slick climbs and some even slicker descents. It also didn’t take too long until the heavens opened again, at which point the group stopped and ponchos and pack covers came out. Approximately five minutes was all it took until the ponchos had been discarded, with the party members preferring at least to be soaked by rainwater than in their own personal sauna – keeping the packs dry – and with it the change of clothes, sleep sheets and blankets was priority.
About halfway along the path, we came across our second megalith in as many days – Batu Narit Pa Lungan depicts a rhinoceros hornbill – which, later that evening, Redi explained to us represented one of the good spirits in the old animist belief system practiced by the Kelabit before the Australian missionaries arrived and converted the area to Christianity in the 1950s and 1960s. (The first missionaries, it would seem, introduced a hardline version of the faith – singing and dancing were banned and all ornaments relating to animism were destroying, including the infamous headhunting swords. Redi maintained this to be a good thing – it had brought the peoples of the highlands together – the headhunting swords were believed to have possessed a bad spirit, which could only be sated by using the sword to spill blood – at a pinch a chicken could be used – at a pinch!)
About halfway along the path, we came across our second megalith in as many days – Batu Narit Pa Lungan depicts a rhinoceros hornbill – which, later that evening, Redi explained to us represented one of the good spirits in the old animist belief system practiced by the Kelabit before the Australian missionaries arrived and converted the area to Christianity in the 1950s and 1960s. (The first missionaries, it would seem, introduced a hardline version of the faith – singing and dancing were banned and all ornaments relating to animism were destroying, including the infamous headhunting swords. Redi maintained this to be a good thing – it had brought the peoples of the highlands together – the headhunting swords were believed to have possessed a bad spirit, which could only be sated by using the sword to spill blood – at a pinch a chicken could be used – at a pinch!)
View at Supang's place
We arrived into Pa Lungan shortly before three in the afternoon in a torrential downpour. Wet as we were coming into the village, we gratefully accepted the offer made by two local women to shelter under their porch at the first house of the village while we waited for Aurelian, Olivia and Redi to catch us up. Typical of the afternoon rain in these parts, the shower didn’t last long and by the time the others had caught us, the shower had subsided. Slightly glibly, we rejoined them for the final walk across the village to our homestay, Batu Ritung Lodge.
As the rain eased and the clouds cleared, we caught a view of the surrounding mountains for the first time. The village is encircled, but sits in a much smaller basin than Bario, making the mountains seem more imposing from the valley floor. Supang greets you at the door of her guesthouse. The house itself is built on stilts and sits over a paddy field, meaning that when you shower (or rather use a bucket and ladle – here was no running water), the wash –water drains straight off through the floorboards and into the water below.
As the rain eased and the clouds cleared, we caught a view of the surrounding mountains for the first time. The village is encircled, but sits in a much smaller basin than Bario, making the mountains seem more imposing from the valley floor. Supang greets you at the door of her guesthouse. The house itself is built on stilts and sits over a paddy field, meaning that when you shower (or rather use a bucket and ladle – here was no running water), the wash –water drains straight off through the floorboards and into the water below.
Spare ribs...
There were a few villagers in Supang’s kitchen when we arrived and they were happy – they had killed an 80kg wild boar - our dinner - and Redi immediately got to work with the fire and began barbequing the ribs. Dinner consisted of products that all came from the “jungle supermarket” – wild spinach soup, honey boar, boar with black pepper, fern, bamboo shoots, boar ribs and the world famous Pa Lungan rice. A few years before, Supang had travelled to Italy to represent Malaysia at a world rice competition – and Bario rice (or more precisely Supang’s Pa Lungan rice) won the contest. So we were eating the best rice in the world.
The beds were hard at the guesthouse – but there were at least beds – the only way to get anything to the village is to carry it in by hand, yet the buildings all had corrugated steel roofs and many houses had satellite dishes outside for televisions which would in the evening be powered by the petrol generators which also provided light. As we later saw, the water buffalo are the main means of transportation for heavy good which are brought into the village. When we saw these animals they were generally lazing in the mud or the empty paddy fields (Redi told us that rice harvest is in December, although the rice harvest festival is in June), but they are used to drag heavy goods on sleds along the muddy paths and import anything a person couldn’t carry themselves.
The beds were hard at the guesthouse – but there were at least beds – the only way to get anything to the village is to carry it in by hand, yet the buildings all had corrugated steel roofs and many houses had satellite dishes outside for televisions which would in the evening be powered by the petrol generators which also provided light. As we later saw, the water buffalo are the main means of transportation for heavy good which are brought into the village. When we saw these animals they were generally lazing in the mud or the empty paddy fields (Redi told us that rice harvest is in December, although the rice harvest festival is in June), but they are used to drag heavy goods on sleds along the muddy paths and import anything a person couldn’t carry themselves.
Water buffalo...Clara?
Pa Lungan - Into the Jungle Day 9
It rained through the night again, so we decided with Redi to do a day-long jungle hike in the morning up to the river (which we could no longer ford as it was so swollen) and then spend the afternoon under shelter. We started after breakfast by 10am, so as to be back before the afternoon rains. The trail took us east out of the village, through a maze of paddy fields along the paddies’ walls and across bamboo bridges. Otherwise the trail was in a similar muddy state like the day before and we squelched our way through, either staying as far to the sides of the path as possible or looking for any logs or roots to use as footholds in the mud.
Batu Ritung Lodge has an excellent selection of books and I managed to find Eric Hansen’s Stranger in the Forest, a story of one man’s journey through this area of Borneo in the early 1980s. It made for excellent evening reading, especially being able to understand the comparative accessibility of the area now as to then. On his trek through the jungle to Bario from Marudi, he noted that he one day counted 100 leeches on one leg and didn’t even bother counting his other leg. It made me feel much better. Once we had passed through the paddy fields, we walked through a field cleared for the buffalo to graze and into the jungle.
Batu Ritung Lodge has an excellent selection of books and I managed to find Eric Hansen’s Stranger in the Forest, a story of one man’s journey through this area of Borneo in the early 1980s. It made for excellent evening reading, especially being able to understand the comparative accessibility of the area now as to then. On his trek through the jungle to Bario from Marudi, he noted that he one day counted 100 leeches on one leg and didn’t even bother counting his other leg. It made me feel much better. Once we had passed through the paddy fields, we walked through a field cleared for the buffalo to graze and into the jungle.
