Spent 9.5 hours skulking around 3 different airports on Wednesday, so it was a relief to be picked up from the airport by Ken and his driver, Shan, at 11:30pm. Arrived at the hostel and Ken insisted on checking it out to see what exactly you could get for 3GBP a night… he was incredulous that such a place would exist! After getting approval from Ken we went off for a drink and a bite to eat and a tour around KL. Crawled into bed 23hours after I got out of the last one in Maumere. Zzzz…

The next day I had a wander around town, to Chinatown – bought some real Prada sunglasses for 3GBP, daaahling; to Central Market where I had my feet exfoliated by fish that nibble at your dead skin cells (a little embarrassing: 2 other people had their feet in when I came along, but as soon as I dipped my feet in, almost every fish in the tank raced over to my feet for a munch); Petronas Towers (very cool and shiny) and the Telecoms Tower. In the evening Shan picked me up from the hostel (which caused much mirth – how many people staying in a hostel get picked up and dropped off by a driver?) and we went for sting ray and pork cooked in teaat a food court on Bintang Walk. Yum!

Today’s been lazy – up late out of bed, a stroll to the market in Chinatown (settled on a Swatch for 3GBP… had my eye on a Franck Muller, but it was 20GBP: outrageous!!), the market in Little India for some Indian style fudge and now am off for a quick drink with Ken this evening.

Up at 3am tomorrow morning for a bit of Vietnam action. Groan, why so early?

mmmm, stinky feet... yum...

So! Finally the day arrived that I was to start climbing Mount Kinabalu. Its the sole reason why many people come to Borneo and so pretty damn expensive (150GBP in total: 85GBP of which is for a dorm bed), and I had to book it 3 weeks in advance, but wow – so worth it!

I wanted to start as early as possible and so got to the park HQ at 7am where I parted with all my ringgit and found a 3 others to share guide fees with. A short ride up to the starting point at Timpohon Gate (1,866m) and the relentless climb started immediately. The trees were pretty close so the view for the next 3 3/4 hours up to Laban Rata (the over-night stop) was mainly of my feet, and the sound-track was lots of huffing and panting. All the fried bananas and noodles I’ve eaten over the past 2 months must have paid off as I came in 3rd (ok, I know its not a race, but some habits die hard!). However, arriving early also meant that I then had 8 hours to kill before going to bed. Played cards with a few people and had a good chat with one of my dorm-mates, Elizabeth, and at 8pm attempted the impossible of trying to sleep: torrential rain (after a lovely sunny day), a very squeaky bed, and a jumpy bunk-bed neighbour meant I slept for about 2 hours before waking up at 2:30am to start the climb to the summit.

Adrenalin and the aforementioned fried bananas & noodles made up for the lack of sleep, and again I whizzed (well its all relative) up to the summit (4,095m) in the dark with a torch light strapped to my head. The idea is to walk/climb in the dark to the top to watch the sun rise and again my speediness meant a very VERY cold wait at the top with 2 American “dudes”, willing the earth to rotate faster. Chad and Mike were actually terribly funny, but not enough of an incentive for me to hang around much longer after the sun peeked over the horizon (which was pretty amazing) and I was easily persuaded by Bitrus, my guide, to make my way back to Laban Rata. It was only in the daylight that we could see what we had climbed in the dark and although pretty impressive, it was quite frightening to see what we had achieve in pitch dark.

The climb down from Laban Rata to HQ after breakfast was fun as Mike and Chad had attached themselves to me (or I to them, I’m not sure), but wow, my thigh muscles are NOT pleased with me. I caught a taxi back to KK with an English couple and headed straight back to the nice hostel I stayed in before and plonked myself down to bed (after a short visit to the night market for calamari and langoustine of course).

