Meng Chwen • Blog

View from the top

• We started the journey at Kampung Pertak. After 24 minutes, we reached the open ground where we camped for the night.

• We played UNO for hours. I brought my UNO H2O and we were standing in the river to play. Good thing the cards sink when they drop in the water. Alex gave me a scare when he dropped some cards while shuffling them. The kids used very different rules and the game lasted for hours. We played only one game as it was getting late. But it was still too early to sleep, and I spent hours on a rock in the river.

• The fun thing to happen was watching Tet Leon and Alex catching live prawns, fish and a crab. And that was when we found out that Suyin was terrified of live prawns. The look on her face is a classic that’ll be remembered for years. It was absolutely mean of me to torment her, but I couldn’t help it. Days later, I would name it penaeidaphobia—the fear of prawns—and place it in an article written by someone.

• Oh, and I helped the crab escape. When I held a prawn to Suyin, the crab clenched it’s claw on the prawn and somehow jumped out into the river and freedom.

• Later in the night, I was so hungry I went back to camp to cook pasta. But someone ate them all, and so I decided I to go to sleep to stop my tummy from grumbling. But because I hadn’t planned to sleep, I had no sleeping bag, no blanket, no long pants, and no tent for myself. I was cold I had to lie beside other human bodies, and snuck my hands and feet under other peoples’ sleeping bags.

• What do you expect? I couldn’t sleep well.

• Next morning, we all woke up at about 7am.

• At 8.24am, Amos, Nee On and Gin May showed up. Suyin had asked if they would be coming when they didn’t show up at the scheduled time. I told her that if I know them correctly, they’d reach the campsite at 8.30am. Six minutes was cutting it really close.

The group without Amos, Nee On and Gin May ©2008 Khoo Nee On

• The going up was pretty uneventful.

• At the gigantic rocks, Amos and I got to the top of the rockface for the first time. We left others to sit and rest and took off for a short detour.

• When we got down, everyone else had left. But I caught up with the rest when they took a longer route; they must have missed the trail and went on an extra 10 minute walk.

• The highlight of Bukit Kutu is to be on the rock at the summit. I’ve been there numerous times, and I didn’t go all the way up to the highest point this time. I was on the rock, looking at the distant hill and looking for the “other” bungalow Taiping Goh mentioned when we were at Pos Atap.

• I couldn’t distinguish anything through the canopy of trees. So I went down and hit the trail, searching for the bungalow all by myself. I couldn’t find it.

• I got back to the rocks and had a roti canai and a slice of bread.

Amos and I Roti Canai-ing; Gin May with Her Bread ©2008 Khoo Nee On

• When it was time to get down the mountain, I took off and ran. I like running down mountains—to feel the rushing wind rush over me, and the need to have quick reflexes to avoid slippages, harmless rocks, stumps, roots and other objects of Nature that become dangerous obstacles and unfriendly weapons that hurt. I run. But no longer as fast as the wind. I am not fast as I used to be. Perhaps age has caught up with me. Sometimes I slow down to take an extra long breather. Perhaps I have mellowed and no longer take risks. Perhaps I’ve grown closer to Nature. These days, I slow down to pick up distracting pieces of garbage. Yet still I run—tired muscles I can handle; but to walk down is to slowly inject more pain into the knee.

• When I got down the mountain, Marshall, Tet Leon and Andrew were already down. One of them taunted me for being slower than them. I was too tired to pick a fight. The extra 20 minutes I spent on a detour drained me. When we started the journey down from the peak, I chose to run down without carrying water to drink; this bad habit could be the death of me in the future. Andrew was with me for the early part of the run. When we reached the gigantic rockface to wait for others to regroup, the two of had overtaken everyone else.

Five at the Rocks

• When we continued the journey, Marshall and Tet Leon took off first. Andrew was with me for a while, but when I slowed down he follow the other two. I normally wouldn’t have let anyone go their own ways if I didn’t believe they could take care of themselves.

