Deer Cave and Lang's Cave

I don't expect much from tour guides. Usually, I am just so happy to be anywhere other than sitting in an empty Korean elementary school classroom that I could care less how many English phrases he or she has memorized or how many historic or botanical factoids they can spit out. This holds especially true in those life alteringly beautiful locales like Angkor Wat, or a remote Fijian village- two destinations we had the pleasure of experiencing this past year. In those instances, I could really care less if the path we are led through is littered with doe-eyed kids begging to sell a knick knack, or if it happens to conveniently snake around the guide's uncle's souvenir shop.

I don't remember much of what our young guide at Mulu National Park in Sarawak had to say, but he was instrumental in pointing out all the creepy, crawly critters of the jungle, and didn't mind a bit if I dawdled slowly behind to take a picture. For this I am grateful.

Big ole flat looking slimy snail on the trail

Someone said this guy looks like he's made of metal. I like that.

There were also pictures of beautiful butterflies, but the creepy things are more interesting.

This was actually from the walk to the sky bridges earlier, but I wanted to include it anyway...

There is a little picnic area outside of the entrance to Deer Cave and Lang's Caves. This is the spot where visitors gather in the evening to view over 2 million bats as they exit the caves simultaneously for their nightly bug hunt. Under the covered area there is all sorts of information posted on bat species around the world, and even more nuggets of knowledge regarding the local varieties and surrounding ecosystem. I was somewhat surprised to learn that a very small percentage of bats actually drink blood (if they do it is the blood of small animals). Most bats eat their body weight in insects nearly every night. I say "nearly" because the bats do not come out if it is raining during their scheduled wake up time. At 2:00pm or so on the day we visited, the skies were starting to become overcast.

The view of the entrance to Deer Cave from the viewing area.

We waited in the covered area for the morning wave of guided tourists to finish and make their way out. Apparently, only so many people are allowed in the caves at one time. When our number was called, we entered through a tall, aluminum gate and walked around in a paved semi-circle from the left side up to the corner of the massive cave entrance where illuminated moss gave way to complete darkness. Deer cave is immense (the second largest in the world area wise we were told) and it was easy to feel like a hobbit underneath such a high ceiling surrounded by immense crags of rock. We were told that at no point inside does the cave ceiling fall below 90 meters and it is just over 2 kilometers in length. Once we were inside a ways, we were instructed to turn around and look out where the outcropping of rock along the cave opening formed an uncanny Abraham Lincoln silhouette.

Honest Abe

Eerie as the entire situation was, I didn't once feel uneasy regarding the estimated 2 million bats sleeping above our heads. I was more concerned with what lay on the ground outside of the roped off, cement trail. The ground to the left and right was covered with bat guano, which just looked like a fine dirt and really didn't smell like anything other than earth. Not surprisingly, the guano is considered excellent fertilizer and is harvested by local farmers for use in black pepper fields. An entire ecosystem subsists on the ground that surrounded us, but, while other caves in Borneo are famous for carpets of giant cockroaches, my flickering head torch illuminated surprisingly few. I did, however, make the mistake of placing my hand on a post that was littered with the bastards.

Yikes! I guess they weren't roaches, but freaky nonetheless.

The path around the left perimeter of Deer Cave led to the "Garden of Eden" where a hole in the roof lets in light and green vegetation thrives. There is even a spectacular "Eden's Shower" in which water emits onto a large rock table from a Seuss-like stalactite spout.

Sami inside Deer Cave

Inside Deer Cave.

This, I believe, is the Garden of Eden inside Deer Cave

 Much more Suessery was to be had at Lang's Cave next door. Even though Lang's is the smallest of the four show caves we visited, it may well be my favorite for its crazy array of stalactite formations. Coming from Deer Cave, the quarters felt cramped, but everywhere we turned there was a new outcropping of limestone deformed by constant dripping that blew our minds. Sculptures like these could not be created by the mind of man no matter how much LSD the artist dropped beforehand. Of course, none of the pictures I took turned out that well, but that didn't stop me from snapping away.

Inside Lang's Cave #1

Inside Lang's Cave #2

Inside Lang's Cave #3

 When we finished it started to rain hard so we put on our ponchos and made our way back down to the bat exodus viewing area. Many of our fellow tourists bypassed the rest stop, certain that the bats would nap through the rain. Since we were leaving Mulu before the next day's bat departure time, we chose to wait it out. While we were sitting, there was a little bit of drama as some European tourists blamed a group of Chinese tourists for swiping their nice ponchos. I sat and observed giddily, always being one to enjoy confrontation when not a participant. A slight smile formed at the corners of my mouth as a Chinese man confusedly handed over a coat. What did he think they were- gifts?

