Diaries of Two Jungle Explorers

WEDNESDAY 3RD SEPTEMBER: DAY 1

We wake with the alarm at 6.45am. The mood amongst the soon-to-be jungle explorers is grim due to the night’s chilly temperatures in the bungalow and ensuing lack of sleep. One explorer voices concerns about the comparative warmth of a tent on the side of a mountain versus a bungalow in the valley. A cold water mandi wash does not help lift spirits. After a flurry of packing activity and breakfast pancakes, we are on our way by bus to the village at the base of Gunung Kemiri, our objective for the trek. Kemiri stands 3314m tall and appears swathed in jungle but is otherwise unimpressive from our village vantage point. Maybe the summit is hidden from view? It’s a 6 day walk we are told. 5-6 hours walking every day. Nobody knows our starting altitude but it is said that by the 2nd day the path is steep.

The village runs along one street towards the river. People stand by their doors staring as we pass by. We have our guide and a porter with us and they invite us into one of the houses for tea. The room is completely bare save for sleeping mats on the floor, a chest of drawers for clothes and of course a TV. We are soon banished outside ‘to look at the view’ while the guide stocks up on marijuana for the trip. One of the explorers, who shall not be named, is advised that a spot by an apparently secluded stream would be suitable for toilet business and then discovers, while in the midst of this business, that the stream is the local public baths and launderette. Not so secluded then.

Soon we shoulder our packs with great ceremony and the expedition begins. It’s all a bit of an anticlimax though as we put them down again after a hundred metres and stop for a noodle lunch by the river. That done, we gnaw on sugar cane and wait for our 2nd porter to arrive and then we are off for real, psyching ourselves up for an afternoon of hot sweaty toil. The land on the mountain’s lowest slopes is a brilliant vibrant green in the sunshine- we haven’t yet reached the jungle proper. We see local kids moving in the trees, as lithe as monkeys, picking fruit so we try some too. It is like an apple but hard and sour and it sets our teeth on edge. Up ahead is a tiny little thatched hut where a guy shares a bed with his chickens and farms a bit of land. It is here we learn the way things will be in the days to come. “Resting now!” is the command from our guide and out come the cigarettes (and biscuits for us which I hasten to add is no bad thing). We have been walking for only half an hour.

It is mid-afternoon when we reach Camp 1, pitch our tent and locate the disappointing promised water supply. It is a mere trickle and is at the bottom of a precipitous muddy bank. We claw our way back up to camp, pick at the grime under our fingernails and ponder the futility of hand washing. It gets dark and we sit round the fire with the others listening to the jungle throbbing, humming, pulsating with noise all around us. We catch cicadas by the wings in the candlelight and turn their vocals off as if with an of/off switch. It is still early when we retire to our tent but it feels late. We turf out a leech and then settle down on our mats. And yes we are cold. We wake up wishing that we had sleeping bags a few times that night.

THURSDAY 4TH SEPTEMBER: DAY 2

The sound of clanking pots and pans rouses the sleepy explorers shortly before 7am. Food is uncommonly good here in the jungle. Not for us a tin of half-heartedly warmed baked beans as we are accustomed to when campfire cooking. Instead we are greeted by a steaming hot ‘nasi goreng’ (fried rice with vegetables and an omelette on top). We are well fueled and straining at the leash as we look back at our fire’s last few wisps of smoke and turn our attentions towards the relentlessly steepening path ahead.

Let it be noted though that once again our guide’s onward progress is anything but relentless. Cigarette stops are plentiful and a lunchtime break to refill water bottles stretches lazily to an hour and a half. We bring up the rear of our little party, following the 3 backpacks bobbing up ahead. A steady pace is set by the guide and our breathing rarely gets heavy. There are often fallen trees to climb over or crawl under and tight gaps between bushes to squeeze through, for the path is rarely used and the jungle is claiming it back. It is here, at these obstacles, that we lose ground on our leaders. We take it in turns to carry our big backpack and it frustrates us as it gets caught on barbed creepers and makes us clumsy and off balance. The others move like cats, a well-placed foot and a ripple of muscle and they are padding along the top of a fallen tree, landing softly with barely a sound on the other side. We hope we won’t slip on the wet wood and scrabble to catch up once on firmer ground.

