Oh, our aching knees!!

  Mt Kinabalu, Malaysia
Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Sun 5th Sep Sibu- Kapit
There is a fair bit of noise in the morning, and our room is close to the concertina metal door (see Macao visit), so we are up fairly early, and head down through the market area, which is really buzzing with lots of people around, although it's only 9.30am on a Sunday morning. Although there's nothing special in Sibu, we like the feel of it. At the ferry terminal, there is a man outside the ticket booth selling tickets for the 10AM Bahagia Express, a smaller, single deck, all enclosed aircraft fuselage type long express boat, for RM 25. We have about half an hour to go, so Dianne does some experimental bun buying (buns with some kind of paste inside), and we walk down the ramp to alongside, where we look for info on who hoists the bags up onto the roof and secures them, but we and our bags are escorted to the front of the boat, to the First Class section, a couple of rows back from the front and the TV. Instead of three seats across, with a very narrow gap between the rows, we have two individual, very comfortable aircraft-style seats, with plenty of room between the rows. The air-conditioning is icy, as usual, but it's just as cold back with the hoi-poloi, and pretty close to water level, so you see a lot of spray, and not too much else. Decide accidentally buying first class is not all bad!
Dianne settles in to find warmer gear, Murray out to check out the boat and the wharf. The boat has a big V12 Yanmar turbo-charged diesel, and a second, 4-cylinder diesel to run the electrics and the A/C. At about 40 kw, it explains why they have plenty of sting in the A/C.
The wharf structure is relatively new, but there is a nice 3rd world touch with the fenders, which are large logs fixed with wire rope through eye bolts. A little rough on your flash yacht, but OK for a steel hull. When the ferries raft up at the smaller terminals, they just fend each other off by the steel checker plate walkway that runs all round. You use this to walk between ferries to work your way to shore. Can be hard on the toes of the unwary.
Unfortunately this is a high-class boat -no-one on top, and doors closed to keep the A/C in and the rain out. The windows are also heavily tinted a reddish-purple colour, which doesn't lead to flash photography, but at least the photos are colourful, in more ways than one.
Around Sibu there is a large waterfront-based economy, with shipyards, timber berths and rows of timber and general barges, and freighters, moored against the shore. There is also a large bridge being built above the town, with large groups of reinforcing bars sticking up above the water. The river gradually narrows as we head upstream, and we start to see low hills and higher trees, with increased riverside habitation, but nothing like on the Mekong. There is a fair current in the river, and some of the freight boats are struggling. However, we are starting to see a smaller commercial boat with a faster hull shape, and more power to combat the current and rapids further up.
We stop at Song, which has substantial commercial and Govt buildings and a busy waterfront, but bypass the next large town, which looks just as big, but doesn't rate a stop for some reason. The river branches here, and maybe it is on another route. By the time we get to Kapit, the river has developed a strong current and scoured rocky banks, and has narrowed down to a couple of hundred metres. There is a large raft of timber-carrying boats on the south bank, and a series of dolphins on the other shore for larger craft to tie up to. The ferry wharf structures are concrete framed, about 15 metres high with two flights of steps and ramps down to the lower landing. It probably continues down another 6 metres for really low water. Markers on the building show that when in flood, the water is up to 3 metres deep in the front street.
We have to carry our bags around the front of half a dozen similar express boats to reach the landing, and struggle up the steep ramps beside the stairs, as this eliminates carrying the bags. At street level, we head straight for the Ark Hill Hotel, right beside the ferry wharf for upstream traffic, and book in. We don't get the preferred NW corner room, but notice that it is vacant, so ask to change. Remember that we should have asked for a SINGLE bed (which means one double bed), as they originally gave us a room with two double beds (because we asked for a "double room"). The room is pretty good for RM40, with hot water and A/C, and a good view over the waterfront. It is also right opposite the market, which means early morning noise, but we cop this sweet, and head out to check out the town, in the heat of the day as usual. Find the district office where we have to get a permit to go upstream. As it is Sunday, we are not hopeful of finding it open, but at least we will locate it. We find a reasonably flash restaurant, with an earth-mother type who convinces us to have a go at the local menu, then continue on, mainly on the shady side of the streets to find first the Federal Govt building, then the State Govt building, which is, naturally enough, closed.
There is a pleasant winding ornamental lake, with walkways and pavilions. There has been a lot of work done to make it, but a lot of the flooring has rotted out, so we have to be careful. The bored youth of the town use it for a meeting spot. We walk to the power station at the upstream end of the town, then ask some polite youths if we can get back to town by using a narrow path and bridge to the waterfront. There is half a road here (the rest has been washed away) and it leads us back past Fort Sylvia, named after Mrs Brooke, wife of the white Raja. It is open, and A/C, so we have a free look and a cool down. There are some good early photos, and reports on the peace process with the Dyaks in the 1930's.
Out again, we walk the riverbank, trying to find the right wharf for the Belaga boat. Indications are that they go from the fuel pontoon, so we walk out on a floating log to enquire. The shore end of the log looks like it is grounded in a pile of mud, but Dianne finds that it is floating, and the mud is just making it look better. Nearly goes for a swim. MP was close behind, with a lot of expensive equipment, and was more careful after this. We eventually get a sort of indication that this might be the place after wandering around the terminal, then go back to shore to find the New Rejang Hotel, and a possible tour guide, as we're still working out the best way for us to see some "authentic" longhouses. The clerk on duty can't find him, so we wait a while then leave a message and go out looking for Internet. Most internet cafes are in low rent premises, up grotty stairways, or down grottier alleyways. Kapit's are typical, if not worse than usual. One we can't find until an urchin comes up the stairs and opens an unmarked door. The sound of gunfire alerts us to the presence of the Internet. Inside the dark room, lots of local kids are playing shoot-em up games, with the sound turned up to maximum. Too noisy for us to think, so we leave it till later, and walk downriver to the limit of the town, past the riverbank Chinese graveyard, then back to our hotel, where we are accosted by our possible guide.
He has been jogging, and is just about to have tea, so we meet him in an interesting outdoor food market, and share drinks. His prices are pretty high, and he is a little bit elusive, leaving the table often, but leaving his phone on the table, possibly so we can't walk away and leave him. He tells us that the boat to Belaga has not run for a while, and won't until the river level rises. Rings to find if it is running tomorrow, but they don't know yet. Tells us to hope for rain tonight. He gives us some useful information on the area in general, the ferries, and speedboats, which cost a fortune to run, in terms of petrol for the 200HP outboards and new propellers at RM3500 each, so they need a lot of incentive to make the rapids run during low water. We left him on the understanding that we would try for the boat if it ran, otherwise we might do some business with him, at about RM350 each for a two-day, one night longhouse stay, and RM190 each for a day trip. It was now getting fairly late, and we ended up eating in a very greasy-spoon local cafe, packed, and hit the sack pretty early after a long day. Walking 8.7 kms (in heat)
Monday 6th September Kapit - Belaga-Long Dungan
Up bright and early at 7am to get our permit organized (you need a permit to go any further up the river). This is the area where there are lots of longhouses.
Many of the tribes on Sarawak's rivers reside in longhouses -they used to be gigantic wooden structures on stilts, where the entire population lived under one roof, with separate rooms leading on to one long communal veranda. They were known for their hospitality, and were always open to passing travellers. Tourism, and modernization, has changed this somewhat. Now longhouses can have satellite TV, electric lighting and corrugated iron roofs, which is not as romantic, but better for those living in them.
A longhouse is a way of life, not just a building. It embodies a communal lifestyle, and you may find the place all but deserted when you visit, as the younger people are often working the fields, hunting or out on other business. Anyway, we're hoping to get to see some of the culture.
It has been raining most of the night, and there are a lot more logs floating down the river, so we are quietly confident.


