Welcome To The Jungle

It has been years since I’ve done one, but the most difficult kind of blog post is a summary for an extended period. How do I take four days and three nights in the jungles of Borneo and distill them into a post that neither leaves put the essentials nor runs too long?

I’ll start with the obvious – it was the experience of a lifetime. Every fantasy of what it could be like to go upriver at Batang Ai and follow the canals deep into the rainforest came true. Long boats whisked us across the impossible still water of the Batang Ai Lake and Reservoir into the Batang Ai River, its tributaries and canals that network the region. Incredible lush greenery have way to incredible lush greenery along waterways that seemed like they were drawn by Disney animators. 

After the 90 minutes of long boat riding – which followed more than four hours of drive time and a one-hour stop at a market in a small town for our guide to pick up food and supplies – we arrived at the Jungle Lodge.

Borneo Adventures operates ecologically and culturally minded your packages and ours included an afternoon and evening  getting to know the members of an Iban Tribe who live in a traditional longhouse across a canal from the lodge – which a bridge between properties. We were invited over the bridge twice – once for an afternoon tour of the longhouse and again at night to meet and drink rice wine with the Chief.

What we learned could fill a book and probably does. But the quick skinny is that the Iban are one of three kinds of tribes that make up the Dayak of Borneo – the natives. In this part of Sarawak, Malaysia gives the Dayak tribes jurisdiction over their own and they more or less get to live in their traditional ways which include tattooing, some animistic beliefs, living in traditional multi-family wooden longhouses and producing their food according to their own traditional agriculture and hunting methods.

Our guide, Edgar, on the other hand is Kanyatn, another Dayak tribe that several centuries ago left the river areas in favor of the foothills for protection against some highly aggressive Iban. Nonetheless, the two tribes' languages and culture remain much the same and as they are no longer enemies, Edgar has an easy time connecting with the Iban people who not only offer visits to their longhouses, but many of whom work for Borneo Adventures as longboat operators, secondary guides, cooks, cleaners, etc.

Here are some important and interesting things about Dayaks – and more specifically Iban. They were well-known headhunters until the early 19th Century when James Brooke – the British "White Raja" who had essentially been given personal rule of Sarawak as a reward from the Sultan of Brunei for putting down a Dayak rebellion – put an end to the practice. 

But why headhunting? First, let's make sure we're not conflating headhunting with cannibalism – as I've noticed people are apt to do. Headhunting is really using your enemy's heads or skulls as a visible trophy to prove your success in war. And that's exactly what the Dayak's did – to ward off other Dayak tribes?

Their issue was as old as the history of war – competition for scarcity of resources and in this case, primarily land. Which seems odd because really a handful of tribes – broken up into small groupings that each live in and center life around a longhouse (which is exactly what it sounds like – a long, wooden house divided into what we could call family apartments or quarters) are not that many people – especially on an island the immense size of Borneo. Unless they happen to be a bit wasteful with their land.

Dayak tribes are both hunter-gatherers and farmers, raising mostly rice in the middle of lush jungles. Unlike most rice growing counties who setup paddies with lots of water and grow three to four crop yields per year, the Dayak tribes raise "dry rice" in which they yield one crop per year which is watered by the monsoon rains. No paddies, no irrigation. It's sort of the dump cake of rice growing. The big problem: prior to the more modern invention of fertilizer, once a piece of land has yielded rice, it cannot be used again for many years. So the Dayak would clear yet another hillside of its old growth rainforest the next year and with many tribes clearing many hillsides, not only did a lot of old growth or primary forest die – but everyone was running out of land. 

Initially the Dayak spread out, many coming from the south in what is today the Indonesian part of the island (Kalimantan) up to Sarawak and Sabah (the Malaysian parts). But eventually, enough tribes followed and over years, land became sparser – so wars between tribes broke out and many heads ended up on many longhouses. Apparently, the Iban longhouse we visited was known to be a particularly fierce tribe back in the day. Fortunately for us, and perhaps thanks to modern fertilizer, we were greeted warmly with rice wine.

