Scattered Seeds

Lepok Falls in 2008

The original plan was to head to Simpang Pulai and look for Chelik Falls. When that didn’t work out, the plan was to do a walk at Klang Gates. I wanted a waterfall. So as I was driving, and everone else was fast asleep, I headed towards Pangsun for Lepok Falls.

It has been nearly two years since I last visited Lepok Falls.

I still remember it being a relatively non-strenuous walk, and wouldn’t take too long either. But there were two deceptive looking forks on the trail now. The first one was quite easy to figure out. But the second played on me. I had allowed others to go ahead of me; as I walked I remarked, “This doesn’t look familiar to me.” But still we went on until we hit the river. We were at the wrong spot. So everyone waited and waded their feet in the water while I took off in different directions to find a way upstream on land. I spent quite a bit of time searching for a way. I got around the dead end and up the river, but the waterfall wasn’t in sight. I wish I had my parang with me. I had left it in the car and for the second time in a day I felt hopeless in the forest.

The first time was when I met an Orang Asli and he had asked me if I carried any weapons to the waterfall. I said, “Saya pernah ke air terjun. Kan jalan ini selamat?” (trans: “I’ve been to the waterfall before. Isn’t this path safe?”)

He said, “Yalah, tapi kena bawa senjata. Mana tahu jumpa apa kat dalam?” (trans: “Yes, but you’ve got to bring a weapon. Who knows what you might meet in there [the jungle]?”)

Then he added, “Apa lagi awak seorang bawa lima bini.”

I shrugged. I had nothing to say to respond to that. Luckily I didn’t have to say anything as a companion of his came by and they took off together.

When the conversation took place, we were already some half hour into our journey, and didn’t think of turning back to get my parang. At the river, I was irritated by not knowing where we were. And that sort of clouded my senses for a while. The good thing was without the parang the most sensible thing to do was turn back to the most noticeable fork and try the other route.

And so it was that as time moved forward on, we were retracing steps. And as I walked, I drew lines in the air; retracing the trail I took from two years again my head. From memory, I didn’t think we branched off too far away. When we hit an open ground, I told everyone to stop. I didn’t think we needed to head all the way back to the first fork. So while everyone fed the hungry mosquitoes, I conjured up a headache by digging through the archive of trails I’ve walked before. Though the jungles and trails may look the same and confusing to some, I seem to have drawn some landmarks for each tril I’ve been to before.

Luckily my memory served me well. The memory was faint, and bits and pieces were missing, but there were enough for me to “find” another trail from where we stood. Oh, Why didn’t I see that fork earlier!” Once I hit the trail, everything looked familiar again.

That was until one steep section.

This section had gone missing in my memory! I just couldn’t place the short steep slope. I had remembered the left and right turns, abandoned “home”, and moss-covered water pipe to some extent, but I couldn’t remember the steep slope. I didn’t know how long it was, so I sat down and waited—and everyone became victims of mosquitoes and lurking leeches again. I dug deeper into my memory for a glimpse of steep slope to Lepok. Blank. Then I remembered Nee On. I called him on the phone, but he doesn’t remember much. Yet he mentioned that there was a steep section midway. Oh well, I’m already here. Might as well as push on pass the steep slope. If it leads to no where, I can scream at Nee On. So the journey resumed and true enough, I got to the familiar trail that seemed like a low-trench with rich green shrubs growing on both banks.

Not long after, we reached the waterfall.

Two years. Two years had been too long to revisit a place sometimes.

The waterfall looks as beautiful as ever, perhaps more than when I was here before. And perhaps it has been two years and like when old friends meet there is a greater sense of appreciation, perhaps I’ve been to Chiling too many times and that has dulled my senses to something familiar, perhaps the water this time was stronger than from two years ago (it rained the day before this time) and that display of bravura swept me away, perhaps it’s the company of people who came along this time–5 girls–and it was better than four guys splashing in the water in 2006. Perhaps. All possibilities. But really, it’s simply that Lepok Falls is a beautiful waterfall.

Lines and Curves

Mushrooms in Hiding

Furry Caterpillar

Black & Striking Red Dragonfly

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Related Link:
• Suyin’s blog entry, “Up Sg.Lepok Waterfall,” of the same outing.
• “Lepok Falls” is Jessin’s version
• “20060823 • When Four Guys Went Splashing Water Together” is the historical first time when I went to Lepok with Nee On, Adrian and Kourosh.

Although I haven’t planned any major treks up mountains, I’ve been trekking to a number of places on weekends for the past few weeks. These treks ran from a short one hour plus up Gunung Datuk, Bukit Tabur or Bukit Takun to the long seven-hour trek to Kampung Pos Atap. Add that to the daily grind at work, I was much in need of a break.