Which brings me to the end of Borneo – I’ve spent most of today catching up with this blog and uploading photos onto facebook, and tomorrow I head off to Yogyakarta, Indonesia, to see if I can sort out the political violence they’ve had there this weekend…

Almost at the summit

Back in Sepilok after the camp on the Kinabatangan River I trundled down the road to my next B&B which was to be my base in the area. Its hardly a village, more like a collection of B&Bs and hotels (and a small shop) built along the road to the orangutan rehabilitation sanctuary. I’m still in 2 minds about how I feel about the gawping crowds (of which I was one, I admit), who leer at the orangutans at feeding time, but it was still pretty cool to be so close to them. I hung around in the afternoon after most of the crowds had pushed off, for lack of anything else to do, and was rewarded with one of them coming up onto the platform and brushing past me (again, is that a good thing for an orangutan who is under rehabilitation?)

The second night I was there I wandered around in search of a restaurant and started chatting with the locals who were hanging around the shop. An old man, Mr Chin, seemed to take a liking to me and tried his best to get me drunk (I doubt there were malicious intentions: our only form of communication was smiling at each other and saying “cheers”), but I was rescued by Hubert, another local guy who worked at the Rainforest Discovery Centre down the road. We started chatting about the politics of Sabah (all Borneans are very politically opinionated), and when his wife joined us they invited me to a barbecue at the rehabilitation centre. So we all squashed into their car and I spent an hour or so there (only an hour as Hubert was feeling wobbly after Mr Chin’s best efforts). Before saying good night they invited me to a “ground-breaking” ceremony the following day at the rehabilitation centre. They didn’t really elaborate and so I was unsure what to expect when I got there in the morning.

It turned out to be an earth breaking ceremony for the start on site for a new sun bear sanctuary, complete with the Malaysian minister of tourism, 3 priestesses, 1 priest, and 1 very handsome rooster. I felt massively privileged to be there as the priestesses blessed the ground and the rooster was sacrificed – it was a very moving ceremony.

After a visit to the Rainforest Discovery Centre I reluctantly got on a bus back to Sandakan and the following morning took the Borneo Rollercoaster Bus (my glasses actually fell off my face during that bus journey) to Kinabalu National Park – the starting point for my 2 day hike up Mount Kinabalu!

Priestesses during the earth breaking ceremony (Hubert in background with camera)

After spending 5 days in KK catching up with myself, I hopped on the bus to Sandakan, and bumped into a couple who I had met in Niah, which was a good distraction from the bus ride: the lovely old lady sitting next to me saw the funny side of us crashing into each other every time the bus zoomed around a corner. Sandakan’s not the nicest place in Borneo, in fact it probably rates worse than Kapit (as I was leaving a restaurant at night, the waitress yelled out to me “Be careful! Very dangerous! Go straight to hotel!”), but there is a little oasis of England in the Agnes Keith Tea House where I crossed the croquet lawn to take a surprisingly delicious cream tea.

The following day I made my way to Uncle Tan’s B&B, the starting point for my trip down the Kinabatangan River which is famous for its wildlife. Sadly the reason that there is such an abundance of wildlife is that the oil palm plantations have reduced the habitat of the animals so they are restricted to the banks of the river. From the B&B it was a depressing 2 hour ride (made longer by a puncture) through oil palm plantations to the camp, which was pretty much in the middle of nowhere – fantastic! I was in a small group of lovely, fun people, and the boisterous guys who ran the camp’s LOUD and very off-key singing made the 3 days I was there a hoot. Seeing an orangutan in the wild is pretty special, however when the guide started jumping up and down in the boat on our last day (not the cleverest thing to do in a small boat), we knew something was up: he had seen a massive male orangutan that he had never seen before. In fact he was so excited he got us out of the boat and told us to go into the jungle (barefoot). The orangutan wasn’t enthralled with this idea and started throwing leaves at us, which soon developed into branch-throwing, so we hopped it back onto the boat, knee-high in mud and a few leeches.