The soil was mainly wet sand and mud, or grangas as Redi called it – the sand-swamp. From here the number of leeches increased and they were visible against the light beige surface, as they stretched themselves off the ground in the direction of passers-by, looking for something to latch onto. Generally, they would start by getting a hold on your boot, and then, like a slinky, (having suckers at both ends!), flip themselves up the boot towards your ankle and try and hook onto you through the top of your socks. We were wise to this, however, having hiked the Headhunters’ Trail from MuluNational Park through the jungle to the LimbangRiver the year before, so this year we had come prepared with gators to cover the tops of our boots and our calves. Redi looked at us in the morning and just said, “very good for keeping the mud off”, as he put on his leech socks. Leech socks, made of a similar material to gators, extend all the way into your boot (literally like a sock!), while gators just cover the outside – and the leeches can crawl in underneath.
Like typical western tourists, we spent half the time looking at our legs and feet and only half the time listening to Redi as he explained first the jungle supermarket, followed by the jungle pharmacy. As the jungle changed and the ground became less sandy, we began with the supermarket: wild strawberries, how to slice open the rattan palm and eat the stork, different varieties of wild spinach and ginger, various wild river ferns and the type of palm leave to use as packaging or a plate. If you are hunting meat, then by cutting small strip of bamboo in the right way, he showed us how to blow through it and imitate the call of the barking deer. And of course, should there be excess meat left over and you know others are nearby, then we were shown how to fashion a sign saying ‘there’s meat here – please take some’. To do this, plant a long stick in the ground and through the top, place a smaller stick at 90°, making it look much like a homemade crucifix. Be sure that any leaves are cleared off the horizontal stick, as if the leaves are left on it becomes an arrow marking the direction you have gone and that people should follow (one end is shawn of leaves and acts as the pointer). And should this be insufficient, Redi also showed us that certain leaves can be used to leave a written message – flip the leaf over and using a twig, like an etch-a-sketch, carve in your message. Redi did also have a mobile phone.
Like typical western tourists, we spent half the time looking at our legs and feet and only half the time listening to Redi as he explained first the jungle supermarket, followed by the jungle pharmacy. As the jungle changed and the ground became less sandy, we began with the supermarket: wild strawberries, how to slice open the rattan palm and eat the stork, different varieties of wild spinach and ginger, various wild river ferns and the type of palm leave to use as packaging or a plate. If you are hunting meat, then by cutting small strip of bamboo in the right way, he showed us how to blow through it and imitate the call of the barking deer. And of course, should there be excess meat left over and you know others are nearby, then we were shown how to fashion a sign saying ‘there’s meat here – please take some’. To do this, plant a long stick in the ground and through the top, place a smaller stick at 90°, making it look much like a homemade crucifix. Be sure that any leaves are cleared off the horizontal stick, as if the leaves are left on it becomes an arrow marking the direction you have gone and that people should follow (one end is shawn of leaves and acts as the pointer). And should this be insufficient, Redi also showed us that certain leaves can be used to leave a written message – flip the leaf over and using a twig, like an etch-a-sketch, carve in your message. Redi did also have a mobile phone.
In terms of staying healthy, the possibilities seem endless. A small fern which grows out of tree-moss is good for upset stomachs and diarrhoea, yellow-green berries which when chopped open can be used against ringworm and plants that are chewed or boiled and drunk as a tea to act as a laxative or help with a post-natal cleanse. One plant has even been identified by American scientists as a possible cure for bone marrow cancer and is undergoing tests by the pharmaceutical companies. Of course, there was one plant which Redi neglected to show us (and which I only discovered reading about Eric Hansen’s adventures later the same evening) – the elang vine, which can be used to make an anti-leech lotion. Later in the evening (when I read the section in the book), I mentioned the name of the vine to Redi and he looked at me and just laughed. Yes, he knew the vine, but I think he thought we should have the entire jungle experience.
As we went further along the path, we came to a tree where the bark had split open slightly and the tree sap had leaked out and hardened to form a kind of resin. Stopping, Redi used his parang to chop off a small piece of the resin, which was quite damp as it had been exposed to the elements and the rain of the last few days. However, the ‘candle of the forest’ required little assistance is catching alight when exposed to an open flame from a lighter. This, Redi explained, was how communities used to light their huts and find their way through the jungle at night the days before generators and flashlights.
As we went further along the path, we came to a tree where the bark had split open slightly and the tree sap had leaked out and hardened to form a kind of resin. Stopping, Redi used his parang to chop off a small piece of the resin, which was quite damp as it had been exposed to the elements and the rain of the last few days. However, the ‘candle of the forest’ required little assistance is catching alight when exposed to an open flame from a lighter. This, Redi explained, was how communities used to light their huts and find their way through the jungle at night the days before generators and flashlights.
As we continued along the trail to the river we couldn’t cross, the jungle thickened and the trail changed again. The amount of leeches was increasing with every step and I lost count of the number pulled, flicked and burnt off my gators, trousers and boots. The farther we went, the bigger the trees became, large oaks, eucalyptus and montas rising up out of sight to over100 feet. What before had been bamboo bridges by the paddy fields and half cut logs with handholds spanning rivers and small chutes, now were simply felled logs no more than 8 inches wide and still fully rounded. Ordinarily, you might not think twice about walking along something 8 inches wide, but suddenly in walking boots and the realisation that with one slip it was all over, these logs became obstacles to be feared and taken very gingerly. I have no problem admitting I was quite happy holding Redi’s supporting hand as we crossed. Finally, at the river, Redi brought us a large oak with a rope ladder – there was apparently a German coming back soon who had the idea he would live for a whole year in the tree.
