Weekend In Lenggong Perak (2/2)

… continued from previous (DAY 1)

6.00 am and I’m wide awake. No need alarm clock. I have an internal clock that goes into overdrive whenever I’m away from home and don’t have a bedroom to myself. Yup, I kick right into survival mode. Survival meaning: wake up last and you’ll wind up battling for the one bathroom. And when you’re sharing one bathroom with 17 other women, it can be traumatic.

We have our breakfast (fried meehoon and diluted “coffee” that tastes suspiciously like sugared water) and prepare for our visit to the famous Lenggong caves. Kaynis tells us to prepare for leeches. Hmm, if yesterday’s waterfall “hike” is any indication, I’m thinking this “caving” won’t be anything like my Dark Cave experience where we slithered on our bellies like snakes for hours and got lost thanks to our guide. Kaynis assures me that no slithering will be involved. “Just walk around only,” he says. Then I remember the description on the Lenggong event page: even your grandmother can do. Okay la. Since my grandmother also can do.

Our guide Halim brings us to the site of the caves for a quick briefing. We’ll be visiting about 7 to 8 caves today (if we move fast enough). He reminds us to be respectful while in the caves and regales us with tales of how people have gone in with cavalier attitudes and snapped pics only to see hantus in the pics. Or groups of ten that have gone in and come out with a headcount of eleven. We then do a headcount. In total: 47 people.

We walk along this narrow winding road that’s to lead us to the cave entrance. The air is fresh. The road is lined with banana trees. Ah, if only we had more spots like this back in Klang Valley.

Then, the tarred road ends and we enter the jungle.

Pic by Chan Siew Fun

The deeper we go, the rougher the trail becomes …

… the wetter it gets and the more leeches we begin to see slinking around everywhere. We go farther and farther into the jungle and I’m thinking eh, the cave entrance is in here???

Every few feet, we stop to do leech checks and trust me, these are absolutely necessary cos the place is crawling with them. Before we even reach the first cave, there are about a dozen leeches hanging onto my leech-proof socks and a couple on my thigh. Luckily there are several guys who’ve perfected the art of pulling off leeches. Apparently, you gotta roll them between your fingers (like a booger) before flinging them off, otherwise you’ll never get them off your fingers. Eeww. That’s a skill I don’t plan to master.

This is the first cave we reach: Gua Gunung Runtuh.

It’s an excavation site, as you can see from the pits dug in the ground. (Of course, everyone is too busy pulling at leeches to actually pay much attention to the cave at first!)

We then move onto the next cave.

Pic by Chan Siew Fun

By then, I realise I should’ve worn long sleeves. My god, those %$#@$% mosquitoes are relentless!!

Also, this is turning out to be more trekking than caving. The hike isn’t killer hard, but I can tell you my grandmother definitely cannot do this. Heck, even my mother also cannot do.

We lower ourselves into the next cave. It’s a small one, but with lots of …

Pic by Chan Siew Fun

… bats. I don’t like bats. I like panda bears and cute dogs and snakes and turtles and dolphins. But I don’t like bats. They are ugly. The sight of them all huddled together gives me the creeps. Look at that. Yuk.

We leave the cave and make our way to the next one.

Pic by Chan Siew Fun

The succession of caves we visit soon becomes a blur – some we go in, others we just pass by.

The guides don’t really stop to tell us about them or their significance … but then again, who can blame them? With almost 50 people loosely grouped, that can’t be easy!

We must’ve been in there over 2 hours by the time we get to the last cave – the Gua Teluk Kelawar, I think it is. Perfect spot for a group pic before bidding the caves farewell.

Inside, there’s graffiti – typical. It never ceases to amaze me how much effort and energy some people will put into defiling public property for a lousy thrill. If only they channel that same effort and energy into doing something that’s not stupid for a change.

Here we are, all out of Teluk Kelawar. I wonder if we’ll be backtracking into the leech-infested jungle to get back to our cars. The guide says yup and gleefully tells us it’s tougher getting out. He cackles. In fact, he’s been cackling every time he’s seen us get bitten by leeches. For some reason, he finds it funny.

Kaynis climbs up onto the bamboo scaffolding and stays there for a long time. We keep expecting him to do a little dance or burst into song but he never does.

By the time we get out of the caves, it’s past lunchtime so we head back to Nur Lembah Lenggong for a shower and makan. Since the bathroom scares me, I decide not to shower. After a while, your perspiration dries up and is absorbed back into your skin anyways so you’re as good as new. I don’t know if that’s true but in case it isn’t, I’m sorry, Francis! (Francis is the guy whose car I’m in – hahaha).

We pack up and drive to the Lenggong Archeological Museum to say hi to Perak Man before dinner.

See. That’s him. He was found in Gua Gunung Runtuh (the first cave we went to) in 1991 and is believed to be 45 years old when he died, which was apparently, a ripe old age back then. What surprises me is how unceremonious the display is. Despite the international hoopla surrounding the Perak Man, here in the museum, he’s quietly hidden in a dark corner inside a man-constructed cave. We almost miss him cos there isn’t even a sign on the glass casing to indicate this is the Perak Man. I wonder why.

After our museum visit, it’s time for dinner. Okay la, it’s only 4pm but god, I’m famished by then (probably cos all I had for lunch were some leftover pretzel crumbs). We have dinner at this restaurant named Café 88 in Lenggong town and all I can say is it’s the first good meal I’ve had in two whole days! Everything tastes delicious – from the seaweed soup starter to the fried tau pok, the famous Lenggong fish balls (which costs a shocking 60 sen per ball, btw!!) to one of my favourite vegetables, the paku pakis. Yum!

Everything’s practically inhaled and plates are cleared in a flash.