The dry rice situation has actually been Borneo's longest standing ecological problems. So much of the jungle is now secondary forest – the plants that come back after the old growth has been cleared. These plants and trees are not always the same as those that existed before being cleared and they take time to become as thick as what came before them. This is one major reason why orangutans (which in Bahasa Indonesia and Bahasa Melayu literally means forest people) have lost so much of their habitat. The problem was made worse by logging for the old growth forest's valuable hardwoods and the British initiative of cultivating rubber trees in the 20th century – which continues today under independent Malaysia.

Malaysia has greatly reduced logging to protect its jungles and as mentioned, fertilizer allows the Dayak to reuse the same rice growing land. To me, something didn't feel right in all of this slash and burn rice farming talk. I'm used to the Balinese who farm four cycles of rice per year without fertilizer and who can take one hillside and sculpt it into gorgeous rice terraces capable of multiple times the yield of the Iban dry rice fields. I was assured that the Iban have to restort to dry rice cultivation, but something made me feel like a team of Balinese consultants could really turn their situation around – especially given the incredible supply of water which far exceeds anything Bali has. That said, I don't think anyone will be listening to my ideas on rice farming – nor should they. Unless a Balinese farmer or two agrees with me….But that's probably not happening….

We also learned that like all of us, the Iban were forever impacted by COVID. While the disease didn't come to them, during the national lockdown which included sealing Sarawak off from the world entirely, the Malaysian government gave the Iban tribes solar panels with batteries and wireless internet access. When we visited, children on iPhone lined the main hall of the longhouse and by evening, adults did too. The Chief told us that the common space used to be filled with the din of conversation and is now very quiet.

Following our afternoon and evening with the Iban and our stay at the Jungle Lodge, all of belongings were loaded into longboats and an older French couple (70ish), a similarly edged Danish couple and me and Jacob crossed the river to begin a hike through the rainforest where we learned about rice farming, rubber plantations, trees, plants and how the Iban live on the land. When we completed our hike and tour around lunchtime, we found the boats waiting for us by the edge of the river where our trail ended and were taken upstream to a waterfall where we could swim and relax while our hosts setup an impromptu barbecue on the shoals of the river and cooked us lunch – much of which was done in hollow bamboo shoots that act as pressure cookers. Vegetables such as jungle fern had been gathered from the forest and a few things – like the rice and fruit – were brought along. It was a delicious lunch by the side of the river.

Just about the time lunch was ending, I heard the word "Hoojian" being tossed about among the guides – which I recognized as Bahasa for rain. No sooner had we loaded up the long boats and departed than a torrential downpour began. The boat people and I were soaked to the skin, while Jacob and our two French compatriots Alain and Marie Cecile (the Danes returned to the Jungle Lodge) managed to put on their rain ponchos in time. Edgar made the call to wait for the downpour to lessen and then to head to Jungle Camp instead of doing our second planned hike of the day.

While our one night at the Jungle Lodge seemed pleasant, but a touch spartan, it proved to be a luxury hotel compared to the Jungle Camp we stayed in the next two nights. The Jungle Lodge had rooms with ensuite bathrooms, soap, shampoo, fresh linens, filtered water and a generator at night (although no internet or cellular signal). Jungle Camp had more dividers than walls between rooms, shared "bathrooms" (which I use very loosely), no power, boiled water, linens that followed us from the lodge to the camp and a couple of slivers of soap to be found anywhere. Despite the lesser creature comforts it was – as the name implies – deep in the jungle with sounds one doesn't hear anywhere else. Also suffice it to say that hygiene moved swiftly toward abridged and then further to suspended over the short course of two days….

