Photos - Brunei and Malaysia II

Grab a cup of tea and sit back - for here's a couple of recent photo albums

Brunei - here

Malaysia II - here

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Final Thoughts On Malaysia

I had no plans to come to Malaysia on this trip, and when I did decide to, it was completely last minute and only supposed to be for a couple of days. This somehow ended up turning into four and a half weeks which is partly a testament as to what a nice country Malaysia is to visit, but also due to the fact I meant such a good gang of other travellers at the start in Kuching who I spent the following month travelling with. 

Such a last minute change of plan might seem very unplanned but that's half fun of travelling - the spontaneity that isn't possible in 'real life', the fact that you're free to go wherever the mood takes you. It's good to have a rough plan, but even better to screw the plan up and go the other way.

The Borneo gang in Mulu National Park

I'd spent a couple of days in mainland Malaysia five years ago so knew roughly what to expect, but my time here surpassed those expectations by a long way. It's a nice country with nice people, good infrastructure, interesting sights, and a level of order you wouldn't expect in what is still classed as a developing country (though not for too much longer realistically). It was a refreshing contrast from my travels in India beforehand, in particular the lack of rubbish, conmen and noise, but ironically despite this, India is still in my mind the country I'd recommend first as a travel destination - it's just so interesting and different. The crazy encounters I had there on a daily basis just don't happen in Malaysia, and despite it making travel here a little more boring, is defiantly a good thing for the people who inhabit that land.

Malaysia is calm, mostly clean, and well developed, though in rural areas there are clearly still a lot of poor people living simple lives, and I say that without really getting that far off the beaten track to see real rural life.

British influence 

The British colonial influence is very obvious in many places, and English is commonly spoken to a good standard as a second (sometimes first) language by many people. As ever, I question what colonial-era Britain did to countries around the world, but from what I understand in Malaysia is was generally good, and helped it develop to what it is today. Certainly you only hear people say good things of Britain, and their love of English Premiership football is bigger that any foreign country I've visited - all over the country you see people are wearing club shirts, driving round with stickers on their cars, and see people watching the game in outside cafés.

Food

These outside cafés are everywhere, and very popular among locals for a cheap meal. The food is part native, part Chinese and whilst I've found it to be nice enough, it can eventually get a bit boring and repetitive - I much preferred Indian food (see, there into again). Despite the seemingly endless combinations of rice or noodles served dry or in soup, beef or chicken, this veg or that veg, this sauce or that sauce... it all seems a bit samey - it makes me realise just how varied our diet is at home these days. That said, I had some excellent stuffed rotis - an bread freshly cooked and stuffed with whatever you fancy, had some great fried chicken and fish, and loved the fact that Chinese Bau - stuffed steamed breads are available everywhere as a snack.

Kota Kinabalu

People

The population is a mixture of native Malays who are the most dominant, as well as Chinese and Indians who have emigrated over hundreds of years, and I found them all to be really nice people - friendly, helpful, and always willing to help. At no point did I get annoyed or insulted, irritated or conned by anyone I met, and I felt safe the whole time in Malaysia. Because it's a Muslim country, most women wear headscarves but I never got the impression that the women were treated unequally, or in an inferior way. Whereas in India the woman are often shy and seem locked-away in traditional roles, Malaysian women are very smiley, chatty and helpful

Travel

The country is set up well for tourists, sometimes too well which means things occasionally feel a bit restrictive or over-tourist as a backpacker, though I guess straightforward for a holidaymaker. It's not mega cheap to travel compared to many other Asian countries, beer and supermarket food both being comparable in cost to the UK, but relatively speaking is still good value except for some of the more touristy things targeted at Westerners. Dorm beds were generally £4-6, a meal in a food court £1-2.50 dependant on size, a small beer 50p to £1. If you're driving though, fuel is bargain basement at 40p per litre for diesel, and just a little more for petrol!

Because of Borneo's huge rivers and sparse population, there's not too many roads on the island, and sometimes it was cheaper and easier to take a ferry from town to town along the coast. Buses however were amazingly good quality, and great value at something like £6 for a 4 hr journey.

Group travel

Travelling as a group of four has proved to be a great experience. It was very fortunate that the four of us arrived in the right place (Kuching), at the right time, with similar outlooks on life, levels of energy, and places to visit in mind. The long narrow shape of Malaysian Borneo naturally means people follow a similar path unlike in India where backpackers were often going in many different directions, if you met them at all.

I've always said in the past that four people is too much to travel together and I still believe that for longer term travel, but for a month it worked out perfectly well. We were different enough to make things interesting and learn from each other, but not different enough that there were clashes of personality. Tof was by far the most laid back and generally followed what the others wanted to do, but it was impossible to think any less of him for this since he was such a funny, likeable and pleasant guy. Max, the youngest of the group at 21 was a clever guy who'd done a lot in his tender years, and a typical German with destinations read up on, a plan usually in mind, and a phone close to hand to enquire or book things. Occasionally I found this a little too full on, but overall I appreciated it as it was great to not have to organise everything myself for once and he was always democratic with it. Rene just floated along the whole time - he always knew something about everything and had things in mind, and when he wasn't fifty metres ahead of everyone, he was fifty metres behind taking a picture of something, or maybe just asleep upside down somewhere, another great guy to hang around with.