Then, there’s a mad dash to buy up everything at the snack counter. I join in too – I’m physically incapable of resisting the opportunity to buy tambun biscuits, chicken biscuits, heong peng and pork floss rolled up in kuih kapit.

The drive back home to KL is a very wet one – it’s pouring like crazy. Quite dangerous considering all the psycho Malaysian drivers out there on the highways, not to mention the convicted felons driving all the buses. We make a couple of stops along the way – nothing eventful – but this last stop where Francis takes a quick snack and coffee break warrants a line or two …

Why, you ask? Look at all the crumpled yellow serviettes strewn all over the table. Cecilia used them to soak up all the oil dripping from the goreng pisang Francis had bought and intended to eat. Wah lau. Talk about clogging up your arteries!!

The folks condemning McDonald’s should come over to the Ulu Bernam rest stop and check out the goreng pisang. I swear, if this doesn’t give you a heart attack, I don’t know what will. Francis wallops them all up anyway. He must’ve been hungry.

Anyways, by the time I reach home that night, it’s close to midnight. I finally take a shower. In my nice, pink-tiled bathroom. I set my air-conditioner to 17 degrees. I eat a few tambun biscuits (oh yes, I’m also physically incapable of resisting the opportunity to eat tambun biscuits, chicken biscuits, heong peng and pork floss rolled up in kuih kapit). Then I go to bed.

This trip was organised by MOTHS (Malaysian Outdoor Trekking & Hiking Society). MOTHS is a forum for all things outdoor, all things nature and all things adventure. Not appropriate for those who don’t like mud, bugs or those whose idea of an intense workout is wrestling a plate of chips from the family pit bull terrier.

Weekend In Lenggong Perak (1/2)

Ever heard of Lenggong? Yeah, me neither. Not until last weekend, in fact. But it is where I spend last weekend. Lenggong is a town in Perak near Ipoh (ah, Ipoh everyone sure know one) and it’s apparently one of the Peninsula’s most important archeological spots. Lenggong is most widely known as the home of Perak Man, a man who lived in one of the caves here 11,000 years ago during the Paleolithic era.

It takes us about 3 hours to drive from KL to Lenggong on Saturday morning. There are ten cars in the group, so the schedule is thrown a bit out of whack. The upside is that you get to see the town in all its rural glory. Everywhere you turn, there are limestone hills off in the distance and little kampung houses nestled in lush greenery … so idyllic. So laidback. So quiet. Am terribly impressed with the highways though – they are in perfect condition and there isn’t a toll booth in sight. I live in Klang Valley – toll booths here are as commonplace as stray dogs and unemployed youths lepaking in shopping malls.

With such an amazing highway system, it simply means you’re cruising along in your car, watching the quaint kampung scenery unfold uninterrupted for km after km after km. They’re not kidding when they say Lenggong is an open-air museum (by ‘they’, I mean Wikipedia)!

Our first stop is the Hutan Lipur Lata Kekabu where the Kekabu waterfall is. All I can say is, no wonder it’s listed under ‘easy’ in the Waterfalls of Malaysia website. We park and head towards the entrance.

I’m all prepared for an onslaught of leeches – have on my trusty leech-proof socks, my legs are smeared with mozzie repellent and dripping with leech spray. I suppose wearing shorts isn’t such a hot idea – the slimy buggers can slink up your uncovered thigh and crawl into your pants or something but I figure I’ll be able to catch them and get someone to pull them off before that happens.

So, on we go. We’re told there are three falls and the trail supposedly gets more challenging as we go up and the last falls used to be off-limits but is now open. Good good. Need to get in my hearty Saturday morning workout since I’m not running today (oh, the guilt!!)

So we’re marching along and it’s a beautiful park. A lot like FRIM.

Unfortunately, it’s as easy as FRIM too …

… there are brick paths all the way …

… and a couple of suspension bridges. Other than being attacked by mosquitoes, the walk (or should I say stroll) is uneventful.

We pass by this tiny waterfall …

… and move on a few minutes away to this one.

Obviously, we have to spend a good few minutes indulging in obligatory camwhoring … which we all do with great enthusiasm. I’m thinking this is the first of the three waterfalls but lo and behold, I’m told that this IS the third waterfall. What? This is the THIRD?? Where were the first two??? “We passed two falls already earlier ma, you didn’t see meh?” Um, no, I did not. Maybe I should stop wearing my sunglasses so much.

We get back into the cars and head to where we’ll be spending the night: Nur Lembah Lenggong.

Nur Lembah Lenggong is a recreational and training facility that’s built along the Perak River. Here, groups can indulge in all kinds of team-building and character-strengthening activities like rafting, trekking, climbing, living in a tent (ie. camping), etc. Luckily, we’re going to stay in the ‘hostel’. Lucky cos the last time I went camping, we set up our tent on an ant hill. The consequences were near-catastrophic and the emotional scars live on till today.

We head to the dining area for a buffet-style lunch before checking in.

The food is … to put it kindly … edible (as in I didn’t get food poisoning or anything after ingestion). I’m hardly a fussy eater – I pretty much eat anything – but this time, my appetite deserts me and I wind up tossing away most of what’s on my plate in favour of the mustard pretzels in my bag. Yum. I like pretzels.

This place is all about ‘roughing’ it and building character, so obviously, we have to wash our own dishes. I believe that having to use those mouldy-looking sponges to clean my plate two days in a row has made me a better human being.

It’s raining by the time we finally check into our dorm – a huge room with something like ten double-decker beds and an air-con that’s stubbornly set at 24 degrees (damn hot okay). I’m one of the last ones in so I wind up getting the top bunk. I don’t know why but I have this thing about sleeping on the top bunk – as in I prefer being at the bottom. I’m always expecting the bed to give way and crash into the ground while I’m on it. I also half-expect to roll off the bed in the middle of the night and cause grievous bodily harm to the poor girl on the bottom bunk. It’s weird especially since I don’t weigh all that much and I don’t thrash around in my sleep.

