Jungle, rivers, boats... and a big arse Ghost Tiger!

The train ride to Geruntut was boring. I had watched the jungle and the old looking villages pass by for some time, but the sun quickly set and everything grew dark. I’m not the kind of person to sleep much while travelling so instead I spent the nearly eleven hour trip reading a novel from start to finish.

By time we had arrived in Geruntut and left the train it was close to 2am. I wanted to find a hostel quickly and fall into the sleep of the dead. Luckily for us a bus driver from a hotel was waiting at the station and said he’d shuttle us up to decent hostel. It was easy and quick, and I actually managed to get some sleep the boiling hot room that night.



The next day we walked to the local tourist centre with our packs and booked a bus to a place called Taman Negara – Malaysia biggest and most untouched national park. It was required we buy a park permit, entrance permit, camera permit, blah, blah, blah. I knew we wouldn’t be asked to show it again… and guess what? I was! Essentially for the next three days we would live in the jungle… Well we thought that at the time. We spent the time waiting on the internet, sending mail back home and just checking out news from the rest of the world. Then our bus turned up. I had thought we would travel by coach, but instead we stepped up into a Toyota Hiace van and along with a kiwi couple we were off.

I have driven Hiace vans before at work… and I was unaware they could move so fast. The trip which we had been told would take us 2-3 hours took us little more then 1 hour. The kiwi guy who we had started talking to glanced at the speedometer at one point and looked back at us a little panic striken. He mouthed to us “140km/h,” I knew we were moving fast but I never had any idea a van like that could move so fast.



When we arrived at Taman Negara the raining was pounding down. A bit of rain didn’t bother me but I was disorientated. I didn’t know where we would stay, so we found some shelter until it passed and Matt who didn’t want to walk with his incredibly heavy pack said he would sit down and watch our things. I went looking to see where there were vacancies. It took me an hour of searching and I found nothing, only a four bed room, and a double bed room that was full of mosquitoes. On my way back to meet with Matt I ran into the Kiwi guy from the bus and we decided to share the four bed room with him and his girlfriend. The four of us weren’t pleased with the room or the price we paid. There were bugs, moist spots, it was hot, there was no running water and the toilets were out of order. It was for one night we told ourselves, and the next day we would find somewhere else, and we did. For the remainder of our time we shacked up in a 12 bed room, which wasn’t overly private but provided some relief from bugs and the heat… as well as toilets that actually flushed.

The only place to buy food similar to the islands was small family owned restaurants which floated atop pontoons on the river. Morning, noon and night we would head down there and choose something from the menu. I was happy to try everything, and my favourite item on the menu was actually the tuna and cheese sandwich. It was much safer then the Green Curry I had ordered which I thoroughly enjoyed… Until I found a dead wasp mixed through it. I can say for certain that wasn’t part of the recipe.



The national forest was home to some cool activities. The first day we were ferried up river on handmade long boats to a native village which was ‘untouched’ by modern man. It was untouched to an extent, however I’m pretty sure children before white settlement didn’t wear Manchester United shirts or jeans cut off at the knees. The tour guide took us through the village and showed us how they hunter, told us about their culture and the rituals and their way of life. Things that I found funny were that teenagers as young as 11 years old could marry and have children, out there is a very different world to what we are used too. The tour guide showed us how they used a type of grass and wood to make fire using a huge amount of friction. He proposed a competition and I was the last to try it… On my first try the block of wood flew up and hit the guide in the face, nearly knocking him out cold. It still state it was his fault for not standing on the wooden block properly. On my second try I became the first person be successful. I’m still waiting for him to give me prize... That tin arse.



On the way back we went rapid shooting and enjoyed the ride as the boats raced and each driver tried to drench the other’s passengers. I was thoroughly saturated by the end, because for some reason the group of Japanese riding with us thought it would be hilarious if I was wet for days. Later that night we went on a jungle safari. It was hilarious to me when a Ute rocked up with two wood planks in the back tray acting as seats. The ride was rough and the wild life was pretty quiet. We saw a small cat like creature, and apparently a snake. All in all, the most fun was driving in the back of the Ute for three hours and trying not to fall out.




Besides the occasional monkey laughing from the trees on the opposite of the river bank wildlife in Taman Negara seemed very scarce. It wasn’t until the next day when we took part in a cave exploration group that I finally realized how deep in the jungle we were. Our tour guide who went by the name of Eko led us through the jungle for about 2kms. It was muddy and slippery; however it only took us about half an hour. As we arrived at the cave entrance Eko told us to leave our packs and belongings behind if wanted to keep them. It seems trivial and a bit suspicious but I did that, all I took with me was SLR… And while I got some cool photos I should have left it behind.




As we climbed in the cave I thought how scary this would be for a person carrying a few extra kilos. I remember crawling through spaces that barely accommodated for my shoulder width, putting my shoes, hands and feet in water to crawl under the low ceiling, grabbing onto rocks that were slippery with bat shit and at times thinking to my self if I had no torch, I would never get out. It was funny because Matt who had scoffed at taking a torch was now crawling through the darkness, calling out for light. There thousands of bats flying through the cave, getting caught in our hair and generally pissing us off. As we saw the light and pulled ourselves from the earth I was relieved to see my pack was still there where I had left it and no monkeys had gone looking for the cookies stashed in the bottom of my bag.

We began to walk back, and Eko stopped us and told us to gather around. When we got closer he showed us a giant foot print similar to the size of a small dinner plate.