Soft drinks, jungle style
The return trip to Pa Lungan was much quicker than outward bound, due mainly to the fact that we weren’t stopping to look at anything either edible or of medicinal value. The tree crossings at this point had begun to worry me more than the leeches. Suddenly I could deal with a couple of leech bites, but I knew a fall from the log, this far away from any kind of proper medical help would be highly unpleasant. With all logs crossed successfully, we headed back through the forest only stopping once, as Redi asked if we had tried drinking the water in bamboo. We hadn’t, so he told us to wait on the path and disappeared into the bush to our right. Obviously, our first reaction was the leech check – within a minute or so, we could hear Redi chopping away, but try as we did from the path, we could see neither him nor anything swaying as he hacked away at the bamboo plant. He later told us he was no farther than 20 yards away. He came back onto the path a minute or so later with a seven foot length of green bamboo. Using his parang, he cut a hole in the top of one of the bamboo sections, careful to hold the plant horizontally. As he broke through, water spilled out and he passed me a bamboo straw to drink. Each section must have contained at least a pint of water, as we both struggled to finish the section Redi had chopped open for us.
Leech stops aside, we were soon back in the village. We had thought to climb a small mountain overlooking the village, but in the event, we had walked through lunch and we were all ready for something cooked by Supang, using the mushrooms collected by Cam & Redi as we came out of the jungle through the water buffalo field on the last part of our walk.
Bedtime comes early in the middle of nowhere. The generator at Supang's is turned off at 10pm, but by that time, most of us had our heads down already. The dinnertime crowd was the usual assortment of backpackers hiking through, usually for a night. One major advantage of Pa Lungan and the lack of electricity is the night sky. After dinner we took a short walk only a few yards away from the house and the stars were brilliant, the Milky Way clearly visible.
Leech stops aside, we were soon back in the village. We had thought to climb a small mountain overlooking the village, but in the event, we had walked through lunch and we were all ready for something cooked by Supang, using the mushrooms collected by Cam & Redi as we came out of the jungle through the water buffalo field on the last part of our walk.
Bedtime comes early in the middle of nowhere. The generator at Supang's is turned off at 10pm, but by that time, most of us had our heads down already. The dinnertime crowd was the usual assortment of backpackers hiking through, usually for a night. One major advantage of Pa Lungan and the lack of electricity is the night sky. After dinner we took a short walk only a few yards away from the house and the stars were brilliant, the Milky Way clearly visible.
Pa Lungan - Bario Day 10
It's a bit steep...
We made an early start to the day, thinking a quick morning hike to the top of the hill overlooking Pa Lungan could be managed before we had to start on the hour or so walk to the boats’ landing point. Visible from the village, a small looking peak rose up with a Christian cross placed prominently for all to see. This served to remind us how religious the people are here – many go to church three times a day and early every morning at around 6am, a metal bucket is used as a drum to rouse the village and call the parishioners. This makes for a rude wake-up call and should you manage to somehow sleep throw the drumming of the bucket, the resulting howling dogs and cock-a-doodle-dos from the roosters is enough to raise the dead from their slumber.
This morning I was already awake by 4.30am, but unfortunately the low clouds obscured any sunrise. Cam followed me shortly after and finally at around 6am, a somewhat bemused Redi appeared, wondering loudly what we were doing already up so early. It did mean we could get an early start though after breakfast. The base of the hill lay just by the first of the paddy fields we had ventured through the day before and the path to make the ascent wasn’t obvious – we would have missed it completely without Redi.
This morning I was already awake by 4.30am, but unfortunately the low clouds obscured any sunrise. Cam followed me shortly after and finally at around 6am, a somewhat bemused Redi appeared, wondering loudly what we were doing already up so early. It did mean we could get an early start though after breakfast. The base of the hill lay just by the first of the paddy fields we had ventured through the day before and the path to make the ascent wasn’t obvious – we would have missed it completely without Redi.
The village from above
It was also extremely steep and slippery with all the rain of the last few days, which made going both slow and difficult. We used trees, roots and rocks to ensure our footing at angles of well over 45 degrees and suddenly leeches were of no concern at all – they could feast on me all they liked – just as long as I made sure I didn’t slide backwards into Cam behind me. It only took us about 30 minutes to reach the top and from the viewpoint at the cross, we realised that what had looked like a small hill from the guesthouse was in fact almost 1000 feet in prominence above it. The small cross we had seen from below was a good 8 or 9 feet high and the views out over Malaysian and Indonesian Borneo were breathtakingly spectacular.
We sat down to have a rest and enjoy the scene from the summit. Redi sat down, lit himself a cigarette and asked how long it had taken us.
“About 30 minutes,” I said.
“That’s very good,” he replied. “Most people take much longer.”
“And to go down?” I asked, “About the same or longer?”
“About the same. But please be careful, it’s very steep. It’s a problem if you are the guide.” Redi took a drag on his cigarette. “I once had this Australian couple; she was fat, shaped like a rugby ball and she slipped down there.” He pointed with his cigarette down back towards Pa Lungan. It wasn’t the same path we had come up, but rather a direct descent back to the village and if possible even steeper than the route we had come up.
“It was bad,” he continued, “I have to go and get her. Stop her rolling. So, I run after her, through all the bush. I get to her, stop her, but I’m very badly scratched on my legs. Problem for the guide, so please don’t slip. But she fatter than you.”
We sat down to have a rest and enjoy the scene from the summit. Redi sat down, lit himself a cigarette and asked how long it had taken us.
“About 30 minutes,” I said.
“That’s very good,” he replied. “Most people take much longer.”
“And to go down?” I asked, “About the same or longer?”
“About the same. But please be careful, it’s very steep. It’s a problem if you are the guide.” Redi took a drag on his cigarette. “I once had this Australian couple; she was fat, shaped like a rugby ball and she slipped down there.” He pointed with his cigarette down back towards Pa Lungan. It wasn’t the same path we had come up, but rather a direct descent back to the village and if possible even steeper than the route we had come up.
“It was bad,” he continued, “I have to go and get her. Stop her rolling. So, I run after her, through all the bush. I get to her, stop her, but I’m very badly scratched on my legs. Problem for the guide, so please don’t slip. But she fatter than you.”