This is also a good moment to talk about the river itself. The further upriver you go, the shallower the water. Which would generally be fine except for these giant shoals of rocks and dry that jut out periodically from the side. Wherever these piles of slag encroach on the river canal one happens to be on, they essentially pose a threat to the wooden longboats which frequently scrape over the piles of rock. Our boatspeople – a man in the back operating the outboard motor and steering and the strongest, most nimble woman in the world paddling, standing up, jumping out to drag the boat – sometimes ordering us or just me to exit the boat for a little bit – deftly guided us wherever we needed to go. As one or both of them would jump out and push or pull the boat with us in them, Jacob and I sometimes felt like White Rajahs ourselves.

Our third day upriver began in jungle camp and was by far our most intense, most jungly. After a very nice breakfast of eggs, kaya toast (offered daily), fresh cut pineapple, sautéed kway teow noodles, tea and coffee – the group of four followed Edgar into the mountains.

We had seen no orangutans the day or evening before – but were told orangutans don't come out in the rain. The goal of the day – beyond seeing whatever there was to see in the jungles of Borneo – was to find wild orangutans. Apparently, the tell-tale signs are fruit trees with ripe fruit – particularly durian whose strong smell attracts orangutans – marks of orangutans having recently clawed palm trees to eat their hearts and the strong smell of their urine which drops from above as orangutans rarely touch the forest floor.

We also learned that Dayak legend has it that once people and orangutans lived in harmony together. From orangutans people learned which fruits were safe to eat and how to birth their babies (which I assume means orangutans also were the first to call for an epidural), but over time people took advantage of the orangutans and they parted ways with humans – generally avoiding them to such an extent, they stay mostly in the trees. In fact – and this is true – orangutans build nests in trees every night and never sleep in the same nest twice as they migrate to find fresh fruits and palm trees.

The heavy rains from the afternoon and night before left the trails very slippery and the very first ten minutes just going from camp to a place to cross the river was one of the most slippery. I slipped and fell no more than five minutes in. It was fine – I kept going and Edgar used his machete to fashion me a walking stick to help. But the downhills were to get me again and again, perhaps in part because my shoes lacked enough traction for the conditions. Our French companions came prepared – and may well be some of the most prepared people on Earth. Not only did these retirees who are touring Asia on a budget come with every conceivable piece of gear, but they wore identical or coordinated outfits everyday. Both had ski poles they used for walking and despite the sometimes very slippery conditions on the trails where the light brown clay and wet leaves could be treacherous, the managed to stay upright the entire time.

After crossing the river, we trekked for five and a half hours – up down, around and up and down some more through old primary and secondary forest. We saw giant bugs, more types of plants than you can imagine, incredible beauty and an orangutan nest. We saw a palm tree orangutans had recently fell and eaten. Sadly, we never saw an actual orangutan. The hike was hard and Alain and Cecile wanted to call it quits at one point – although there was no available way to do that. Jacob did the best, falling only once and keeping up with relative ease. I did well with stamina, slow when going downhill as I became ever more cautious and I was as drenched with sweat as I think I have ever been. You have to keep in mind that it was about 95 degrees at probably 60-80 percent humid. In fact, at no point did our clothes ever dry.

Our tired group returned to jungle camp at around 2:30pm, had some lunch, a lot of water, a quick swim in the river and set out again at 4pm to do the hike we had missed the day prior. By this time the ground was less slippery and the inclines were more manageable. Edgar was working hard to find us an orangutan – especially because they are most often sighted at dusk. We smelled what I assume was orangutan urine and we heard a few branches crack with movement in the trees – but no orangutan. There were moments where Edgar stopped and motioned for us all to be silent as he watched and listened, but no orangutan presented him or herself.

At the end of the day, four exhausted foreigners and their tour guide had dinner and went to bed early. In my case I attempted a shower, which was more of getting myself wet and wiping down with a sarong. It didn't help that my headlamp (we all were told to bring them) cut out on me just as I got to the shower. No one else even attempted to shower, so I felt good that I had made an effort. When I got back to our room, Jacob told me that it didn't matter as hygiene was fully suspended at this point.