After our muesli breakfast we take a few minutes to get to the Resident's Office, find the compound open, and catch the man himself arriving, with white uniform shirt and new 4WD. Says we are early, but we should be back at 8, and we will get fixed up. To kill time, we walk to the river bank, do the precarious trip out to the fuel pontoon to find the downstream jetty is the right place. Get some food (more buns with "interesting" fillings), then head back to get our permit at 7.50. Find the office open, and a helpful young woman gets the forms, which we fill in, including the question on our Cholera vaccination expiry - 2005 sounds OK to us. It takes about 10 minutes to get them signed, after a bit of urging by a senior woman, and we are checked out and down on the wharf by 8.20 for a possible 8.30 arrival, 9.00 departure. We set up on the mezzanine level of the concrete landing structure where we are more-or-less protected from the rain, to wait, and wait.


MP does a solo run across the raft of Express boats to find none of them are ours, so buy a pork rice bento box from a large Chinese lady who speaks good English, and hang in until another boat arrives, closer to 10am. Murray checks again and hits pay-dirt. We wait politely until most of the passengers have alighted, then make our way across the raft of boats to ours, deciding on First Class again - we must be getting weak in our old age. The A/C is pretty chilly again, so we get out the warm tops, and set up near the front, on the port side, opposite the open door on the starboard side. We do an extraordinary amount of manoeuvring back, forward and sideways amongst the other express boats before setting out.
They leave the door open, and as it has now stopped raining (but only for a short while, as it turned out) Murray stands on the steps looking out and taking photos. The river is narrower and faster, with a lot of big logs going downstream, so the driver has to do a fair bit of weaving, with the boat heeling on the turns, and reacting quickly to cross currents and eddies and whirlpools. There are a few big boats now going up the river, taking the opportunity to run the rapids while the water is adequate, if not high.
There are settlements and longhouses all along, and we look out for the expensive Pelagos Resort, as it marks the start of the real rapids, but unless it was tucked away somewhere on the right bank, it didn't show up as too flash. The only possible candidate was a modern longhouse with landscaped gardens out the front.
MP was taking a lot of photos, as the river had narrowed to become quite interesting, with trees hanging over, and some islands. We got a number of rapids photos, but the photos of the real rapids may be a bit strange, as they were shot one-handed while the other hand hung on tightly. It becomes clear why you don't ride on the roof through the rapids. They were seriously scary, much more so than the 3 gorges or the Mekong in flood, or the river at Yangshuo in China, particularly as it needs about 1000HP to push a 30-metre boat up them, on a single propeller over the top of hard rock ridges. To make matters more interesting, the only place to hang on was where the interlocking edges of the precariously balanced overhead door would land if a particularly sharp turn overbalanced it. However, we survived, got some good photos and thrills, and they kept the door open most of the way in spite of the rain wetting the first two seats and their occupants.
Above the rapids the door was closed for a while and MP got to watch another blood and guts American movie with the sound turned off and Chinese and Malay subtitles. By now we were in serious jungle country, with high, steep mountains, large trees, palms and creepers. There were villages on both banks, and slashed-and-burnt hillsides planted with fresh seedlings. A telephone tower on a high ridge on the left gave us a warning that Belaga was coming up, and we pulled up to a set of concrete steps leading up a 20-metre bank to a town just visible above. We had to check a couple of times as it was obvious that some passengers were going further, and we hadn't heard that this was possible.
At the top of the steps we got that "what are we doing here" feeling, as the town just appeared to be one row of shop-houses and a few buildings behind in the bush, but we headed straight for "Daniel's Corner" to find out what the story was.
We were hailed by a young Chinese girl who appeared mentally retarded, beckoning and pointing to where Daniel's Corner is. We couldn't explain that we already knew, figured she was some kind of tout, but later found out she was some sort of de-facto ward of Daniel's, and he provides food for her and her mother, as her brother, who should be supporting them, provides noodles and nothing else. Her name is Rosalind, and she is actually quite smart, but deaf and dumb. She is highly regarded by other travellers in the log book, but we find her a bit demanding and intrusive.
Daniel runs a sort of open house in a corner shop/house, which is set out like a restaurant, and has a ground floor kitchen, toilet and drinks machine. There are various people coming and going, including a Filipino maid, who had two kids and no husband, Daniel's son, and daughter, a teenage student, 14-ish, and fairly stereotypical. Daniel has to interrupt our negotiations to take her to school on the family motorbike. Daniel is the Councillor for the town, an unpaid position, but with "entertainment expenses" and travelling to attend meetings.
Over drinks, we discuss the possibilities of an overnight stay in a longhouse, and leaving by catching an early-morning 4WD to the highway, and getting "backpacker's rates" as distinct from Japanese Tourist Rates. The compromise we came up with was an afternoon run down the river to stay at Long Dungan, a Kenyah village that has been asking for a tourist visit, return in the morning and then a day trip up the river as far as the rapids below the Hydro Dam site at Bakun. The package comes to RM350 for the two of us, plus gifts and incidentals, which is pretty good compared with typically RM350 per person for a two-night longhouse stay on his list of tours.
Daniel prepares some gift parcels for the chiefs of the villages we will visit, while we have a walk around the town and down along the river bank through the Malay Kampong then round through the soccer field to town. Photograph across some attractive butterflies.