Waiting for the bats...

After the fifth or sixth time of ignoring Sami's suggestion that we head back to the resort, the bats came out in wispy puffs to the delighted shrieks of onlookers. They all descended from roughly the same spot, but there was no telling which direction a group would ultimately flee too. I nearly made myself dizzy pointing the camera in the air and twirling in circles. Of couse, it was approaching dusk when the rain halted long enough for some of the bats to decide to exit, so my pictures weren't nearly as cool as others I had seen. Still, it was a cool experience that I am glad we stuck around for.

Bat Exodus

By the time we walked back it was pitch dark. Hungry, we were able to pass quite a few travelers, but soon ran into a backlog and had to walk at the pace of the crowd. In the dark we could make out all the sounds of the jungle. The croaks, caws and monkey calls were even better than anything the guides had told us about on this most memorable day.

A word on books-On the trail with hidden bugs-Sky walk-Lost binoculars-Bowl of noodles

We sat down just inside the entrance to Gunung Mulu National Park in front of a seven foot high frosted glass plaque commemorating the recently tamed jungle acres and limestone bat caves within as a UNESCO World Heritage site. We sat waiting for our guide in the thick morning heat that is not unlike the heat at any other time of day or night at that particular latitude. While waiting, I set in on devouring a secondhand work of fiction purchased the day before at the Kota Kinabalu Airport.

Two days before I had finally finished McCullough's birth to death masterpiece on the life of our 33rd President. The epic tale was such a joy to read that I took time to savor every scene in the thousand page biography like a nine course meal. The "amuse-bouche" of asparagus mousse and champagne (The backstory of Truman's grandparents and parents, birth and childhood). Course 1: Tuna tartare paired with Reisling (Harry takes over the family farm and then joins the infantry in WWI even though he is over 30 years old, sees action in France). Course 2: grilled scallops with seaweed / sauv blanc (Harry falls in with a powerful political boss who helps him get elected as county judge). Course 3: sauteed foie gras / sauterne (Harry is elected state senator and makes a name for himself heading a committee that investigates war spending, uncovering tens of millions of dollars of waste). Course 4: gaspacho consomme /viognier (Harry is miraculously chosen as Vice President, 82 days later, FDR dies. The farmer from Missouri soon finds himself seated beside Churchill and Stalin in Potsdam, Germany). Course 5: lobster / chardonnay (The President approves the releasing of atomic bombs over Japan, ending the war and ushering the world into the atomic age). Course 6: fish dish / pinot noir (The President recognizes the Jewish state of Israel, runs come from behind election by traversing the country "giving 'em hell"). Course 7: meat course / merlot / cabernet (survives an assassination attempt) Course 8: cheese course / white red port wine (makes the controversial decision to remove Gen. MacArthur from his position during the Korean War). Course 9: dessert / montbazillac (life after the presidency back in Missouri).

The book I read while waiting for our guide was like a mini pack of Skittles. I cannot recommend it, much less remember any of the character's names, but Truman made me into a better reader, and I charged through it with vigor.

Our guide came and led us up the trail to the sky bridges, pointing out various little unique insects along the way. Our group consisted of a thick legged Scottish woman with short shorts and hiking boots, a scraggly young Englishman currently residing in SIngapore and a young Chinese couple with a young daughter. We saw hairy caterpillars and bugs that disguise themselves as leaves and twigs.

Here is one creepy crawly caterpillar

and here is a bug trying to be a leaf

The canopies seemed a neverending labyrinth and if I could do it again I would take fewer pictures and enjoy my time on the bridges. The pictures don't convey the sense of danger looking down at a plank not wide enough for both feet positioned side by side and suspended 50 feet over dense jungle and muddy river with no escape. The bridge would sway side to side with each step and creak and I would reach out to steady myself by grabbing Sami's shoulder, but I was alone- as a rule, only one person is allowed on each section of bridge at a time.

Sami up in the canopy

The young Chinese girl followed us around instead of her parents. Call me a wuss, but I would have been frightened to death that high at that age.

I borrowed a friend's binoculars on the trip and tried to spy birds or monkeys, but all I could ever see was the green wall of jungle trees. On the walk back I discovered that I had lost the lens caps to the binoculars and felt terrible. We re-traced our steps but couldn't find them. I looked back at the pictures I took to see when they fell. In one picture I saw them and in another I saw that they were gone. I went back to the area covered between the digital evidence, but they were lost in the expanse of the jungle. Hidden among the leaves like an insect avoiding prey, mimicking it surroundings.

I sat dejected by my carelessness and we ordered lunch. I had Mulu Laksa which was a rice noodle dish is a spicy red pepper broth with coconut milk. There were pink flowers in the bowl and a small cut lime to squeeze. It was my favorite thing eaten in Borneo. Much better than Skittles.

