Scattered Seeds

From the Cameron Valley Tea Shop, the group trekked through a scenic tea plantation before reaching Kampung Sungai Ubi. Ismail, whom I met over a year and a half ago, was our guide.

Ismail

Women of Pos Atap

Bepampan

Bahkerop, an Orang Asli, who is over 90 years old

The same two Orang Asli whom I photographed in March last year were our guides out from Pos Atap to the Sungai Ubi village.

All geared up after a night at Pos Atap

Let’s move it, move it…

On the trail to Sungai Ubi

Ammar

Sebastian

Strange Leaf

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Related Links:
• The first trek to Pos Atap in March 2008.

Rafflesia Cantleyi

The following is the press statement by Donny Dhwie, the Punan National Association Secretary:

Tuesday, 06 May 2008

PRESS STATEMENT
Punan oldest longhouse destroyed by fire

Punan Bah, Punan largest and oldest longhouse in Sarawak was destroyed by ragging fire yesterday. The longhouse which is a about 80 KM from Kapit, is consist of 4 blocks of longhouses next to each other. Each block has more than 12 unit/rooms. The longhouse total population is approximately 800 – 1000 people. The tragedy have made more than 300 of them without home.

Traditionally the Punan, at Bah area were farmers, but in recent years, many have migrated to urban areas such as Sibu, Bintulu, Kuching and Kuala Lumpur to escape rural poverty.

The fire started at around noon last Monday from one of the unit took less than 30 minutes to raze down three blocks of the four unit longhouses. The remaining longhouse which is about 60 meter away from the three longhouse were safe.

Also destroyed were four keliriengs or “burial poles”. The four “Keliriengs” believed to be at more than 200 years old each, were among the oldest “keliriengs” found in the whole of Sarawak. Kelirieng a uniquely Punan custom was built as a “burial place” for Punan aristocrats and leaders.

Punan National Association estimated more than half a million worth of personal properties were loss in the fire. The longhouse which were gradually rebuilt in favor of slightly modern structure made of belian and cement completed in 2000. The old longhouse were entirely made of solid wooden structure mostly “belian”.

It is time that the government consider helping the Punan communities by setting up up “rural firefigther (BOMBA) in our longhouses to prevent similar accident from recurring. At present none of Punan longhouses have any fire prevention measure in place.

Earlier this year another Punan longhouse – Punan Biau, about 20 minutes away from Punan Bah was also razed by fire. They have seen sheltering with relatives, while slowly rebuilding their longhouse. We hope relevant authorities would do something to help us.

How you can help?

You can help the fire victims by donating clothes, foodstuff, toys for kids, household appliances, stoves, and logitics. Punan National Association in collaboration with relevant authorities are working closely to coordinate relieve efforts.

* 013-8230 155 Mr Donny Dhwie – Kuching.
* 019-8550 910 Mr Calvin Jemarang – Bintulu
* 019 8183 367 Mr Paren Balan – Sibu
* 013 2235 114 Mr Daniel Batin – Miri
* 019 897 9447 Mr Johnny Adin – Kota Kinabalu
* 013 308 6748 / 013 571 3207 Mr Lida /Jalil – Kuala Lumpur

• source: Punan Community Website Blog

Punan Bah Longhouse on fire – Video (sourced from punan.info on May 13, 2008)

Punan Bah Longhouse Razed In Fire
by punan_info

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Related Links:
• Punan Community Website
• “Ancient Totems Ruined”
• “Longhouses Razed in fire.”

Leech Party

The trek in and out of Kampung Pos Atap is not as bad as the leeches might suggest.

* * * * *

I didn’t have a long drawn out plan to summit the highest mountains in East and West Malaysia in 2007. Gunung Tahan came into the picture when Quin Jean and I talked about it early in the year, and then I felt I needed to go up Kinabalu, which I did back-to-back with Gunung Tambuyukon in December. All in all, I went up six mountains (some numerous times) and a few bukits last year—making 2007 one of my most active years. I wanted more. I still longed for Nepal. But at the same time, I was tired and exhausted. After all those mountains, I didn’t feel like taking on the Trans-Titiwangsa trails or some other multi-day treks in a rainforest. Not yet anyway.