• Alone in the jungle, I decided I’d look for the shortcut I had used before (and which I couldn’t find last year), and didn’t want anyone with me. As I ran down hill, I found where the trail started (or ended depending on how you look at it). I went down the trail, and walked some 10 minutes through a faint path walled by thick undergrowth. I reached a stream, and I was still on the right path. Then it took a strange turn and started moving uphill to a place I didn’t recognise. Then I was standing in front of a jungle with no clear or faith path. I tried one path but came to a dead-end. I decided not try any other path in case I really got lost. I turned back; rejoined the main trail, and continued running down.

• And so it was that when I got out I was drained and overly thirsty. That was at about 2.55 pm.I was surprised that even with my detour, no one was ahead of me. I kept wondering: Were the others that slow?

Suyin Imitating a Live Prawn

• May, Suyin and Jenn showed up next. Then Amos, Gin May and Nee On showed up. Then I was surprised to see Marc-Andre come out because I thought he was sweeping. That was when we realized that someone could have been missing.

• At about 4.30pm I was running up the mountain with Marc-Andre behind me. Amos was on another trail up, too. Someone was missing and we were looking for him. Except for Brian on this same mountain years ago, no one else had gotten lost in my charge. I was worried for the kid, but at the same time, Amos and I knew that if the kid kept walking downhill or followed the river, he would get out. He wasn’t the first one to go missing on Bukit Kutu. Years ago, Bernadette had taken a different trail and followed a river out. Brian had pushed through a different trail (and nearly got out) before he turned back to the main trail.

• As we walked up the hill, we were shouting our lungs out. After a while tiredness kicked in and I slowed down. All I had for lunch was one roti canai and a slice of bread. Even in tiredness, Marc-Andre and I pushed on till we were quite close to the peak. We didn’t find who we were looking for and turned back at 6pm, hoping that Amos found him. On the way down, we heard Amos calling for us, and the missing one had gotten out by himself.

• I was angry, but also relieved.

• He came out with cuts on his arms and legs. Some thought it looked bad. I looked at the cuts and said they were only minor cuts and there wasn’t anything to worry about. I had seen worse.

• We got home late because of the search and the kid who went missing for a few hours. We left Kampung Pertak only at about 6.40pm when I estimated we could be leaving at about 4.30pm. A few of us missed important Mother’s Day dinner plans.

• We were dropped off at Sunway University College by a driver who was rushing for time to be at a wedding. I was so hungry, but still had to cycle home after that.

• At 10.30pm, in the company of a good friend, I ordered a huge plate of rice, with mutton curry, and vegetables enough to feed three people. I was so tired I couldn’t speak much. When I got home at about 12.30am I think I fainted.

• So much for Bukit Kutu. It’s 7-4-3-2 now. That’s for 7 attempts, 4 successful summits, 3 times I got lost, and 2 times someone got lost with me around.

What is it that makes one return to a place again and again?

That’s a question that I am often asked. And for different places there are different reasons. Of all the mountains that I’ve reached the summit more than once, there’s always something that attracts me, something that warrants a return. It could be because I have fallen in love with the place—Gunung Irau and it’s fantasy-like mossy landscape immediately comes to mind. On the other extreme, I journey up Gunung Nuang just to remind myself why I hate it. Sometimes it’s simply to experience the place at different times of the day. I’ve been to Gunung Datuk so many times, but there’s still something that’s elusive. Of the 24 hours in a day, I’ve yet to be at the summit of Gunung Datuk from between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. To watch the sun set beyond the Straits of Malacca from the summit is what I want to do before the year is out.

Sometimes I go on a journey to a same place because of the company of people or even if it’s just one person—a return to Gunung Kinabalu within a year of my first summit is one such case.

At other times, it’s the challenge and varying degrees of difficulties the mountains pose that make me go back again and again. Bukit Kutu is one such place. I have a pretty bad record with this mountain—I’ve only had a 50% chance of successfully reaching the summit. This mountain seems to play games with me. Many a times I decide to return to the place is because I find it embarrassing to tell people that I got lost at Bukit Kutu. It’s been over a year since I lost the trail after walking for an hour and lost in my bid to reach the summit. So I will go again. I have to—I can’t let the mountain have the better me.

But I’ve other reasons to return to Bukit Kutu now.