Buy some toilet paper and mandatory sweets for the village children. We weren't keen on promoting an expectation of gifts for tourists, or tooth decay, but this is the way it is done here.
We sorted out our gear to take what we think we will need for a longhouse visit into two daypacks, then at 4.30pm we headed off down the river in our raincoats, in the pouring rain, in a small speedboat of basic construction with vertical curved plank sides, plywood bottom and square timber frames. In spite of its basic construction, it still had the traditional extended, raised stern with a plank across it, out past the 15 HP outboard, a bit like a spoiler on a race car. It got along pretty well on the smooth water, planing on a couple of metres of the flat bottom, but could not handle larger waves, or wash from other boats well. It was also pretty slippery in the eddies and cross currents, so it was an interesting ride. Daniel stopped the motor often to point out items of interest, including the airport, which has to be accessed by speedboat from the town, and a number of longhouse villages.
At Long Dungan we come ashore at the main landing, walked through the combination of a traditional archway and ferry waiting shelter, past the small schoolroom and up the steps onto the chief's verandah. There are three or four dwellings facing onto this verandah, which is on poles about 2 metres high. His is the first one, and it turns out that this is where we will be staying. Daniel gives the gift pack to MP so he can present it to the chief, and we enter the building. This is a bit like the Kava gift protocol in Fiji, but here it is cooking oil and rice, or sugar. He and his son are building a number of rooms at the back of the house, but at present it is a open area, say 6-metres wide by 12 deep, with broad plank floors, and some windows, and some openings with coarse mesh. There were two toilet enclosures with plastic squat bowls and water barrels for flushing water.
Our room was very dark, with a window opening onto the new extension, a clean lino floor, and some furnishings. They brought in a thin mattress, and some pillows, and that was it. We talked for a while, then Daniel left us to it with the old man, Liang, the 30-ish son Ahe, who spoke some English, and his two young sons.
We set off to look at the village, encountering a bunch of small children, and we got rid of a fair proportion of our sweets. The children are pretty well behaved, and not expectant or insistent (yet), and we are able to walk right through the village and across the bridge to the next, which is a Kayan tribe village, Long Mujawah, which has two parallel, very long double storey longhouses under construction, and some run down single houses along the waterfront.