My only beef with travelling as four has nothing to do with these great people, but the fact that with any four people on such a trip you move at the pace of the slowest person, instead of one shop to stop in you have four, instead of one destination in mind - four. It's harder to be alone if you fancy a bit of space, the fact that you don't think for yourself as much means you sometimes miss out on seeing certain things, and you don't get to meet locals in the same way you do on your own. Such things have been documented time and time again, just like the pros and cons of travelling on your own (which breeds real independence) or as a pair (where you can share planning, problems and fun). That said, I feel fortunate that for a month these things never became pressing issues as they could have, and that we had such a good laugh together - the pro's outweighed the cons for sure.

Diving on Mabul island

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THE MALAYSIA AWARDS

Just like at the end of India, I thought I'd again pick out the highlights and lowlights of my time in Malaysia, which goes to prove how different the two countries are since this list is tiny in comparison!

Best Experiences

Winner: Hiking Mt Mulu - the three day trip up the 2,300m mountain was tough, fun, challenging and rewarding in equal amounts.

Runners up: adventure caving at Mulu National Park, seeing the worlds biggest cave at Mulu National Park, DIY rafting at Mulu National Park, watching late night street racing in KK, night nature walk at Lupa Masa Jungle Camp.

Worst Experiences

Winner: sleeping in open huts on the Mt Mulu hike

Runners up: sleeping on the floor of a bus, being awoken to see an armed Policeman in front of me.

Favourite places

Winner: Mulu National Park - only accessible by plane, and full of wonder and adventure

Runners up: Kuching, Lupa Masa Jungle Camp

Worst Place Visited

Winner: Semporna - we only passed through for an hour or so, but what a smelly dive

Runners up: Tawau

Best accommodation 

Winner: Dillenia Guest House, Miri - modern, good facilities, great owner

Worst Accommodation

Winner: Camp 3, Mulu National Park - a cold, bare floored, open sided hut 1,300m up a mountain

Runner up: D'Cave, Mulu National Park - a lashed up, large open-door dorm room which was noisy. Amazing views though!

Most Shocking Moments 

Seeing live chickens wrapped in newspaper for sale in a market, Sibu

Seeing live tiger prawns being sold in plastic coke bottles, Tawau

Waking up to see an armed Policeman stood in front of me on a bus, Lahad Datu

Best things about the country

Tropical rainforest everywhere

Huge meandering rivers

Huge caves

How developed it has become

How laid back it feels

The people

Worst things about the country 

Deforestation

Palm oil plantations

Rubbish in some smaller towns

Samey food

Things I expected but didn't see:

Wild Orangutangs - only saw them in a sanctuary

Other wild mammals - I expected to see more in the wild

Things I saw that I didn't expect:

The huge variety of exotic looking insects

A pit viper sleeping in a tree, Lupa Masa

Poor people in basic wood huts, Mabul Island

The End of the Road

Tawau, Malaysian Borneo (map)

In this blog: the last day in Malaysia, the end of the travel gang, and a flying trip to a national park.

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Tawau is the end of the road, both metaphorically and literally.

A bit of a grotty little city in the north East of Malaysian Borneo, Tawau is located literally where the main road along the north of Malaysian Borneo ends - Indonesian Borneo is just over the border nearby and the next nearest road is a hundred miles with nothing but jungle between. It's also the end of the Borneo travel gang - the group who I've been fortunate enough to have travelled with over the past month - German Max is heading to Japan, and Belgium Tof is off to the Philipeans, leaving just Canadian Rene and I to head over the nearby border into Indonesia in a day or two. So no, end of the road doesn't mean I'm heading home - there's more wandering in me yet!

The final breakfast - Myself, Belgium Tof, German Max and Canadian Rene

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After our diving trip, we left the coastal town of Semporna (aka Stinkporna thanks to it's unpleasant aroma of rubbish and fish), and took a minibus seventy miles away to another coastal town - Tawau. It was a nice sunny evening, and we drove through nothing but palm oil plantations for the whole journey. Green and pleasant, but awful compared to the tropical rainforests they've replaced. 

Tawau was a dull concrete box city with slightly grotty backstreets and a rubbish lined seafront. It's definitely not a tourist destination in it's own right and isn't like the other more pleasant Malaysian cities we visited further west, but serves as a handy jump off for the ferry to Indonesia and the nearby airport. It was by no means hell, but it wasn't paradise either.

The lack of decent cheap accommodation meant we stayed in an ageing guesthouse with peeling paint on the walls, but very pleasant and helpful Chinese owners who made up for it. As it was Tof's last night, after dinner at one of the many outdoor food courts, we grabbed a beer and sat on a picnic bench by the rubbish-lined waterfront. When we arrived, a friendly Malaysian family was just finishing off a KFC to celebrate Mother's Day, and talked to us in broken in English for a few minutes before giving us each a slice of chocolate cake, which was nice of them. The four of us then sat down and yarned away for an hour or two, picking out our highlights of our time travelling as a group, a nice end to a fun month travelling together.