One of the attractions of the mountain is that there used to be bungalows at the summit, which were destroyed during World War II. The remains and ruins of the bungalows that once stood over a hundred years ago still exist. Just to see the lonesome fireplace and to drink from one of the existing wells makes hiking to the top a worthwhile experience. Having said that, I admit I’ve yet to explored all the ruins. Somehow I’ve never thought of venturing amongst the tall grass that has grown over the building sites. I’ve always been contented of reaching the summit.

But when I was spending the night in a bungalow provided by Orang Asli at Pos Atap, Goh spoke of the Bukit Kutu bungalows. I realized then that I should have explored all those places to truly know the place.

And so it is that I’ll be heading up Bukit Kutu again with the intention of placing footprints in the bungalows (or what’s left of them) sometime this year. But before I make that trip, I’ve been looking for materials from over a hundred years ago—back to the time when the bungalows were built by Lambert Bowen (apparently so, but I’ll need to confirm this).

The one that caught my interest is the “Photograph collection of the British Association of Malaysia and Singapore” that is held at the Cambridge University Library. In the collection of photographs presumably taken by Ernest Barton Maundrell (1880-1916) are about 10 photographs related to Bukit Kutu. One photograph is labeled: “New bungalow, Bukit Kutu. Showing Lambert Bowen (1870-), an engineer in Perak and Selangor and R. Desborough (no information), standing in the doorway of a small bungalow.”

To see that picture will be a wonderful journey through time. To see that picture will give evidence of the completed building. To see that picture will give me the pleasure of knowing more about Malaysia. I’ve written to the library, and am awaiting their response. I hope some good will come of it. and I have received a reply. The good news is that I can actually get a copy of the image now that the copyright has lapsed. The bad news is that it’ll make a large hole in my pockets. Well, I can get lesser quality images, but in this time of age the digital image in high resolution would be the best choice. Each digital image from the Cambridge University Library cost £24.00 per image. That’s way too much! Actually, I would get the images if I was earning my wage in Pounds. But the fact is I do not. As much as I’d like to get the image as soon as possible, the conversion rate between Ringgit and Pound is too high to warrant a purchase of even one print. Well, I know where I can get the image now, and I hope I can see that image one day.

An interesting clipping about ladies from The Story of Kuala Lumpur 1857-1939 by J. M. Gullick.

Other references to Bukit Kutu exist, and tracking them down is not easy. But thanks to Google Books, I got to read a few clippings and excerpts from various books. Now it’s time to track down books such as The Story of Kuala Lumpur 1857-1939 by J. M. Gullick and The Selangor Journal.

Pages 187 and 188 of The Selangor Journal Vol. 5. Click of images to get larger-sized images.

Pages 189 and 190 of The Selangor Journal Vol. 5. Click of images to get larger-sized images.

Sifting through antiquarian books and finding such stuff keeps me going because of my interest in history and the land. Reading such stuff makes me appreciate the places I go to even more. And I also like the fact that the search for more information can never really end as long as someone continues to write about them. I would love to learn more. I would love to have others search for more, too. And I would love it when one hundred or more years down the line, what I write become leading points for other seekers who return often.

Lost & Found at Bukit Kutu, Part 1

ITEM LOST: BUKIT KUTU TRAIL
About a year and a half ago, I came to this place and never found the trail. And I’ve heard of people not finding the trail too. It seems that the Orang Asli who used to live there had migrated elsewhere; thus leaving the place bare and allowing shrubs and undergrowth to grow in its place, and, as it were, erase all previous signs of occupancy.

ITEM FOUND: BUKIT KUTU TRAIL
Other than Nee On and I, Amy, Amos, Ameer, Ah Yap, Brian, were at Bukit Kutu for the first time last Tuesday (Jan 25). Our intention was to search for the “lost” trail; and search we did. We spent an 1+ hours going into every possible trail (even when it’s overgrown) to find the entry point to go up the mountain. When we finally got it, we thought that it was the most obvious trail that we should have taken.

The obscure path to the right leads to the peak.

And so our trek up began. The familiar sights of the wild durian orchard, gigantic trees, abundant bamboo, and colossal boulder-rockface were all there. Perhaps because I’ve been here before, I shared little of the awe and excitement the others, who were on the mountain for the first time, felt. And I wondered if I were captivated by the sights and trail on my first attempt up this mountain.

