Once again I had a small window of opportunity to travel over the Christmas / New Year break and once again a trip to Borneo fitted nicely with my Calender.
I had a fun time in the Sabah region of Borneo this time last year. This year my plan was to leave Christmas day after the festivities and arrive in Kota Kinabalu at one AM the next morning. From there I would travel to the Sarawak region. I would return to Kota Kinabalu to celebrate New Year's Eve and at 6AM the next morning I would fly home arriving around 10PM. I would have the whole of the next day to recover before returning to work.
Now, I like to write about what a great time I have on my holidays so for this trip, perhaps the less said the better.
A mediocre itinerary combined with a series of mishaps - some the fault of the tour operator, some my own fault and some just plain bad luck - all combined to make this one of my least satisfying holidays abroad.
But then again, of all the trips I have been on, one of them necessarily has to be the worst and that being said, it was still pretty good.
There were many enjoyable experiences on my trip including traveling by long boat up remote rivers through lush wild green forest, trekking for two days through said forest, refreshing swims in said rivers among said greenery overlooked by high sheer limestone cliffs, walking through a variety of caves with stalagmites and stalactites shaped by the imagination of tour guides and walking high in the canopy of the forest on a swaying rope bridge made even more exciting by ropes covered with mildew, loosely tied knots, unstable supports and unconvincing safety standards further undermined by being required to sign a waiver minutes before.
So although this trip didn't meet my expectations there was still enough adventure to make it interesting and worth sharing.
Life among headhunters.It's my third day in Borneo. I wake in a modest air conditioned hotel room. There is a lovely view of morning mist over the river. When I open the window to take a photograph I am greeted by a wave of heat and humidity and I have to keep wiping the stream from my camera lens between shots.
The past couple of days have mostly been travel by sea and river and visiting a couple of incidental towns. Not much to get excited about. The boats were public transport ferries, enclosed to protect and isolate the passengers from the elements. It's frustrating to travel by boat and not be able to get on deck and feel the breeze, see, hear and smell your surroundings.
This morning we have to change rivers so we travel by minibus for an hour. I bunch up my hat and use it as a pillow against the window and lightly doze.
Now we board wooden long boats. Four passengers to a boat and a pilot to run the outboard motor and steer us up river. As we cruise along enjoying the scenery and the cooling breeze from our movement I feel my journey has finally begun. No longer traveling to reach a destination, staying at hotels because I need to sleep and eating because I am hungry. I am finally in the moment enjoying the journey and headed for wilderness and adventure.
Unlike my boat trips in Borneo last year there are no monkeys, orangutans or elephants along the river. The locals are hunters and wildlife is scarce.
We are two hours in the boat. When we arrive at our destination we are greeted by a torrential downpour.
We scutter along to the long house where we are staying. It is an odd building _ not what I was expecting. But then, I can't imagine anyone expecting such an unusual building.
The itinerary said we would be staying at an Iban long house. I was expecting a simple traditional wooden building maybe thirty metres long with one long room for our accommodation. Instead there are two very long buildings facing each other - maybe 300 metres long.
They are like a row of terrace houses all joined together but instead of having front gardens there is a long corridor with a floor of white bathroom tiles and a roof that looks like the sort of white boards you'd have in an office. The house we are staying in also has tiled floors.
The Iban people who live here used to be head Hunters and they have tattoos on their necks as a sign of this. These days they farm and sell their produce but they also hunt and eat wild birds, monkeys and orangutans which they capture using poisoned blow darts.
Our guide takes us for a walk along the corridor to meet some of the neighbours that are out and about. A woman is sitting cutting long strips of a bamboo type plant which she will use to make a carrying basket. An old man sits shirtless with many tattoos on display. Some are symbols of his tribe, some are souvenirs of foreign countries he has visited. The markings tell his life story.
As we walk along the corridor seven or eight children aged between about three and eight quietly shadow us.
The corridors are a wonderful idea allowing easy access between the neighbouring homes without having to face the torrential downpour. It's surprising then that there is no covered path over to the adjacent building. I crouch over my camera and run quickly through the rain across the gap between the buildings. Then for a lark I ask someone to hold my camera and I run back outside and jump up and down in the refreshing rain. I almost slip over but I keep my balance and my dignity (or at least as much as I intended).
In the new corridor there are about twenty women of all ages making decorations. They are preparing for an engagement party for one of the girls. Several other women are weaving mats, some with intricate patterns.
We sleep under mosquito nets. In the morning the rain has stopped and we once again get into long boats and head up river. I get the impression we are entering more remote areas. The river is narrower, the jungle more lush, there are fewer signs of habitation.
The weather is overcast and humid but not too hot as we begin our walk along the head hunter trail. Okay, so head hunters used to travel this area but I don't feel any particular head hunter ambiance.
The forest is lush and damp, a cavalcade of green on green. I am glad to be wearing good boots as the trail is slippery and muddy. There are thick vines and tall trees with buttress roots. Tiny brilliant blue violet butterflies flitter by. The path is a mixture of smooth slippery river rocks, fallen leaves, mud and gnarled roots. There are long thick planks over some of the messier terrain. These have small cross beams stuck on top of them for traction. This is necessary as otherwise the boards are very slippery from damp and moss.
Half way along the path there are clusters of aqua blue berries. Nearby are clusters of bright red berries. Some of the gnarled roots are a bright ruddy ochre.
I turn on some music and let the rhythm inspire me. I am energised and more aware of my surroundings and I begin to run and stride and skip to the beat.
Before long I have completed the twelve kilometre trek. I am drenched with sweat when I arrive at our camp by a river. In the background are dramatic high escarpments. It is as though the hills have been cut in half like a loaf of bread.
I wade tentatively into the cold river. Normally I would dive in but I'm hot and tired and not prepared to take the sudden shock. Eventually I take the plunge and my body quickly adjusts to the cold water and I am cool clean and refreshed.
In the afternoon I make enquiries about the possibilities of visiting the pinnacles the next day but this is not possible as there are no guides available. This is a disappointment as it was pictures of these sharp limestone monoliths rising dramatically out of the jungle that first attracted me to this region and in part influenced my decision to take this trip. Oh well its my own fault for not researching the itinerary adequately.
The day ends and I am lying on a mat beneath a mosquito net in a dorm room feeling quite relaxed bringing my journal up to date.
I'm tired but it's a good tired.