Mulu- Part 1

We took a small plane a short distance from Kota Kinabalu in the Malaysian Borneo state of Sabah to Miri, where we dropped off about half the passengers and then re-boarded on a flight bound for Mulu National Park in the state of Sarawak.

If the names of these destinations sound exotic to you, it is because they are. I crowded Sami and stared out the window in awe of limestone pinnacled jungle mountains and fat brown meandering rivers. If it wasn’t for our pleasantly uninspiring in-flight snack of peanuts and chocolate milk, I may have found myself too intimidated to depart from my aisle seat. Maybe it had something to do with the fact I was forced to read Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” a few dozen times in high school and college, but I was scared.

My apprehension died the moment our escort dropped us off at the gate of the Royal Mulu Resort. Typically, we prefer to go the economic route- stay somewhere cheap and locally-run. In Mulu, there are two boarding options- the park, which was booked, and the resort. We first entered this jungle oasis by crossing a footbridge above the Melinau River, which wraps around scattered longhouses built on stilts. Wooden walkways sprawl throughout the resort, connecting clusters of suites and lead to a spacious reception lounge. 

Inside, groups of tour companies set up shop and helped newcomers create an itinerary for their stay. We opted to take the 20 minute walk to the park entrance instead of dealing with these groups and paying for a ride. Along the way to the park, a skinny dog walked out in front of us, leading the way. Even though our legs were still sore from the climb up Mt. Kinabalu, it was nice to walk and take in the beauty of this relatively untouched land. We passed a few houses along the way, and even a bar. Residents of the small village all drove motor scooters, and would occasionally stop to chat with their neighbors. We smiled and waved and followed our guide dog.

The employees at the park hurriedly helped us get squared away for the next day’s adventure. They worked quickly because we showed up at 4:55 and they were to close at 5. The park employees set us up with an itinerary that fit with our schedule- we were to walk over the sky canopy the next morning and visit two caves in the afternoon. The day after that, we would hit up two more caves.

That night, while reading at the lodge on the deck overlooking the river, I became enthralled with clusters of quick flying birds that darted about the room. The lodge has high vaulted ceilings, but is open around the sides so these birds could fly in and out at will. It didn't take me long to realize that they were really bats. I was giddy with excitement. I ran to the receptionist who confirmed my suspicion. I asked if she gets freaked out by them, but she said no. They are used to them. Every time a bat would buzz by I would shriek like a five year old and I watched entranced as they whirled around a light over the river, no doubt sucking down bugs.

Bats!

 I could have stayed watching all night, but Sami wouldn't have it. We walked back down the walkway to our room with me ducking and shrieking with each passing bat. Minutes before reaching the door, a violent rain came down that night and made us feel the power of the jungle. Once inside, I plopped down on the bed. I looked around at our spacious room- too nice for us. There was an extra bed that we used as a storage area for all of our sunscreen. I listened to the rain and thought about the bats. I was already starting to realize that this could be the coolest place I had ever been.

Down Mt. Kinabalu

The descent of Mt. Kinabalu was made easier by our newfound sense of accomplishment and the presence of the sun. After an otherworldly journey to the summit in total darkness, an extended moment to revel in the waking landscape would have been preferable had it not been for the biting cold and looming impressions of an arduous downward battle before us.

The sky turned too quickly from purple to crimson, orange, and increasingly pale shades of pink before blue. The inevitable birth and death and blending of colors created a continuously changing energy, and I couldn’t help but snap a picture with each clumsy step.

All told, I must have taken 200 pictures between sunrise at the top and breakfast at the lodge. Sami tried to keep me focused on my feet instead of the digital screen, but to no avail. I stumbled and smashed my knee into the cold hard granite, bloodying the girly gray tights she had lent me. Instead of bracing for the fall, I chose to cradle our cheap camera, shielding it from destruction.

Despite the fact that most of the pictures I took that morning are either redundant, off-centered, or littered with fellow climbers, I cannot bring myself to erase even one. It is hard to describe the sense of ownership we felt on the mountain that day. Sure, nearly every sunrise below Mt. Kinabalu is breathtaking, but this one was ours. We labored to the top, conquered the mountain, sidestepped the rain and we’ll remember every second of changing light- thanks to the camera.

