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Published: March 8th 2007
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Trail 9
Just follow the water pipe..... While in the Cameron highlands, there's not a whole lot to do except hike around. It's very easy to do, and there are plenty of options as to how long you would like to spend skipping through the rain forest, and where you might like to end up. You can climb to the top of a 6,600 foot mountain, visit a butterfly farm, or go to one of the many beautiful tea plantations that the highlands are known for. Suz and I chose the last option.
Our completely untrustworthy guide book describes path 9A as "a leisurly 1 hour hike". So of course we didn't bother to start hiking until noon. The plan was to make it to the Boh Tea Plantation, have some tea and sandwiches, take photos, and hike it back home in time to change and have dinner. Suz and I put on our hiking sandals and headed out.
At first the trail was wonderful. Waterfalls, exotic birds, and millions of strange tropical plants, all easily accessible on even ground. It was an hour before 9A split off of trail 9, but we still had plenty of time, and while 9 plunged straight down to follow
a water pipeline, 9A continued to easily follow the contours of the mountain. No worries.
Another hour into it and the trail was begining to collapse into the side of the hill. Vegetable farms in the valleys below had chopped out vast sections of the forest, causing massive erosion problems. Our "leisurely hike" became more like mountain climbing. We were losing a lot of time now, and we knew we had another 45 minutes on the connecting road before we hit the plantation. The trail spit us out into the top of somebody's herb garden, and we picked our way down, hit the road, and started walking uphill as fast as we could.
We made it to Boh Tea a half hour before they closed at about 4:00. Additional time added due to the extra 3 kilometers up the plantation road to the tea shop (stupid guide book). The scenery was beautifully full of perfectly trimmed green tea hedges, but were in to much of a hurry to enjoy them. The factory tours were not even available that day, but it didn't matter because all we had time for was a quick pot of tea, two rock-hard scones,
Suzie's Blisters
16 kilometers in a new pair of sandals and then a 3 hour trek back the way we came. Suz had hardly ever worn her sandals before this, and I had to wrap her feet in napkins to ease the pain of the blisters she was getting. At least it was downhill back to the trail.
Halfway down we meet a very large man coming up the other way. He's sweating profusely and has his shirt in a plastic bag with some fruit. He asks in rough English if the plantation is up the road. We explain that it's closed and he made the hike for nothing. He shrugs and joins us on the way back down, plodding along next to me. Suz is flying down the road like a woman possesed, partly to take her mind off of her blisters and partly to stay ahead of the intense body odor that our travel companion is giving off. He notices her distance and talks exclusively to me.
I find out that our new friend is a butterfly farmer from Kazikstan. He's here to study the butterflys in Southeast Asia, and he's only got two weeks to cover 3 countries. His name is Vladic. "You know, like
Trishaws
Easier on the feet, way more stylish Vladimir Putin." he gasps. I can hear his lungs straining, but he shows no signs of fatigue. I show him the map and point him towards the path that we used to get here, but he shakes his head. "No, no, no. I have much shorter way to going home." He leads us up a road towards a power plant, and I have my doubts as to where we are going, but keep quiet since Vladic appears so sure of himself.
The road ends behind a fenced-in dam and a path emerges next to a large water line coming down the mountain. It's the treacherously steep trail 9. We follow Vladic up the path, who has now begun peeling an orange. He's ridiculously happy to have some company, and even though all three of us are dehydrated, gasping for breath, and marching along in a slave labor sort of way, he is constantly trying to make conversation.
"Did you hear about 2 Russian women who were hiking in jungle?" Vladic says in between bites of his orange. "You know, the ones who were shot by Thai Mafia?"
I have no idea what Vladic is talking about and
Shoes for Bound Feet
Ancient 3-inch torture devices I look back to see if Suz is distressed by this new update, but she is is just focusing on getting through the climb and has a look of pure determination on her face.
"Ah, this is where it begins." says our Kazikstan guide.
The trail has now turned into a small path that looks more like a small stream of dirt coming down from a wall in the jungle. It's like the worst stairmaster ever invented, and doesn't even appear to be level enough to get a foothold. Just as I am about to ask Vladic if he slid down the trail on his ass to get here, he simply starts to plod up the path, using his enormous weight to stabilize himself. Suz and I follow suit, but use our hands to grab ahold of tree roots, as the two of us combined cannot possibly match his gravity. After 20 minutes, still unfazed, Vladic continues to talk.
"I have been walking all day." he explains. "I see butterfly farm, butterfly garden. I have many good ideas for when I am returning home. I will make boxes of butterflies for people to set free for wedding. Is good idea, no?"
As nice as the man is I'm breathing so hard that I can barely hear him, much less try to respond. This keeps going, for what seems like hours, and then suddenly, just when i feel like lying down and spending the night in the jungle, it stops. We are at the top of the gate, where 9A had split off before, and there is still plenty of daylight left. My large butterfly hero was right! It was shorter! We have an hour left to walk but it feels easy on the legs compared to the stairmaster. I talk with Vladic the whole way, and even Suz chimes in once in a while, forgetting about her rubbed raw feet. We make it back with plenty of sunlight to spare, say goodbye to our strange new friend and go home to rest our weary legs.
Suffice to say, we don't do a whole lot of walking since we've landed in Malacca. The intense heat doesn't really encourage you to see the sights. Between 1-5 pm the air is too hot to even breathe into your lungs. If we wish to do some sightseeing, we hire a tricked out rickshaw (or "trishaws" as they are known here) and let the pedaler do the work for us. These guys take real pride in their rides. They have stereos, sirens, lights, and are decorated like parade floats. It's not just transportation, it's a ride in style.
Suz's blisters turned out to be pretty bad, but they are healing quite nicely. It made us feel better to discover that there are much worse things than can be done to your feet. While walking through Chinatown the other day, we discovered a shop that makes shoes exclusively for the ancient Chinese practice of bound feet. It was thought centuries ago that men found women to be especially attractive when they were teetering around in tiny shoes, or "lotus feet". In order for wealthy women to attract men, their feet were wrapped tightly when they were young infants to prevent them from growing. All the toes were placed under the foot, except for the big toe so that they may balance themselves while walking. The worst part was that a large rock was used to smash the bones of the feet to better shape them. Wealthy women would buy the most ornate 3-inch shoes that they could find (that's right, 3 inches), and have to use their servants to carry them around because walking was so painful. The practice was banned in 1911, but people still buy the shoes to use as conversation pieces in their homes. All that work to get a good husband. To think that all those wealthy Chinese women were never able to go hiking around the jungle meeting strange men from Kazikstan. Their loss.
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Matt
non-member comment
yeah!
now this is good stuff! good writing guys......i can just FEEL suz storming ahead of you two guys in silent frustration !@##$@...... awesome, thanks! ciao