Gongs
Redi finished his cigarette and it was time to go. Heeding his advice, we were very careful going down, keeping a good distance apart in case the worst should happen. A couple of times I found myself leaning very heavily on my stick and certain that had I not had it, I would be Redi’s next rugby ball story. But we made it and soon found ourselves back in the village at Supang’s, refilling water bottles, paying bills and having lunch. Supang offered us some home-made beads as a parting gift and we got to have a look in her private workroom, which contained a number of things left over from the pre-missionary era of headhunting, including guitar-like instruments and large ceremonial gongs used during Kelabit celebrations.
Dolmen at Pa Lungan village
Despite the early morning start, we were behind time when we started out on the walk to the boat. There had also been one last thing for us to see in Pa Lungan before we left: the Pa Lungan dolmen. Like the megaliths, no-one is quite sure just how old these cultural artefacts actually are, but they do think that this dolmen was used to mark a tomb. It could be found literally 3 minutes behind the guesthouse, just beyond an area that the villagers were clearing and Redi explained they would allow to flood and make a large fishpond. The idea was, that then fishing could be added to the list of activities available and more tourists would be attracted to the village. And if not, then the village would have a readily available supply of catfish. Personally, I think the main benefactors might well be the village’s water buffalo population.
Redi had also wanted to wait for Andrew, a fellow guide, but a novice, who was leading two Canadians and a New Yorker who had also spent the night at Supang’s. They had gone for a morning walk into the jungle and were late coming back. When we could delay no longer (the boat was meeting us at the pre-arranged time of 1pm), Redi decided he would have to mark the trail as we went. The path to the boat led us out along the same road we had come along from Pa Umor and Bario for about the first forty-five minutes. The road was busy today: first we met four Belgians, who were keen to ensure they were still on the right path to Pa Lungan village (they had no guide) and how much farther it was. Shortly afterwards, we saw two middle-aged Asian women sheltered under umbrellas from the sun and an old local man who was carrying a huge pack on his back (at least twice my 25 lbs!). In fact, we had met him two nights before, when we first arrived in the village. He had come in and shook all of our hands in turn, and on shaking hands with the girls, Cam and Olivia, he had stretched out his other arm and placed it on their shoulders and then given an appreciative kind of nod. Of course, we had assumed this must be some kind of Kelabit greeting, so when we returned to Gem’s, we asked him while sat around the fire in his kitchen one night.
“The old man in Pa Lungan village?” Gem had said, “well, he’s now 73 and the father of the village’s headman. They were the first of the villages in this area to elect a chief. Supang was also a candidate for the election, but she stepped down before the vote. She didn’t want to upset some of the people there … you know, by being a female headman. But she basically runs the village anyway.”
“And this greeting, where he touched my shoulder with his other arm – is that a typical Kelbit greeting to women?” Cam asked.
Gem hooted loudly, “nooo! He’s just a bit of a joker that’s all! He’s very good at sizing people up and seeing if he can make a joke with them. We Kelabits shake hands and say ‘hello’”.
And there he was, grinning at us on the path at 73, presumably carrying the women’s supplies on his back.
“We better hurry,” said Redi, “they come up on the longboat we take to Bario.”
“The old man in Pa Lungan village?” Gem had said, “well, he’s now 73 and the father of the village’s headman. They were the first of the villages in this area to elect a chief. Supang was also a candidate for the election, but she stepped down before the vote. She didn’t want to upset some of the people there … you know, by being a female headman. But she basically runs the village anyway.”
“And this greeting, where he touched my shoulder with his other arm – is that a typical Kelbit greeting to women?” Cam asked.
Gem hooted loudly, “nooo! He’s just a bit of a joker that’s all! He’s very good at sizing people up and seeing if he can make a joke with them. We Kelabits shake hands and say ‘hello’”.
And there he was, grinning at us on the path at 73, presumably carrying the women’s supplies on his back.
“We better hurry,” said Redi, “they come up on the longboat we take to Bario.”
Finished!!!
Almost straight away, we turned off the main path onto one much smaller and much more slippery. For the first time, I went into the lead and found myself constantly chosing the wrong line and ending up ankle deep in sandy mud. I didn’t last long before I went back to following Redi’s footsteps. The closer to the river we came, the muddier the path became. By the end, we were staying to the very sides, virtually walking in the brush. When this wasn’t possible, we tried to hop between stones and whatever roots and wood there was. It was hopeless – in the last five minutes to the river, I was covered in more mud than the entire rest of the trek up until now. Finally we came out into a clearing, which contained an old shed and where some logs had been arranged around a fire. Four men were waiting there and we heard a small cheer, as Redi, now far ahead of us reached the small camp. It was quite a relief to reach the boat and, after we dropped our bags in the least grubby spot we could find, we were presented each with freshly cut pineapple and Oranjeboom beer, warm and rather welcome :o)
A Longboat
The boat-ride back to Bario, in fact was a boat ride directly back to Gem’s Lodge. It took little more than an hour and we made it back about 5 minutes before the skies opened for an afternoon deluge. Our unfortunate companions, led by Andrew, were not so lucky. They appeared about 45 minutes after we had arrived, soaked through. At least it answered one question I had – whether the boats pulled over to avoid the torrential afternoon downpours.
Redi on the longboat
A longboat is to be highly recommended in the jungle. Firstly, it is by far the fastest form of transport (although usually also the most expensive). Secondly, the network of rivers is far more extensive than any roads and finally, but most importantly, you can glimpse into the real depths of the primary jungle as you go by. In just an hour, we saw wild cattle grazing on the side of the river, while last year, when we spent a day and a half on the longboats, we were lucky enough to see a pair of Rhinoceros Hornbills in full flight – a very rare sight these days.
The shower at Gem’s was cold and the water pressure weak, but it was probably one of the best showers of my life. The lodge was now full and by the time we had cleaned up and hung boots and clothes out to dry, it was dinner with a new group of trekkers and time to swap our stories of the day.
The shower at Gem’s was cold and the water pressure weak, but it was probably one of the best showers of my life. The lodge was now full and by the time we had cleaned up and hung boots and clothes out to dry, it was dinner with a new group of trekkers and time to swap our stories of the day.