We give the room a once-over and somebody loudly announces that there are maggots behind the door. Eeww. Little do we know that throughout our short stay here, we will encounter more friendly creatures, namely (1) a grasshopper, (2) a praying mantis and (3) a monstrous furry centipede which we kill off by (1) spraying two truckloads of Shelltox, (2) pouring buckets of water and (3) getting Johnny Low to come over and pummel it to death with his shoe.

Thankfully, the rain stops soon after and we head out to fly 100 metres across the Perak River.

It doesn’t look so scary up close. Oh well, if anything goes wrong, I’ll just fall into the river. It’s not so bad.

The guy in charge, Halim, briefs us on how to fly the fox. He shows us how to strap ourselves into the harness and I’m surprised that there’s only one clasp connecting us to the cable. Halim assures us that the clasp is very canggih one and costs something like RM80 (wah really ah …) and isn’t something he bought at the pasar malam (oh ok lor …). He wraps up by telling us, “Semalam, kami flying fox 130 orang dan semua okei. Hari ini, ada 50 orang aje so kalau tak okei, I tak tahu la – hahaha!!!” Hmm.

This flying fox is perfect for first-timers cos it’s a short distance and isn’t all that high up, so it’s not scary at all. Some more we go two by two, so lagi not scary. It’s a lot of fun though … I do it with Siew Fun. We strap ourselves in and off we go … a few feet off the platform and Halim stops the pulley, leaving us dangling above the ground for a while. I have no idea why but it gives us a few seconds to camwhore …

… which is why I have this pic …

… and this …

… once he lets go, off we go. We scream really loud, not cos it’s scary but because everyone is egging us on. Entertainment value, you know. It’s a great feeling whizzing through the air, the river flowing beneath you, wind in your hair. People sometimes ask you what animal you’d like to be if you were to be reincarnated in your next life. I definitely want to be a bird.

Before we know it, the flight’s over and we’re stopped by the red piece of canvas at the end (to prevent us from crashing into the trees and you know, killing ourselves). So fun! Must find another place with a more chi-kek flying fox to try out! (Chi-kek is Cantonese for ‘exciting’; it’s not to be confused with ‘cekik’ which is Malay for strangulation and obviously, not the same thing at all).

We head off for a quick shower before dinner. Ooh, this is where I launch into something I do in every post: talk about the toilet. Okay, first of all, let me clarify something. I do not have a toilet fetish. And I know that this doesn’t do much to boost our international image, but aiya, it’s no secret that Malaysian toilets aren’t exactly clean. In most cases, they’re pretty gross. And this one at Nur Lembah Lenggong is no exception. It’s big, blue and gives me the creepy feeling that this is probably what the toilets in Pudu Jail look like. (Coincidentally, it’s in the toilet where we find the praying mantis, the centipede and a whole army of ants). All I can say is, when using that toilet, you’ll be glad if you have myopia and an impaired olfactory system.

Click here for DAY 2.

This trip was organised by MOTHS (Malaysian Outdoor Trekking & Hiking Society). MOTHS is a forum for all things outdoor, all things nature and all things adventure. Not appropriate for those who don’t like mud, bugs or those whose idea of an intense workout is wrestling a plate of chips from the family pit bull terrier.

Reality Bites: Wild Imagination Needed

I’m re-reading The Art of Travel by Alain De Botton. Yup, I love it so much I’m reading it twice. The book waxes philosophical (and does it beautifully) about travel but really, how we choose to travel is – many times – a reflection of how we choose to live life. So much of what he says can be applied to life and since we’re here in my blog, to my pursuit of rock-hard killer thighs.

In the chapter ‘On Anticipation’, De Botton talks about the seductive powers of a picture, “Projects (and even whole lives) might be influenced by the simplest and most unexamined images of happiness … a lengthy and ruinously expensive journey might be set into motion by nothing more than the sight of a photograph of a palm tree gently inclining in a tropical breeze.”

That’s so true! I mean, how did I get into hiking? By looking at pictures la.

Look at that! How can you not totally fall in love? (Mall rats need not respond).

So magical. Like a fairy just danced through, casting a mysterious mist.

The air is cool. Carpet of soft mossy grass. Clear cascading waterfall.

And if you go far in enough, there are fairies and pixies and elves!

But the reality of a rainforest – as anyone who’s ever been in a real rainforest can tell you – is far from Strawberry Shortcake Fairy Dust Land. “In [photographs] we find the process of simplification or selection at work as in the imagination. Severe abbreviations of what reality will force upon us.”

There. That’s reality. It’s a pic from my Death By Hiking entry and I can say with all honesty that it was NOT Strawberry Shortcake Fairy Dust Land.

Truckloads of blood-sucking leeches, some that hang off trees, hop into your clothes and shimmy down your back. Vicious mosquitoes attack full-on. Air is thick and muggy. You’re falling into holes. You’re slushing around in bright orange mud as slick as cream. Then it rains.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Just like hiking, I got into this whole running thing cos I spent all my time looking at pictures like this.

So much grace. Long strides. Nice lean legs. Effortless. Smile on face. Bliss. Steady breathing. Energetic. Heart robust. Rhythmic pumping. Body glistening with a light layer of perspiration. Cheeks flushed pink.

But in reality, things are a bit different. Not bad. Just different.

First, you battle crazy-ass traffic to get to the park. Then, you fight with a bunch of people (who’ve also been seduced by the same picture, btw) for a parking spot. Got no space, so you double-park. Then, somebody gives you the finger. Then, you need to pee, so you walk to the loo (which is usually very far away) and then back.