I wanted to trek, preferably up mountains, but I wanted to be able to justify why I was going out there. When I did the Tambuyukon-Kinabalu double, I didn’t do it just because I wanted to be at the peaks. There was something else. I didn’t want to just take. I wanted to be able to give as well. I dreamed of calling up WWF and ask if I could spend weeks in the jungles setting up camera-traps for tigers or volunteering in the elephant or rhinoceros initiatives in Sabah. I dreamed of walking through the lands of the Sherpas in Nepal. I dreamed a lot.

I also had to do a lot of reality checks. So, nothing happened. I was back to doing short hikes—just so I don’t lose touch with the wild.

Then Kampung Pos Atap came into the picture.

* * * * *

On the thirteenth week of 2008, I had already made plans with Amos, Nee On and Leon to go on our short hike up the eastern ridge of Bukit Tabur. Four days before the trek, I received Taiping Goh’s comment on one of my older post just . Now, this Taiping Goh person is an interesting one. We’ve only emailed each other a few times before since last year, and I’ve never met him before in my life. And this wasn’t the first time he asked me out on a trek; I’ve declined him before, but he has been somewhat persistent in inviting me on treks. When I read the comment again and again, I was drawn to the trek—here was an invitation to trek into the interiors to an Orang Asli kampung (village). Here was an opportunity to put my philanthropic aims to the test. Here was a chance to meet new people and expand my network of trekking comrades—and so I was soon making plans to head into the jungles I’ve never been to before.

I was quite sure of joining Goh and whoever else he had on his team, but I wasn’t sure if anyone else would be interested. I asked a few others even though I knew that that lugging a heavy load of foodstuff—rice, salt sugar and the sort—for a few hours over hills and valleys ain’t everyone’s cup of tea. Ikhwan said he’d come. After weighing his options, Leon came knowing very well that this was the kind of experience he wanted (and that they don’t come by very often). Amos was very eager—staying in an Orang Asli kampung got him excited already, but to carry weights in made it all the more exciting. But by switching plans from a simple day trek to a possible 8-hour trek, I lost Nee On.

When 29 March, 2008, came upon the world, Amos was waiting outside my place at 5.30 a.m. I was still asleep when he arrived—I had been packing the night before and only went to bed at 2 a.m. Barely awake, I rushed into his car. We picked up Leon at his place and met Ikhwan at Sunway University College. We changed vehicles and the four of us were on our way to Simpang Pulai to meet Goh and his team by 8.30 a.m.

* * * * *

From my conversations with Goh, I was under the impression that there’d be a bigger entourage heading into Kampung Pos Atap. When we arrived at at Kampung Jantung Baru—a new Orang Asli village relocated from the interiors—we exchanged greetings and introduced ourselves. After all the emails we exchanged, I was looking at Goh eye-to-eye for the first time. He was very easy going, and I felt comfortable almost right away. For the first time is so many outings, I didn’t feel the burden of organizing or leading the team. I didn’t even have a clue where we were heading. All I could do was trust Goh with his map and his GPS toy, and our guide, Ismail, a handsome young man in his mid-thirties. Together with Goh was Kampar Ong, a 59 year old with more than thirty years of trekking behind him.

Compared to the three of them, my team seemed somewhat young and raw. What we lacked in experience, we made up with enthusiasm and a drive to explore new worlds and try out new things.

There were seven of us going into the jungles. Seven. I like that.

We quickly did our final packing, stuffing our backpacks with the provisions we intended to bring into Kampung Pos Atap. We already had our own personal gear in our rucksack before we added parts of the 10kg of rice, 4kg or salt, 5kg of sugar, 2kg of oil, packets of instant noodles, a few canned food, teabags and coffee sachets for the villagers. We had no weighing machine, but our rucksack would have easily been between 10 and 15 kilograms each. Our packs were so heavy that we seemed like we were heading off on a week-long expedition when in actual fact, we were only going to stay a night in the interiors.

I thought the weight was fine until we hit the trail that hasn’t been used in years. Carrying heavy loads on a clear path is one thing, but carrying heavy loads and doing the Malaysian Jungle Limbo Rock was a totally new experience many of us were not prepared for.