The following day we'd planned to go to Tawau Hills National Park, but with other distractions somehow didn't end up leaving until 3pm, saying goodbye to Tof at the bus station on the way. It was a bit vague how to get to this park, with some people saying you can bus it there, and others saying it was taxi-only, which we found to be the case in the end. Our driver was a guy in his early sixties who spoke very little English and considering he does it for a living; a terrible driver - his face glued to the windscreen, foot on and off the throttle all the time when not constantly braking unnecessarily or getting us lost. We got there in the end after again passing through nothing but palm oil plantations, though with only a couple of hours of daylight left to actually see the park.

The palm oil plantation literally went right up to the ticket booth where we paid - there's no land wasted here, and just a few metres later we were in tropical rainforest. Like our other recent experiences in the jungle, we came across ballworms on the ground (which roll up like a hedgehog when you touch them), macaque monkeys, the sound of a thousand cicadas filling the air, and our good friends - leeches - I managed to attract about ten of them this time, though removed them all pretty easily without any blood shed. One even hung about and got me in the car afterwards! 

The world's tallest tropical tree, Tawau Hills

A surprise highlight was that the forest contained the tallest tropical tree in the world - 88 metres tall and a real beast with huge buttress roots. Nearby, we heard the call of gibbons, though didn't managed to spot them. After a nice walk through the jungle along the river, we went back to the park HQ, and sat watching the monkeys fighting with each other, whilst we listened to the soundtrack of the jungle. It wasn't long enough really, but we were satisfied anyway.

Back at Tawau, we went out for stuffed rotis (bread) and a farewell drink for Max, stopping to look in a Chinese run outdoor cafe on the way where their live seafood was packed tightly in tanks, including Tiger Prawns which bizarrely appeared to live their whole lives in 1.5l Coke bottles. We bought a beer at a little shop across the road, and the owner held out an identical bottle of Tiger beer in each hand. 'This one 15 ringgit, this one 9 ringgit' he said. We were a little perplexed, they were identical, so was one a fake or maybe out of date? No - 'this one with duty, this one without' he said - in this shop, tax evasion was your own perogative!

So there we have it, even in a town as dull as Tawau there were still a few things to keep us amused. Tawau wasn't the most beautiful memory of the end of Malaysia, but fortunately the other great things we saw and did over the past month easily push it into the shadows. Indonesia here we come!

Tawau Hills National Park

Live Tiger prawns in Coke bottles - pretty nasty

PADI

Mabul Island, Malaysian Borneo (map)

In this blog: a rude awakening, learning how to scuba dive, and swimming with turtles.

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I felt someone pulling my leg. 'Steve, wake up' Tof whispered, sat on the floor of the bus whilst I sat asleep on the reclining seat. It was 3.30am and I was now in that period of confusion you get when awaken prematurely. I rubbed my eyes, then looked up and understood why Tof woke me. A couple of metres front of me in the passageway of the bus stood a Malaysian Police officer with an M16 assault rifle strapped across his chest. Was this some weird dream? No, this was really happening. 

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We were on a nightbus heading for Semporna, having got on at the small service town of Renau. There was only one bus, and with diving booked for the next morning we had to take it, the only trouble being that there were no seats left - 'that's fine, you can sleep in the passageway' said the driver, and before I knew it we were on board, the wheels were rolling, and having had no time to think I had no choice but to lump it.

I hate night buses; you miss out on seeing great scenery but most of all, I can never sleep properly on them. Reluctantly I tagged along with our Borneo travel gang who wanted to save time and money by doing it this way instead of the day bus, but once onboard I wished I hadn't. After half an hour of talking and laughing about what was happening, the reality hit me - I had eight hours ahead of trying to sleep on the slippery lino floor of a bus which was constantly twisting and turning on the windy Borneo roads, with no bedding and just a small air pillow. Whilst the bus itself was really high quality, the floor was as you might expect a terrible spot to snooze and after three hours I'd not slept a wink. At a service station the driver very nicely cleaned the toilet, only to walk back along said passageway with his sopping wet shoes leaving marks everywhere. Our beds! We dried the floor ourselves, but I was extremely grateful when soon after, a couple of passengers got off at their stops and I could take finally lay back on a recliner and eventually doze off. Until the point as mentioned earlier when like the other passengers, I was rudely awakened. 

We were at a security checkpost and as far as I know it was just a routine search since we weren't too far from the Philippeans. The Police officer worked his way back the bus asking for everyone's ID, and firmly without being rude looked at my passport and blurted 'what's your name?', 'why are you here?' 'where are you going?' before promptly moving on. When he posed these questions to Rene, he joyfully ended with 'welcome to Malaysia'! It wasn't scary, but was certainly unexpected. As if this didn't wake us up enough, the bus driver insisted on continuing to play rock and dance music through the bus speakers all night long. Oh, the ignorance! Why, oh why, oh why.

Mabul island

Gone diving

We arrived at Semporna at 5am, and sat half dozing in a 24 hour cafe nearby for a couple of hours before heading to the office of Billabong Scuba - for we were going diving. After an introductory dive in Jordan last November, I was really taken by diving - the sight of the beautiful coral, the exotic fish, the sensation of floating stresslessly deep underwater. However, unlike the other guys I was travelling with, I didn't have the necessary PADI licence to be able to dive in anything other than playschool conditions, so I decided the time was now and signed up for a 3-day PADI Open Water course, thankfully getting on a course there and then thanks to a cancellation. At 8am, we were on a speedboat heading forty-five minutes out to the small island of Mabul, our home for three days.

