While the né-Shivjis went to Singapore, the two in-law husbands (Arzoo and I) decided to hit the jungle. Taman Negara National Park holds what is reportedly the oldest rainforest in the world (130 million years) — having never suffered an ice age — and as such is home to all sorts of friendly plants and lush animals.
With more time, gumption and stamina, we could have attempted the 9-day trek through the jungle up Mt. Tahan, towering above the canopy. We only had three days before we rejoined the rest of the clan, so time was short. Most of the first day was spent first in a bus, then on a speedboat along the river to Kuala Tahan, the little village that acts as park headquarters and sits across the river from the jungle proper.
The adventure began when we got to the hostel and the reception lady said something about how we’d have to share a dorm with a bunch of girls. Her choice of words: “You have to share with bi women”. This raised eyebrows and hopes, but sadly we were eventually conveyed to our own separate dorm room. Our bathroom was open to the outdoors and, with no netting and a 6-inch gap in the bathroom door, before long we were sharing our room with all sorts of jungle friends, all night long.
Our first foray into the jungle was a hour-long walk with our guide, Mr. Herman, and our group of 5 (2 Swedish girls, 1 Japanese girl, and us) at night to a hide (a treehouse lookout for observing wildlife) and into the forest to check out bugs etc. There was little hope for spotting anything of a decent size: the hide is only about 5 minutes walk from the posh resort some enterprising wag had decided to build right on the edge of the jungle. In fact, it seemed like half our time was spent walking through the posh resort to get to the jungle, but that’s progress. In all fairness, we did spot some deer at the hide, partaking of the salt-lick bait people have put there. During our walk we saw stick insects, scorpion holes, and learned all about leeches when the nice Japanese girl in our group felt something on her torso and made a new friend.
The next day was our full day in the jungle, beginning with a hike up to the canopy walkway as featured in all the brochures. We woke early to avoid a huge group of Chinese journalists who were in the park, sponsored by the Malaysian government in some mad bid to boost tourism. We’d heard they would be going through sometime in the morning.
The canopy walkway is a 510-meter-long rope bridge that, at its highest, snakes through the treetops 45 meters above the ground. “Stairs” are rickety aluminum ladders woven into the rope, ascending at desperate angles. As a matter of safety, only 4 people are allowed on a particular section at one time. Mind you, as most things are in Malaysia, it was all pretty regulated and well thought out, and the ropes are tested “daily”. I suppose it’d be a setback for tourism if 50 Chinese tourists plunged to their leafy deaths.
It was a grand old time for most of the way, wandering through the canopy, with nothing but birdsong and the squeak of ropes. I don’t think we spotted any animals, but if at any point we were feeling jaded, we could always just look down at the drop and things would pick up considerably. Alas, our reverie was shattered by the foreguard of the Chinese group, who came racing up behind us. For whatever reason, they were in a hurry; pretty soon the 4-person rule was tossed aside (as we were about to be) and we were being harassed by a scrum of Chinese tailgaters.
After the canopy walkway we hiked up Bukit Teresek, a hill much favoured for its nice lookout over the forest to Mt. Tahan. It was a long sweaty climb but we finally made it up. Arzoo and I brought up the rear while the others went ahead to the lookout. As we neared, we heard screaming and looked up to see the girls racing back towards us, arms flailing. We thought this was a pretty silly dance until we found out someone had pissed off some bees, apparently. Then the bees thought we were in cahoots and started for us. We all fled, limbs akimbo, to where our guide was waiting for us, where he very helpfully pulled stingers from our now-lumpy arms. Arzoo got nailed right in the eyebrow. I think I may have caught a glimpse of something faintly resembling a mountain before I met the business end of the swarm.
As we went for lunch, both Arzoo and I discovered our own little lunching leech buddies, who’d managed to get into our boots and under our socks. Sure enough, pulling them off left a little circular wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, little anticoagulant-injecting bastards that they are.
Our afternoon was spent on the river, heading up towards a indigenous village and home of a nomadic band of natives. I was expecting something pretty circusy, like the village-cum-souvenir plazas we’d seen in Thailand, but this was something different. We happened to visit during moving day. Their previous village had had all the rustic accroutrements you’d expect: grass-roofed huts, fire pits, etc., but they’d only managed to get up a few shelters at their new place, and they seemed pretty happy to just sit around on logs and have a chat through our guide. We did get our Kodak moments when they pulled out blowpipes and we all had a go at a styrofoam target a few meters away. Then one of the older boys spotted a bird and went after it: he nailed it but apparently this bird had stamina, flying away out of range with a dart in its side.
I’d arranged with Mr Herman to go full tilt through the rapids we were due to hit on the way back to the camp, the better to douse the girls who were sitting in the back of the boat. This all went well according to plan and their waterlogged squeals echoed through the dense forest.
Once night falls, there’s not much to do other than go on a night safari; as we’d had a rough approximation the night before and didn’t feel it necessary to crash through the foliage in a 4×4, we sat at the floating restaurant and had a nice chat with Yuki, the Japanese girl whom we’d gotten to know quite well by that time. She’s got an interesting story for sure: a few more weeks on the road in Malaysia, then back to Japan to prep for a 2-year stint with an NGO, teaching accounting practices in Senegal.
The next morning we all awoke early, congregated at the bus, and swayed our way along the dirt road back to civilisation and the family, whom we were to meet in Malacca. All in all, a nice gentleman’s foray into the wilderness: decent conversation, a sporting game of blowdarts, a good amount of exertion and river-water intake, and enough creepy-crawlies to keep it from being just another walk in the park.