Before long, we started our journey. We walked along the highway to the starting point–going into a vegetable farm where inviting purple eggplants greeted us. This didn’t look too difficult because we were walking on a clear path. The vegetble farm came to an end, and we continued along an old logging trail. There I saw one of the largest mushrooms growing in the wild. A little while more and the journey really started. Out of no where, our guide took a left turn and disappeared into the jungles. I followed by scrambling upwards. It was only a short distance, but pushing through the thick growths on a steep slope seemed like forever.

* * * * *

Mizuno Blue Boys. ©2008 Ong.

During one of our short breaks, I realised that three of us—Amos, Goh and I—were wearing shirts by Mizuno. One’d think that we were sponsored, but tough luck. We thought of of taking a pic together, but then we found out that Amos and Goh had something else in common, too. They smoke. I don’t. So in the end Ong took a pic of just the two of them.

* * * * *

The journey was a tough one. So much so I kept my 2kg camera in my backpack the entire 7 hours to Kampung Pos Atap. At times I wished I had a handy compact camera strapped nearby so I could shoot interesting sights. But then again, I was quite tired from all the walking, pushing, bending and crawling to be taking photos.

* * * * *

After many hours, we reached the abandoned Kampung Jantung after many many hours. Ismail once lived in Kampung Jantung before moving out to the outskirts of the jungles. All there was now were
remnants of huts flattened to the ground. Zinc sheets that once functioned as roofs to the homes were now lying flat on the ground; some being swallowed by shrubs and vines. I’d like to have stopped there for a moment, but we didn’t. As I stepped over the zinc sheets I thought of how a village has disappeared, and I wondered what Ismail might remember of his home when he was younger. I never had the chance to ask how he felt; I wish I had made it happen.

And so we move on toward our destination: Pos Atap.

* * * * *

At times I got fed up of bending down to go under branches and vines, I unleashed my parang and slashed as many obstacles in sight; sparing the little thin trunks of future giant trees. Leaves and branches either bowed down or turned away as I walked pass them like a royalty. Leon who was walking behind me must have seen an entirely different image. Before long, he shouted, “That looks tiring. I think it’s easier to just bend down, balance and walk.”

I do not know if I was physical or psychological drained, but my parang soon stayed silent in its sheath more than swishing and swooshing in the stillness of the jungles.

* * * * *

We didn’t bring tarps or tents into the jungles. We just trusted Goh to get us a place to stay; and a place he did get us. While we were walking in, he was teasing us, “If we don’t get a place to stay, we can always sleep under their houses.” But none of us were worried. When we reached the kampung we were given a bungalow in the forests to stay for the night. There were only a few homes left in the kampung, and each of the bungalows were built on stilts—some three feet above ground—and made of bamboo pieces with zinc rooftops (gone are the days when roofs were made of attap leaves). The bungalow we stayed didn’t seemed like it belonged to any family; it seemed more like a hall. The six of us were fortunate to have the place, really. We had more than enough space for ourselves; I think the home we stayed in can comfortably fit another five people.

The day was getting dark soon, so before we washed ourselves, Goh decided that we should quickly present our gifts—the weight that we had carried on our backs for the last seven hours. It was a nice gesture, but the moemnt Goh selected was kind of off. The Tok Batin (Ketua Kampung) was having his bath, and he was asked to come out quickly to receive the gifts. Tok Batin received the gifts happily, and no signs of grudges for having someone mess with his bath time. It was a quick and simple affair as he passed on the food-stuff to other families in the kampun as well.

With that done, the six of us went through a thorough session to de-leech ourselves. My legs were bloody all over. Even after I took them off, I was still bleeding—and this makes me believe that the type of leeches at Tambuyukon and in West Malaysia are of different species. An hour after, I was still bleeding—albeit more slowly. Sitting in the bungalow like a wounded soldier, I started preparing my dinner.

Unlike Ikhwan, who seemed to have collapsed after the grueling walk, I still had strength and energy within me. But I self-confined in the hut I was in because of the unending stream of blood near my left knee and on my ankles—wounds from the leech party. Though I felt no pain, I felt bad leaving footprints and drips of blood on the bamboo floor. I felt even worse when I couldn’t bring myself to enter the other huts to spend time with the Orang Asli. I wanted so much to connect with the people, By the time my wounds stopped bleeding, the moments to mingle was over. And dinner time was upon us.