You start to run. You get stuck behind a woman in Lycra ultra-mini-shorts and spend a few minutes hypnotised by the way her cellulite-ridden thighs are chafing viciously against each other. You come to your senses and run past her. You wind up behind an old Ah Pek, but this Ah Pek is not just any Ah Pek. He is the Super-Fit Ah Pek who runs past you three times before you even finish your first round. You feel a bit depressed.

After a while, you start to feel tired. Calves kinda sore. Then you realise you forgot to programme your ipod properly, so now it’s playing Enrique Iglesias’s whole album. Omg. You try to skip it but your ipod hangs. Then your pants ride up your butt. Then you need to pee. Again.

Then images of your boss invade your mind. You remember all the stuff you were supposed to do last week but didn’t (cos you decided, oh screw it). Then you remember omg, today is Sunday and tomorrow is Monday. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Then you stress and your leg kena cramp.

Then, your shoelaces become untied. Then, you bend down to tie them and you’re reminded of the jelly belly hanging around your waist. You become even more depressed. How come run so much still so goddamn fat??!!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“The imagination could provide a more-than-adequate substitute for the vulgar reality of actual experience,” writes French novelist Joris-Karl Huysmans in Against The Grain. Yeah, tell me about it.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I’ve now come to the end of this entry. And the point of this entry is … sure, reality almost never lives up to the pictures we see and the ones we draw in our minds, but that’s life. That’s why we have things like imagination, denial, self-inflicted amnesia, insanity and above all, a healthy sense of humour.

So just keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing, keep looking at nice pictures and remember that – should all else fail – there’s nothing a wild, candy-coated imagination can’t help make better.

Tibang Falls by 4WD

It’s my first-ever 4WD road trip and couple of hours into the trip, I’m already brimming with many questions. For instance, why would a man have tulips in his knapsack? Why is he asking for water while telling us his in his bladder (um, isn’t everybody’s water also in their bladders)? And finally, who the heck is Romeo and what’s he doing in Zulu?

Lucky for me, Kaynis – whose 4WD I’m in – is very patient. And that’s how I find out that a tulip is really a map, a bladder is where you put the water in your hiking pack and Romeo and Zulu are two of the three names that make up somebody’s call sign. Btw, my call sign – should I ever decide to take the Radio Amateur Exam – would be Yankee Whiskey Papa. Good lord. I’m so NOT taking that exam.

Anyways, as I was saying, this is my first-ever 4WD road trip. I’ve seen pictures of the crazy people in those Rainforest Challenges where they’re all dripping with mud and trying to push some mammoth 4WD out of quicksand or something. I wondered if I’d have to do that stuff, so I emailed Kaynis who happened to be the leader of this particular event and asked him lots of questions like:

1. Is this event suitable for non-xxx hardcore types?
2. Are you all planning to use parang to chop your way through the jungle to get to the waterfall?
3. Will I come out alive? (this question is the result of post-traumatic stress disorder thanks to a previous hike up the Hill of Death)

Kaynis’s response was, “Aiya, this one so easy even your grandmother can go.” So I clicked ‘attend’.

On Sunday morning, I meet up with Kaynis, my two other car-mates – Rose and Uncle Xavier – and all the rest who’ll be going on the trip. All in all, there are thirteen 4WDs and I’m thinking at least 45 people. We spend the ride to the Slim River toll listening to Chariots of Fire, counting the number of Zhulian billboards along the highway and eavesdropping on Kaynis on his walkie-talkie communicating with about three hundred and sixty people.

It’s almost 10am by the time we reach Perak and enter the road leading to Slim River. It’s a short drive and pretty soon, we come to the end of the tar road. I wonder how long more before I need to get out and help push the 4WD out of a mud pit.

But I’m lucky. The path is relatively smooth – sure, it’s quite a rocky ride and some parts are slippery, but generally, I’m all nice and comfy in the car, very well taken care of by the driver (people join Rainforest Challenge one, you know). I just need to sit tight, stay buckled and make sure I don’t give myself a concussion.

We pass by several small orang asli kampungs, some halfway built, others with only a handful of people. There are kapchais everywhere and a Proton Saga or two. The orang aslis aren’t that far removed from modern life after all.

We soon arrive at Kampung Tibang, the biggest kampung there with about 200 orang asli residents.

Everybody hops out of the cars and start snapping. I join right in though not without mixed emotions. I suppose the orang aslis are used to having these city folks coming in their big cars and their Nikes and Timberlands, and treating them like they’re nothing more than just another photo opp.

I feel a little guilty being one of these “city folks” …

… unfortunately, that guilt isn’t enough to squelch the camwhore kicking inside me.

While everyone’s busy shooting everything in sight, Kaynis chats with the village head who’ll be bringing us to the waterfall.

But as with all big groups, everything takes double the time to get organised. We putter around the village until the sky begins to darken. That’s when we realise aiyo, better get going before it starts to pour.

We’re on our way to the waterfall when it starts to drizzle. I rummage inside my backpack and realise I’d forgotten to pack my Lafuma rain jacket. Crap. That’s when it begins to pour quite steadily. We come to this patch of mud and not realising how deep it is, go right ahead and sink into the hole.

The car’s stuck and being lopsided to the right, the passenger door can’t open. Yay! Does this mean we have to now get out of the car and push it out?

Um no. We do get out of the car but only to watch from the side as it’s pulled out of the hole using a strap hooked onto another car.

After that, all the 4WDs get their turn at the mud hole while the passengers station themselves up on the slope to watch and take pictures.

Pic by Ivan Ho

Pic by Ivan Ho

Pic by Ivan Ho

Pic by Ivan Ho

Kinda like watching an F1 race except that this is a lot muddier and nobody wins anything.