It turned out to be a pretty small island; you could walk right around it in twenty minutes, and it was fringed by shallow sandy waters which later dropped off suddenly into the ocean. It was a slightly strange place in that almost all the buildings including our hotel stood on stilts in the shallow waters, which stood side-by-side to the homes of very poor locals who etched out a living fishing in rickety little boats. I felt uncomfortable walking around the village, not cause of safety, but just in the knowledge that whilst I was swanning about in comfort able to spend my day at leisure, these poor folks lived next door in such basic living conditions. It's a situation westerners often face in developing countries, but you just have to deal with it - it's not your fault and it's not theirs, we just live in two different worlds.

The first day of the course was theory based, and along with a great young Malaysian couple who spoke English as their first language (as some do), we watched the cheesy course DVD, then spent a few hours reading the course material. Diving is safe if done correctly, but can be dangerous if not so we learnt about how to plan a dive, who to go with, the required equipment, the composition of air and a thousand other things. Having not used my brain that much in the past ten months, it was a little frazzled by all the information come the diving quiz at end of the day.

Getting ready to dive

Dive 1

The second day we could finally get out in the water, but not after we'd been taught how to set up our own equipment, a fairly complicated and intimidating affair initially, but very straightforward once you know how. The three of use were taken on the dive boat by our instructor, Wong, who was of course always right (sorry), to a fairly shallow spot the other side of the island where we sat on the edge of the boat, and were told to simply fall back into the sea. In the water were taught how to use the mouthpiece (regulator), how to descend and ascend by adding or removing air from the jackets, how to remove water from your face masks whilst underwater (simple really), and how to get the right boyency. A basic but fun first dive.

Dive 2

After lunch we went out again, this time learning how to use someone else's mouthpiece (regulator) if you run out of air and how to safely ascend to the surface afterwards, amongst other exercises. We went for a short fun dive after this, and were fortunate enough to see two large turtles resting on the sea bed, one of whom gracefully swum off once we woke him up, which was a pretty special experience.

Before dark we independently went out snorkelling just offshore, where I saw the weird-looking trumpet fish amongst others, and again saw and swum above a large turtle for a while. Whilst I'd been on my course, my travel buddies of Max, Tof and Rene had been on a trip out to the nearby island Sipadan, which is regarded as one of the top five best dive spots in the world, and that night the showed me the videos, inducing one of how they came within metres of fifteen hammerhead sharks; some experience.

It was time again that night for more reading and revising, followed by a final exam. My brain was out of memory and 10pm was not the time to be doing exams, so I gently protested and managed to persuade them to let me defer to to the next day. Phew.

The final countdown

The last day at Mabul we set our for the third dive, which entailed some more advanced training such as removing and refitting all your dive gear underwater, and swimming without your mask amongst other things. It was all fairly straightforward, and most of it prepared you for emergency situations rather than just basic diving. 

'I'm OK'

On the fourth dive it was finally time for a bit of fun - training was over, and we were taken out to a spot where the shallow sandy plateaux suddenly dropped deeply into the sea leaving an steep wall of coral. We were free at last, able to do and see what we wanted and it felt great. The coral was reasonably varied, but the fish a little limited in variety but I didn't care, it was just great to have the knowledge and freedom to dive as you like, and we maxxed out at 15m below sea level. Back at HQ I finished off the multiple choice exam which thankfully I passed, and before I knew it that was it, we had to leave.

It had been a very different few days of this trip. A bit taxing on the grey matter but still relaxing in between, and we met some interesting folks from Holland, Malaysia and Australia who were good to chat with. The diving had been enjoyable despite the fact it was training, and the snorkelling a nice diversion especially being able to see the turtles. I look forward to being able to dive again soon away from the shackles of education, and with a ferry crossing into Indonesia coming in the next few days, it might not be too far away.

Stilt chalets on Mabul island

With our instructor, Wong - left

Former exploratory oil platform just off the island, 

now converted as a dive resort - novel idea

Mabul island as you approach

Heading out for the final dive

Starfish

In Hot Water

Lupa Masa Jungle Camp, and Poring Hot Springs, Malaysian Borneo (map)

In this blog: a stay at a remote jungle camp, a night walk, and some boiling hot springs

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Somewhere in there lies Lupa Masa Jungle Camp

With three days to fill before a diving trip on the other side of Sabah - the state which covers the north east of Borneo - our Borneo travel gang decided to head half way there, stopping on the way at the town of Poring where there was a couple of fun sounding places of interest. Natural hot springs and a stay at a remote camp sounded potentially amazing, but for once we left feeling a little blasé about the experience. 

We started out from the city of Kota Kinabalu around lunchtime, the weather being reasonably humid but a just pleasant-enough 30°, with a few clouds in the sky and a light shower late in the afternoon - a fairly typical day for Borneo. We left much later than planned - it seems to take forever to get going from somewhere when you have a group of four people of different paces - and then squeezed into a modern Nissan minibus along with a couple of locals, which set out along flat forested coastal plains before winding it's way up into the mountains. Logging was even more more prominent than the past few weeks leaving ugly scars all over the green rainforest, the mountains were higher than we'd seen recently, and we passed fairly primitive tin and wood hut villages, and roadside markets. A poorer side to a Malaysia than I'd seen before. 