Sunrise over Bukit Takun

So I decided to go to the Tanglir Waterfall; one of my so-called secret hideout. As expected, it was a simple walk (on tarred road) with slight gradual slopes. Green pastures, vegetable patches and wild greens flanked the road on both sides. After turning off to a used pathway, I came upon a river. I tried hard to skillfully skip from rock to rock as I moved along the contours of a river. Once at the waterfall, I sat on a rock to enjoy the roaring sounds and feel the strong cool breeze filled with tiny droplets as water gushed down some 30 feet towards the earth. On my third time to Tanglir Waterfall, I didn’t dive into the cool waters. Rather, my gaze was focused at the heavens—watching the dark clouds play tricks on me.

Yeen on the Rocks

If I was alone, I’d have jumped in and come under the great natural industrial washing machine. But Yeen and 24 other students were at Tanglir Falls with me. For the most part, I listened intently to the rumblings in the air, and looked at the clouds sweeping by. I was afraid if rain came and the river waters washed someone (or a few) away. It wasn’t a particularly long trip, and I wonder if I was a spoil-sport as I rushed everyone in and then rushed them out.

The group of Young Ones

I had a good time going in and out, but I also came out feeling mentally tired. So much for my so-called break. Now I need another one.

’nuff said.

Early Morning Mists Over Klang Gates

I’ve been licking wounds and that has kept me away from the jungles for far too long. But some future plans insist that I wake up early at 5am to hike even when I still have the irritating pain in my heels and fear of aggravating the old injury on my knee. I didn’t call anyone other that Leon because of my 11th hour plan. Thank God he was crazy enough to follow me on the hike to catch sunrise over the Klang Gates dam. We all know he’s crazy because he’d rather walk in the dark than get back into his home (even when he’s just at the doorstep) to pick up a torchlight. We started walking at about 6am in the dark with the aid of only my mini Maglite (I too was too lazy to get into my home to pick up the usual Cateye lamp I use on treks).

Our aim was the sunrise but we missed it.

We have good excuses. But here are 7 good reasons:
• we stumbled in the dark a bit because he didn’t bring a torchlight
• he agreed to hike up the eastern side of the ridge.
• he wasn’t prepared for the difficulty that came with the eastern ridge
• he had been going to the gym but doing the wrong exercises(?)
• he hadn’t trekking in nearly a month because I didn’t trek.
• he didn’t get enough sleep the night before. I was reading until about 1am.
•he didn’t have breakfast. Neither did I, actually.

OK. I exaggerate almost all the “he” parts, but I had fun writing them. And I sure did enjoy the hike.

The Chiling Waterfall is by far one of the more beautiful waterfalls I’ve been to; so much so that it’s the standard in which I use to consider the beauty of other waterfalls. While I do not claim the place as being “my backyard” as some others do, it is not a surprise that I’m drawn back to this place quite often.

One For The Album!

On March 17, 2007, I was back at the Chiling Waterfall again. This time I was in a group of 39 people. They were a great bunch of people. Regardless of nationality–there were Malaysians, Mongolians, Iranians, Chinese, Canadians, Indonesians and others–they were all singing, running and helping one another during the short trek to the waterfall. Once there, most of them were happily splashing in the water.

But in such a crowd, I found myself rather isolated and lonely. At first I thought it was the people.
This is, after all, the first time in ages that I’ve trekked without some of my usual trekking buddies. I hate to admit it, but I miss them. No matter how much I’ve try to mix about and rope in new people, I am not as accepting as I’d hope to be. So here I was, with 28 other people, and I didn’t seem to blend in. Yes, Leon was there. Kourosh was there. So I should have been able to enjoy the outing.

But somehow it just felt different. And I got to thinking.

Maybe it was the bus ride. Perhaps I’ve gotten so used to traveling at about 110km/h (plus plus) that the bus ride seemed like a slow journey to death (and it didn’t help that I was reading Falukner’s As I Lay Dying, while the bus driver popped in a lousy copy–a pirated DVD no doubt–of Ghost Rider for all to see). Being in the bus, I didn’t get the usual adrenaline rush for the fear of the car getting crushed in a high-speed accident, the stares from fellow passengers whenever a wrong turn is made, the stomach-shake-up I get from Amos’ driving on windy roads, or having the need to bear with the shrieks that comes when Nee On drives too close to another car or motorcyclist. The bus was slow, but I could live with that.

So if it’s not the people. It’s not the vehicle or the drivers. Then what?

It’s the place. For the first time, I have fears that Chiling Waterfall, and the surrounding area will be spoilt. As we were entering the trail, we saw 3 persons painting a newly built concrete archway that will serve to welcome visitors to the area. Then, as we approached the first river crossing, I saw the horror. More structures!

The sight of the newly built structures as seen from the trail.

A garden?

A bridge to cross the river

With all these in place, it would seem the floodgate has been opened. More people will surely visit the place. And I fear that this place might turn into another Sg. Tekala or Sg. Chamang. I’ve always loved the Chiling Waterfall for it’s access into Nature. But the sight of these structures only remind me of a civilisation I long to forget. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. Now that it is here, I can only pray that Chiling Waterfall will not turn into a dump, or a an area choking for fresh air.

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Related Links:
• More Colour Photos