Except for Amy and Amos, we reached the peak late afternoon–about 3pm. But by then all of us were almost like a bunch of wasted flesh. What I considered a moderately challenging� trek back in 2002 has turned into a somewhat torturous trek. Even Amos, who has scaled Gunung Kinabalu and Gunung Tahan, thought it was a “hardcore” trek; most others thought it was a trail that was definitely not for beginners. Still, I’m sure this was nothing compared to the pain of trekking up G. Nuang during a heavy downpour. I took about 3+ hours to get to the peak, and then ran down the mountain in about 45 minutes. I was by the first river crossing with Ameer by 5.40pm. While waiting for the rest, we dipped ourselves into the river. With that, Bukit Kutu is no longer lost.

The first river crossing.

And then we lost something… I meant someone: Brian!

Lost & Found at Bukit Kutu, Part 2

ITEM LOST: BRIAN
ITEM FOUND: BRIAN

I started out with the intention of writing a funny anecdote of what happened to Brian. But there’s nothing funny to getting lost in the jungle at all. Seriously. Sure, when I think back about what happened then, I find it funny. And it’s not only for me; the same goes to all, if not most of us, who went. We’ve met up, and we’ve talked and joked and laughed about the incident. Now that’s only because Brian was lost and then found.

Yet, this event is also a reminder that getting lost in the jungle can be a very real, and dangerous, and may, God forbidding, lead to much pitiable endings. Suppose Brian was lost for a much longer time than the 40 minutes or so before we found him. Or suppose he had indeed fallen into a ravine where underground water flowed. Or suppose we never found him. Then I am sure no one would be laughing. But we did find him. So here’s Brian’s mis-adventure:

Ameer and I had ran down Bukit Kutu by 5:40pm. And when Nee On came out, it was about 6:20pm. When he saw us, his first words (if I recall correctly) were, “Where’s everyone?”

To the two of us, we were everyone; that was what we told him. That was when Nee On looked worried. “So where’s Brian?”

“Didn’t see him. Isn’t he with you?”

“No. He ran after the two of you,” answered Nee On.

That’s when I knew we had to go back in to look for Brian. I was mad to have to do it. I had got out, dipped in the river, cooled down, and was ready to go home. But I had to do it. I couldn’t leave Brian in there. Amos, Amy and Yap were just approaching the river when I was stomping back in.

Thankfully, everyone kinda guessed where he might have taken a wrong turn. The funny thing is I never saw that fork that they were talking about. Anyway, the spot they were talking about weren’t too far into the trail, and, thankfully again, it was where Brian took the wrong turn. After much shouting and searching, we found him and headed out together.

I asked Brian how he felt about his experience. He answered, “First there was anxiety, then panic, then I began to plan.” Recounting his experience, Brian spoke of walking along the wrong trail until he noticed some 4×4 tracks, and a clearing that were vaguely unfamiliar. He also spoke of back-tracing his way to the fork, and remembering he had his handphone with him. Thanks to modern technology (and Celcom 019), he managed to call Yap’s phone. The only problem when he did that was that he was carrying Yap’s phone, too. Why he did so, I do not know. So the next thing he did was to call almost every number in the address book using Yap’s phone. In total, he spent about RM7.00 making “Help I am lost! I’m in the jungle and I can’t find Mr Tan” or something to that kinda effect calls.

After we found him, and as we were walking pass a clearing to get out, Brian exclaimed that he saw that same clearing from the other path. But because he wasn’t sure if he was on the right trail he turned back. If he had double-dared and taken some 10 more steps, maybe, he would have gotten out of the trail and found the river crossing to where Ameer and I was. Brian, oh Brian.

So, in total, this was the third time ever that I’ve had to get back into the trail to search for lost ones. And, believe me, it’s just as scary being lost–the thought of not finding the person, or the thought of the person having fallen into a ravine, or the thought of the person wandering into wild animals’ territories, come to mind very quickly. Each time I go back in, I pray all the way till the person is found. I hate the experience when people get lost. I hate going back in after I’m out of the trail. The irony is, the very same incident can be the one that makes the trek stand apart, and make it more memorable than it should most of the time.