After three hours or so we reached the service town of Ranau, and as we had to find our way up the dead-end road to Poring, got out to find the local minibus and taxi drivers immediately vying for our business though not with any of the urgency and desperation that I saw in India. With all of us having recently travelled in Asian countries where taxi drivers try their hardest to rip you off, we instinctively were all on high alert and bargained for the journey, but it turned out it wasn't really necessary as ripping-off isn't really a part of the Malaysian mindset. Arriving at the tiny hamlet of Poring way later than planned, we skipped the hot springs for the day, found a hostel and relaxed for the evening. 

Scenery on the bus journey there

A 53 year old lone Aussie backpacker was already in the dorm room; a cheery bearded chap called Rob who claimed to have spent the past thirty years on-and-off backpacking around the world. A character with this sort of experience often means in-your-face stories, one-upmanship, disgust at the use of guide books and other such snobbery, but Rob was very self-effacing - a really nice chap, and we all shared stories equally over dinner in a local cafe that evening. He's nearing the end of a year-out to travel most of south-east Asia and had some interesting stories to tell, having passed through the odd dodgy area. I was surprised to learn he travels by religiously visiting only the list of highly-recommended places in the Lonely Planet guide book and nothing else - something I thought only travel newbies did, as it often puts you on the beaten path that everyone follows, and whilst I prefer to forge my own route it does make sense in many ways.

Into the wild

A few days before in KK, a local had recommended visiting a remote spot in the jungle where thanks to deforestation in the surrounding area the wildlife population was more concentrated than you'd expect, so the next morning it was off into the jungle for the night at the nearby Lupa Masa jungle camp. After some patchy communication, the Camp manager met us in Poring to lead us to the camp, the man in question being a tattooed, dour, miserable Scottish guy in a football short called Mike who having formerly worked as a roofer and been made unemployed, changed career completely, married a local Malaysian girl, learnt jungle survival skills and now ran the camp on behalf of a British guy who owned it but never visited. 

Mike gave no introduction of himself, just some grunts and a snappy response to something he didn't like. His misery was infectious, and on the walk through the jungle we were all glum and silent, ocasionally looking at each other wondering why we'd bothered. He later told us that he was the perfect guy to run the camp as it takes a certain person to live so basically, his only flaw being that he had no people skills. He'd also not slept the night before. At least his honesty was refreshing even if he wasn't.

With Max, Rene and Tof, Hanging out in
the lounge area at Lupa Masa

Leaving the tarmaced road in Poring, we walked for forty-five minutes up pleasant narrow paths through the jungle, crossing bamboo bridges over streams and ditches and passing through a small banana plantation in a clearing, before finally reaching Lupa Masa - an isolated small collection of simple bamboo huts near a river - a really beautiful spot. Mike then became even less helpful, vaguely telling us of a couple of things to so before disappearing out of sight whilst we relaxed in hammocks, chatted and for some dozed for a couple of hours on a raised wooden deck. The nearby river was wild and untamed, and a good place to do some rock hopping and bathing in it's pure waters. We found a strange pleasure in the tiny fish which would nibble lightly at our feet and legs when you stood in the less turbulent shallow waters. There was a small waterfall nearby where you could stand underneath and even sit behind the falling stream, with the water falling with a weight that felt like a cross between being pummelled with stones and a therapeutic massage.

With the vague directions Mike gave us, along with a lovely French couple who were also staying at the camp, Belgium Tof and I headed off for what we were told was an hours loop walk through the jungle. The scenery was fantastic and it was a very pleasant walk, but the lack of clear directions meant we really had no idea where we were going and ended up turning back after an hour or so, having seen a few insects but none of the mammals we hoped for. We were all feeling a little deflated by evening, having expected an expertly led, all-inclusive jungle experience, so thankfully after a nice communal dinner of sweet and sour veg with rice, a night nature walk lifted everyone's spirits.

Night walk

Manager Mike led the group of us back along the familiar paths we'd been on in the day but things looked very different now. With his powerful head torch he scoured the jungle for things of interest, first of all spotting a palm civet, a small jungle cat with big eyes, sat high up in the trees, followed by a frog hiding motionless between some rocks, and a couple of large spiders sat on leaves. Looking up at another palm civet, someone suddenly realise right above our heads were four very pretty birds sleeping on a branch, a nice surprise. Further along was a lizard sleeping on the end of a small branch, positioned so as to easily detect the motion of any advancing snakes which might try and nab it in it's sleep. 

It was around this time that a felt an odd sensation and reached down to investigate, finding that a leech had somehow latched onto my leg, climbed up the inside of my shorts and attached itself to a very sensitive area! It was ever man's worst nightmare, but thankfully it had only freshly arrived and not yet had chance to do any damage so was fairly easily removed with a pinch of the fingers. Close call!

Pit Viper sleeping up a tree. We didn't wake him!

Near the end though things got much more interesting when he spotted a small green viper snake sleeping up a tree. Wow we thought, until five metres later we spotted an much bigger beast - a pit viper, sleeping curled up along the branch. It was a heck of a sight and finished the evening nicely. Back at the camp some went to bed, some chatted, and Mike tried to demonstrate how to start a fire using the traditional method of rotating one piece of wood on another using a string bow, completely unsuccessfully after nearly an hour. He'd better keep hold of the matches for now.