Pa Lungan to Indonesia
Back in Bario - Day 11
We decided to take a rest day and organise our flights out of Bario for the next day. Originally, our plan had been to head onto Kota Kinabalu in the eastern part of the island in the province of Sabah. However, we decided to change our minds and go to Kuching instead. We would fly out early in the morning and then in Miri try and get ourselves a flight over to Kuching (as there was no internet we knew of in Bario to make a pre-booking), the capital of the province we were in – Sarawak.
Once that had been decided, we thought it would be good to stretch our legs with the 8 mile round trip in Bario from Gem’s Lodge. There were a few handicrafts from the local Penan tribe that we wanted to pick up and this would be our last chance.
It was a sunny day, and this time we were fully lathered in sun lotion. We were probably three-quarters of the way between Gem’s and Bario, when we heard a pick up truck coming along the track behind us. As usual, we moved over to the side to let it pass and were surprised to see it pull up and stop. I recognised the person in the passenger seat as one of the boatmen who had been caught in the downpour the day before. He had also been in and out of Gem’s in the afternoon after we had returned.
“You go to Bario? We take you - get in.” Not being presented with much of an option, we agreed and as the back seat was also full went around to the back of the pick-up to sit on the flatbed. The two young guys who had been on the back seat then jumped up, ushered us to take their places and themselves into the flatbed. Feeling guilty, but not really knowing how to change the situation, we took our places.
“I’m Jeremy – Gem’s nephew. This my cousin,” he said pointing to the driver. He then said something quickly in Kelabit, and the cousin put the car into gear and slowly let the clutch out, letting it go completely at the bite and jolting us into motion. There was a quick exchange in Kelabit and then Jeremy turned back to us.
“He work in Miri. Has good job on rigs, much money, but he no know how to drive. I teach him.” More Kelabit as the gear was changed up. “My uncle say, whatever happen, no let him drive.” More Kelabit as we swerved around a pothole. “They in Miri, they have diploma, but no drive. We here in Bario – no diploma, but drive.”
We were coming into the outskirts of Bario now and the single lane dirt track was significantly narrowed ahead by the presence of another pick-up truck parked off to the side. The Kelabit conversation picked up again at a rapid pace. The cousin crept our pick-up through a gap wide enough for at least two vehicles and suddenly we realised the atmosphere had been quite tense. But Jeremy was smiling now.
“You visit Bario Longhouse before?”
We had to admit we hadn’t even known there was a longhouse in Bario.
“Okay, you go visit longhouse, I take you. You no pay, we are Gem’s Lodge. Then you come back.” We pulled up in front of a general store / bar (there’s no difference in Bario) called Y2K. I noticed it even had a pool table. The other three in the car all jumped out, Jeremy switched to the driver’s seat. “I take you now, then you come back here.”
Bario’s Longhouse is situated on the far side of the village and must measure about 150 yards in length. It is typical of the tribal dwellings in the area. Each family has a “bilek” roughly translated as a room. In here, the family has private space, very often over two floors. In the back is a kitchen / storage area and while these are separated by low stud walls, there is nothing to prevent a person from walking through each of the kitchens along the full length of the longhouse. On the other side of the bileks is a vast open communal area, not unlike a series of front porches, but all running into each other seamlessly. This is where any activities involving larger numbers of longhouse members take place. Each bilek is responsible for the area in from of their home and they are variously adorned with pictures, certificates and other family memorabilia. It was in such an area as this that last year we found ourselves participating in an Iban celebration, which turned out to be part birthday, part Father’s Day and part graduation celebration. These were of course the famous headhunting tribes we had wanted to find in the jungle and stay with. At that time we hadn’t realised that all the tribes in the area (the Kelabit included) had been headhunters…
Jeremy took us through his grandmother’s kitchen after we removed our shoes at the door. We came out into the communal area.
“You go down and come back through kitchens. I see you at bar.” And with that he was gone, and we felt quite exposed and uncomfortable – a couple of tourists standing essentially in people’s living rooms. There was nobody there and as we walked down we could see the difference in decoration and various family histories posted on the walls for all to see. Most showed wedding and graduation pictures, but one really caught my eye as we walked down the corridor. It was an old picture of a Kelabit warrior with the traditional horn ear piercings dressed in a British soldier’s uniform from WW2. He carried a cane, which he had thrust out in front of him as he stood to attention. The Kelabit had sided with the British troops known as ‘Z-force’ to fight the Japanese during the war. The troops had been led by a chap named Tom Harrison, who after the war had continued to live in Sarawak and had become curator of the KuchingMuseum – and this was a major factor behind our decision to go to Kuching and change our plans.
We agreed that we shouldn’t walk back through the kitchens (which would also presumably have entailed us tramping through somebody’s private living area) and left the communal area the same way we had come. We still had one task to complete and that was to collect the handcarfts from Selomah we had ordered before the hike to Pa Lungan. Fortunately, Cam had noticed that the shop had been closed as we drove by earlier, so we thought the best place to find them would be at the Raja View hostel.
Cam & Legs
We took the path back through the school, only to find the road was closed on the other side, as some concrete had been laid and was drying. It’s a strange situation, when you realise that a blocked road is only a problem because of a western upbringing. After humming-and-harring for a couple of minutes, we realised the locals were simply walking through the grounds of the house that lay to the side of the road. Our other option was to walk through a rice paddy, so rather nervously we opened the gate and proceeded on through. There was nobody there except for a small lamb who came running up to Cam in a very dog like fashion, tail wiggling. And suddenly we knew exactly whose house we were in.
During our stay at Pa Lungan, we had met a couple of trekkers from Canada, Von and Ali. As a typical part of dinner time conversation, we were talking about the different places we were staying and it emerged that they were staying with Hapi, who we had met at the airport when we first arrived, sat in the café with Gem. Hapi is easy to spot in Bario – he rides around on a bright pink scooter and wears a kind of slouch hat (the one with the sides turned up). Another notable fact, was that Hapi had started Bario’s first sheep farm and among the first litter there had been a very sickly lamb Hapi had been nursing back to health. Owing to a slight misunderstanding, Ali had nicknamed the lamb “Goat” during their stay, and Goat’s presence was what told us whose house we were walking through. We later saw Hapi on his scooter and told him the story. He said he had renamed Goat “Legs”.