In between eating (there was always a lot of very good food about), trekking and avoiding orangutan-projected missiles, there was a bit of time for side activities: fishing – which I have now established I am no good at, but very good at feeding fish worms; arm-wrestling for rice wine (or methylated spirits – I’m not sure exactly what that stuff was); and just general mooching about, listening to the sounds of the jungle. By the time I left I didn’t mind that I smelt awful after not showering for 3 sweaty days of sleeping on a mattress that smelt of a decrepit wet dog!

A very leafy sort of fish

From the first moment I landed in KK I decided I was going to spend some time here – it felt like a proper city and somehow just has a good feel about it. The hostel I am saying in is lovely: relaxed, clean and has a fridge that houses red wine, which I and a few others tried to finish on my first night there.

KK has an amazing night market (the Bible / Lonely Planet devotes 4 pages the the market alone), where you can eat your way through shoals of fish, crabs enormous langoustine, squid and weird seaweed (…well I hope it was seaweed) for a handful of ringgit: heaven!

For 2 of the days here I went out to 2 of the little tropical islands off the coast, and it was there I learnt a minor meteorological lesson: when the sun is shining and there are no visible clouds, its not always the pesky lifeguard squirting water at you, its most likely the clouds hiding behind the trees, and that it will rain torrentially in 20 seconds, even though you put sunscreen on less than 3 minutes ago. Going back to the city on a boat driven by an excitement-deprived hoodlum was also an experience in itself: very wet and sore on the bum and ears as the “driver” yahooed every time he ramped off a particularly big wave, which was every second or so in the storm.

I also went White (well, Brown really) Water Rafting in the jungle for one of the days. Really really fun day. My heart sank initially when I got on the tour bus to get there as about 75% of my future fellow rafters were excited and screeching Chinese teenagers. However once the bus stopped and I saw the “train” we had to take to get to the starting point, my spirits lifted: the train was no more than a few planks of wood nailed to some wobbly wheels that whizzed down to the river on old rusty tracks, punted along by a gondolier sort of man with a stick. The rafting itself was good fun too (although sadly I was in the sensible boat that didn’t capsize), and thankfully by the time we all crawled back on the bus to return to KK, the teenagers had destroyed their vocal chords and we were left to watch a terrible horror movie in peace and quiet.

I met up with some lovely people while staying in KK, and spent one paticular evening preparing to remind myself the following day that Long Island Iced Teas may be nice, but in moderation. For that I blame a couple I met climbing the Pinnacles in Mulu, and I was pleased I could spend my hangover mooching about the hostel, watching more Michael Jackson tributes on tv.

The Borneo Express

After convincing the doctors in Bintulu that I was not Mexican and wasn’t going to precipitate the next outbreak of N1H1 in Malaysian Borneo, I made my way up to Niah, a zero-horse town known for its caves where bats and swifts “cohabit in harmony”. It was a real turning point in terms of me enjoying my trip: I met a few lovely people; the anitobiotics had kicked in and I felt like I was in the “jungle proper”. Hooray! Things were finally looking up!

After 2 days of good rest and food I caught a lift with a couple to Miri, a large town right at the top of Sarawak, just below Brunei. In Miri I stayed in my first proper backpackers dorm EVER and the experience wasn’t all that bad – I was expecting snoring, smelly, creepy men and bed bugs, but it was all quite normal. I felt a little let down…

The following morning I was keen to find a pair of elusive leech socks and while plucking up the courage to ask the manager where the best place to find them was, I met a Malaysian man called Luke who has the the most ridiculously posh English accent. Luke took me under his wing and drove me all over town to find socks and bits & bobs for a trek in Mulu National Park, where I was off to in the afternoon. I felt really honoured to have Luke take me around town: he seemed to know everyone (he used to be a teacher, so taught half of Miri) and everything about Mulu (he used to also be a guide there). 