Solar-powered Light

* * * * *

Apparently there are a few routes to Kampung Pos Atap. We had used a long abandoned trail in, and that has drained our energies. The thought of going out the same way made us shudder in pain. When Goh suggested we used the route that only take us three hours out to Bharat Tea at Cameron Highlands, everyone cried, “Ay!” unanimously. No second thoughts.

That night, we slept peacefully.

* * * * *

Tapioca Seedlings

The next morning, we woke up refreshed. I was woken up at about 5 a.m. when I heard voices outside our bungalow. Thinking back, I shuld have hopped out to join the Orang Asli and watch the sun came alive. Instead I remained in my sleeping bag until it was quite late—7 a.m. I had a quick breakfast, and then I went out to photograph the kampung that had become my home for a a night. Though it was only a few hours, but Kampung Pos Atap has been intricately woven into my soul. Just as when I spent nights at Kampung Telaga Air, Sarawak many year ago, I know that Kampung Pos Atap will remain in my memory for long. In Sarawak, I had no camera with me; all I have today are memories of times past. Now, in Kampung Pos Atap, I had my faithful camera with me. I went capturing the tapioca farm, various bungalows, and people. Here was a rustic and peaceful kampung that I want to call home in the jungle if I was allowed to.

Bungalows in the Forest #1

Bungalows in the Forest #2

Bungalows in the Forest #3

Portraits of Orang Asli, Bepampan (l) and Bahkerop (r)

After saying our good-byes, we went off on our way. It was a much shorter walk—three hours to Kampung Sungai Ubi at Bharat Tea, Cameron Highlands.

In the Wilderness

On The Last Stretch to Civilization

Bharat Tea Plantation at Cameron Highlands

From Bharat Tea, we took a bus to Tanah Rata (costing us RM1 each). Once we got to Tanah Rata, we rushed to the Bus Station to get the next bus heading to Ipoh. That cost us RM7 each. The ride was slow—the bus stopped at numerous spots to pick up and let off passengers. I didn’t like it each time the bus stopped; not only did it slow down the journey, I was deprived of a nap because I had to lift my backpack, which was occupying the aisle, onto my lap so people can walk pass. The ride was a lot smoother after Kampung Raja, but by then we were descending the highlands already. I kept looking out the window and wandered amongst the distant mountain range and valleys. As we got to about 10km from Kampung Jantung Baru, Ong pointed out the abandoned quarry, where one begins the trek up Gunung Suku (the Orang Asli calls it Gunung Sugu).

* * * * *

It was interesting on one hand to be pushing and pulling branches and leaves to clear the path, and also to be bending and crawling amongst the undergrowth to continue the journey. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel quite lost and disoriented—not only because I was walking on uncharted trails and had to depend entirely on Ismail, but because I was pushing my way through a secondary jungle to reach our destination. Instead of appreciating the wild bamboo plants, many ferns and the sunlight filtering through thick undergrowth. Only when we came to rivers and streams did the wild seem moderately familiar. I don’t know how others felt, but I sorely missed the sights of giant tall trees, fallen tree trunks, leaves wet damp roots, mossy growths, and pitcher plants. How many years before big trees take over the land again? I often asked. Perhaps that is why when I was asked if I enjoyed the trek, I couldn’t give an answer. While I enjoyed every bit of the company, the trekking experience and spending a night in an Orang Asli’s home, I couldn’t bring myself to calm my saddened heart during the time I was there.

But as time passes, just as the forest renews itself, though slowly, so does my heart. It’ll be some time before the greens stretches high above the ground again, and it moans not. There is this unrelenting force that keeps the landscape ever changing and ever growing. Never barren for a long long time. And for that, I can console myself and be glad.

Reflecting back on the two days, I am glad I made it through the wild to Kampung Pos Atap (and back) with Goh, Ong, Leon, Amos, Ikhwan and Ismail.

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Related Links:
• Leon Varga’s blog entry on the Pos Atap trek fills in a lot of gaps in my entry.

• update 20080425: The funny thing is that we were having lunch one day, and he said that he avoided reading my entry before he wrote his just so that he wouldn’t be influenced by what I wrote. I told him mine was too long already, and he jokingly said that I must have stopped abruptly; like waking up the next morning, and the walked out in three hours. Well, the joke was on him because that’s what I did. I had simply wrote: “After saying our good-byes, we went off on our way. It was a much shorter walk—three hours to Kampung Sungai Ubi at Bharat Tea, Cameron Highlands.”