We found Selomah and Stewart working outside the Raja View. They both broke off what they were doing, and with typical hospitality we were invited in for tea and coffee. Stewart then took his moped to the shop to pick up the traditional Penan bangles I had had made for Freya and Sophie with their names on them. As more people arrived (it seems everybody pops in for a cup of coffee at the Raja View!), we set off on the short walk to the Y2K bar, where Jeremy and our ride was waiting.
We found all of the boys sat drinking Oranjeboom on the front steps of the Y2K general store. There seemed o be no hurry, so we did the same – found a little table in the back and sat down. Ass soon as I had brought the beer back with me, Jeremy appeared, saying they would be at the bar a little further away. And within two minutes we realised why, as the generators kicked into life and the karaoke machine was turned on.
It didn’t take too long for us to move, although before we did, we bought a tray of beer for Gem, who was in the habit of producing beers from his fridge – and just as at Raja View, there would be no request for payment. So, we thought it would be easier to repay in kind. Certainly, Jeremy and his friends liked the idea of the beer as it was loaded into the back of the pick-up and we hit the road back to Gem’s with Jeremy’s mp3 playing plugged in – a rather eclectic mix of Jay-Z, Leona Lewis, the Eagles and Buster Rhymes.
We got back to Gem’s to find that some of the hikers who had set out in the morning to hike the Kalimantan trail (10 days) had been turned back by the weather, so we felt glad to have been able to get our hike in at all. For future reference, the best time to visit and hike is around November.
Our final evening was spent after dinner around the fireplace in Gem and Sumis’ kitchen. Sumi showed us how to wrap sticky rice for treks in a leaf locally referred to as the “Kelabit plate”. In many parts of Asia, you will find the banana leaf employed for his purpose, but as was demonstrated to us, the Kelabit plate is a much more durable leaf. And, of course, unlike polystyrene, completely biodegradable.
Around the fire that night, Gem tucked into the beer we had brought and we tucked into the beer he had bought. There was a simple reason: Kelabits like warm beer and we like it cold – his was in the fridge, ours on the kitchen table. There were many jungle tales told, but one stood out the most.
“You know how to boil water in a plastic coke bottle?” Gem asked me.
“I didn’t even know it was possible. Wouldn’t the plastic melt?” I replied.
“If you’re not careful, yes. But it is possible. What you do, is you put the plastic bottle of water into the embers of the fire. If you put it in the fire, it will be too hot and the plastic will melt. But in the embers of the fire, the plastic will get wobbly. But it won’t melt. It takes some time, but you can boil the water for drinking.”
Gem trains the guides in Bario and I assumed this must be part of regulation jungle survival knowledge, so I asked, “how do you find something like that out – is it common knowledge among in the jungle?”
Gem smiled. “No, I once went on a hike where the cook forgot to bring a pot.”
During our stay at Pa Lungan, we had met a couple of trekkers from Canada, Von and Ali. As a typical part of dinner time conversation, we were talking about the different places we were staying and it emerged that they were staying with Hapi, who we had met at the airport when we first arrived, sat in the café with Gem. Hapi is easy to spot in Bario – he rides around on a bright pink scooter and wears a kind of slouch hat (the one with the sides turned up). Another notable fact, was that Hapi had started Bario’s first sheep farm and among the first litter there had been a very sickly lamb Hapi had been nursing back to health. Owing to a slight misunderstanding, Ali had nicknamed the lamb “Goat” during their stay, and Goat’s presence was what told us whose house we were walking through. We later saw Hapi on his scooter and told him the story. He said he had renamed Goat “Legs”.
We found Selomah and Stewart working outside the Raja View. They both broke off what they were doing, and with typical hospitality we were invited in for tea and coffee. Stewart then took his moped to the shop to pick up the traditional Penan bangles I had had made for Freya and Sophie with their names on them. As more people arrived (it seems everybody pops in for a cup of coffee at the Raja View!), we set off on the short walk to the Y2K bar, where Jeremy and our ride was waiting.
We found all of the boys sat drinking Oranjeboom on the front steps of the Y2K general store. There seemed o be no hurry, so we did the same – found a little table in the back and sat down. Ass soon as I had brought the beer back with me, Jeremy appeared, saying they would be at the bar a little further away. And within two minutes we realised why, as the generators kicked into life and the karaoke machine was turned on.
It didn’t take too long for us to move, although before we did, we bought a tray of beer for Gem, who was in the habit of producing beers from his fridge – and just as at Raja View, there would be no request for payment. So, we thought it would be easier to repay in kind. Certainly, Jeremy and his friends liked the idea of the beer as it was loaded into the back of the pick-up and we hit the road back to Gem’s with Jeremy’s mp3 playing plugged in – a rather eclectic mix of Jay-Z, Leona Lewis, the Eagles and Buster Rhymes.
We got back to Gem’s to find that some of the hikers who had set out in the morning to hike the Kalimantan trail (10 days) had been turned back by the weather, so we felt glad to have been able to get our hike in at all. For future reference, the best time to visit and hike is around November.
Our final evening was spent after dinner around the fireplace in Gem and Sumis’ kitchen. Sumi showed us how to wrap sticky rice for treks in a leaf locally referred to as the “Kelabit plate”. In many parts of Asia, you will find the banana leaf employed for his purpose, but as was demonstrated to us, the Kelabit plate is a much more durable leaf. And, of course, unlike polystyrene, completely biodegradable.
Around the fire that night, Gem tucked into the beer we had brought and we tucked into the beer he had bought. There was a simple reason: Kelabits like warm beer and we like it cold – his was in the fridge, ours on the kitchen table. There were many jungle tales told, but one stood out the most.
“You know how to boil water in a plastic coke bottle?” Gem asked me.
“I didn’t even know it was possible. Wouldn’t the plastic melt?” I replied.
“If you’re not careful, yes. But it is possible. What you do, is you put the plastic bottle of water into the embers of the fire. If you put it in the fire, it will be too hot and the plastic will melt. But in the embers of the fire, the plastic will get wobbly. But it won’t melt. It takes some time, but you can boil the water for drinking.”