We get a less friendly reception here, so after looking at the older chief's house, with racing longboats ( some of them with seating for 60 people), slung under it, we return to our village. Walk to the other end and then back through elevated grain storage sheds with rat preventers on the poles, into the jungle behind, along a well marked track. It is getting dark, so we walk a short way, then return to our house to set up our mosquito nets and prepare for the night. We now have a new woven mat to go over our bare, sheet-less mattress, and we find nails in the wall so we can hang the net properly.
The chief invites us through the back to an elevated house behind for our evening meal. At this stage we have left our shoes at the front of the main house, but there are boards to walk on most of the way.
Our meal is rice, local spinach, a local fern vegetable, and carp-like fish in a soup. It is not too bad, although Dianne finds the fern pretty hard going. We decline the water, and fill up on rice, some very nice sweet pineapple, and small bananas.
It turns out that the son's wife has gone to hospital the day before, back in Kapit for a specialist to look at a persistent cough, and the son has done the cooking, and is looking after the two small boys. They probably don't really need us at the moment, but are hospitable and friendly. The son speaks fair English, has had some technical education, and was a heavy equipment driver and/or mechanic for four years, but prefers the more relaxed pace of subsistence farming, where you can take it easy for a month at a time, in between stints of hard work. The father (who is 51), has a lot of photos, certificates and trophies in the main room, and has been to important conferences. He has 7 or 12 children, depending on how you read the finger count, the son (who is about thirty) has 6, of which only 2 are not in boarding school (the oldest is 12, and his wife has had the snip so no more children. Later, up the river, have a very funny conversation with Daniel when we say Murray has had the snip. They haven't heard about men having it - very curious about whether he can still perform. Dianne gives them the "thumbs up" to say yes.
The son is leaving for Belaga early in the morning, as he provides transport to the villagers (and also presumably finding out how his wife is going) and the old man (he's actually only 51, younger than both of us, but he DOES seem old), will look after us in the morning. It rained during the night. During one of our excursions to the toilet, MP sees a large and frisky brown spider on the floor, and has a swing at it with DP's sandal, but misses, as doesn't want to make too much noise, because the chief and the two boys are only a paper thin wall away. After failing to find the spider by torchlight, we tuck the mosquito net in tight around the perimeter and hope for the best.
The old man is a pretty good snorer, the boys have coughs, and one boy has a drawn-out tantrum in the early morning (which is handled surprisingly gently by the old man,) and the village roosters are in good voice early, so it is not a great night's sleep.
Tues 7th September Long Dungan-Belaga
We get up fairly early, as with the range of distracting noises, sleep isn't possible. Breakfast has been set out on the floor in the new room, on a mat, under a plastic perforated fly preventer. It is very starchy bananas and water cracker biscuits. Later, the chief joins for coffee. We pack our gear and go for a walk into the scrub, passing the chief who is tidying up timber under his house, and further out along the path into the jungle, that we took the previous night. From the shore we could see some burnt hillside and thought we might be able to see the villagers planting paddy. A couple of hundred metres in, we came to a lookout point from which we could see a small field shelter and garden at the foot of the cleared area, and steeper hills beyond already planted. Apparently most of the villagers at present stay in the jungle planting the rice from Monday to Friday, sleeping in basic shelter, and come home for the weekend. They take the small children with them, but school-aged children stay at the boarding house in the village, as the government insists that all children go to school, no matter where they live.
Back at the village we walked along to the bridge again, met a woman taking a couple of reluctant students to school. She turns out to be a daughter of the chief, and she also has six children. Daniel turns up about 9am, pretty well on time, having left his boat up at the Kayan village and walked down. On the way back, he explains the difference between the tribes and the new longhouse for which the basic structure and roof were provided by the govt, and the walls, windows and fittings are gradually being filled in by the villagers. Most of the timber currently standing in interlocked stacks has been cut locally, using chainsaws.
The school at the far end was cordoned off with red and white striped tape to maintain security for special assessment exams, but we walked through to visit the school canteen and meet the staff. Daniel's wife is there. She is a teacher here, and goes back to Belaga only on weekends, which seems to suit Daniel just fine. She gives him some sort of a verbal serve, probably for going past the day before without stopping.
The lunch was being prepared in an enormous wok, and a kitchen hand was stripping leaves off a collection of small tree branches, Turns out to be "spinach" but looks like ordinary tree leaves. Some of the students come in for lunch, or to have a look at the faringhis, but even the teacher can't get them to try out their English on us, even though they have an exam in the subject this afternoon.
Back at the town, Daniel takes us down to the market, where we try a different durian which apparently doesn't smell, and buy some "spinach" and tapioco, which we're to have for dinner.
Have a drink while Daniel has a shower. There are a number of young boys hanging around the house now, and we find out that they are young Penan boys, who have been made to leave their villages to come to boarding school in the "big smoke", and they're homesick and want to go home. Daniel is responsible for them while they're here.
Get a pack of chicken wings out of the freezer, prepare another gift for the village we are visiting, and head out again, this time with a youth, who is nominally the cook, but is going back to his home village. The river width varies, and runs quite close to the ridge at some points. At others, the valley spreads out quite wide. There is a major logging camp with big wharves, and proper made roads coming into it. Apparently a bus runs to the highway from here, but you would have to be game to get off the boat to wait for it.
There is a substantial village on the south side and Daniel asks if we want to walk along with his offsider, and he parks off the downstream end. The log we walk ashore on is pretty narrow, and we almost have a swim. Daniel's offsider doesn't want to walk, as he doesn't know the village, so Daniel comes with us, and is trapped into having lunch in the house whose back door we use. They are drying native tobacco substitute, and we have to decline a smoke, but Daniel has one, then says we will have lunch on the way back- wild boar!
The house is poor, but spotlessly clean, and they have a lot of knick-knacks, including a flash looking water filter, but the waste discharges directly under the house, and the whole area under the houses looks pretty toxic.
We walk the length of the village, where Daniel taught at the school for a few years, wave to the kids hanging out the school windows, use their toilet, and get back into the boat.
The next leg takes us all the way up to the Bakun rapids. There is a big sign on the bank saying this is the end of the line, but Daniel guns the motor and says "let's go", but slows again, and just takes us to the base of the rapids and the edge of the current, then back to the landing for the longhouse. We get out the frozen chicken wings, which should be just about cooked in the blazing sun by now, and the offsider goes looking for somewhere to cook them. The long house is double storied, and about forty rooms long, but much of it is deserted, with the normally 500 inhabitants reduced to about a dozen, with the rest having gone to new land on the highway, closer to the cash economy, but without the subsistence food that the river provides. An old man was given the food package, so we assume that he was the hereditary chief, but he was then roped in to cook the chicken wings while we talked to James, a 40ish man who seemed to be the wheeler dealer of the operation.
He is the watchman for the sand dredging operation providing material for the dam, which has two dredges, a couple of front-end loaders and some trucking capacity. He is staying put, hoping the government makes him an offer he can't refuse. Daniel originally came from upriver of the dam, but has not lived there for years as he was away teaching. Nevertheless, he got a government payout when his land was taken for the dam. Here they are in a bind because, although they have not lost their land, they are now the end of the line, and will not have passing trade, transport services etc.
The longhouse is unusual that has a concrete ground level verandah/walkway, and the stairs to the first floor are internal. There are other, smaller longhouses, and single dwellings in the village, possibly occupied by the dredging workforce.
While waiting for lunch, we walk along the bank, then out through the ferry waiting room to the riverside, then along to the sand spit which has been built by dredging. There is a fair size valley running up to the left, but no obvious river coming out of it. This is where the second dredge is, probably being supplied from this valley. By the time we get back, the chicken has been cooked a very dark shade of black, but tastes OK. After, we have flavoured water followed by rice wine reluctantly produced by James at Daniel's urging. It was pretty strong, and pretty murky, so we were not all that confident of holding on to our remarkably good health.
We left the offsider here and headed downriver, this time huddled under the raincoat, but to keep out of the sun, not rain. Back at the first village we did our obligatory lunch stop for rice, wild boar stew with hairy lumps of fatty pork in, and the local greens cooked with pepper. This cost Daniel a few RM's he hadn't budgeted, but after we took a photo, he got the man of the house to hack open the very tough skull with a panga to get the brains.


During lunch, the conversation raised the fact that our hostess was a twice-divorced woman. This was in spite of a full set of gold teeth, but we were told that it was her choice because the men drank too much and couldn't perform.
Just above the town another river comes in from the west, and Daniel asked us if we wanted to have a look at the strong rapids -"complimentary trip", and we headed around the back of the town and a couple of kms up a 30-metre wide stream with trees hanging over. At one point it widened out, and a lot of swallows were skimming the water, and it looked more like they were fishing rather than drinking. The rapids were indeed strong, and probably not passable even for a high-powered jet boat, but the stream goes up a long way, several days on foot. Daniel was teaching at a village up there for a couple of years.
Get back to Belaga about 5pm, luckily too late to have to endure going with Rosalind to listen to her mother (who has "mental problems") sing. Book into a simple Chinese hotel, with a/c, and bathroom with hot water, for 35 RM where we have a rest, then back to Daniel's at 7pm for dinner of more wild boar soup, fish, and several vegetable dishes and settle up. The fish we had looked very like a piranha. It had very few, widely spaced bones and was tough though quite tasty. It was described as coming from the sea, but may easily have been a reconstituted salted fish. The bill worked out as expected, with no nasty surprises, and we thanked Daniel for a good trip, and hit the sack early, after using the pliers and a chair to regulate the ceiling level air conditioner. The showers these days are electric unit heaters mounted beside the shower, but have built in safety controls, and aren't nearly as scary as the South American equivalent.
Wed 8th September Belaga-Miri(Sarawak)-Kuala Belait (Brunei)
Go to Daniel's at 8am as arranged, where there is a Toyoto Lite-ace Crew-cab 4WD waiting. He has some gas bottles being taken to be filled, and drives around town to collect another. We wait for him to pick up some more passengers, but he heads out of town with just us. He speaks English, and has an English station on the radio, so he's obviously been hand-picked for us by Daniel. We hope the 50 RM per person charge still applies!
The town is surprisingly big, with a lot of government service buildings, big primary and secondary schools, and some middle class housing. The roads around the town are concrete, and quite good, and don't deteriorate to 4WD standard till well out of town. The valley is pretty wide, and we take a while to climb out of low hills with some slash and burn agriculture onto the main range. There are some pretty steep climbs, but the worst have been concreted, though there are quite a few greasy patches where the driver has to fight to keep on the centre of the road.