Once we’re all past the mud hole, we drive on. The path gets rocky. You know that contraption, the really obscene one from OSIM, where you um, ‘ride’ the stool macam you’re riding a bull? Just to stay in place and not go crashing everywhere, it requires some body work okay. Being on a rocky path in a 4WD probably gives you the same effect. Some more this trip is mild; I can imagine if it were a really rough terrain – wowee! Six pack, here I come.

Anyways, we’re almost at the waterfall – it’s just over this muddy uphill slope. Kaynis gets the cars that are already up there to clear the way. I learn a new tip: if you’re going to charge up a slope in your 4WD, you must know what’s on the other side of the slope. If it’s like a cliff or something, you’ll charge up only to plunge head-on into a river, which is usually not considered a good thing. Hmm. That’s a useful tip to bear in mind, you know, for when I decide to buy my own 4WD.

Everyone parks along this path and we get out to the ferocious sounds of gushing water. The waterfall’s right there in front of us. Just a few muddy metres away!

Kaynis is right – my grandmother also can do. Ha ha. Then, lunch time lolls around …

… that’s when I realise how lucky I am that I’m in Kaynis’s car (being a pest and asking lots of dumb questions pays off!). When you’re in Kaynis’s car, you’re with Rose and when you’re with Rose, you get good home cooked food to eat. Thanks to her, I get to have chicken rendang sandwiches and avocado and prawn salad instead of my sad little packet of peanut M&Ms. She even has a thermos of steaming hot Chinese tea! Talk about first-class.

We have lunch while watching these guys take a shower down below – with shampoo and soap and everything. This image will forever be embedded in my mind.

At about 1.30pm or so, we make a move. We stop by another smaller orang asli kampung to hand out the rest of the used clothes. Apparently, they get tons of clothes from visitors and much prefer toys and stuff. Must make note to remember that.

Everyone gathers at this dry flat stretch of sand to take a group picture. But it’s such a huge group that it’s nearly impossible to get everyone in (at least not with my camera)!

On the way out, we drop by the Ulu Slim Hot Springs. Talk about boiling point – the water is a freaking 104 degrees Celsius. Holy moly.

This is a view of the water.

And this is a view of some people checking out the water. I swear I see one of them attempting to wash his socks in there or something.

Once out, we take a detour and go into this spot named Pos Bill (as in Clinton; yeah, I also don’t know why). Kaynis plans to organise an overnighter in here and wants to recce the place.

We drive past an orang asli kampung named Pecah Batu (as in Break the Stone; yeah, I also don’t know why) and come to a clearing with a river …

The river’s beautiful. The plan is to drive the 4WDs into this place, right through the river and up into the jungle where there’s a totally awesome waterfall and a huge slab of rock where you can suntan yourself into oblivion.

By the time we head out, it’s past 4pm and starting to pour again, this time like crazy. We grab a quick bite before heading back to KL.

Not only is this my maiden 4WD trip, it’s also my maiden MOTHS trip. I’m glad I went despite my friends ffk-ing (you three people, you know who you are!!) and even though I was ALL ALONE BY MY LONESOME SELF (I hope you guys are all feeling horribly guilty right now), it was still a lot of fun and definitely something I want to do again. Maybe next time, I’ll get to help push a four-wheeler out of a ravine.

MOTHS (Malaysian Outdoor Trekking & Hiking Society) is a forum for all things outdoor, all things nature and all things adventure. Not appropriate for those who don’t like mud, bugs or those whose idea of an intense workout is wrestling a plate of chips from the family pit bull terrier.

Remembering FRIM

Yes, I’m revisiting FRIM. In pictures. The last time I was there was four years ago. Was frequenting it for a while before I dropped it all together. It’s not to say it isn’t a nice place. It is. It’s just that I didn’t find it much of a challenge (cheh wah, like real).

FRIM – for those of you who don’t know – is a forest research institute somewhere in Kepong (don’t ask me where; I only know that you need to pass 1U along the way). They do many things there like forestry and biotech and R&D and et cetera but I don’t understand any of that stuff, so I’m not going to talk about it. What I am going to talk about is trekking at FRIM.

First of all, you need to pay RM5 per car to get in. There are four nature trails for walkers, joggers, runners, bikers and picnickers. The trail I used to take is called … um, I have no idea what it’s called. All I know is that there were steps, winding paths, large rocks, a mini ‘waterfall’ and you wind up walking alongside passing cars on the way out. Go figure.

The pic above shows the ‘staircase’ you need to climb in the early part of the hike. It’s a short climb and not very steep.

The trail after the ‘staircase’ is pretty level, so no great exertion of energy there. While it’s best to go in the mornings, I don’t think it’s a good idea to start too early. Apparently, the wife of a friend of a friend of mine came to FRIM to jog in the wee hours of the morning and was attacked by a babi hutan (!!!). Good lord. Talk about a bad way to start the day.

After the winding trail, we used to turn off into the left, down this route pictured above. You make your way through this rocky bit (just follow the pipes) all the way down. It can get a little damp but there’s no river-crossing required, so your shoes will stay dry and intact.

You’ll soon come to a little stream, which leads to a pond of sorts. Here’s where you’ll see a bunch of families picnicking away with about a zillion kids (a particularly popular pastime over the weekends). So if you don’t fancy families/kids/people in general, don’t come here. I do have pics of them but since I don’t fancy families/kids/people myself, I decided not to post them here.

It’s safe to say that the entire hike is about 1.5 to 2km. It’s an okay place but personally, I’m not itching to go back there. There are just too many people there and parking is a bitch on the weekends. I’ll stick to Kiara, I guess.