“That,” he told us, “is the foot print of the white ghost tiger that haunts this jungle. It killed my father, my mother… and I fear some day it will kill me.”

Poor bastard, I don't like his chances. That tiger is after his family… and he walks around the jungle giving idiots like us tours. Some advice Eko… Get a job in the city!!

Kota Bahru and a little of the map...

So the last I had left you, I had hitched a boat ride to the beautiful Perhentian Island. Sticking to my word, after three days I wanted to leave island and go to our next destination. We took a less turbulent boat ride back to the fishing town we had departed from and along the way discussed our plans regarding how we would actually make it to Kota Bahru. We decided the best course of action would be to take another coach from the fishing town to the only all Muslim city in Malaysia.



As we stepped off the boat and began to walk back towards the bus terminal we had seen three day’s earlier we heard a man running calling out to us and quickly running up behind. When he had finally caught our attention and we turned to greet him, rather the being a Malay looking to rip us off he was short Caucasian who I quickly remembered from the island. He admitted to us he had overheard our conversation and in his very characteristic Spanish accent persuaded us to catch a taxi with him to Kota Bahru. He made a fair point; it would be faster, easier and cheaper if the three of us shared a cab fair.

We hailed down the first disgruntled taxi driver we could see and bargained with him to take us for 50MR. Really cheap considering the previous bus ride had cost us near on 50MR per person. The taxi ride was enjoyable as we talked to the Spanish guy whose name I regrettably forgot. He told us he lived in Thailand with his wife and was just jumping the border for his three monthly visa renewal, so he had decided to take a small break and go diving for a week. He was genuinely a good guy, and it was a shame to leave him when my travelling companion decided the hostel he wanted to stay in was far to expensive… even if it was millions of years ahead of the one we stayed at.



By the time we had found an ‘appropriate’ hostel and dumped our luggage in our room I was pretty fed up with my friend, and decided that soon I would go my own way and make my own journey. Even now as I look at the small collection of notes I took at every place I visited I can’t help but notice…and giggle at some of the pictures I drew and forgot about or the comment I have written and not reread until now. I can’t imagine what I would have said and sounded like.

The next few days we spent walking around and exploring. I had already begun to start my own experience. He went off and did his own thing, and I did mine. The stinking heat drove me into the air conditioned shopping centre on two days but I was fine with that, having not felt cold air for nearly one week or more. I spent my days looking in the shops, reading the surprisingly extensive collection of English books at book store and ordering McDonalds while the girls behind the counter giggled and looked, and I can only imagine, saying things like “Oh my god! Look at the white guy… He’s the first we’ve ever seen!” At nights we would head down the markets or walk around the streets. It was quite amazing to watch an entire city and drop to it’s knees before you when prayer time rolled around each day. Usually we would just stand there looking awkward or sit, some where out of view so we wouldn’t get stared out or judged for not following their culture. It was a pretty cool sight I must admit and really insightful to the going ons of other people around the world.



At the tourist centre we met a funny little man who had once lived in Melbourne. He told us he spent eleven years in South Yarra with a lady twenty-five years his senior that he met travelling. He lived with her, ate her cooking and apparently never got asked to or offered to pay her for her hospitality. Me thinks he was paying her in ‘unconventional ways’ but I didn’t care to ask him if this was true or not. This guy spoke the entire conversation in pseudo-Australian accent and thew it phrases like “she’ll be right,” “no worries,” or “G’day mate” at the most inappropriate times. After some time it became quite annoying and difficult to follow the point of the conversation.

On the final day after failing to understand what coach we need to take to get to our next town we decided to take a public bus. It was crowded and hot. We didn’t buy a ticket and got to ride for free… But don’t tell the bus driver that. Karma is a bitch though, and we missed our stop (the Tamput Train Station) by about twenty kilometres. However, when we did stop it was out the front of one of Malaysia’s biggest attractions: The Sitting Buddha.



More or less it’s one of three temples with a giant statue of Buddha sitting on top of it. The other two have a reclining budda and a kneeling Buddha… I think, I never actually got to see the other two. Inside the temple building are small statues and brilliant artworks depicting scenes that I couldn’t totally understand or comprehend. Images of demons attacking and killing humans and ferocious beasts going about their nasty business were the main theme… with Buddha coming to save the day I presume. It was pretty interesting I’ll admit, if not strange and creepy.

After our slight detour, we did eventually leave the temple and waited about an hour to catch a taxi. We told him we wanted to go to Tamput Station. It was in a word… quiet. Friday is the national day of rest in Malaysia, but this was scary quiet. Not a soul. We bought our tickets and ventured about 1 kilometre into the town to buy some food, but chances were slim. Every shop was closed except for one family owned restaurant and a small general store. I bought some food for the ten hour train ride we were going to take, and then sat at the restraint to order some food. It was very funny because I honestly believe were the first white people to visit the town in a very long time.



When we entered the restaraunt the young serving girls, who were obviously all sisters, watched us with amazement, until their mother came out smiled to them and told them to go away. When they came back they were each wearing a Hijab. They were very happy and the eldest daughter who could speak some English helped us order and talked to us a little. Asking where we were from, what we did for a living, and in typical fashion if we had a girlfriend. It was a nice way to end our time in Kota Bahru and its surrounding areas.

As 3pm rolled around we said our goodbyes and attempted to tell them in Malay that the food was great. We got on the train and went into our individual sleeping berths and for the next ten hours tried to sleep as we made our way to Geruntut.