A Waterfall, A Snake & 3 Watering Holes
July 28, 2010
So I went to Jangkar two Sundays ago. It’s this incredibly beautiful waterfall an hour away from town. There aren’t many untarred roads left so close to the city. Rumbling along untarred and be-pebbled roads for long stretches bring me back to the days when my family would rent a van or minibus to go the unsullied sands of Siar Beach. On occasion, mum would even bring her TV along. I swear that’s true.
My days of constant jungle-trekking are pretty much over, or at least dormant. So I was only prepared for a mid-range 4-hour trek at most. But a relatively easy 55 minutes later on a mild up-slope, the waterfall sang its thunderous song of water and rock right in front of me.
The day was overcast. A light drizzle cooled the walk down nicely. And the water was refrigerator cold. As with most of my forays into the forest, it was a bunch of guy friends and me. Ah Huat and I ended up on one end of waterfall and sat there just taking it all in.
At first, I thought it was just sandflies, or any one of 1001 elements that make you scratch your skin when you’re in the great outdoors. And then Ah Huat gave a manly shriek (it was manly, but still a shriek nonetheless).
I looked down and there was the tail end of a rather stubby brown snake, the skin glistening in the water. It was between the fold of my knee and the rock I was reclining on. Quite calmly, I moved my leg to let it past. It decided not to. But made like it was going to do a u-turn. Ah Huat shrieked again (in the same manly manner). That got me quite panicky by then. I stood up to let the snake past. And started to slip down the rock I was on.
That was it. I could either smack back down on my backside and sit on the snake or I could jump back in the water and swim for my life.
I swam for my life, closely followed by a panicky Ah Huat.
Tao De Bike (Offroad Riding) - Musings of A Newbie Mountain Biker
March 10, 2010
Last week, I went on my first off-road mountain-biking experience. Like most things that I get myself into, I had no idea what I was in for. When I was 12, I used to do bunny hops, wheelies, track stands and other popular BMX stunts popular with the neighbourhood boys. At least, I think I tried to execute some pathetic semblance of those tricks. Frankly, I think I only imagined I did those bike stunts. It probably looked more like a chubby kid looking weird on a BMX. I never thought I would ever, ever, ever have to try and do those things again in my mid-thirties.
I bought a second-hand mountain bike off a friend who was going away for a few years. It was a decent 3-year-old GT Avalanche for RM500 (~USD125). I’m told it’s a very decent bike (I know very little about bikes. They are meant to be hopped on and pedalled away. Period). Two days after I wheeled it in, I took it out for what would’ve turned out to be a 120-kilometre ride if I had completed it. It had a wonky back wheel, under-pumped tires, and the last time I did any serious cycling, I was not old enough to drive.
Obviously, I had no idea what I was doing.
That was last September. I’ve cycled over 900km on-road since. Closer to 1,000 actually.
Back to my off-road experience. It was in a quarry. There was a lot of getting off and pushing the bike; a lot more huffing, puffing and some wheezing. And then it was speeding downhill on a rocky road with a high chance of flying off your bike and doing a superwoman into a ditch. My first downhill slope scared the living daylights out of me. I had to come off the bike and push. It scared me even more when one adventure buddy hurtled pass me in a blur and kissed the rocks on the ground.
But, you’re off-road, it’s a long trail. It gets tiresome to push your bike, especially downhill. You get fed up and you tell yourself what the hey, just go for it. The more earthy of us went “SH*&#T!!” I’m more religious. I went “SHHHHHHH*#^$^#P$$TTTTT!” first and then “Thank you, Lord” when I reached the bottom in one piece. Essentially, it was a matter of hanging on for dear life. But what fun. And what freedom. I now understand the true effect of adrenaline a lot more. There’s always an element of fear, but then you face that and the adrenaline is like a drug.
And then you’re free.
But on my last and steepest downhill hanging on to dear life jobbie, I struck the beginnings of what I call mountain biking zen. I realized then that off-roading is a lot like life:
1. If you look at all the pebbles and rocks right in front when you’re going downhill, you’re more likely to fall off unnecessarily. Look ahead at the bigger picture, aim for where you want to be, hang on, keep your balance, and you’ll reach your destination.