Gem trains the guides in Bario and I assumed this must be part of regulation jungle survival knowledge, so I asked, “how do you find something like that out – is it common knowledge among in the jungle?”
Gem smiled. “No, I once went on a hike where the cook forgot to bring a pot.”
Bario - Miri - Kuching - Day 12
Back on the tiny plane
There are usually two planes a day that fly from Bario back to Miri, a city of some 250,000 people located on the north coast and the centre of the oil industry. Miri airport is quite an experience: various oil companies have interests off shore and the airport is a transportation hub to and from the oil rigs. At any time, you will see any number of workers in their overalls either coming or going for a stint out at sea. It is a somewhat bizarre sight for an uninitiated Westerner, the first time you see large groups of Asians trekking through the airport dressed in Shell uniforms with names like Daniel and Anthony. At first we thought that the oil companies were really cheap and simply recycling their old overalls from Europe and America, but that was before we knew about the influence of English and the church in this part of Malaysia.
Leaving Bario is no easy matter, although it easier than coming into Bario. Of the two flights per day, one may be diverted to Marudi, is in effect there is only one flight per day. And this is quite weather dependant. Today was one of those days ere the second flight opf the day was going to Marudi, so we had to take the first plane. Fortunately for us, Gem had called ahead and “reserved” our seats. The flight would leave sometime shortly after it had arrived at about 9.30am, so Gem organised for us to leave the lodge at around 8am. Despite the seemingly short distance, 3½ miles takes longer than you might think and Cam had some shopping to do on the way. We stopped in the centre of Bario for one last time and Cam went into the Penan handicraft store to find some last rattan bracelets as gifts for friends at home. Nearly as soon as we were moving again, Jeremy’s phone rang. The conversation was incomprehensible to us, but the meaning was clear; we suddenly realised we could see the plane coming into land still a mile or so ahead of us on the Bario runway. The Bario equivalent of a mad-dash drive to the airport followed: it would look like a farce if you saw it on TV, something worthy of Monty Python. Jeremy tried as much as he could to “put his foot down”, but the roads are so rutted and potholed, that he couldn’t drive more than a few metres before having to slow to walking pace and navigate some obstacle which lent his pick-up truck a rolling sea-like motion. For just a second, when Jeremy’s phone rang for the second time inside of two or three minutes, I had visions that this was going to be the worst slow motion chase in history. I don’t know what was said, or even if it was Gem calling (who was already at the airport), but the pace slowed back to Bario normality and we casually pulled up the airport, unthinkably in western terms, right in front of the entrance and within 25 yards of the waiting plane. And then we realised we hadn’t even got tickets for the flight.
Leaving Bario is no easy matter, although it easier than coming into Bario. Of the two flights per day, one may be diverted to Marudi, is in effect there is only one flight per day. And this is quite weather dependant. Today was one of those days ere the second flight opf the day was going to Marudi, so we had to take the first plane. Fortunately for us, Gem had called ahead and “reserved” our seats. The flight would leave sometime shortly after it had arrived at about 9.30am, so Gem organised for us to leave the lodge at around 8am. Despite the seemingly short distance, 3½ miles takes longer than you might think and Cam had some shopping to do on the way. We stopped in the centre of Bario for one last time and Cam went into the Penan handicraft store to find some last rattan bracelets as gifts for friends at home. Nearly as soon as we were moving again, Jeremy’s phone rang. The conversation was incomprehensible to us, but the meaning was clear; we suddenly realised we could see the plane coming into land still a mile or so ahead of us on the Bario runway. The Bario equivalent of a mad-dash drive to the airport followed: it would look like a farce if you saw it on TV, something worthy of Monty Python. Jeremy tried as much as he could to “put his foot down”, but the roads are so rutted and potholed, that he couldn’t drive more than a few metres before having to slow to walking pace and navigate some obstacle which lent his pick-up truck a rolling sea-like motion. For just a second, when Jeremy’s phone rang for the second time inside of two or three minutes, I had visions that this was going to be the worst slow motion chase in history. I don’t know what was said, or even if it was Gem calling (who was already at the airport), but the pace slowed back to Bario normality and we casually pulled up the airport, unthinkably in western terms, right in front of the entrance and within 25 yards of the waiting plane. And then we realised we hadn’t even got tickets for the flight.
Untouched rainforest
Gem’s reservations however, proved absolutely valid. Unfortunately for our two French companions who had bee staying in the lodge, there was no such luck. They were leaving for Brunei and at first, when they discovered there were no more planes to Miri, they were disheartened.
“But there is a plane today to Marudi,” the ticket sales / baggage check-in / customs inspector / passport control lady said.
“Where is that?” one of them replied, as his friend heaved a huge map out of his day-pack. A rapid fire conversation continued in French as Cam and I looked at each other.
“We could stay another day…” the words were just evaporating out of my mouth, as the map gave a little cheer.
“But there is a plane today to Marudi,” the ticket sales / baggage check-in / customs inspector / passport control lady said.
“Where is that?” one of them replied, as his friend heaved a huge map out of his day-pack. A rapid fire conversation continued in French as Cam and I looked at each other.
“We could stay another day…” the words were just evaporating out of my mouth, as the map gave a little cheer.
Untouched rainforest
“Marudi is even closer to Brunei. We take the tickets,” said the map, which from where we stood was southern Kalimantan. And with that our fate was sealed – we were leaving. All in a rush, our bags were loaded and we just had time to nip into the cafeteria and say goodbye to Gem, before running out to the same tiny plane that had brought us to Bario.
Strangely, the return flight wasn’t as nerve-wracking as the flight into Bario, but the highlands beneath us were no less spectacular. As we pulled out of Bario, we could see the primary forest and on our right and to the east the holy Mount Marud. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long as you fly back in the direction of civilisation, which here is visible in the shape of the logging industry moving ever closer to Bario through the mountain ranges. One fact we were quoted by a fellow tourist was that in Borneo the equivalent of six football fields of timber per minute are being lost to logging. And Redi had told us, as we were standing looking out from the cross yesterday that soon the view would be gone.