Camp 2 appears before us at about 2pm. We wonder why we are not going higher but say nothing. Already we can feel the chill in the air and darkness is hours away. The guide tells us we will be too high tomorrow to see any animals. This disappoints us. We have been hearing orang-utans, gibbons, monkeys and hornbills for 2 days but it turns out that they are all camera shy. After an early dinner, it is not long before the rain starts to fall. We wrap ourselves in thermal underwear, jumpers, fleeces, 2 pairs of trousers and hats, and huddle in our tent waiting for morning.

FRIDAY 5TH SEPTEMBER: DAY 3

A ‘jungle pancake’ for breakfast raises spirits after a bleak, shivering and largely sleepless night. We start walking and the path gets ever steeper. Sometimes we use our hands to grab at a tree root above and haul ourselves up. There is moss everywhere now and the trees are getting smaller. Suddenly we come to a small patch of open hillside and we see that we have climbed above the clouds. We are entering the alpine, where the path pushes through densely spaced tough little trees and our backpack gets snagged on every twist and turn. It is not yet midday when we reach Camp 3 on a breezy ridge facing the summit. We watch as the cloud moves inexorably towards the peak and our guide tells us it’s too late to climb up there today. After lunch the rain starts, light at first then torrential and the explorers are confined to their tent, patience running thin.

The prospect of another, even colder, sleepless night weighs heavy on us. We lament our snail-like progress and conclude that, left to our own devices, we would have been up here last night, on the summit this morning and heading down to warmer climes by now. We wonder if this trip has been deliberately stretched out to milk us of more money. It should be a 3 or 4 day trek we decide, not 6. Without further ado, we put it to the guide that we would like to be down from the mountain on the fifth day so that we can camp on lower ground for the last night and do some animal tracking. He says he ‘will try’ and we leave it at that.

The rain is unrelenting all afternoon and into the evening. Boredom sets in and, as 8pm then 9pm approaches, hunger too. We know that the others have no raincoats, only plastic ponchos, so we fear that they might not attempt to cook. Eventually we hear movement and we peek out of our tent to see one of them out there wrapped in a plastic sheet coaxing the fire. Two plates of hot food soon arrive at our door and we tuck in gratefully. The food doesn’t warm us up for long though and the night is the worst we’ve had yet.

SATURDAY 6TH SEPTEMBER: DAY 4

There is a new resolve about camp this morning. The guide declares that we will tag the summit and be back at Camp 3 for lunch, then head all the way down to Camp 1 this afternoon. We are on the move before 8am with Abdul, one of the porters, hacking a way through for us with his machete as the path disappears to nothing. Abdul comes from the village at the base of Kemiri, speaks no English and is darkly referred to by the guide as a ‘man of the jungle’. He is the most surefooted of the three and looks completely at home here.

We follow a small stream upwards and stop to refill our water bottles. The water is bright yellow. Then we clamber up amongst dead trees left by a forest fire some years ago. The gradient lessens and we are almost there. A final twist and turn and suddenly we can go no higher. The summit itself is unremarkable and it is hard to believe that we are standing amongst the trees at 3314m, at the same elevation as glaciers and icefields in Europe. Below us is a blanket of cloud but neighbouring peaks are poking through it and we can even make out a town in the valley. It is cold and windy so we take the obligatory summit snapshots and, without further ado, descent to Camp 3 for a noodle lunch.

The onset of drizzle after lunch threatens to derail our plans as it sees guide and porters scurrying for their tent and staying firmly put. Thankfully, after some time the rain does ease, they emerge and we begin on the long road down. We quickly realise that, while we climbed up with relative ease, descending will be another matter altogether. The porters are afraid of the looming rainclouds it seems, so set a murderous pace. Cigarette breaks are now a distant memory. Greasy tree roots are always lurking where we want to put our feet and the path is coated in a slick layer of mud. The explorer with the backpack feels the extra weight bearing down on her bracing leg muscles but manages to not get left behind and gets complimented on her balancing skills by the guide. This boosts morale but sadly not for long.

After Camp 2 any hope of keeping up with the pace is long gone. My legs are getting tired and wobbly and can no longer be trusted not to buckle after a big step or jump. I have now handed over the backpack and am trailing along at the rear of the group, scowling at my fellow explorer up ahead and his seemingly trouble-free progress, not realising that he is suffering the same ill effects as me. The more wobbly our legs become, the more we fall, slip and stumble and sitting abruptly down in the mud or doing the splits become regular occurrences. It seems to last an eternity but is in reality only 4 hours of non-stop descending and we are finally, gratefully, back at Camp 1.