2. You can’t sit on your behind all the time. Sometimes, very often, you need to stand up on your pedals or pedal very hard in order to stay on the bike, or to make your ride smoother.
3. Going uphill is a real slog, but no matter how slow you get, as long as you pedal and keep your balance, you’re unlikely to fall off.
4. It’s OK to get off and push. We all need a little help from time to time.
5. Experienced mountain bikers often look cool, tough and intimidating because they have skills. And they look….cool. But once you get into the thick of things, they are approachable, good people. Some are even teddy bears. Don’t judge books by their covers, even adventure thrillers.
6. You don’t really need to train yourself to go off-road. The off-roading itself is the training. Pre-offroad training in the gym, on-road, etc. helps, but they are not the real thing.
7. People are kind. They will encourage you. They will make jokes. But they are kind. How you act or react to them is entirely your choice.
8. There will always be fear. If you don’t meet it head on, you’re not going to finish the course.
9. Adrenaline rocks. It’s also scary. Every time.
10. You test your faith all the way. You’re also better off competing with yourself and enjoying that
Will I go off-road again? Very likely.
Will I be scared? Indubitably. Scared beyond belief.
Will I have fun? Isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that life?
N.B. The Wordsmith has gone off-road twice since writing this. Each off-road experience is
different from the next and brings with it different life lessons and zen realizations.
Cycling Sematan on a Lazy Saturday
November 1, 2009
Question: Who wakes up at 5am on a free-and-easy Saturday?
Answer: Nuts who are into cycling around the countryside, exploring less beaten paths.
It’s always a blessing and a joy to be able to hurtle away from town and get into whichever adventure gear with like-minded activity buddies. One lazy Saturday, it was to be cycling in Sematan.
Off we went, the three of us; minus our Sifu, Yoda and Master Kwai Chang Cane equivalent, who had to save the world from his office.
We piled the bikes on the pick-up and drove 110 km to the coastal village of Sematan, my childhood holiday beachside playground. We clocked 24 km at a leisurely pace, stopping often to take photos, enjoy the scenery and say hello to the friendly locals.
This is a pictorial essay of our trip. For once, I will let pictures paint my words. It was wonderful. I want to savour the joy of the ride in my soul for the moment.
A Review of Shoe Technology for the Jungle – Vibram vs. Contagrip vs. Adidas Kampung Technology
October 17, 2009
I’ve been jungle trekking since 1997. That’s 12 years. I used to be do it for business and pleasure. Now I just do it for pleasure. Twelve years of walking the jungles of Borneo, I can boil it down to three essential take-home lessons:
- Keep it simple. You don’t need any high-end gadgets in the jungle. GPS system? Expensive camping bits and pieces? Nothing beats a good team of local trackers and their parangs. They work in all weather conditions too. All the other branded stuff are whistles and bangs and add to the cool factor. When it boils down to it, it’s you and your team.
- Relax. Drop the ego and don’t try to be the first, the fastest, the bestest. Enjoy the ride, whatever level of fitness you’re at.
- Invest in a pair of good shoes, a pair of good shoes and a pair of good shoes. This may or may not mean a pair of expensive shoes. What are good shoes? What makes them good? Good shoes do three crucial things – they support your ankles, they support your arches and they have good shock absorption. If you suffer from plantar fasciitis, which about 30% of Asians and 25% of Americans do (I’m in that 30%), you REALLY need good shoes.
Jungle shoes that work for me are what I want to talk about today. I don’t trek for work anymore because I effectively wrecked my feet and knees bushwalking Borneo 2-3 weeks a month, every month for 5 years, through rivers (some of them raging), up mountains and down cliff-hangers, in shoes that didn’t support me. 
Adidas kampungs are a great Malaysian invention. Village kids used to wear them to play football, then jungle trackers started using them to walk the forest because they were cheap, waterproof (100% rubber) and had fantastic grip because of the studded and super flexible soles. Generally, the average 120-pound dripping wet Malaysian with normal feet does very well with them.