Having read his entry, I must say that he reminded me of a few things I had missed when I wrote my entry. And then there are some more that both of us didn’t write about; we’ll probably laugh when we tell tales such as The Three Leeches and I. Ask us, and we might just tell the tale.

The last time I hung up my boots because of a knee injury, I went without trekking for over a year. I’m not sure how long I’ll go without trekking with the current foot injury. I may not be on mountains with my self-imposed ban. But I wasn’t going to stop walking. And so it was that I was seen walking (more like) driving on the streets in Penang.

I was recently engaged to shoot a wedding in Sungai Petani; that meant I was to travel north. But little did I expect that I turn it into another whirlwind trip. About a year ago, I did the whirlwind Baling trip, with a little stopover in Penang. This time around, I traveled a day before the wedding, and made a stopover, too.

The plan for Penang this time was simple: Eat and Only Eat.

Lorong Selamat’s Char Kuey Teow that costs the price of two Double Cheeseburgers. ©2007 Khoo Nee On

I programmed myself to eat as much as I wanted to. Nee On (who was also taking photos at the wedding) wasn’t as prepared. Perhaps I had failed to make it clear to him in the first place; even so, he was a sport and ate lots, too. The two of us started with breakfast at Pulau Tikus. After that, we headed to Gurney Drive to pick up Quin Jean (who was already in Penang).

Ayer Itam’s Asam Laksa. It actually tastes better than it looks in this pic! ©2007 Khoo Nee On

Together, the three of us stopped by five other places for food. It’s really nothing to shout about, actually. All we did were Lorong Selamat (where Nee On tried the overrated RM7.50 Char Kuey Teow, which he compared to two double cheeseburgers), have cendol at Swatow Lane, assam laksa at the market in Ayer Hitam, a quick simple snack for tea at I can’t remember where, and then headed for Maccalister Street for more hawker food.

Quin Jean & Nee On with the Crayola coloured bowls of Cendol

Ahh, we could have scored a perfect seven had we made our way to Kimberly Street. In the end, we chose to save it for another day as I was scheduled to be in Sungai Petani.

And so it was that this was just another short trip to Penang. But I like it. I never grew up there, and I do not share the same kind of attachment to the place like some of my friends who come from Penang. Yet, there is this feeling that my life is intricately intertwined with the place. I do not know how, and I do not have intentions to explore my life. Let it be the way it is and take life in as it comes. However, I admit I do have some roots there; I have relatives there. But I have never lived there. And so I do not have a grasp of the history of places, buildings and people. Yet, I am attracted to the place so much so I seem to regard it as home. There is this unspoken charm, a fusion of the times passed and times of the present and to come, in the place that provides a calm and homely feel I do not experience elsewhere. I find that by simply being there, in Penang, even on short whirlwind trips, can be thoroughly enjoyable.

I spoke briefly with Leon, and he commented, “You really like Penang, don’t you?”

No words to reply him were needed. I simply nodded.

View from Gunung Baling. ©2006 Khoo Nee On.

My recent September 9-10 trip to scale Gunung Baling in Kedah stands on par with the other crazy mountain escapades like the true Midnight Madness of Nuang (April 2005). This is by far the farthest I’ve traveled within Peninsular Malaysia just to get on a mountain. Actually, Gunung Baling’s not even a mountain. It’s only a 574 meter limestone hill!

With Nee On and Leon, we made up the Threesome Trekkers group. Because we were making a stop-over at Penang to meet Jing Zi, Enid joined us. The journey to Penang really started at about 5 p.m.–Enid had an exam and couldn’t leave earlier–and ended at about 10.30pm when we arrived at Jing Zi’s home. We would have reached Penang earlier had it not been for the convoy of cars and motorcyclists heading in the same direction for a political group gathering in Bidor (majority of them looked like rockers more than politicians), the clay pot chicken rice at K-10 in Ipoh, and the persistent rain that accompanied us all the way.

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Scenes from in a Car

Misty Forest After a Rainfall at Dusk.