Up Mt. Kinabalu- Part 3

The "night" before the climb was agonizing. I put "night" in quotation marks because the plan was to rise at two in the morning for breakfast before beginning our march to the top. I tried to fall sleep at 7 p.m. and took a natural sleep aid to ensure that I did, but missed my window of opportunity. Its effect wore off before I had a chance to doze. I was experiencing constipation- most likely due to the combination of high altitude and four buffet meals in two days. I rolled from side to side with each fart, hoping that the squeak of metal bed frame would cover the sound of any audible released gas. Sami, sleeping in the bunk below, later informed me that my ploy fooled no one- not her, the Irish girl three feet away, or the young Chinese couple at my feet. My ruse did not take the accompanying odor into consideration.

I was uncomfortable. The headstrap of my sleep mask was too loose and tickled my ear. I could feel a slight cold coming on. One nostril was completely dry and stuffed so that I couldn't breathe through it. The other leaked warm salty nose tears down my lips and chin. I hated being on the top bunk and was scared to death of a rollover. I tossed and turned and farted through the night with a bloated stomach and achy legs that I knew were only going to get worse. I twice frequented the men's room and put up one my most pathetic performances ever. I pushed and pushed and grunted and pushed for half an hour and each time came out with something no bigger than a Cheeto puff.

Eventually, I got a few hours of shut-eye, which I think was more than Sami experienced. Someones alarm clock went off at 2 am and we made our way downstairs for yet another buffet breakfast. Before we departed I outfitted myself in a pair of Sami's tights (yes they fit) to go under my hiking pants. I also wore cheesy hiking socks that we received as a Korean "service" at Columbia Outfitters and a giant blue poncho which came in handy more as an extra layer than to shield against non-existent rain.

Men in Tights

At 3 a.m. we slipped on hiking gloves and switched on our headlamps. Many hikers departed before we did and we soon passed them going up a steep set of stairs in the pitch dark. The hiking was more arduous than the day before. It was much steeper and above us headlamps glistened like eerie stars. I soon left Sami and the guide and took off at warp speed- exactly what I said I didn't want to do. I just couldn't stand climbing so slow in the cold behind fat people. I wanted to get out and move. Unbeknown to me at the time, I had all of our water bottles in my backpack, leaving Sami without any.

I took stone steps two at a time and easily passed dozens of climbers. I caught up to the lead group of about seven or eight young twentysomethings as we passed a checkpoint where a man at a desk made sure we were accounted for. The lead crew sat and rested as the guide commented on how early they were. Not wanting to go ahead on my own. I sat down as well with the intention of waiting for Sami, but when others bypassed the rest area and chugged ahead, my competitive juices started flowing. I waited for probably no more than ten minutes before bounding off on my own again.

The terrain past the check point changed quite drastically. It was all granite, no vegetation and no more steps. There was a rope attached to the ground that you could hold onto and I found myself pulling on the rope with my arms instead of using my legs. I passed all of the bouncing headlamps ahead except for two Frenchman who must be part mountain goat.

Soon I could see no more headlamps. It was cold and dark, but with the full moon I would see the tops of famous peaks above- the rhinoceros horn and the donkey's ears. If it wasn't for the rope and the orange lights of a village miles below, I could have sworn I was on another planet.

The volume of my heavy breathing was deafening against the dead calm atmosphere. My head ached from moving so fast and my stomach (still bloated) stretched against the tight belt of my poncho. At one point I stopped to adjust it and ended up just standing there, unable to move, forgetting what it was I was supposed to be doing. I wished my wife was there. I had never felt so alone.

Out of muscle memory I pressed on and passed the 7.5 km mark, then eventually the 8 km. Lowe's Peak- the highest point in Southeast Asia was just up above. I could see the Frenchmen's respective lamps.

The peak came with a whimper, not a bang. I was relieved to reach the top, but it felt strange having nothing to do. I was still at least an hour away from sunrise. I sat on a rock and stared at the unearthly terrain. A few guides reached the top after me and found a spot to lay down. Having made the trip on hundreds of occasions, they knew all of the best spots.

I found a decent rock to sit on and then shrieked in horror as something big and black scurried below. Rats. They moved quickly from person to person in search of dropped food. They must know that 4:00 a.m. every morning is when feeding begins. One even perched itself so close to a guide's

Oh my God! A rat almost touched his ear!

I hate rats and I cannot tell you why. I think it has something to do with the fact that they move around so fast, but I like other rodents with speed. It must be the tail. All I know is that I was shrieking like a girl the entire time at the top.

During one of my shrieks Sami approached with the intent of acting hopping mad. I think that she was more proud of herself for making it to the top than she was angry, so she didn't scold me to bad for taking off with the water. Also, she was laughing at my girlish cries every time I saw a rat. Serves me right for leaving her behind.

Finally day broke and offered us a panoramic that more than lives up to the hype.

 We'd made it, and despite my overall disinterest in hiking, this journey left us with a sense of accomplishment few activities can provide. Now all that was left, was to turn and go back.