Sleeping on a foam mat in a tent under a bamboo canopy was a novel experience even if I didn't sleep amazingly well, and waking on a sunny morning to hear the river flowing nearby was very pleasant. After breakfast and another swim in the waterfall the next morning, we made our own way back to Poring village, heading for Poring Hot Springs. 

Hot springs

The Japanese historically aren't well liked in Borneo thanks to their brutality in WWII, and their development of the natural sulphurous hot springs one of the few positive things they did for the island during their control of the island. However the hot springs I visited in Japan a few years ago were head and shoulders above these, and we all left a little disappointed. One pool had water at air temperature, another so scaldingly hot you could only put your lower legs in for a few minutes, and the open air tubs pointless as you had to fill them yourself which would have taken most of the day had we bothered. There was just enough novelty value to keep us happy though, and it was a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours.

With a mixture of indecision and lack of information about bus times onwards, we whiled away the afternoon using the wifi in a nearby cafe, before it was time to get a lift to the nearby town of Ranau to hopefully catch a night bus to our next destination. It seemed every local was a taxi driver, willing to take us back along the dead-end road at an inflated price and eventually we hopped in with a pleasant chap in his fifties in a battered old Toyota, who had dance music cranked on the stereo, something which seemed very out of character when you looked at him. 

The tunes blasted out the whole way to our delight, until a mile or two from our destination the music changed, and he said 'ah, this is one of my daughters'. We couldn't help what came next, our hands involuntarily clapping along together to the music whilst we laughed hysterically - the song? 'If you're happy and you know it clap your hands'. It was a ridiculous but but fantastic moment, and I was left reflecting that the mildly disappointing couple of days hadn't crushed our spirits after all. I guess we were happy and we knew it. Clap clap. 

Huge dead cicada

Digs - tens under a bamboo canopy

Night nature walk

Night nature walk 

Four birds sleeping on a branch above us

Baby tarantula!

Kicking Back In KK

Kota Kinabalu, Malaysian Borneo (map)

In this blog: late night boy racing, a train from Leeds, some pool and plenty of chilling out

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Kota Kinabalu (KK) waterfront 2014

Before WWII, Jesselton was a small coastal town of wooden shacks and palm leaf cottages administered by the British as part of it's British North Borneo colony. After being bombed to pieces during the Japanese occupation, it got rebuilt and is today called Kota Kinabalu (KK). It's a prime example of how far the world has come since then - a clean, green and modern if not slightly anonymous-looking city, with all the shops and amenities anyone needs and could be in anywhere in the developed world. Whilst a little short of character and sights, it was a pretty laid back city and a good place to kick back and catch up for four days after a busy couple of weeks on the road.

In fact kick back was an understatement - with a nice garden room out the back of our hostel to hang out in, the travel gang of Max, Rene, Tof, and I barely seemed to move for the four days. I also found myself following their lead of living life three hours behind; getting up late then having breakfast at 11, lunch at 4, dinner at 10 and going to bed at 2am. Yes, KK was another holiday from a holiday, something that's needed every so often. 

Sure I lazed about a fair bit, used the internet, and chatted to some other hostel guests but as ever I couldn't just sit and relax - the first day it was head down for seven hours writing blogs, another full afternoon I spent sorting out and uploading pictures from the past few weeks, another morning making a quick video, and the final morning doing some research and planning ahead. Yawn. Somehow the other guys didn't seem to have nearly as much to sort as I and once again I questioned whether I put too much time into these words and pictures, who knows but I think I'll appreciate it all in the future. It was also good to Skype some friends and family over a couple of evenings, something that doesn't happen often enough due to the need for decent wifi, and the awkward time difference whereby evening at home is the middle of the night for me.

There was still plenty of time for playtime though.

Food and drink

The first couple of evenings we went to a small open-fronted local cafe-bar where they sold the cheapest beer in town, full of curious friendly locals and playing nothing but music videos on the TV by this awful rapper called Pitbull. We walked through the Filipino market one night - an obvious sign of the many immigrants in town since the Philipeans isn't too far away, where as well as all the other usual produce strange looking fresh fish were laid neatly in piles by the many vendors, all shouting over each other to sell sell sell. 

We ate in a local Indian owned restaurant near the hostel almost every lunch and dinner time, getting to know the staff so well they'd come straight over chatting away like old friends. They served fantastic roti's - the Malaysian version of the Indian bread, stuffed with egg or meat and even sweet versions covered in condensed milk which numerously looked like KKK hats on a plate. After a few days the limited variations of rice, noodles meats and veg dishes got a little dull and repetitive though, and a trip to a pasta cafe nearby was a welcome break.

In the local caf with local Jesse, German Max,
Canadian Rene and Belgium Tof

Boy racing and beaches

Through a friend of a friend of a friend, German Max met a local Malaysian guy called Jesse, a 26 year old guitar teacher with long black dreadlocks who proved to be a really nice guy. Most evenings he was kind enough to take us out to a few local spots around the city which we'd never have visited otherwise, and we got to see KK in a different way to most cities. The second night he drove us to a pool hall a few miles away in the suburbs - a large modern place above some shops popular with locals, where somehow I became king of the table winning about five games in a row - most unusual and finally proof that all that time in my youth playing pool at my local Colin Park Club was not in vain.

