Taman Negara

We've just returned from several days in Malaysia's Taman Negara jungle--an approximately 160 million year old rain forest. We took a 3 hour bus ride from Kuala Lumpur, followed by another 3-hour ride on longboats to the Kuala Tahan village at the park's south entrance. From the water, the jungle looked rather quiet and still--statuesque, almost. At the "village", there were several restaurants on floating pontoons, and accomodations up a short hill.
We booked into what was described as a "bamboo chalet" in the Durian guest house about a 5-minute walk from the river.


Inside there were two beds with mosquito nets, and an attached sort-of bathroom. There was no hot water, but the beautiful part about the jungle is that you only want cold showers, so it worked out perfectly.

The walk to the chalet from the river took us through a grove of what appeared to be rubber trees. The white discharge coming out of the tree is actually solid (or was when we got to it), and if you pulled it, it snapped and streched like rubber!

For our first full day we went for a nature walk along a short loop trail with placards that gave us information about the plants. Our spirits were high at the prospect of walking through what seemed to us at the time, a quite dense and jungle-like place. Little did we know that this was but a gentle first taste.

We continued with a very exciting (and virtually free, which was nice) canopy walk! This also proved to be a dry and comfortable way to see the jungle. The photo below was taken moments before Jen spoted what we think was Jackfruit growing on the trunk of a tall tree almost within reach.

* * *

With such a succesful and event-filled first day, we decided that the next day we should book an overnight spot in an animal hide. The tour information we had said that they are built above artifical salt licks, and that you can stay over and watch the jungle animals at night. "How charming!" I thought, vaguely imagining an experience something along the lines of the canopy walk. This was not exactly how thing were to turn out.

In the morning, we stopped by the park's information desk to reserve our spot in the hide. We also double-checked that we would be able to walk there ourselves without guides. "Oh yes," they assured us, "no problem. It gets dark around 6:30 in the jungle, so just make sure you get there before dark."

Upbeat and excited, we set out at around 2pm. Once across the river, we became somewhat confused because the only trail appeared to go in the opposite direction that our map indicated we should. There was a small village at the trail head, so Jen and I wandered around until we found some people to ask. Jen asked in Indonesian if they spoke English, which they did, and we described our confusion. They told us that the path would split later on, but they seemed hesitant. After much discussion amongst themselves in Indonesian, they said that the trail was not very good and they were afraid that we would get lost. We reasoned that if the split in the trail didn't look good, we would change our plan and continue on the main trail to another hide further along, so, remaining optimistic we set out again.

This trail was nothing like the relatively sunny and flat nature loop we'd been on the previous day. The trail was steep and uneven with roots and vines. Vegetation was everywhere and even at 2 it seemed very dark. Within 20 minutes, our clothes were entirely soaked through with sweat as if we'd been swimming. We recommend viewing the next set of photos after spending 30-60 minutes in a sauna, to better appreciate the atmosphere.

We passed hornet nests in the trees, and huge termite mounds on the ground.

A 3-4 inch flying beetle with a fat shiny black body dive-bombed my head. While climbing over one of the many fallen logs that blocked the trail, a cutter ant got on Jen's pants and started biting (or cutting) her. (This would later happen to me as well). As we paused to inspect a superhighway of termites, Jen noticed a grotesquely mobile leech on the ground:



We were starting to get nervous because the trail wasn't splitting when we finally arrived at the split. There were signs with arrows, but they had been knocked to the ground and broken in half. The split going in the direction we wanted had intentionally been blocked with branches.

After a brief conference we decided we'd try to take the split, and if it ever seemed questionable, we'd go back. A different couple might have thought that an intentionally blocked path was itself questionable. We didn't have that thought. I left a marker at the trail head indicating which direction we'd gone, took a compass reading, and we were off. The trail started fairly well, but got increasingly narrow and overgrown as we proceeded. After about 5 minutes it disappeared entirely into a bog. As we were in the process of deciding to head back we noticed that the creepy leeches we'd seen earlier were now on us. Not only had they crawled onto our feet and legs from the ground, but had also (it seemed) dropped from the trees on to our upper-halves.

We may not have handeled this discovery with perfect poise and composure, but we did succesfully pull them off ourselves and pull ourselves together. The shock of the leeches drove home just how vulnerable we were in the jungle, however; also, just how alone and in a bog we were at that particular moment. Jen had always feared that the jungle was teeming with life that was out to get her, and right at that moment, alone in the noisy bog, her fears seemed very real and justified. I doubt it took us more than 1 minute to get back to the original split in the trail.

* * *

It was almost 4 as we continued to the next hide on our map. We decided that if we didn't find hopeful signs by 5, we would turn around so we could get out of the jungle before nightfall. (We had headlamps, but didn't exactly relish the idea of having to use them to tromp through the dark). After another hour of walking, we arrived at one of the traditional villages that the tour literature boasted guided tours of. I asked one of the inhabitants in Indonesian if he spoke English, but he didn't. Fortunately, we spotted one of the tour guides who did, and he described how we could get to the hide. Even though it was 5pm now, it seemed quite close to get to the hide, and we were feeling reassured by the presence of other people nearby.

So we set out again, picking leeches off ourselves about every 10 minutes or so, trying to quicken our pace as we heard thunder in the distance. Finally, at around 5:40 or 6, just as we were debating giving up, we found the hide!

Inside we found 6 wooden bunkbeds, all pushed together in the center of the room, two large viewports, and a number of smaller windows around the rest of the room.

At once, several things seemed fairly clear: 1). there was no salt-lick, and it seemed unlikely we'd be able to spot any animals in all the vegetation, 2). there was no need to book ahead because no one else was going to be coming to the hide, and 3). since the hide was completely open to the jungle, and we had no sleeping bags or mats to put on the unpadded wooden bunkbeds, we would probably not be sleeping terribly well.

Just then, one of the most torrential downpours I've ever seen began, and didn't abate for most of the night:

As it got darker we attempted to use our headlamps to see if there were animals, but it was obviously hopeless. I did actually see an animal, however; I almost stepped on a fairly large frog that had somehow found its way up the steps and into the hide. I also discovered a large spider on the bunk beds and was very disturbed to find that no matter how hard I tried, or how quickly I moved, I could not kill it. Though I swung my sandal as fast as possible, its reflexes were faster and it somehow always managed to run out of the way. This completely blew my mind; I was totally helpless to do anything at all to this spider. So we left it be.

Despite having to sleep with only the soaking wet clothes on our backs, we slept pretty well and awoke in the morning feeling refreshed and optimistic, considering the circumstances. The rain had let up, and we were ready to head back. Though we didn't relish having to face the leeches again, we were resigned, if not accustomed, to the routine of their discovery and removal.

The jungle had one last surprise for us, however. As we left the hide we heard a very loud and harsh barking noise. This was the first signal we'd had of larger wildlife, and we weren't particularly egar to encounter it away from the hide, though the sound was still far off. After our return to Durian, I tried to reproduce the noise for the hostel keeper, and he said he thought it was a barking deer (though at the time Jen and I were both thinking: "Tigers bark, don't they? Sure they do. I sure hope that's not a tiger!"). Now that we're back in touch with the Internet, I agree that it was the deer. Here is someone else's recording that is very similar to what we heard (though ours was somewhat lower in pitch): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVmEpZeD3wI

We can safely say that we pushed ourselves to the limit of the sort of jungle experience we want to have, and are happy to have done so. Jen is completey covered with bug bites, and the places we pulled leeches off are still visible on our feet and legs. (We decided to spare you the photos of these). So, though we enjoyed our adventure, we are also happy to be back living an air-conditioned, leech-free life in KL.