If the long journey wasn’t infuriating enough, then being relegated to being the navigator–who gets on the phone at the crucial moment when we are to make a turn into some junction, and who snaps pictures at sceneries passing by–kinda got on my nerves.

Coconut Trees in Sungai Petani at Dawn.

I wanted so much to drive. It would have been a joy to drive in Penang; for though I do not live there, I seem to know my way around instinctively and it’d feel like coming home after being away for a long while. But I didn’t have a car for the weekend; Nee On drove.

Solo Tree on an Open Field Near Baling at Midday.

Nee On got to drive around Penang. Aargh! He even got to drive on the roads of Kedah when I wanted to find out how well I’d know the place without being there before. Aargh! Aargh!In the end, the instinctive navigator reluctantly relied on the road maps generously supplied by our Canadian tourist in Malaysia to get to Baling.

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The Trek Through My Eyes

Our guides–Pak Su and Pak Jamal.

This trip was all about humbling myself. When in the past, I would have the Threesome Trekkers (Adrian, Nee On and I) hack through a jungle to make our own path and not coming close to a peak, I turned to a local guide this time around. Pak Su, with Pak Jamal, took us up the hill.

It’s a good thing I did that because should we have gone there on our own, we’d almost certainly have gotten lost. Pak Su and Pak Jamal go up the mountain daily to gather rare pokok Haji (actually Cycas Sp. or “Wilailak” palm plants) to sell. They’re making their own paths as they go about their business, and so there ain’t any clear paths at the top. I was We were made to follow our guides here and there. I must have went in so many circles I don’t have a clear image of the trail we used for our ascent and descent; if I were to take anyone on this trail I’ll admit I’ll get that person lost (though we all know I never ever really get lost).

View from Gunung Baling.

So what’s with Gunung Baling? I’ve conquered higher mountains than this, so at 574 meters, it shouldn’t be too difficult. That would have been true had it not been for the heavy downpour the night before. The lower region of the mountain, which was moderately steep, was very muddy and somewhat slippery. I didn’t handle that part very well. I felt like throwing up–either lack of a proper warm up or slight suffering caused by indigestion of the roti sardin I had in Sungai Petani (mental note to self: never ever have another roti sardin before an ardous trek).

Town Mouse and Country Mouse–Spot the differences?

As we moved beyond the muddy soils, I saw some crystal-quartz like formations–reminded me of Bukit Tabur. I was surprised because this was a limestone outcrop, and I wasn’t expecting such a sight. After that, we came to the jagged limestone outcrops.

The Jagged Limestone Outcrops.

The rocks were sharp, and for the first time in many moons, I had for a brief moment wished I had put on a pair of shoes–no muddy feet, no cuts on my legs–instead of relying on my trusty sandals. What? TMC without sandals? That’s unthinkable! I quickly push that thought aside and chased after the Canadian tourist who just didn’t know when to stop. When I finally caught up with him, he was already at the top and was busy taking pictures. I turned around and took in the breathtaking view of the surrounding area. The sight of distant mountains and rolling hills, expansive plains, long winding roads and the nearby township makes me glad I traveled so many miles away from KL just for a mountain.

View of Bukit Baling.

My mind drifted elsewhere quite a bit when I was on this mountain. That’s the only explanation I can come up with to explain why I lost my balance while taking a series of pictures for a panoramic shot. I could have fell forwards–heading down the mountain and possibly hurting myself on some jagged rocks. But I quickly stepped on a rock and pushed myself backwards; I landed in a sitting position with a trunk of a pokok haji breaking my fall. Unfortunately for me, there was a thorny bush beside the tree trunk. With that, I add another prized scar–“the Baling scratches”–on my right arm.

The Leon PoserShot, taken a few minutes after my untimely fall.

We spent four hours on the mountain. At the top, Pak Su served us roti canai with sugar sprinkled on it, and Pak Jamal graciously handed Leon a a self-rolled nipah leaf cigarette. Leon calls it the ceremonial smoke for being at the top of the mountain. Language wasn’t a barrier at all to having a good laugh. Body language and makeshift interpreters in the likes of Nee On and I got conversations and laughters going for quite a bit.

