From Bagpipes to Bako National Park

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A short bus ride across the causeway and we were in Malaysia. As with so many countries that we have visited. What a difference a border makes. Compared to Singapore we were in a dirty, busy and remarkably less organised Johor Bahru. However Singapore would make most other cities look like this so we took it with a pinch of salt. In fact JB, as it's also known, was hosting a world band competition. Bands from all over Asia and Europe were marching along the main street. That evening we heard the bagpipes ring out as five men in kilts played 'Mairi's Wedding'. The significance of this unexpected Asian experience was possibly more than we had imagined at the time. 

We came to the tip of Peninsular Malaysia to take our Air Asia (who else) flight to Kuching, Borneo. It was an early flight and soon we were in a rather cosmopolitan looking city in Borneo. For those, including us, who have notions of Borneo as wild jungle and modest towns then think again. Of course it is that in parts but many of it's highly populated urban areas are in line with other prosperous Asian cities. 

The city of Kuching that sits beside the river in the state of Sarawak has a relaxed air to it. The cool vibe is created with some good eateries, cool bars and bustling markets. We decided to visit the highly recommended Sarawak Museum that showcases the nature and cultures of Sarawak. It was an interesting introduction to Bornean culture and best of all it was free.

Kuching translates as Cat and at the end of July the city purrs to the strokes of the Sarawak Regatta. Colourful boats and teams from all over Borneo compete in the rough heat as locals and tourists alike eat and drink, watching from the promenade.

Friday night in a Muslim country doesn't necessarily conjure images of a party but we decided to go out in search of one anyway. We were surprised to find a range of New York style bars scattered around the city but with an unfortunate lack of clientele. Nonetheless we found a semi-happening bar to have some drinks and relax.

Kuching was a cool city to be in but it could have been anywhere in the world. We wanted to find some of Borneo's nature and so after a couple of days packed up and headed for Bako National Park.

The two hour bus, then boat, journey there was spent talking to a park guide who, aware that we would be camping, warned of the macaques and the range of wildlife including tarantulas. We had read before hand, and later discovered, that Borneo is a tourist package haven. Thus, having a tent meant we were neither restricted to, nor denied a place at expensive park accommodation. A tent in Borneo was to prove very useful...in the end!

We hopped off into the muddy banks of Bako National Park bay. It was low tide and the muddy beach stretched for miles. The amazingly warm water was inviting but also home to estuarine crocodiles so we suppressed our urge to swim. We had brought some food items such as bread and peanut butter (essential camping food) with us as there was only a basic canteen at the park. As soon as we hit the boardwalk to park headquarters we wished we had left all food at home. Within seconds a group of malicious macaques came at us and ripped the plastic bag from Hannah's hand. They tore off into the trees with the bread as the canteen staff chased them away. Luckily they had left behind the bottle of whisky I had bought. Pheew!

At park H.Q we were rather surprised when, upon telling the lady we planned to camp, instead of nodding and taking our money she advised we "take a look first". It did not sound promising and after inspection of the soggy, stoney campsite we felt the trepidation seep into us. Things were made worse when she then told us we could not put our tent up until dark as the macaques would rip into the tent otherwise.

As we sat in quiet contemplation we received the text message from home that my granddad, Gandi, had died. Gandi, as I and the whole family had affectionately called him, had lived a long and remarkably life. Dying painlessly from sudden heart failure had left us shocked and in tears. I remember him in his kilt as I said goodbye to him before I went travelling. I will miss him.

The next few hours were spent numbly looking out to sea as the rain gently trickled. We no longer felt in the mood for national parks or camping but as no more boats were leaving we had to stay the night. Mercifully the fully booked park accommodation had one no-show and so we were able to stay in the dire, but better than macaque infested campsite, room for the night.

It was a sad evening as we quietly reflected on Gandi and drank a toast with the apt bottle of whisky I had bought. All I could think about was the kilts and bagpipes I had seen only days before. I felt for mum and all the family back home. Borneo felt so far away.

The next day we decided to walk a couple of the trails before we took the late afternoon boat back to the mainland. Borneo, and Bako N.P in particular, is home to the endemic Proboscis monkey and as we walked along the jungle/mangrove trail we saw the wonderfully long-nosed creatures trawling the high trees. We stood and watched from way below as the pot-bellied monkeys ate from the trees. The moment somewhat spoilt however by a group of cackling, highly perfumed Malaysian ladies passing by in complete disregard for their jungle surrounds.

We then took a different trail. This one leading up and through an array of vegetation and jungle interest, including the carniverous pitcher plants, and finishing at the magnificent Pandar Kecil beach. Here the white sand and clear sea invited a safe swim where we talked with a nice French couple. In English of course. From the beach we all opted out of the 3km walk back and instead took a waiting boat to park H.Q.

Lunch at the canteen was a guarded affair as the macaques sneakily tried to snatch the food from under our noses. They really are a horrible type of monkey that has adapted to human ways. Despite the prowling monkeys we enjoyed watching the docile bearded pigs padding the paths in front of us.

Bako had been an interesting place but overshadowed by the news about Gandi. It was hard to take anything in, in this protected area of Sarawak. However, the trails we took and the tense atmosphere created by the monkeys in the day also left not much to stay for. On the way back we spoke to a man who had braved the campsite and had his tent attacked at 5am. He had to take his tent with him when he went for his morning shower. Not so fun! Hopefully camping at other National Parks is not like that. 

In Kuching we spoke to mum and the family. It felt better to be connected again at such a hard time. We spent a couple of days resting, washing clothes and generally taking stock before we felt able to move on.

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Photos

Bearded Pigs...
no pictures of macaques cos there horrible