I’m not your average 120-pound dripping wet Malaysian with normal feet. First off, I’m not 120 pounds. Second, I have collapsed arches. I didn’t know that at the time. I used to have spare pairs of these shoes stuffed into my backpack and use them up like wood through a chipper. They were so cheap (used to be USD1 per pair, now they’re about USD2.50), I would leave them at the village when I came out of the jungle and buy new ones the next month. They were fantastic for grip. It felt like I had tactile feet, like monkeys and apes. I could almost wrap my feet around roots for grip. But the lack of support was another thing.
Much pain, a stint when I had to use crutches, expensive shoe inserts and on-going therapy later, I switched to my first pair of Chaco sandals, Montrail trekkers and Vibram technology. Vibram is an Italian company founded by Vitali Bramani, who invented rubber soles for shoes back in the early 1900s. The name Vibram refers to the type of soles in any brand of shoes. Vibram rubber is known to be harder, tougher than normal rubber soles and is supposedly known for their traction. In fact, back in 1935, the motivation for Vitali Bramani to invent soles for mountaineering was because he saw six of his climbing buddies slip and fall to their deaths because of inadequate footwear.
My take on Vibram: in Chaco sandals, it’s great. It’s tough, shaped to provide arch support and lasts for years. In fact, the straps in my Chacos are gone but the Vibram soles looks hardly used.
In my Montrail trekkers, for rainforest conditions, Vibram is overrated. In wet rainforest conditions, the soles are too hard and amazingly, way too slippery. I’ve lost count of the number of times I slipped whilst crossing a log in my Montrails (but not in my Adidas kampungs or my Salomons, which I’ll come to later). It felt like I was clomping around the jungle in clogs. Better support than Adidas kampungs, but a little too slippery and hard for my tender feet.
Enter my pair of Salomon Fury, with a sole technology called Contagrip. I’d never heard of it before when I fingered the Fury at World of Outdoors in KL’s MidValley Shopping Centre. They felt pretty good on my feet though.
I didn’t break them in before I hit the trails in Bako National Park. They served me mighty well that day. About five hours of trekking. The support was there. The traction was definitely there. In fact they felt like Adidas kampungs with cushioning. They were supportive enough to cushion the impact of my extra large frame; and soft enough for my feet to dance across the jungle floor yet not too soft that they didn’t provide support.
A few months later, I trekked across the heart of Borneo island with them. Beautiful. Four hours of walking through shin-deep river and three hours of up and downhill. No problemo. For the first time in years, I felt like my feet could finally catch up with my stamina.
So, a sum-up:
- Adidas Kampungs – use them for water sports, etc. Fantastic. If you don’t have feet problems, collapsed arches, high arches, plantar fasciitis, or an overly large frame like mine, go for them. They’re only RM9.90 (~ USD2.50) per pair at Teck Kong or shops like that. In fact, I’m going to get a pair for kayaking purposes.
- Montrail, with Vibram – for rainforest conditions, I personally would not recommend them. The support is there, but the comfort – not really.
- Salomon Fury, with Contagrip – my favourite at the moment. Love the lacing system, love the look. Most of all, for my poor collapsed arches, love the support and flexibility.
I have a new pair of Montrail Perimeter Control, with Gryptonite soles. I’m in the process of breaking them in right now. They feel promising. More on them after I bring them out for hardcore testing.
What shoes work work for you?
The Wordsmith Lifesmiths, Part 2 - Meditating the Downstroke of A Paddle
September 10, 2009
The first time I ever sat on a kayak, I went straight off the coast. It was fantastic. But I almost drowned. My lifejacket was too loose. When I sped in past the frighteningly choppy breakwater towards the shore, I capsized. I couldn’t touch the bottom. Worse, I couldn’t breathe. My lifejacket was pulling me upwards and the top strap was choking me. I kicked towards the shore until I could stand. It wasn’t that far away. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here to write about it. There was no fear, no real panic. Strangely, I just felt irritated at my lifejacket. Something that was supposed to save my life was choking me to death instead. I got quite philosophical about that even as I fought towards the shore.
That was four years ago.
A few Sundays ago, I went kayaking on Sungai Sarawak Kiri. It was my first on a river. Few things are as fantabulous as a flow downriver. Yes, the group was somewhat uncoordinated, to say the least. Yes, we capsized six times in all and I whacked my knee on a submerged rock, got a wonderful near-unstoppable wound and almost cracked my patella. But as long as it didn’t wipe the smile off of my face, it was all good. I was with a group of friends whose company I thoroughly enjoyed, the river was perfect, the rain was perfect, the durians were perfect.