That evening in the tent we go though our nightly ritual of taking my contact lenses out. Not being in possession of a mirror you see, I need guidance on where to aim my grubby finger. By this point our personal hygiene standards have got so low we are not sure that they exist any more. We have not washed our hair or anything else for four days, our clothes are all caked in mud, we are drinking bright yellow water and eating, off unwashed plates, food prepared by people who probably can’t remember the last time they used soap on their hands. The contact lens removal does not go well and my helper feels the full extent of my wrath. We have words and then curl up and go to sleep, each of us defiant.

SUNDAY 7TH SEPTEMBER: DAY 5

At the sight of the first few rays of sunlight penetrating the jungle canopy and patches of brilliant blue sky overhead, the explorers soon forget last night’s woes. With legs protesting loudly we hit the path for one last time, clear the few remaining fallen trees and then burst out into the bright heat of the day blinking furiously. It is utter luxury to feel the sun’s warmth on our skin. We soak up the rays to banish the chills of the past few days and, in our state of excitement, forget to put sunscreen on. Four days later, one explorer has the blisters on his shoulders to remind him of his folly.

We soon reach the village, bid Abdul farewell with a handshake and a tip, share a durian fruit and sit on our backpacks by the roadside, waiting for the bus. It occurs to us, as we look up at Kemiri from the valley once more, that we did not see one other person up there on its jungle-clad slopes. And it’s not often you can go on a hike and say that. The bus eventually shows up and we are invited to ride on the roof with the bags. Could this be a hint that 5 days of no washing have taken their toll we wonder? The ride is exhilarating, if distinctly uncomfortable, and it’s after about an hour that we are dropped off in the middle of nowhere. We dive straight into the jungle which lines the road and make for a riverside campground.

After the wilderness of Kemiri we discover that we are now firmly back on the tourist trail. We round the corner to the campsite and there right before our eyes are, not one, not two, but Five Westerners! We have not seen another Westerner since Medan and here are five all in one place! All but one are only staying for lunch though so later in the afternoon this beautiful spot becomes serene and peaceful once more. We have a delightfully refreshing (and much needed) swim/wash in the river, eat fish that the guides have caught and barbecued for us, chat with Naomi our fellow (Australian) camper, take photos and watch the monkeys in the trees until evening.

MONDAY 8TH SEPTEMBER: DAY 6

The morning of our last day in the jungle dawns and the two soon to be ex-explorers emerge, more than a little sad, from their tent. It’s amazing what a good wash can do for one’s spirits- now we feel we could stay out here forever. Today is our last chance to see the area’s most famous orange-haired residents and our guide looks like he’s feeling the pressure a little bit. We leave camp before breakfast and begin our hunt, stopping often to stand silently and wait, eyes peeled for movement in the branches overhead.

It is the guides who spot her first, a mother with her baby sitting high in a tree chilling out in the freshness of the early morning. She is smaller than I expected, but just as orange. Naomi’s guide starts banging on the the trunk of her tree and she throws some fruit at us. Fair enough I suppose. The she moves, swinging languidly from long arms, and leads us to three more of her kind, including a big male. Our guide is beaming from ear to ear. We can see the big male so clearly, looking down on us from his lofty position, master of all he surveys. He puts his hand to his mouth and makes a squeaking/sucking noise and we answer, mimicking his sound. Then we just stand and watch for a while and try to get that elusive perfect photo.

Everyone celebrates with banana pancakes back at camp then we pack up for the last time, bid farewell to Naomi and walk out of the jungle back to the guesthouse. We have one last cigarette break along the way for old time’s sake and then we are there and our adventures are over. That night, two weary ex-explorers fall asleep in a comfortable bed. We have leech bites, mosquito bites, sunburn, sore leg muscles, bruised toenails, scratches, cuts and very dirty fingernails. A couple of long sleeps though and I’m sure we will be good as new and ready for whatever adventures may next come our way…….

One Response to “Diaries of Two Jungle Explorers”

  1. Janet and Mike Says:

    Congratulations on your wonderful trek and excellent photos . We were looking forward to this instalment. How wonderful to see the orang-utans.( I am jealous as we are too old I think to trek like that!!) Your blog is so well written. You must think of a career in travel journalism !? We have printed out some photos and they are in our album! Keep writing and enjoying your travels.

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