High on the range, our driver points out a recently planted slash and burn plot, with paddy seedlings already sprouting. This is his patch, and he plans on planting fruit trees, maybe pepper and other cash crops. He has worked as a timber lorry driver for a few years, but now has two 4WD's, and drives to Bintulu every day with freight and passengers.
At the highest point of the range there is a lookout, but we can't see back to the river because of low cloud. MP sees a hornbill in a high tree, and some other large birds, and we see some colourful red and yellow birds, but otherwise the trip is wildlife free.
We only encounter one log truck, and that is once we are on the bitumen road. Last night's rain has kept them off the road in the slippery sections, but there are quite a few cars and 4WD's. There seems to be a pretty cavalier attitude to which side of the road you use, even in the faster sections. MP was considering asking the driver to stick to his side, but no-one else coming the other way is, so who knows... When someone gets caught out, they just use the blinkers to show which way they are going to take evasive action.
Once we are away from the main range, the country becomes pretty scruffy, with regrowth from slash and burn, small farms and some pepper plantations. When we hit the tar road, which goes through to the Bakun Hydro Project, the traffic increases, but the road, while unbroken, has a lot of jump-ups from overloading by log and power station supply trucks, and we still have to travel carefully. The road appears to go all the way through to Miri, and we wonder if we should have got off at the deserted shack at the turn off, as we seem to be getting too close to Bintulu. Our driver shouts us a coke each, which we later regret, and drops us beyond the main turn-off, which is marked by dozens of active stalls, so we can get first go at buses passing. We just miss a bus as we are getting out, then have to wait about 20 minutes before another comes along.
It stops at our request, and we put our bags in the aisle. It is a pretty flash bus, and it looks like it is going through to Brunei, and we consider going through on the burst. Our can of coke is also causing a certain amount of bursting, and we fear that they won't stop till Miri, but they stop at a very good highway restaurant complex for half an hour, and we get into Miri just after 2pm.
We cannot work out if they are going to Brunei, but the office says they only have one bus a day, and it goes at 10.30am. As the normal bus leaves at 3.30 in town, we get a Taxi to the bus station, and find the Brunei bus ticket office. DP has to reassure the ticket woman that Australians can get a Visa, and we get official looking tickets and an immigration form. As we have plenty of time to kill, we drag our bags into town to look at the waterfront park, but the waterfront we can see is pretty industrial. The town looks better as we get further into it, and they are trying to turn it into a tourist trap, but they are up against it.
To double check, we talk to the tourist info girl, who is quite helpful and rings immigration to check. It seems ok, but we will need either 15 or 50 B$ to get a visa. Possibly $Singapore will do, but $B would be better. DP holds the fort while MP goes looking for the bank that the tourist girl said was behind the office. Can't find a bank, and is worried about the time a bank would take, but sees first a money lender, then a money changer, where he quickly changes RM 250 without quibbling too much about the rate.
Aust $1 = B$1.16
1 Brunei dollar = A$0.86
We have been told "over there" as a place to wait for the bus, but through enquiry narrow it down to a blue and white bus in one of the centre parking spots, and finally a bus with the right number plate turns up. We are on the manifest, so put our bags under and climb aboard for what the guide book promises is a marathon journey, but turns out to be quite straightforward, as there is a shortcut across the dogleg shown on the map, and a new bridge on the Malaysian side. Malaysian (Sarawak) immigration is done at a drive-through booth, without baggage, but we have to abandon the bus at the Brunei immigration. We fear a hard time, but get a visa straight away. The only problem is we only have a 100 B$ note, and customs can't make $70 change. Immigration suggests getting the conductor to change it, but all we can see is our Sarawak driver, who can't help. When we try again, realise he means the conductor of the Brunei bus, who looks like an androgynous civilian, so we are confused when the immigration officer refers to "she". We keep our form of address non-sexist to avoid causing insult, and do a deal for $B 30, with the change to be organised. Later a passenger is able to make change, so we sort it out OK.
It is only a short trip in a non A/C bus to the ferry which takes us into Kuala Belait (KB) bus station. We have had enough for one day, and there are no obvious ongoing connections, so we determine that there is a 6.30 bus in the morning, and head for the Sentosa Hotel which we can see 100 m away, rather than the cheaper one 4 km away, or the Govt rest house, which may be full. We do a pretty good deal at $B70, quite a nice room if a bit small, with a good bed, and cable TV.
We head out to walk the town. Seems to be nice enough, if a bit spread out. Get money at HSBC, walk the town then a long haul out to the very ordinary beach. The water is shallow, not dirty, but not clear either, and there are a lot of oil rigs out at sea. On the way back to town, an odd object on the top of a minaret catches MP's attention. It turns out to be a hornbill. It is pretty timid, and has its eye on us. As soon as we try to get close, it moves. A second bird turns up -looks like a mating pair. They fly off together when we approach too close. The wildlife obviously think it's safer here than out in the rainforest!
We found a restaurant area with reasonable Chinese food and back to hotel, as KB does not have a hell of a lot of night life. Spend ages using the free hotel internet, uploading document and photos to travelpod. Murray goes to room, and Dianne stays on internet, and chats to local woman. Told that there is a royal wedding in BSB tomorrow, and it is a public holiday, and that there will be traffic jams in the city.
Brunei is one of the smallest countries in the world - and one of the wealthiest. It's a tiny Islamic sultanate, and presiding over it is His Majesty Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah, the 29th of his line and better known as the Sultan of Brunei (it's his eldest son, the Crown Prince Pg. Muda Haji Al-Muhtadee Billah, who is getting married tomorrow). He's 30, and is marrying a half Swiss/ half Brunein 17 year old college student.
Brunei's economy is almost wholly fuelled by oil, which comes mainly from offshore wells at Seria and Muara. It is only just starting to be promoted as a tourist destination.
Back in room, we are interrupted by the front desk, who insist that we move to a larger room. When MP says we are fine here, what is the problem, they say the new room is close. Realise that they think they are doing us a favour, but decline the offer when the manager comes up to move us, and stay.
Thursday 9th September Kuala Belait to Bandar Seri Begawan(Brunei)
We had decided to take the early bus, hoping to get to BSB before the traffic jams, and were at the bus stop by 6.15 for the purple local bus, which arrived at 6.30. The bus gave us a grand tour of the town, then down the well kept highway, through an army barracks, oil company settlement, past a lot of oil recovery infrastructure to the Seria bus terminal, in the shadow of a giant shopping mall. We were directed to the continuing bus to BSB, and bought tickets on board. Most of the passengers seemed to be oil company workers, or guest workers. We saw a hornbill on a light pole, and fairly middle class housing and commercial buildings. Closer in to BSB, we passed a giant mosque, and headed into the heart of town, and into the bus station in the basement of a high rise, about 9.30 am.
We knew the procession for the royal wedding was going to happen pretty early, and we could see the crowds building, so we oriented ourselves and hot-footed it towards our chosen hotel to drop our gear. A Mercedes Benz pulls up beside us, and the Chinese driver offers us a lift to a hotel owned by a friend of his. We were going to decline, but it was a hotel DP had considered promising, but a bit far out. The driver explained that it was quick and cheap to town by water taxi, so we got in. He explained that because of the crowds, he would take a long way around, but it was still quick, and in only 15 minutes we were booking into our $B30 hotel with A/C, fan and hot water. The manageress was a mine of information, wrote down the buses and water taxi stops we would need, and showed us the TV, which had a direct broadcast of the wedding. Our information was the wedding was at 9am, and the procession through the streets started at 10am, but the TV was showing guests still arriving, so we knew this wasn't quite right. Checked in our valuables, and we were out in about 10 minutes and on our way to the Shell garage and water taxi stop at Bombas laut, which we think means water-borne fire brigade. We were looking for something more substantial than a landing, so tried the fire station first, but then walked out a jetty to a covered shelter shed with a rung ladder down to the water, and hailed a passing taxi.
The taxis are an almost triangular planked skiff, about 5 metres, with a continuous seat around the passenger area, and a driver's cockpit, with a 60 HP outboard, so they get along pretty well. They nose in to the landing, and keep the motor in forward while the passengers get on the pointy end. We were dropped on the steps in the canal near the bus station in the same manner, after a 15 minute run up the channel, with wooded hills on the right and the Malay stilt village on the left.
Now about 10am. The parade route was pretty well defined by people now, so we headed toward clearer ground near the grand mosque. We sat for a long while on the kerb and talked to a local who was from KB, and had set out at 5am with his family. There was a group of high school students opposite, and a large contingent of police cadets who were spaced out along the median strip to fill in the blanks and make it look like a big crowd. To kill some time, we looked at the outside of the mosque, then decided to walk upstream against the direction of the parade to hasten our encounter. We stopped a while outside the flash shopping centre where the doors were open and the street was air conditioned, which was very much appreciated as it was stinking hot, and everyone waiting in the streets was wilting. We then transferred to across the street to a vacant spot on the fence in the sun, set up our umbrellas and waited. Getting sick of it, we went into a flash restaurant for a take-away coke, and found that they had TV coverage of the procession there. Realise we could have sat there the whole time in the cool, and just ventured out as the procession approached. Now about 12.30pm, and we went back to our spot just as the big storm, which had been threatening all morning, finally broke. We didn't have our raincoats with us, and it was blowing too hard to hold up the umbrellas high, so we got soaked to the skin, along with all the other spectactors. The previously demure white clad schoolgirls were now soaked to the skin.
We hung in until the gold encrusted Rolls with the open pavilion with the royal couple, the floats with royal children, and the closed cars full of dignitaries passed, before hotfooting to shelter.