[All pictures by Adrian Tee]

Bukit Gasing (Thru a Better Lens)

I always admire people who take better pictures than I do and I’m reminded once again how sad I am after I saw pics taken by a friend of mine of Bukit Gasing and I’m wondering how come my pics don’t look like that one?? Then I made two decisions: first, learn how to use my camera properly and two, post his pics on my blog.

The start of the trek. You climb up steps for quite a few minutes – a great workout for those glutes and gets you sufficiently warmed up.

The trail is quite narrow so when there’s oncoming traffic, you have to step aside to make way. I can understand why some people might find the place a little claustrophobic.

Ah, one of my favourite bits where the ground is crawling with sturdy tree roots that form a staircase of sorts.

There are bits where tree trunks have fallen so you have to go over or under.

And again, my least favourite bit: rickety old suspension bridge. See what I mean? Compare his shot with mine from a previous post in September. Mine doesn’t look half as scary!

And this is precisely why I hate the bridge: it’s narrow (which means you have to wait until the person coming in the opposite direction is finished before you can get on) and you can see right through the ropes (!!!). It’s not that high la but still!!!

I took one pic of this same spot but mine doesn’t display the drama of the place the way this pic above does. Looks grand huh?

Sigh. Makes me wanna strap on my shoes and go climbing again.

[All pictures by Adrian Tee]

Bukit Gasing Memories

I’m reminiscing here and directing this specifically to a few of you out there (you know who you are!!) … remember how we used to get up really early every weekend to go trekking at Gasing Hill? How we’d drive through the itty bitty narrow lane right into the housing area and park our car dangerously near the longkang so that passing cars won’t crash into us? How we’d have to avoid a few dogs and slap a few mozzies on the way into the hill? How we’d say a cheery ‘good morning’ to everyone we met? And how there was this one guy who was really hot? And how he would … okay, okay, I digress.

My point is, we used to go to Gasing a lot and after a while, we abandoned it for more concrete pastures. I miss Gasing. Therefore, I want to pay tribute to it in pictures. These shots don’t give you a complete picture of the trail we usually take, just random snapshots.

Along a chain link fence, there’s a path made up of concrete slabs which will bring you deeper into the bukit.

After a rather long stretch of jungle trek, you’ll come to a suspension bridge. This is personally my least favourite part of the trail. I don’t like sway-able suspension bridges mainly cos I don’t have lots of confidence in our standards of maintenance, if you know what I mean. Skali the thing give way then how!!

Another part of the trail is a rather deep ravine – I hear this is called the Abu Bakar Slope. I remember the first time I trekked at Gasing and the first time I saw the ravine. I thought, holy crap, this doesn’t look fun!! But it gets easier after a while, so it really isn’t as scary as it looks. The good thing is, there is a rope at the steeper parts and there are steps (kinda sorta) along the way.

And we’re back up and out of the ravine. Once out, you can breathe a sigh of relief because from then on, it’s back to a stretch of jungle trek – a rather long one though. It feels like you’re trekking and trekking and trekking and there’s no end in sight. Luckily, the trail is level so it isn’t so hard and you get to meet cute little doggies along the way (even though the sign at the entrance forbids pets … and fruits and a whole bunch of other things).
And we’re nearly out. I’m not entirely sure which trail we usually take. Apparently, there are quite a few trails available: Tower Loop la, River Trek la, Chain Link Fencing la, Long March la, Abu Bakar la, etc etc etc. I have a feeling we’ve probably been doing most (if not all) of them! Not sure though; all I know is we spend about an hour in the bukit and at a comfortably quick pace too.

And to think they wanted to tear down the KL side of Bukit Gasing to make way for development!!! It’s one of the last few (and I mean FEW) remaining green lungs in Klang Valley! Guess they won’t be content until every living tree and every tiny patch of greenery is razed to the ground. Hmm. Maybe I should get back to the bukit and do a complete trail pictorial before that happens.

Clambering Up Mt Kinabalu

On our way to the Kinabalu Park HQ. Would be lying if I said I wasn’t a teensy weensy bit worried. Yeah, I read lots of blogs about Mount Kinabalu but hey, you never know okay. Worried about being up there in the mountain, vulnerable to the elements, at the mercy of the spirits. We didn’t have an appropriate sacrifice to appease the gods of the mountains either – no chicken wings or ribs or anything, so yeah, I was worried.

After registering at the HQ, we met our guide who was apparently also going to be our porter. He was incredibly shy and TINY. I wondered how in the world he was going to be able to lug our three humongous bags, which must’ve weighed close to 20kgs in total … plus his own bag some more. Oh my god.

Took a bus from the HQ to Timpohon Gate. Registered and got our tags (you know, so they can identify us in case they find a body or something) and off we went!

In all honesty, the hike was pretty easy. The crudely constructed ‘stairs’ can be a little steep at times but as long as you paced yourself, you were fine. We pretty much ate throughout the whole way. Apples. Cheese sandwiches. Fried chicken. Really expensive energy bars. Really gross energy gels. You name it, we ate it. I drank a lot too. And so, had to make a stop at every pondok. I also took pictures at every pondok. Haha. I believe in celebrating achievements no matter how lame.

This was Pondok Nombor Satu …

… Pondok Nombor Dua …

… Pondok Nombor Tiga … Empat, Lima, Enam …

… um, you get the picture …

The higher you go, the landscape starts to gradually change and the temperature drops.

The air is fresh, pleasantly chilly and it gets all misty, which was really beautiful because it was almost like you were entering another world.

There were some parts which were all muddy and rocky, but they were still manageable. We thanked our lucky stars that the weather was fine all morning. In fact, it was absolutely gorgeous weather, which made the climb so much more fun.

