| trek back to...... home |  |
Gerald Lopez follows UBAT's first-ever women's backpacking expedition into the world's oldest living jungle.
It was past midnight and very dark. It was still raining heavily, large drops hitting the tent and the sodden earth and splashing onto my cotton sleeping bag. With a thunderous boom, a nearby meranti tree snapped in two and crashed to the ground, bringing down vines and crushing other trees like matchsticks. The river 20 metres down the slope, engorged by the torrential downpour, roared with renewed rage. The fresh, damp, musty air filled my lungs, and I rolled from one sore side to the other. As my ears strained to detect new sounds in the wild cacophony, and my eyes struggled to make some sense of my surroundings, I knew I wouldn't exchange this display of Nature's raw forces for anything. I was in Taman Negara, and I was in real jungle...
When Mohd Razali, team leader of UBAT (Utan Bara Adventure Team) invited me to photograph and write about their first women's backpacking adventure into the "real wilds" of Taman Negara, I wasn't complaining. In fact my curiosity was aroused as he explained that the 6-day journey into the 130-million year old jungle would be on a little-known trail that he had developed himself; it was, in his words, "litter-free, pollution-free, tourist-free". A colourful character never at a loss for words, Razali had once been in the armed forces operating in the jungle, and is a reserve of enormous experience and anecdotes. He is now dedicated to introducing people to the jungle experience following strict conservationist principles. As well as wanting to return to the Taman Negara I had visited 20 years previously, I wanted to see whether real ecotourism was a possibility and not a mere myth. I was to be pleasantly surprised...
Monday night in the lumbering, clattering 3rd class KTM railway coach; I was introduced to the eight women participants, who came from all walks of life. There was Azizah, Selva, Wai Yee and Angeline; Rosalina from the Philippines, and Anne and Caroline had come all the way from Belgium. Then there was 12-year old Jessica, whose good humour, toughness and resilience would in the next few days earn our profound admiration. There were our four male guides; Mat, Mokhtar, Jaafar and Ku Fadzil, who would lead the way and show us how to operate in the jungle. And of course there was our Honourable Team Leader, Razali, who proceeded to entertain us with stories and snippets of information on jungle survival.
After a sleepless nine-hour journey we toppled out of the train onto the Jerantut platform; tried to catch a snooze at the bus station; breakfasted on nasi lemak; and caught the 0730 bus to Kuala Tembeling. We received lessons in the packing of rucksacks; light things at the bottom, heavy things on top, clothes packed in plastic bags against the extreme humidity of the jungle. After completing the Park formalities, we boarded our boat, a long, flat-bottomed vessel with a loud outboard engine; looking ungainly but actually quite nimble in the expert hands of the local boatmen. Three hours up Sungai Tembeling, past rubber estates, fruit orchards, contented wallowing buffaloes, then the chaotic rattan palms, bamboos and hardwood trees of Taman Negara; and finally the headquarters of the park, Kuala Tahan.
At 1400 hours we were at Pengkalan Blau, the starting point of our trek. After alfresco lunch we were issued with our compulsory trekking footwear, black rubber shoes with rubber studs on the soles and handpainted yellow stripes, cost: RM3.80. We were informed that they were the best form of boots for the jungle, as used by the former communist terrorists, Orang Asli, and aspiring estate football players. They were to be modified by cutting a hole at the heel, to allow the egress of water. They proved to be extremely comfortable, allowing good feel of the terrain, with unsurpassed grip in all but the most extreme conditions.
After lining up and having our legs treated with insect spray, we set off, not yet quite steady under the weight of our backpacks. One hour onto the trail, the heavens opened and we walked in the pouring rain. Although it made the already-dark jungle more gloomy, the rain kept us cool and dispersed irritating insects. The downside was that the damp drew out the leeches, which hung onto foliage waving their bodies, and resolutely clamping onto passing human legs which then became a delectable blood feast.