We decided we should sort ourselves out in a non-A/C restaurant, and Pizza Hut looked the best bet. We spread our wet gear out while we had a fair, but expensive pizza Super Supreme, then went up to the toilet to dry off as well as possible with the electric hand dryers.
We had decided to head for home to regroup, but the rain stopped, the sun came out, and we decided to carry on with our explorations, stopping first for a good look at the mosque grounds, then crossing the causeway to the far side of the mosque and out onto a street which led across some very grotty tidal flats to a raised bridge over one of the minor rivers.


From here we could get a pretty good look at the river life, taxis, stilt houses and people going about their Kampong lifestyle.


We then walked through the flash shopping centres, looking for memory cards. Couldn't find in the local radio-shack equivalent, but got a blank CD in a department store, and a 256MB card in the photographic section, changing it over there and then to make sure it was compatible.
We got our water taxi back to our stop and walked home for a rest before venturing out again before sunset to take sunset photos over the town from Bukit Selok, about half way to town, and 100M up the side of the hill by some really steep steps. The sunset was pretty good, but we stayed till dark, when it started to rain heavily, and we had to sit it out in the shelter. There may have been fireworks, but we weren't in any mood to wait up to find out, as the day had started a long way off at 6 AM. We sloshed back home through the puddles in the riverside park, as it was too risky walking the narrow road in dark raincoats. Stopped near home at a large Indian restaurant for a classic over-order, but it was pretty good, and well priced. Walking 11 kms
Friday 10th September - Bandar Seri Begawan(Brunei)
We knew the Museum closed early on Fridays, so set off walking away from town, hoping to stop a 39 bus on the way, but ended walking all the way to the Sultan's tomb, which was up a pretty good hill, then on to the museum, where we arrived about 10, knowing it closed at 11. The museum was pretty good, both on the oil industry, and general and Muslim history. DP said she was going down to look at the Malay Technology Museum, and MP assumed she meant downstairs, so when the Japanese Crown Prince turned up, and we were unceremoniously bundled out of the lower back door, DP didn't show up, and she was presumed locked in with the prince. It turned out that "down" to the Tech museum was actually right down the hill to the river bank, so DP climbed back up to find the patrons rubbernecking at the VIP's.
The 39 bus turned up, and we stayed on it all the way to town, where we transferred to a bus passing the royal palace, and got off at a park beside the water just after the palace.
The park was a bit tired, with a large collection of sculptures representing ASEAN unity, quietly rotting. The waterfront was pretty rugged, and even in front of the palace, which was restricted, it was still pretty scruffy. We walked back past the palace for photos of the buildings and gardens, then all the way back to where we figured the #1 circular bus had to pass. Unfortunately, the logical route was complicated by a freeway and the hospital, and it took a lot of walking, questions and luck, all in the very hot midday sun as usual, to catch a bus going in the right direction.
It took us right past the Jame'Asr Hassanal Bolkiah mosque, the largest in Brunei, which was built at great expense for the 25th anniversary of the Sultan's reign in 1992, then into a no-man's land of expressways and roundabouts before delivering us to the big Gadong shopping centre. Here, we basked in the A/C, found an internet cafe which made particularly good slushies, then headed back out, walking the expressways to work our way to the back entrance to the mosque. The grounds were open, so DP slipped into her discrete gear and we checked out the building and grounds, which were pretty flash. In particular there was a grove of large Royal palms leading up to the main entrance. As soon as possible DP shed her demure gear and we founnd what looked like a suitable bus stop to catch a #1 bus. As usual, it is not that simple, and we had to run to the corner to catch the bus which appeared from the other leg of the T-junction and did some wild loops around the main road junction past the hospital before heading into town.
We made it to the centre mosque in time to visit, only to find the rules have been changed, so we look in the front door, and bask in the A/C. We get talking to a Canadian couple, Dean and Charlotte, who have just arrived, and pass on a bit of our local knowledge. We are determined to hang around long enough to see the sunset behind the mosque, and the city lit up at night. Do so, and get some impressive sunset and city lights shots.