We passed many other climbers (or rather, they passed us) and guides and porters (okay okay, so they passed us – whoosh) … it’s amazing how much stuff these porters can carry and they’re all tiny! Like a third of the size of a typical Big Mac guzzling angmoh. The porter in the above picture is a woman who looked about fifty (!!!) and there were a number of little kids – no older than 13 – who were lugging huge fancy-schmancy backpacks at RM7 per kg. Wow.

Along the way, we had to make way for some guides who were carrying a guy down on a stretcher (!!!!!!!!). Apparently, he had been up on the summit that morning when he slipped, fell, whacked his head real hard on the rocks and broke his leg. He was bandaged up and in real bad shape. Gulp. We looked at each other and plodded on. Don’t. Say. Anything. Very pantang one.

While the trail itself wasn’t terribly difficult, non-stop ascending does eventually take a toll on you as the hours go by.

Our legs began to feel a little sore as we approached the fifth hour of climbing. But the scenery was transforming before our very eyes and I guess that kinda distracted us from the fact that our legs were starting to sorta feel like they were going to detach themselves at the knees.

At one point, the trees began to turn all black, dried up and gnarly; it was like being surrounded by an army of skinny old (evil) men. It was quite surreal. A veritable jungle of horrors … and speaking of horrors. That was when things started to unravel.

I felt a … (cue scary chainsaw-massacre-type music) … RAINDROP. My heart sank into my hiking shoes. The last thing we wanted was rain (!!!!) … I quickly pulled on my Lafuma wind-resistant, water-resistant, everything-resistant rain jacket whatchamacallit and tucked my camera right into the pocket. And then, IT POURED. It poured fierce.

Needless to say, I didn’t take any pics at that point because I was trying hard not to slip on the rocks, fall off the mountain and die. I also didn’t want to get my camera wet (duh). It was then that I learned how important it was to waterproof EVERYTHING. Everything’s gotta be waterproof – your jacket, your pants, your bag, your socks, your shoes (are there such things as waterproof socks and shoes?). We were all soaked to the bone!!! And freezing half to death. We climbed and climbed and there seemed to be no end in sight. I swear my legs were going to fall off and roll down the mountain right into the gnarly trees.

After climbing for what seemed like FOREVER, I spotted the tip of what looked like a roof from a distance. Oh my god!!! Laban Rata!!!!! Finally!!! Infused with a sudden newfound energy, I dragged my sorry ass up the rocks … ah, in a few moments, I’ll be out of these drenched clothes and snuggled up in a nice, heated guesthouse and … argh!!! It wasn’t Laban Rata but $#%@#^%!@# Waris Hut. I knew because I saw the sign which said in big bold yellow letters: WARIS HUT. #%#@$#@%!!!! Another pondok!! Obviously, I wanted to kill myself right there and then. Unfortunately, my fingers were so frozen from the cold that I could hardly wrap them around my chocolate bar, let alone around my neck.

We huddled in the miserable little pondok while the sky thundered and continued to pour torrents of rain down on us. It was merciless. I began to wonder if we’d wind up sleeping here in Waris Hut that night. We willed the rain to stop but obviously, our will was pathetic because it rained even harder. After a long while, we decided oh heck it, we’ll continue in the rain. Who cares. We were all wet anyway.

And so we did. And it took us a grand total of … (drum roll please) … two minutes to reach Laban Rata. Finally! We were there!!! We were so happy, we took all these nice pictures.

This was the amazing view from the balcony. It was so cold I could stay out long enough only to snap a couple of shots before we dashed in to fill our famished tummies.

Laban Rata was no five-star joint but it was cosy enough. I guess anything that even remotely resembled civilisation would’ve looked grand after 6 hours of climbing … in the freezing rain.

This is a pic of us in our room. Okay, here’s the truth:

1. There are three double-decker beds and you’ll wind up bunking in with other people (whoever the girl at reception feels like pairing you with, I guess)

2. The heater is only turned on at 8pm. Problem was, we hardly noticed it when 8pm lolled around because the heater hardly worked! We continued to freeze.

3. They told us there’s heated water – they lied. It was evil. We nearly died in the shower. There are also only two shower stalls so you may have to line up.

4. The mattress was tough, the sheet kept coming off and the pillows were made of cement.

5. There are no cabinets, shelves, hooks, etc so everything goes right on the floor.

THE SUMMIT (NOT)

The pictures you’re about to see were not taken by yours truly, but by my dear friend Siew Fun. Why, you ask? Because unlike her, I didn’t summit. Ya ya, I know, how can? After all the trouble and going all the way, etc etc etc, why not la? In one word: I don’t want to talk about it. Okay, so that was like seven words but hey, this is my blog and I can do whatever I want. Suffice to say that it had something to do with snoring (not mine la aiyo), pounding headache, insomnia, wet, cold, chicken, beanie, ear plugs and a short attempt at sleeping while standing up. Satisfied?

The point isn’t that I didn’t summit. The point is that Siew Fun did and she took lots of pictures and they were all fabulous!

Siew Fun’s climb experience in her own words, “It was freezing!! My fingers nearly fell off!! My gloves were soaked right through!! It was pitch black and I had no idea where I was going!! My headlight wasn’t bright enough!! Thank god the guide was there with his torchlight or I would’ve lost my way!! I should’ve brought a ski mask!! I may’ve looked like some bank robber but at least my face won’t turn to ice!!” [excessive use of exclamation marks all mine]

Once the sun fully rose at 5.30am, it was breathtaking. It was pretty crowded at the peak – coincidentally, it was Merdeka day that day. Siew Fun wasn’t being very patriotic; she didn’t bring her Jalur Gemilang to wave it around in front of all the pendatang asing (I know cos I dug around her bag the night before). After spending a grand five minutes freezing on the fourth highest point in SEA, she made her way down.