Along the way, we saw a variety of Nature’s best offerings. Here are some pictures:

From top left (clockwise): A Curled-Up Pill Millipede; A Natural “Davy Jones Lookalike”; Flower Bud among Dried Leaves; & A “Cobra-Like” Flower in the Cracks.

Our guides were great hosts, too. After we got down, Pak Su took us to a nearby river for a swim. There was a huge long running across the river. It broke the flow somewhat, and at the edge, water ran over it like rapids. We just sat there in the cool water running over our backs. We felt so clean after we came our; Leon called it an “Industrial Washing Machine.”

Then he invited us to Pak Su’s home. We sat on mats under a tree sipping hand grounded Baling coffee! This was way better than downing a coke at McDonald’s after a trek, Amos was missing all the good coffee and smoke. Apart from that, what crossed my mind was the simplicity and humble way of life in which these rural folks lead their life. I felt that even by simply by being there at his home, and accepting his invitation had made him a happy man. After that coffee break, we were invited to yet another home for lunch! It was a simple meal of fried bee hoon with dried shrimps and greens. Even so, the manner in which we were treated made us feel like royalties. Being in the warm embrace of the village folks I felt like I wanted to belong there and be a part of the community, even for a moment.

This recent experience in Kampung Bawah Gunung brings back memories of the time I spent in Kampung Telaga Air, Sarawak. And such pleasant experiences and memories make me want to return to these places.

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Portraits of Our Guides

Both our guides are above 50 years old. They smoke, and they have no trouble hiking up the Gunung Baling daily to look for rare plants. They’re now inspirational characters who will spur me to continue trekking beyond 50.

Pak Su Holding a rare Pokok Haji (Cycas Sp.) Plant.

Pak Jamal–the cigarette smoking man.

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Postcards from Penang

The trip did not end with the trek. We returned to Penang. We had to. I had to. Somethings still had to be done: Enid was left behind when we went for our trek, I haven’t had the Penang food I wanted, I accidentally left my towel at Jing Zi’s place, and I had yet to extend all the necessary goodbyes.

As we crossed the Penang Bridge, the enthusiastic Canadian tourist in the car listed down three places he’d like to visit–Kek Lok Si temple, Tropical Fruit Farm, and Bukit Bendera (Penang Hill) while we still had a few remaining hours before heading home. All I wanted to do was eat and sleep; and if I had to go somewhere, it’d be the Botanical Garden so I can see more greens.

Jing Zi and Enid at the Esplanade.

When we met up with Jing Zi and Enid, we all agreed to a simpler plan for the rest of the evening: a visit to the Esplanade, then an eatery, then the Kek Lok Si temple. We didn’t spend too much time at the Esplanade; but it was long enough for everyone–Nee On, Leon, Jing Zi, and Enid, that is–to find out that I am capable of doing crazy daring deeds.

Char Kway Tiao Cook

When we were at a coffee shop in Pulau Tikus, we ate and ate and ate. Let’s see; the five of us had among us the following dishes: Prawn Mee, Loh Mee, Char Hor Fun, Pasembur, Chee Cheong Fun, Char Kway Tiao, and Satay.

Nee On Can’t Take Spicy Char Kway Tiao. Leon Just Can’t Get Enough!

Enid’s So Greedy! She Offers Only a Spoonful of Fried Onions.

After food we went to Kek Lok Si, but it was closed. phew. So the next best thing to do was to head home. By then, it was already 9 p.m.

It was a really rushed trip; ideally, we I felt that spending a few more hours would have been an the ideal. It would have been nice to visit the nearby waterfalls and hot springs in Baling, or have more time in Penang with Jing Zi the local Penang girl taking us around. But I’m also glad that it ended the way it ended; we were very very tired and there was still a five hour drive home ahead of us. I’m gald I got up a new mountain, traveled farther than ever before with fellow trekkers, experienced the village warm welcome, had good Penang food, and saw Jing Zi before she heads off to further her studies in the UK. Was the trip worth it? Yeah!

One Last Photo For the Album.

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Memorable Quotes from the Trip

1. Leon: “Where’s Ipoh?”
TMC: “It’s in the map.”

2. Jing Zi giving direction: “At the round about, go around.”

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Related Links:
• Nee On’s Photos of the Baling Experience.
• Leon’s Expressions on the G. Baling Trip.
• Enid’s Eating Experience in Penang.