There was a large night market, with restaurants and food vendors, but nothing much appealed, so we kept on walking into town, to a chicken restaurant we ended up using a few times. Back to the water taxi stand in the canal, having given up any thoughts of hanging around for the rumoured fireworks at the palace. We took the taxi with a second couple, who were going to the stilt village, and they got off without being asked to pay, then carried on to Bombas Laut, across the dark, choppy water with only a spotlight to guide us and warn other craft .As this was all done flat chat with a 60 HP outboard, it was pretty exciting, particularly passing marker piles which loomed out of the darkness, unobserved (we suspect) by our driver.
However, fortune favours the brave, and we made it back without major incident, for a fairly early night.
Sat 11 September 2004 Bandar Seri Begawan(Brunei)-Kota Kinabalu (Sabah)
We were going to do an early morning visit to the stilt village before departing, but made a late start, and decided to give it a miss. We walked toward the water taxi stop with some apprehension, as getting the bags aboard without going over the side would not be easy, but a new 4WD stopped and offered us a lift to the bus station. Thus we arrived and departed in style. At the bus station it was not clear exactly where we should wait for the express bus to the ferry, but we kept asking to narrow down the location. We talked to Dean and Charlotte while we waited, then looked around the corner to find our silver and pink, un-numbered bus waiting. It had the luggage cage typical of shuttles, so we settled down confidently to wait for departure.
It was quite a long haul, through developing country, commercial and residential areas, plus a fair bit of bush, to the industrial and port area to the extreme east of the country. We were able to get a reasonable meal, and got our immigration sorted out after some tense queuing, and a rush for the best seating.
We were only economy class, downstairs, and the only access through to the external deck area seemed to be through the upstairs, maybe 1st class area. MP went up to get a look at the port before we left, but had to move inside until tickets were sorted out and we had cleared port. There was a long marked, and probably dredged channel to well out to sea before we could turn and head for Labuan, which could be seen from the port. From out at sea you could see the mountains of Sabah, and some extremely heavy rainfall. None of the four exhaust pipes aft of the deck rejoiced in the luxury of a muffler, and the noise level was unbelievable, much more so than in previous ferries, maybe not turbocharged, or just crook condition. By the time we had to go below for entry into Labuan, the ears were fairly ringing.
By the time we got ashore, we were running fairly tight on time to get the next ferry, and we were glad when the queue-master shuffled us into the Malaysian Passport line. We thought he had done us a favour, but the other line seemed to be going faster.
DP went through first, and headed off in search of tickets, and found them in the same building, where we had to loop back through the same gangway, and into a larger, more flash ferry now waiting at the same berth we had just left. We ended up in first class, in front of a "resort wear" dressed Australian couple, who were staying at the Magellan resort in KK, and were on the return leg of a day's shopping trip to the duty-free port. They seemed pretty impressed by the shopping, and the 1 Ringitt beers, but hadn't seen much of the island.
We couldn't get outside on this leg, but the weather had turned nasty anyway, so copped it sweet in the comfort of 1st class travel. By the time we arrived, it was raining fairly hard, and the water looked pretty grey out toward the Tunku Abdul Rahman islands, and it was getting dark.
Walked a long way into town under umbrellas, sloshing along beside the road, with a fair bit of traffic. On our way to the preferred Kinabalu Daya hotel, we thought we would try our luck at the Capital, but told it was full. Tried several others, same story, told there was the Frog Dance on this weekend, hence the problem. Found ourselves outside the Planet Kinabalu Hostel, which had dorm beds only, so decided to leave MP holding the fort with the bags under the awning while DP did the rounds of all the hotels, from the Hyatt down to the lowest brothel, all without luck. She now knows that there is a University convocation on, as well as a folk festival.and it is Saturday night, so things are grim. Back at the hostel, MP has talked to some locals who were knocked back at the hostel, so figures it is now full, but it turns out there still 3 or 4 beds left, so settle for an upstairs/downstairs bunk, in a 20 bed room for 18 each, including breakfast, and head out in search of a feed.
The "beach street", a sort of disco/karaoke/food area did not look promising so we kept looking and found the food court area of the Wisma Modeca pretty good, although we over-ordered severely. Back at the room, MP to the sack, DP read till 11.30, then, much to our surprise, we had a pretty good sleep, virtually snore-free, until they started setting up the Sunday market at about 5AM , dropping a lot of pipes in the process. DP managed to sleep through most of it.
Sunday 12 September Kota Kinabalu (KK)
MP is up early to look at the large and active Sunday Market right outside, with lots of fruit, clothes, orchids, tools, electrical goods, and a variety of packaged nuts and fruit. We have a surprisingly good American breakfast with our voucher at the local cafe, but cannot negotiate milk for the coffee. Later we buy some Kinabalu T-shirts, but can't bring ourselves to buy the "I climbed Mt Kinabalu" captioned shirts yet, as we not sure we'll make it. We nearly buy some sugar-coated peanut look-alikes in the market, but can't work out what they really are, so, after an initial foray into the supermarket for ten toilet rolls, buy a lot of rubbish snack food for the climb.
Fairly early we book a room at the Capital Hotel, transfer there at 10.30, then head out to look for the office which handles Mt Kinabalu bookings to set up accommodation at the base and on the mountain, plus a night at Poring hot springs after the climb. We also check out the dive/snorkel scene at Sipadan, but come up empty. Later, after another meal at the food court, we walk the waterfront, past an interesting but very smelly fish market and waterfront weekend market area.