Four hours later we arrived at Yong Camp. With relief we put our packs down and were shown how to put up the tents. Tea was made and Jessica, Anne and Angeline were assigned the duty of cooking up some wonderful nosh. And, in our state of hunger, it was wonderful! We put up lines and hung up our trekking clothes to dry. This was a futile gesture, as we ended up walking for 6 days in the same wet T-shirt, wet shorts, and wet socks. At 2100 hours we were briefed by Razali on the next day's proposed activities, and he told us more about jungle craft and jungle wildlife. I would look forward to the nightly briefing held in the ladies' tent after dinner. Razali would begin by thanking the chefs of the day for their sterling efforts, then make comments on the way we had overcome challenges, gave us advice on approaches to jungle survival, and recounted spine-chilling anecdotes about his encounters with wildlife.
The next morning we made sure that the campsite was completely clean and that we had left no traces of our passing except for an extinguished fire. UBAT emphasises minimal interference with the environment, and they practise what they preach. We were told to burn all combustible rubbish including cigarette butts, and to carry out everything else that we had carried in. No unnecessary cutting of vegetation was allowed, and we were to maintain silence during treks.
The sun had broken through and we made the trail to Renuis Camp, up and down several steep hills, across several streams and a particular mudhole into which we sank up to our knees. Along the way we stopped for a breather and were shown several useful plants, including one that was good for washing hair, and the kelemedu vine whose bark could be made into rope.
At the end of an arduous walk we made a steep descent to the idyllic Sungai Renuis, forded its chest-deep water, and arrived at Renuis Camp. In spite of our inclination to jump into the beckoning cool stream, with its sandy beach and deep swimmable waters, we got to work and set up camp. Renuis Camp, like Yong and Lameh, was named after prominent local Orang Asli, from the Batek tribe. The campsite had once been a ground for the Orang Asli dead, who were placed on platforms in the trees. But they had been moved on, into deeper jungle.
That night we nursed our aching muscles, and the women talked about the fears and apprehensions they had had before the expedition. The Belgians, Anne and Caroline, had never been near a jungle and had imagined all kinds of horrors lurking within. Razali told us that the jungle, if we have the right attitude, can support us, feed us and shelter us, as it does the Orang Asli. If we have the wrong attitude, the jungle can just as soon destroy us.
As the rain steadily fell, I sank into a deep sleep. The following day was rest day, Mat made jemput-jemput for breakfast, and we spent the morning jumping into the river from overhanging trees or swinging from vines. The sun was out and our clothes were steaming in the welcome warmth. Butterflies came in droves to feed on the salt on our clothes, and on spots on the beach where people had obviously urinated in the night!
After lunch we took a trail through pit viper country, where we learned about various plants - wild ginger for water, for food and for relieving fever; a leaf good for stopping bleeding; the mempelas, one of seven types of vines which contain drinking water. We stopped at an enormous jelutong tree, whose base was easily 6 metres across. I was extremely gratified to see that such large and old trees still exist in Malaysia. They are our heritage and I strongly maintain that they should be left until they fall on their own.
Back at the camp we discovered that a particular log in the stream harboured a colony of edible river snails. While we were harvesting a few for dinner, a ghostlike apparition appeared before us - a lone blond girl with a backpack, in shorts and bare feet! Stunned, we called her over to join us. She was Trine, a 23-year-old from Denmark, who had read in a guide book that this was an easy trail, and had walked in one day what we had walked in two days! She said she hadn't wanted to wet her boots so she had walked the last hour barefoot! So this was what Vikings were made of! We invited her to join our group, and she accepted with obvious relief. Contrary to what the guide book said, the following days' trail would prove to be perilous, and almost impossible to negotiate without an experienced guide.