Max had heard talk of illegal late night street racing in KK and was keen to experience it. He talked Jesson into taking us along after pool and at around midnight we rocked up at some traffic lights by an suburban cross roads, and with a few beers and snacks in hand found a spot beside the road to watch. Malaysia has two native car companies which are also occasionally spotted in the UK - Proton and Perouda, and it transpires that the modified car scene is pretty popular here with the main cars being the Proton Saga - a family-sized box of a car, and the Proton Savvy - its runt of a little brother. The drivers grouped together in the lead up to the traffic lights before time after time squealing away head to head and off into the darkness, in reality hilariously slow except for the odd Mitsubushi Evo or Porsche which came along and destroyed them. I felt eighteen again, and whilst it's not something I'd normally be interested in there's always something engaging about seeing a foreign equivalent of something familiar. Good fun.

Late night street racing

Watching the street racing - Jesse, Max, Tof and Rene

The city

Whilst a lot of time was spent in the hostel, we did manage to get out and about to see a bit of the city. The central streets were pleasant enough but waterfront was the place to be, where we had a look in a busy 5-a-side football centre, saw a dead boxfish lying on the pier, looked across to some nearby islands, watched some teenagers learning skateboard tricks, and joined in with the locals watching the sunset.

The last afternoon with none of the others interested I headed to the State Museum of Sabah for a look, getting a little lost on the way then randomly bumping into Rene who then came along, eventually getting there with just half an hour to closing time. We made do just looking at a couple of interesting then-and-now, and local tribe photography exhibits which showed again how much the city has grown and modernised. Outside, was an old steam train imported in the British colonial days which had a 'Made in Leeds' plaque on it's boiler; a surprising but pleasant find so far from home. 

Despite being a couple of miles from the centre, whilst walking back by chance Malaysian Jesse drove past with the other guys in the car, another strange coincidence, so he picked us up and took us to a nice nearby beach in time for another great Borneo sunset. As we left I suddenly realised my sunglasses were no longer on my head - a fairly decent pair with nostalgic value if nothing else. I checked all around, in my bag, car, on my head again, pockets; nothing. We drove back the same way and I got out to retrace my steps near the museum. Nothing. After five minutes I reached the museum and searched around outside before a local asked what I was looking for, then popped inside to the security desk, and handing my sunnies back. See, I told you Malaysians were nice people.

Pool hall

Local market

Locals at the market

Fish market

1911

Lone dog who was watching the sunset

Nasi Goreng (meat and rice) topped with an ommelette

Media Frenzy

A bumper Borneo crop of pics and video for your eyes and ears:

Photos
First of all an album of photos of Malaysian Borneo so far here (no Facebook account required to view)

Video
I've put a few random clips on YouTube of Borneo so far (will be part of a lovely edited video one day!)

Sky High

Mulu National Park, Malaysian Borneo (map)

In this blog: a three day hike up a jungle clad mountain

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Typical tropical rainforest scenery on the way

Typical tropical rainforest scenery on the way

In 1920 a local man called Thomas Damit Ngang first beat his way through the jungle at Mulu National Park, clearing a path through the thick undergrowth to the summit of Mulu Gunang, also known at Mt Mulu, which is one of the highest points in Borneo. In 2014, along with Tof, Max and Rene - my three travel companions - we followed in his footsteps on a three day trek up the mountain.

Day 1

Leaving our hostel in Mulu village around 8am, we met with our guide Jerry, a local guy in I guess his fifties who has walked the route hundreds of times and was super fit with it. All being quite independent travellers and mostly experienced hikers, we wanted to go alone really, but the park is tightly managed and seemingly always in search of ways to make money so we had no option. Fortunately Jerry remained just out of sight the whole time; there if we needed him, but generally letting us do our own thing. 

We set off at 8.30am, going along flat wooden boardwalks for the first mile, before forking off down a flat gravel track for a couple of hours. We walked along fallen trees over a couple of streams, before removing our shoes to wade two rivers, just knee deep. The scenery was amazing, this was proper tropical rainforest, commonly referred to as jungle when it's dense like in this case. 

There was a mixture of very old and exotic looking trees, some with huge buttress roots, many with vines hanging down, sometimes covered in moss. I wondered whether Tarzan was around. The paths were sometimes muddy, the undergrowth vivid green thanks to the high rainfall.

We crossed a larger river at which point becoming acquainted with some friends who would plague us at times over the next few days - leeches. These little insects are generally the size of a small earthworm and live in search of blood - in this case either from wildboar or humans, they weren't picky. They either hang on leaves waiting for you to brush past, or just climb up your shoe and onto your leg. Whilst they're generally not dangerous, having your blood sucked out isn't too pleasant so we kept a regular watch out for them, flicking or pulling them off with our fingers when spotted. The first time I found one I was a little shocked, but after a while you get more used to the little blighters.

