Bako National Park

On a bit of a tangent: I’ve come to realize that parks and such are not necessarily enshrined upon a given government’s “to do” list.  Growing up in Canada gave me unintentional bias towards what parks should look like, because of Canada’s fantastically preserved public parks, both national and local.

As luck would have it, Bako National Park in Malaysia was equal parts exotic, well kept, and run down.  I know at least two of the terms contradict each other, but the park’s upkeep showed that it was well taken care of.  At the same time, the parks unrelenting disintegration reminded everyone that it is well deep into the jungle and fighting a structural battle every day.  The entangling vines and hungry monkeys were crawling over each building.  The bearded pigs were chewing all the grass and sniffing in all the garbage bins.  The outdoor camp site area -- you’d have to be Survivorman to sleep out there -- looked as if proboscis monkeys had taken it over by force.

All of these things only contributed to the beauty of the park.  Bako sits on the tip of a peninsula on the northern, and Malaysian, side of Borneo.  The whole point of the mountainous and rain forested tip has been sanctioned to the park, and outside of a few trodden footpaths, the jungle and its creatures have been allowed to thrive.  Mangrove forests -- the first I’ve ever seen -- tangle each beach and protect the delicate jungle from the forces of the sea.

To get there, we took  a public bus north from Kuching towards the coast.  What a beautiful coast it was!  Jungle covered mountains overlooking each end, and a flat coastline running along the water.  Some distance farther across the water would be Vietnam.  We pulled into a small town bisected by a muddy river.  The park couldn’t be reached by bus, so we transferred our bags to a small skiff with an outboard motor.  The town changed with the tides; at high tide, water would reach under the houses and into the yards, but at low tide, the humble homes would sit a few metres above the silt and sand upon stilts.  We set out along the river and then out onto the ocean, the skiff hugging the nearby mangroves for their protection from the waves.

These langurs were reminiscing.

A thirty minute boat ride later, we were twisting through mangrove trees towards the entrance to the park.  The park was a couple of concrete buildings set on a tiny stretch of flat land with hills and mountains quickly rising behind.  All were modest, and the park’s main building -- housing a cafeteria, main office, shop, and bathrooms -- was something from Jurassic Park.  Large iron gates encompassed every open doorway, and swung shut automatically.  It wasn’t until after the wild macaque landed on our table, grabbed some fried chicken and a pineapple and ran away that we realized the gates were insurance against the thievery of the monkeys.

Bornean Bearded Pig.

We saw long tailed macaques, silver leafed langurs, and the endangered proboscis monkey.  The proboscis is definitely the strangest wild animal I’ve seen to date, although I couldn’t get any pictures of the pot-bellied primate up in the trees.  Later, hiking through the dense jungle to reach a secluded beach, I was struck by the overwhelming heat of the rain forest.  I thought the cover afforded by the canopy would make the jungle cooler, but it in fact had the effect of a microwave oven!  Frequent stops and lots of water were needed and our 5 kilometer hike turned into an all day affair, as the crushing humidity of the jungle slowed down our every step.  After climbing through the jungle, we reached a stretch of trail on the top of a small mountain.  It was arid, exposed, and damn hot.  With a shirt on my head for protection, we tried to cover this dangerous ground as quickly as possible.  Through the sweltering plateau we reached a large boulder overlooking a pearl sand beach nestled between two lush cliffs.  This was why I came to Borneo!

In case you don't like beaches.