That night the smoke from the campfire rose straight up, indicating good weather. This was confirmed by a heavy blanket of dew the next morning. We set off towards Lameh Camp, passing a trio of Orang Asli who appeared curious and bemused at the sight of so many female trekkers, traversing steep riverbanks and stopping at a magnificent river spot for a mudfight (at which the girls proved fiercer than the boys). At Lameh Camp the women set up their tent, in silence, in under five minutes - a clear demonstration of their growing proficiency and spirit of cooperation. The site of Lameh Camp is absolutely beautiful; a sparkling river gurgling over rocks, under a cathedral arch of enormous hardwood trees. Here I was, in the heart of millions of years of heritage untouched by Man, and I was deeply moved. Litter-free, pollution-free, tourist-free, this was paradise, and the reward that justified the carrying of heavy packs up and down slopes through mud, and justified the leeches and the wet clothes; it made it all worthwhile. And that night, as the rain fell, we would experience the drama of Nature to surpass any Sensurround movie, when real trees came tumbling down and the river turned into a boiling torrent.
The morning following the Battle of the Titanic Forces the rain continued. After a breakfast of thick coffee and biscuits, we broke camp and started the long, slow climb of Bukit Dayang. We thankfully stopped a few times to hack our way around fallen trees. We passed an abandoned Orang Asli camp; came across a bear's sleeping place of gathered twigs; penetrated thickets of bamboos - this was elephant country; then crossed and recrossed countless streams; and in the late afternoon finally arrived on the main trail that leads out of Kuala Tahan. We began to come across tourists who had wandered out from the Resort; fresh, sweet-smelling, looking at us with even more amazement than the Orang Asli had. What a sight we must have looked! Disheveled, wet, with mud and blood on our legs, reeking in our five-day-old clothes. But we hid our exhaustion, we held our heads high, we walked with a light step in spite of our now-incredibly-heavy packs, our chests out in spite of our screaming shoulders. For we were proud - we had made it!
But it was not yet time to rest. After dropping our packs at the Tembeling Hostel, we took a longboat up the Tembeling River, winding past banks of overhanging vines, and roaring up rapids. Just when we were settling down to the serenity of our surroundings the guides, at a prearranged signal, jumped up and trailed their feet in the water, shooting great sprays of water at the women, who burst into a frenzy of wild screaming! When the boat (and the women) couldn't take any more water, we were invited to jump into the river with our lifejackets on, and go wild water floating. Most of the women took the plunge, as I did, and floated downriver over rapids and past rocks at startling speed. Apart from a few collisions with submerged boulders it was exciting stuff!
That night after a shower at the hostel, we went down to the Floating Restaurant for a slap-up meal! After a long trek, on a hungry stomach, 2-minute Mee had come to taste great, but now we really appreciated the fried chicken, the spicy fish sambal, and the stir-fried vegetables. That evening as we chatted, I realised the friendship and respect that had grown between us. At no point in the expedition had anyone complained about obstacles and hardships; rather, they had become challenges to be faced and welcomed. At no point did the differences between the men and the women become an issue - they merely added their different "flavours" to the expedition. The women felt that the experience had made them more aware of their own capabilities and courage; and more aware of the might and beauty of nature. At midnight someone produced a cake and we celebrated Anne's 27th birthday. Then a bit more chat and a deep sleep on a real mattress.
The next morning we went on the world's longest canopy walk which was impressive, but we enjoyed it only halfheartedly. It was too hot out of the proper jungle. There were too many people, and they were in gaggles like geese, noisy and silly. And there was litter, lots of it. I think most of us were glad to get out of there, and onto the boat to Kuala Tembeling; then, home. The members of UBAT's first-ever women's backpacking trip had experienced real adventure in real unpolluted nature, and would no doubt be coming back for more.
Utan Bara Adventure Team organises adventure expeditions in the jungles of Malaysia, and run Jungle Survival Courses. For further information contact UBAT at:
Tel/Fax:
03-4022-5124
E-mail:
info@ubat.com.my
Website:
www.ubat.com.my
(c)
Gerald Lopez 1996.
NO
REPRODUCTION RIGHTS.
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