A week after that, I got invited for another kayaking adventure down the same river. That was when I first felt the semblance of zen on a kayak.
“Kayaking is meditative,” said my Sifu Master Kayak Yoda Superman. “There are an infinity of ways that the downstroke of the paddle cuts through the ether and into the water”. OK, so he didn’t quite use those words. But Yoda couldn’t have said it better.
Well, I’m far from Kayak Yoda level, but when I was on the water, I did notice how flow of life is not dissimilar to the flow of water in a river:
Sometimes, there are ominous rocks under the surface, waiting to whack the patella of your life. Other times, you go through a rapid or two. It can be exhilarating and you go “Woo hoo!” because you made it through. Or it’s “Ouch!” and other expletives when you capsize. Either way, you survive and you move on with the flow of the river. Most of the time, it’s serene and utterly beautiful. You can busy yourself paddling away, or you can stop and take it all in.
Here are a few observations that struct me when I was on the water:
- I love paddling in the rain. You’re already wet. Forget the umbrella. Embrace the rain.
- The same river looks different 10 different ways the 10 different times you paddle on it. Enjoy it every time.
- I paddle with a partner. If I stop, or if she stops, it’s easier to get into trouble. Depending on a friend is not a weakness.
- There are many revelations in the downstroke of a paddle, or in the way you grip it, or in the way you guide the paddle through the water. Being present in all that we do brings many rewards in the way life reveals itself and how we perceive it.
There’s a lot more to kayaking that meets the eye. There’s a lot more that I could learn, but these five are my favourite.
What They Don’t Tell You About Indiana Jones
September 3, 2009
Six hours on the road on a leaky four-wheel drive, past scenic pepper and rice fields and quaint little towns bypassed by the passage of time. So far so good. Then it’s another six hours up a river so dry at times the water’s only ankle deep. There’s more jumping out of the boat to pull than time in the boat. For the boatmen, anyway. Seasoned traveler as I am, a townee is a townee and we have no sense of balance. The best help I can offer is to stay put in my seat. I’m so far upriver, I’m almost kissing Kalimantan.
Then it’s a 7-hour trek across the very heart of Borneo, across the water catchment to get to an entirely different river system. How cool is that? There’s not as much wildlife as I expected, but I see bearded pig, four species of hornbills, pygmy squirrels no longer than my index finger and a water monitor. I hear talk of a cobra up front but I’m not waiting to mingle with that particular reptile.
Down the other river, it’s beautiful. The sight of a fast-flowing river in the rain, wide as a four-lane freeway, flanked by riverine forest is pretty breath-taking. This is the Katibas, artery off the Rejang, longest river in Sarawak.
The journeying is almost over. The work to be done seems trivial beside the traveling. I’m so high absorbing the wildness the work is a breeze. Then downriver, down down down all the way to Song. Such a small town but bustling in my eyes. The density of human bodies affront me.
The express boat is so full I half expect it to be the floating coffin it is known to be. These floating pieces of welded metal are death traps should they ever overturn, God forbid. I clamber on top and sit with my face to the sun, reveling in the freedom of the moment.
Could Indiana Jones do any better? This is real life. No directors, no cameras. But here’s what they don’t tell you about Indie and his adventures:
- Bathing in the river in a sarong and figuring out how to do that without mooning the locals.
- Wet underwear and bikini rash.
- The feeling of wet socks and shoes first thing in the morning.
- Leeches. Sometimes in various cracks and crevices.
- Slogging uphill in the rainforest in torrential rain.
- Excruciating knee pain coming down treacherous hills.
- Pulling friends waist deep in rotting wood, sand and mud.
- Do you ever ever see Indie washing his mud-stained clothes? I rest my case.
But what’s a good adventure without all the works in it? I’ve done this for neigh on 13 years now, and I enjoy every bit of it. The views are always worth it. Being amidst such wildness is a constant reminder that we’re not really as big as we make ourselves out to be. There’s a lot more to life than what meets the eye. Get over the ego and move on. It’s a privilege to be alive. Live.