Mulu has probably been the highlight of my trip so far: I spent the first day traipsing around caves, and then the following 3 days on a trek to The Pinnacles, some pointy rocks on the top of a mountain. Absolutely gruelling, but SO MUCH FUN!! The trail to get to the rocks is only 2.4kms, but you have to climb (literally) 2,100m UP and back down in a day on a track that’s barely deciferable and the last 400m is a tribute to health and safety rebellion. I’m still aching now, but what brilliant fun!

Coming back into camp I met up with one of the guides, Syria. It seems Luke had called ahead and told her to look after me and so she took me out for dinner and a ride on her motorbike in the dark, looking for snakes. She even took me to the airport this morning.I’m not quite sure why I got special treatment from Luke and Syria but I feel very lucky that I was looked after so well.

And now I’m back in Miri, off to Brunei tomorrow for 2 days break from the jungle!

The "path" to the Pinnacles

Looking over the last 2 weeks I don’t know whether its worth even writing about my 1st week or so in Borneo. It really was pretty awful: the men got even worse; I was the only “westerner” in every town as I travelled up the coast to Sibu, up-river to Kapit and then to Bintulu. In Sibu I resorted to drinking 2 cans of beer before I went to bed in hope of falling asleep more quickly; in Kapit I couldn’t find beer (so had to face the bed bugs sober with my trusty swiss army knife in case someone decided to come though the cardboard door to my room); and in Bintulu I had to find a hospital that was open on a Saturday to get antibiotics for a bad throat (initialy no one wanted to treat me for fear of contracting H1N1). Generally the thing to do in southern Borneo is to visit a longhouse where the “local people” live, but that’s not really my thing, so in all those places I just wandered around trying to talk to people at markets. Every single person I spoke to asked me if I was travelling alone and were shocked when I answered yes: “but is it safe?” (which of course made me very uncomfortable). They would then ask me why I was in their town which I thought was a very good question that I didn’t have an answer to.

Fresh goods at Sibu market

The grump from Thailand set back in on my first day in Kuching. Slick and cool Singapore seemed centuries away in my first afternoon at the bottom bit of Malaysian Borneo. Barclaycard wouldn’t give me money and then insisted I speak to everyone in their call centre in Delhi; my toe had become infected from a cut in Singapore; and catcalls from every 2nd man I walked past made me feel like I was walking around naked, selling pornography.

Feeling less scowly thenext morning, I had a wander around the town and ate far too much food (I am going to get really fat, and scurvy at this rate – can’t find any meals with vegetables that don’t involve a lot of oil). In the evening as I was taking a photo of the sun setting over the river, I heard the customary “hellowhereyoufrom?”, and started chatting to Zul, a guy living in KL and who was here visiting his family. He seemed harmless so I let him buy me dinner while he drank A LOT of beer (no food – he was on diet apparently). As he got more and more drunk he told me about his dysfunctional family then he started to cry. (That’s 2 random men crying on me in less than 3 weeks…) He perked up after a while and told me that he was very musical; I would fall in love with him if he sang for me. “Erm, oh… Right.” He then started singing Coldplay and Cat Stevens in a very high-pitched, squeal, in the restaurant / hawker centre. But not just 1 or 2 lines: he tried to sing 2 whole songs, and as he got all the words completely muddled up I focused very hard on my mee goreng, half hoping he would carry on, half hoping he would stop.

Spent the most part of the following day in Bako National Park, first walking through the jungle with a slow-walking, sweaty German man, and then managed to trade him in for a very smelly French guy (I had to walk downwind of him). Saw some Probiscus monkeys, a bearded pig and a monitor lizard, but walking through the jungle was enough – really beautiful. And no leeches! Hooray!

Had a late lunch back in Kuching and made friends with 2 little kids. I asked their names: “Abi See” and “Wantoo Ree”. Aah, what nice names, I thought. Until I heard 2 little voices from under the table shouting “Abi See, d, e, f, g, h, r, x, z!!” and “Wantoo Ree 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!!”. Oh well.

Abi See & Wantoo Ree