Along the way, we became very friendly with Alain and Marie Cecile who are really lovely people. I used my best French, she used her best English and between the four of us everyone seemed to participate in mixed-language conversations that sometimes got deep and political. We learned that when Alain and Marie Cecile weren't coordinating their outfits, they offered people free use of their home when they travel and ask only that people pay the kindness forward. Marie is deeply concerned about the environment and the welfare of people in underdeveloped countries. She cares about science and how it will and won't help us. And of course she is concerned about her son's recent marriage in Japan to a Japanese woman and whether that will be a good life choice for him – despite liking her new daughter-in-law very much.

Marie Cecile – perhaps more than the rest of us – got very tired of chicken which was served in some preparation every meal but breakfast. But the local vegetables and fruits changed regularly. Overall, Jacob and I found the good very good and healthier than anything in Singapore or Kuching. Every meal had chicken, two vegetable dishes, rice and fruit. It was all fresh, flavorful and complemented the setting.

As I write, it's so hard to believe we got up this morning at jungle camp, ate breakfast, got into longboats and made the 2 hour journey back to the Batang Ai Jetty. As we cruised along the still waters of the Batang Ai River and lake looking at the jungle covered hills, the occasional longhouses – and the elementary school more than an hour away from the longhouse we visited (at which kids stay for the week and go home only on weekends) – I asked myself to be conscious and to take it all in. It's so easy to get caught in my thoughts and musings and if there was ever a time to break free from them, it was right then. Sure, I try to be present for my kids, to let go during yoga to not miss life's moments. At the same time, society rewards me for my thoughts and ability to think. That's how I make my living and what allows me to successfully manage my life in a complex world. 

That wasn't the moment to allow my thoughts to take over. I have no idea if I'll ever return to the jungles of Borneo. It was a dream. A place that seemed fictional. It's now a dream fulfilled and there are so many other dreams ahead. So before this one becomes blurred and distant – I wanted to take it in fully and to be able to remember how it felt streaming across those waters in that magical place that seems outside reality.

Arriving in Kuching was a definite return to reality – or at least more reality than we had known for days. Really, the reality began to arrive when my phone got signal again as our van left the jetty. However, in Kuching reality cemented more. Jacob and I returned to our Airbnb condo, took long hot showers (I had crusted mud on my left leg I didn't even realize was there) and went in pursuit of a laundry service that would expedite a fluff and fold – because we couldn't even pack that stuff in our bags the way it was. Fortunately, a very nice gentleman at the Mr. Clean laundry service near the river had seen our kind before and was willing to offer express service. It may be the best $30 I've ever spent.

Relationships are usually built on shared experiences and narratives. Catching up with friends and family is nice – and can sometimes create a shared space – but nothing is stronger than time spent together, especially when doing things. Jacob and I haven't had much time together in years. We've had a few good adventures in our past including some in Taiwan, Singapore and Bali. This one was new to us both and something VERY different. We looked at each other incredulously a lot – because there was a lot to be incredulous about.

"We'll always have this to talk about – we'll always remember this experience together," Jacob said to me today. 

It's true – these are the moments that bond people together and the narratives we carry with us for the rest of our lives. We had fun too! There were a lot of laughing moments and even during some of the challenging ones, we were in it together. We may have become a little silly with the headlamps. There were a lot of inside jokes and stories created. There was never a difficult or tense moment. We do have a lot of intellectual discussions about all kinds of topics, which led our Danish friend Sven to say, "Are you guys done discussing the world now?" as we sat down to lunch near the waterfall.

We ended the day with dinner and checking emails, writing, etc. Tomorrow we have until noon to be out of our condo. Our flight to Singapore isn't until 8pm, but have a place to store our bags until time to go to the airport. We'll need to collect our laundry and hopefully, we'll get to enjoy a little more exploring in Kuching. Then the clock begins to strike midnight and we have only one night at the airport in Singapore before the spell breaks and we get on our flights home – back to life as it usually is.

Only it never really is exactly as it was. We come home a little different and the next chapter of life begins.