The road not taken

I WAS looking forward to a shower and nap after the hard slog up and down Bung Jagoi recently, when William challenged members of the Malaysian Nature Society to more adventure in the bush. Not willing to be considered ‘soft’, I followed the trailblazer, together with eight of the most tenacious of the group, as he hacked his way through the thick undergrowth with a parang.

I was beginning to regret my decision when shortly after we entered the forest, I slipped and slid down a steep muddy bank to a stream, dirtying my shorts, white polo shirt and white hat, designed more for a stroll on a golf course. Fortunately I wore sandals that were well suited to wading through the stream while some of the others sloshed about in their heavy trekking boots.

We followed the stream as it grew from a bubbling brook to a big stream, illustrating to us William’s point on how the trees soak up the rainwater like a sponge and then slowly release it into the spring/stream. Without the trees, the water would just run off the ground surface causing erosion and flash floods. “Don’t cut down the trees,” he emphasised.

William also demonstrated some jungle-survival skills: how to suck up the sweet pure water stored in the hollow between joints in a bamboo stalk using a smaller bamboo stalk as a straw; and finding edible wild fruits so that we would never go thirsty or hungry if we got lost in the jungle. I hope I will never have to put these skills to the test.

We lingered at some rock pools where we soaked our feet in the cool water and watched small fishes including the beautiful striped tiger fish swim in the crystal clear stream. After several perilous crossings on bamboo poles slung across the stream where one of our group nearly fell into the water (not that there was any risk of drowning in the shallow river), we emerged in a clearing for padi and back to our cars, muddy and exhausted but happy to have gained a memorable experience in the ancestral home of the Bidayuh.