We continued on and soon started ascending the foothills of Mt Mulu, the path clearly marked. We were now mostly walking on roots with some rocks and a few muddy patches, grabbing small trees to help balance and pull us up. Max, a German who was the youngest in the group, decided to make his own way on ahead whilst I stayed with Rene who was quite fit, and Tof who in his own words is very unfit and doesn't do sport. I swapped my light rucksack with his heavy one as I could see he wasn't going to make it to the camp in daylight, and in turn built up some future beer credits from him! 

We reached Camp 3 (1,300m elevation) around 5.30pm - a very basic wooden hut which for some reason was left open on one side, and along with four or five other people settled down to stay for the night. After a basic rice and tuna tea and some messing around with the camera and torchlights, it was lights out at 9pm for everyone; a bedtime as a night owl that I could barely comprehend. 

I travel light generally so didn't have a sleeping bag or suchlike to take and despite hearing otherwise the park office didn't hire them, so underestimating how cold it would be I ended up sleeping in my clothes in my thin silk sleeping bag liner on the bare planked wooden floor. Tof lent me a thin blanket, and in desperation I zipped up my waterproof jacket and wore it over my legs - what a bodged mess. I'm not sure how much I did sleep thanks to the cold and discomfort but it wasn't much for sure, and for once I couldn't wait for daylight. Rene stepped it up one more level again sleeping with his lower half in his empty rucksack which made us all laugh.

Tof on the first river crossing

...then the leaches he had to remove straight after

First night's digs - cold

Day 2 

The water tanks at the camp are filled by rainwater from the roof, and with a rusty steel roof comes orange tinged water. We were told it was safe once boiled though still tasted horrible afterwards - beggars can't be choosers though. After this and our instant noodle breakfast we set off for the summit, a long day ahead.

The track soon got steeper and we spent a lot of time going up and along ridgelines, with only an occasional gap in the trees to see the stunning views of the jungle below. We sometimes walked all together, sometimes as two groups. It was tough going, again treading on roots and rocks all the way, and all slipped over a time or two. Three and a half hours later we arrived at Camp 4 for lunch - the hut where we'd later be spending the night - and after boiling up some more drinking water, eating some more noodles, and now carrying just the basics in our rucksacks, at 1pm set off for the summit. 

The whole walk there was a constant soundtrack from insects, mostly cicadas, which was sometimes a drone, sometimes melodic, occasionally metallic, or in cases like techno rhythms. The track got even steeper and we had to climb the odd aluminium ladder, as well as pulling ourselves up on plenty of ropes, knotted every foot or so for grip. 

After an hour or so it started raining, then it rained harder, then it rained so hard I couldn't imagine rain could get any heavier. Due to the altitude we were at, the sound of thunder came from below rather than above was pretty novel. Thankfully it was still warm as long as we kept moving, so after sheltering for a while we headed for the last push to the top. I can only describe the final part as epic - climbing steep rocky and muddy gullies, whilst pulling ourselves up on ropes as it continued to bucket down - it was so sureal that it felt like we were in a movie. 

Eventually though we all reached the top, hurrah! Mount Mulu, 2,375 metres (7,795ft) elevation, done. A great feeling.

After all that rain, a couple of minutes after getting to the top we saw some gaps in the skies. It then started clearing progressively quicker, then after quarter of an hour it was sunny and clear all around. After such heavy rain it was so bizarre, as if the whole event had been scripted by Hollywood. We weren't complaining though. The views were tremendous, with misty valleys to one side, mountains behind, then the plains far below, all clad by trees. Well worth all the effort.

By sunset we'd made it back to Camp 4 (1,800m elev) where we then spent the second night, and an equally uncomfortable and restless night at that, though thankfully at least this hut had four walls.

Day 2 - heading for the summit - Max

Day 2 - heading for the summit - Rene

Tof, Rene, Me and Max at the Summit

Day 3

After the high of the day before, It was all downhill from here.

The following morning we set off at 8.30am heading back to base. In theory walking downhill is easy, but on a rutted slippery path such as that we were on, it was anything but, and it took us nearly as long going down as it had up. The worst part was the constant repetitive impact on the knees which were aching like mad by the end of the day. As we were going back the same was the scenery was the same, equally amazing. However the weather took a toll for the worse again just after lunchtime, and we once again got socked to the skin, whilst picking off numerous leaches as we went. 

We reached a stream and filled our bottles straight from it, no additives required - a pleasure of being in such a remote area. Eventually reached the flat valley bottom, a big relief. We were now so wet that we hopped in the river for a swim fully clothed, lying back and looking up at the tall limestone cliffs in front and behind, appreciating that we were in such beautiful exotic jungle. 

At dusk after nine and a half hours of walking we finally reached our accommodation, and everyone sat down with a big sigh of relief. We'd done the normally four day, 33 mile (53 km) trek in three days and could really feel it. A shower, clean clothes, and a beer were both greatly appreciated and deserved, and the thought of a proper bed that night very welcoming.

Whilst the mountain wasn't as high as the Indraha Pass which I hiked in India a few months ago, the terrain here was a lot more challenging and the weather more severe. It was a fantastic experience, one of my trip highlights in fact, and a great end to our week at Mulu National park.

Day 2 - nearing the summit

Wasting time with a torch and camera

The very unique Pitcher plant, common
on Mt Mulu

My Mulu, 2376m

Mt Mulu from camp 4

Almost biblical scene at sunset, day 2