At 9.30am that morning, we bade bye-bye to Laban Rata and prepared our knees for the 6 hour hike down the mountain. Down, down, down we went …

… past the gnarly Valley of Death … the trees sneered at me. They taunted me for being a total chicken and not reaching the peak. They laughed at my fancy jacket and said I’d wasted all my money buying all this gear only to fail right when it mattered most. They also said I was a spoilt city girl who couldn’t even climb a tree, let alone the fourth highest peak in SEA. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah, they said. In retaliation, I threw a candy wrapper onto the ground (no la, I didn’t; I never litter. Besides, I was scared the mountain spirits might follow me home).

The hike down wasn’t too bad but it was tough on the knees. Some of the other hikers were surprised we didn’t have walking sticks. I really don’t think walking sticks are all that necessary unless you’re hurt or something. Anyways, I took the two pics above as I was nearing the exit … I liked them because they had such a fairy-like quality to them with the towering trees, thick mossy carpet, roots protruding right out of the orange earth and snaking their way across the path. With sunlight streaming through the trees, it was pretty magical. I half-expected little elves and pixies to appear somewhere …

… and ah, finally, we were out! By this time, our legs had turned to rubber and walking had become unpleasant, to say the least. We could see the Timpohon Gate already… but the crap part was, we had to climb some more stairs to get up to the gate. Aiyo, already climbed for so many hours yesterday and now, climb some more!! I was literally lifting my leg with my arm (try picturing that – haha) to position it on the next step. Left, right, left, right. Argh.

We hobbled into a waiting van and were driven back to HQ. It was nice to sit down. It was nice to stop walking. Once we reached HQ, we hopped into another van that would bring us back to the hotel in the city. And then …

… it POURED. Real fierce. Thank god we were out by that time!!! I’m writing this two weeks after returning from KK and if anyone were to ask me how my trip went, I’d tell them it was great. Sure, I didn’t summit, but it was still a really fantastic experience. I’m now stronger, wiser and have a pair of beautifully sculpted calves!

Death By Hiking @ Bukit Chenuang

Here we are at the entrance to Bukit Chenuang aka Nightmarish Death Mountain aka Place I Swore I Would Never Hike Up Again. The entrance is pleasant and innocent-looking enough … thus I am blissfully lulled into a false sense of peace and security… the trees are nice and tall … the path up to the restrooms is nicely laid out and despite the toilets’ numerous flaws (flush doesn’t work, giant bugs scampering in sink), we are happy that we came …

… I stroll down the nicely tarred road, big grin on my face. “This is easy!” I think to myself. “Ah, like a walk in the park…” Little did I know what lay in store for all of us …

… Our guide Encik Roslan (whom shall henceforth be known as Heartless, Parang-Wielding Man or HPWM), leads the unsuspecting bunch of us – nine in all – into The Jungle …

… The Jungle is dense and wet and slippery and rocky and crawling with slimy blood-sucking leeches …

We take a short break after having hiked up a treacherous stream so that HPWM can take a smoke and leeches can have more opportunities to latch onto our butts for fresh blood …

… We smile for the camera. This is before HPWM tells us that we’ve only hiked for 45 minutes so far and there’s a LONG way more to go to the top of the hill and that there’s no shortcut and it’s about to get a lot tougher. We stop smiling …

After the stream is when it starts to get really steep and slippery (thanks to the mud and rain). Worse still, there’s nothing to grab onto, so climbing up is unnerving. We ask HPWM if we can go home now. He calls us ‘anak manja’ and tells us to move our butts … … Icy cold water slushing around in my shoes, my hands full of scratches, my knobby knees bruised, my backpack rubbing roughly against my back, I begin to wonder if I’m as tough as I think I am …

… I have a sudden urge to call my mother and tell her I’m sorry for not washing the coffee mug last week. I may never see her (or anyone else for that matter) again … Right at that moment, HPWM tells us there are harimaus, beruangs and babi hutans in this jungle. I wonder to myself, “WHAT THE F$#%@^#F%@#!FFF@!!! AM I DOING HERE THEN???!!!!”

… HPWM hacks his way through the wild mass of bamboo while we crawl our way through. Someone threatens to kick the butt of our trip organiser for tricking us into this …

Holy crap!! #%@$#%@#!!! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? … And then, hallelujah!!! We reach the peak!!!!!!!!!! And it only took us 3 bloody freaking hours. It is noon and we’re all still alive. Nobody gets eaten by harimau, beruang or attacked by babi hutan.

No matter that the view sucks la. We quickly take this picture and wonder how the hell we’re going to get back down. We’re at an elevation of 2,720ft- one of the guys’ phones told us so.

This is the last time I smile. We make our descent soon after and I take no more pictures for the next 3 hours as we struggle to get out of the jungle. I fall down tons of times and I swear my butt’s paralysed … it is – in a word – HORRIBLE.

It’s 3pm and we’re finally out!!!!!! The feeling is indescribable – sort of like we’ve died and gone to heaven. I fight the urge to kiss the tar road and call my boyfriend, ex-boyfriends, mother, grandmother, auntie, uncle, cousin’s auntie’s friend’s sister … there are mud stains caked on my butt and my leech-proof socks and hiking shoes are soaked and filthy but who cares?? We’re out!!!

I had no leech bites on my legs or feet (thanks to my trusty RM12 leech-proof socks and a bucketload of cap kapak, tiger balm and vicks) but five little buggers managed to get into my shirt and onto my back! It looked pretty cool actually. What wasn’t cool was how eight of my ten toenails swelled up, turned purple and fell off. It’s been 10 months and I still can’t do a pedi. And THAT, my friends, is true torture.