DP wants to walk all the way to the flash hotel area, or catch a bus to it, but MP objects, and we turn around and head back at the big Centrepoint supermarket. It looks a bit tired, but is pretty busy. On the way back it starts to rain and blow. After, we go to the supermarket for climbing supplies, but can't find anything exciting. We get a take-away Burger king and eat it in bed, watching local TV.
Monday 13th September2004 KK - Mt Kinabalu Park HQ
We pay for a breakfast at our free breakfast spot, then head out to the bus station a few blocks away. Stinking hot. Accosted by a number of taxi and mini-bus drivers on the way, but resist until we get to the bus stand. We were spruiked into a reasonably full minibus, the driver turned up, paid off the spruiker, and we set off East through the town. Out into extensive suburbs to the east, before cutting inland through low watercourse country, with ranges to the south. We started climbing fairly soon, on a good road with mountain views to the south, the Crocker Range, but couldn't see any sign of Kinabalu itself. We encountered heavy rain, and a lot of fog on the windows, so the driving was a bit hazardous. Approaching the park, we were just getting into our wet weather gear when the rain stopped.
We checked out the restaurant on the main road, then hauled uphill to the park HQ to register and pay our considerable list of fees. The hostel was 250m downhill on a good road, through thick jungle. We booked in to a 14-bed room, left our gear and continued on to the restaurant just as the park video finished. We stayed for a reasonably-priced lunch in the very swish looking restaurant, then, as it was raining, sat around in the hostel to wait for the afternoon session of the film. Talked to fellow travellers, and watched an incredibly well-organised bonding team from Malaysian Telecom set up a giant barbecue meal, including heaps of chicken wings which they shared with everyone. We were so busy with the chicken wings we nearly missed the second film session. There was good coverage on the unique flora, but not a lot on the walk itself.
Back at the lodge, there was more talk, then into bed for a night of rain on the roof ,and snoring. MP's dose of flu was starting to kick in, so not a great night's sleep.
Tuesday 14th September Mt Kinabalu N.P.
Up and on the go by 7am, dragged the bags uphill to check in the valuables and the bags. MP nursed his flu while DP bought packed lunches and does a deal with Rob and Rebecca to share a guide between the 4 of us. The park management is very reasonable, refunding Rob's money and re-organising a 4-way share price for the compulsory guide.
We were on the 8.30 bus to the start of the walk, and through the check point, where our tags were registered, by 8.45 and on our way.




The first section was downhill, on boardwalks, but then, after crossing in front of a good waterfall, it headed up on generally good paths, with gravelled slopes, steps combined from tree roots, cut and stapled wooden risers, and natural rock outcrops, with the odd rung stairway with a timber handrail. The track was well shaded, and ran through thick bush, with occasional flowers, and lots of hanging vines.
There were small birds in the bush, but otherwise wildlife was limited to a resident squirrel at each of the rest shelters. Our guide, Petros, pointed out some impressive pitcher plants on the way up, and we took photos of orchids, rhododendrons, and the general geography.
The climb seemed to go on forever, with the distance signs, nominally at 500m intervals, seeming a lot further apart than that. In the last half km, it started to rain in earnest, and we finished the climb in wet raincoats at 1.45 PM for a 5 hour climb.
The Laban Rata lodge was quite well appointed, with a large common area looking out over a waterfall and a view down the valley, a good restaurant, and heated rooms on the upper level. We sat and ate our cheese sandwich lunch, which went down surprisingly well, then MP hit the sack for a few hours coma. Later we had another meal and hit the sack for a restless sleep in the sauna-like room, which we shared with two English couples, one young, the other a classic second-try travelling combination.
Wednesday 15th September Mt Kinabalu - Poring Hot Springs
We are up at 2am as everyone else is, and get away by 2.45. It is cool out, with a clear sky, and we don't feel cold in our thermals and semi-warms. We are glad we have two torches, as, even though there are lights around the lodges, it is pitch dark along the paths through bushes. Rob goes on ahead, but we keep pace with Rebecca for most of the way. We can see the bulk of the mountain against the stars, and a procession of lights stretching out above us. At first the path has flights of wooden steps, then rough boulders and finally sheets of solid rock, with ropes stapled to the rock to provide support and something to haul up on. It is too dark to see where you would end up if you slipped, which was probably a good thing.
As we climbed higher, we could see the craggy top of the mountain take shape, then we arrived at the check point to have our name tags checked and recorded. From here the sheets of bare rock started in earnest, but we could still see the lights climbing ever higher. The rock sheets were provided with ropes, but mostly they weren't required, as you could pick out a dry track which provided sufficient traction for our boots. One under-prepared climber was having trouble, as he had plastic bags over his socks, and they were making his shoes slip off. The altitude was starting to kick in, and we were doing 50 step stages between rests.
Once we came to the saddle, we could see a light right on the peak, and were able to make good time until the final pinch, and got to near the top quite quickly. MP overdid it jumping from boulder to boulder, and had to sit down or a while to settle the stomach while DP took the camera and proceeded to the top (Low's Peak - 4095 metres!) to catch the sunrise at about 6.15.


MP made it up later, but came down with crook guts again after climbing up and down to take photos.
It was now pretty cold, and we had wet our gloves pulling on the wet ropes, so our hands and ears were bitterly cold. MP went down to the saddle level to look over into Low's Gully and sit in the sun to thaw out the fingers while DP took more photos, then we headed down. It was quite different in full light, with the sloping rock sheets a lot longer than we thought, and ending in long drops over the side.


A few people, including DP slipped on the way down, but the ropes were actually quite useful for doing a sort of rapel. We had thawed out pretty well by the time we arrived at the check-point, and made good time, although the crowd tended to bottleneck on the steeper sections.




Dianne had asked an Australian couple, Len and Leanne Hanrahan, to take her photo with the sign, and we kept pace with them pretty well to the bottom of the hill.