Strangely, the return flight wasn’t as nerve-wracking as the flight into Bario, but the highlands beneath us were no less spectacular. As we pulled out of Bario, we could see the primary forest and on our right and to the east the holy Mount Marud. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long as you fly back in the direction of civilisation, which here is visible in the shape of the logging industry moving ever closer to Bario through the mountain ranges. One fact we were quoted by a fellow tourist was that in Borneo the equivalent of six football fields of timber per minute are being lost to logging. And Redi had told us, as we were standing looking out from the cross yesterday that soon the view would be gone.
Touched rainforest :(
We had to do things the old fashioned way when we landed in Miri. We wanted to get to Kuching and we had reckoned with so much of the day left, there must still be flights that we could catch, despite our lack of internet access in Bario. We just had to do things the old fashioned way and book a flight through a "person" in person. The process would have been quicker had we not walked away from the plane not realising we should have collected our bags on the tarmac. This meant we had to go back through security after we had cleared it for the first time bagless, but no problem, these weren't British or American immigration officials - people could make a mistake like that.
The next flight to Kuching was sooner than we thought. As it turned out we only had 40 minutes until the flight left. With the clock ticking, we went straight up to the check-in counter and asked for two tickets to Kuching. My experiences with Ryanair had obviously scarred me because this was something I would never have done at home. But here in Miri this wasn't a problem, the ticket agent had our tickets ready in moments and although the gate was only officially open for another 10 minutes, he wasn't worried. Like the security officials before. And, of course, we made it. After all, this isn't Ryanair or Stansted. Kuching we were on our way!
The next flight to Kuching was sooner than we thought. As it turned out we only had 40 minutes until the flight left. With the clock ticking, we went straight up to the check-in counter and asked for two tickets to Kuching. My experiences with Ryanair had obviously scarred me because this was something I would never have done at home. But here in Miri this wasn't a problem, the ticket agent had our tickets ready in moments and although the gate was only officially open for another 10 minutes, he wasn't worried. Like the security officials before. And, of course, we made it. After all, this isn't Ryanair or Stansted. Kuching we were on our way!
Civilisation... the cars prove it
Everything happened so quickly in Miri that we were in Kuching by just after midday, with nowhere to stay. In the jungle, we had heard that the Tune hotels all over Malaysia were actually very good. They were like Ryanair, except like I said, very good. They were cheap, less than €20 a night for both of us. The bed is comfy, the water pressure in the showers is high and let's face it, that's what you want when you come out of the jungle.
Next point of business was laundry and I have to feel sorry for the people that received our clothes. But we were back in civilisation, clean and ready to enjoy modern life. So we went straight to the shopping mall. Actually, this was almost a tradition. Last year, we did the same; when we came out of the jungle the first thing we did then was Pizza Hut and cinema. This time, the cinema was on the agenda - all films shown in Malaysia are in English with subtitles. Looking around at the films on offer, we chose Inception with Leonardo DiCaprio and went and found a seat. The film was great, all the more appreciated now we were back in the city. The only problem was the air conditioning - within 20 minutes, we were both freezing. And I mean freeeeeeezing - neither of us had been anywhere near anything under 30 degrees celsius since we left KL, so there we sat huddled together in the back of the cinema, teeth chattering. Seriously, I remember two things about Inception - it was a great film, but it was nearly ruined by the coldness of the cinema. Which in hindsight was probably cooled to an arctic 25 degrees celsius.
Next point of business was laundry and I have to feel sorry for the people that received our clothes. But we were back in civilisation, clean and ready to enjoy modern life. So we went straight to the shopping mall. Actually, this was almost a tradition. Last year, we did the same; when we came out of the jungle the first thing we did then was Pizza Hut and cinema. This time, the cinema was on the agenda - all films shown in Malaysia are in English with subtitles. Looking around at the films on offer, we chose Inception with Leonardo DiCaprio and went and found a seat. The film was great, all the more appreciated now we were back in the city. The only problem was the air conditioning - within 20 minutes, we were both freezing. And I mean freeeeeeezing - neither of us had been anywhere near anything under 30 degrees celsius since we left KL, so there we sat huddled together in the back of the cinema, teeth chattering. Seriously, I remember two things about Inception - it was a great film, but it was nearly ruined by the coldness of the cinema. Which in hindsight was probably cooled to an arctic 25 degrees celsius.
Kuching River
As usual, in a new town, we had problems finding anything to eat. I don't know why this always happens to us, but it does. We walked along the Kuching waterfront, along the Kuching River, where all the hawker stands were closing or unappealing and finally found ourselves a restaurant close to the hotel, which obviously catered to the tourist trade. The main Kuching Road runs along the river front and past the restaurant. As we sat there with a very poor impression of Rendang in front of us, the sound of a parade and symbols drifted across the table. Very soon, a line of vehicles dressed as floats and ridden by all manner of people began passing us by. Chinese dragons, drums and men in traditional costume carrying wooden staffs - this was obviously an important event and we didn't even have our camera.
The event, as it turned out, was the Chinese celebration of the Hungry Ghost. In this festival, the Chinese believe that they should feed all of the wandering spirits (so actually, we would have been fine) and ghosts and thereby will find their way. This was a bonus for us, as we had been considering travelling all the way north to Penang for exactly this festival. The staff at the restaurant told us the parade was continuing to a field at the edge of Kuching. We could go with them if we wanted. We didn't. There happened to be a bed with a really nice, thick matress waiting for us. And a shower, with hot water and free soap (as long as you hired towels). We also purchased a pass for a sum total 24 hours of air-conditioning for our room, which we didn't manage to use up during the six days we stayed in Kuching.
The event, as it turned out, was the Chinese celebration of the Hungry Ghost. In this festival, the Chinese believe that they should feed all of the wandering spirits (so actually, we would have been fine) and ghosts and thereby will find their way. This was a bonus for us, as we had been considering travelling all the way north to Penang for exactly this festival. The staff at the restaurant told us the parade was continuing to a field at the edge of Kuching. We could go with them if we wanted. We didn't. There happened to be a bed with a really nice, thick matress waiting for us. And a shower, with hot water and free soap (as long as you hired towels). We also purchased a pass for a sum total 24 hours of air-conditioning for our room, which we didn't manage to use up during the six days we stayed in Kuching.