January 19th, 2010
Early morning, 5.30am, the 7-11 on Lebuh Chulia with a pot noodle in one hand and some butter biscuits in the other, I smell the blood of an Irishman (or more precisely, woman). Nobody is up at this time if they are not getting the 6am bus to the Cameron Highlands, and low and behold, doesn’t it prove true. There’s a very chatty Cavan woman by the name of Kathrina and her beau on the bus. It was to be another hour of non stop back and forth banter before I discovered that the beau was actually a German named Handsome Chris. His Cavan English is impeccable!
Kathrina and Handsome Chris
The 4 of us hitched up in the Highlands about 10am and booked into the very basic Kang Travelers lodge and went about finding some Roti Canai and Teh Tarik for breakfast. A quick walk through the town of Tanah Rata disclosed that rather than the “Highlands Resort” town, as promised by the slick-toed lads at Malaysian Tourism, there was simply nothing here. A few basic restaurants, a bus station, a post office and a few hostels. We were too tired to go hiking today after the early start and bus journey. Unfortunately there really was nothing else to do here. There were tours for RM 98 (ringadingdongs, thank you Chris) that stopped at a vegetable farm, a viewing point, the biggest ugliest blossom in the world and a strawberry farm where wait for it…. you can pick your own strawberries! Imagine that. The ridiculous price meant that not a single backpacker took this tour, when for half the price they probably would have had 6 or 7. So what to do then? We were ready to rock on the morning of day 2 (with a map and everything) but it was still only 1pm and there was nothing to do and nothing to see. Chang has the answer.
chang has the answer
A shocking afternoon of chang, tiger and the blackest of Irish humour ensued, and ensured a good traveling bond between the four of us. There may have been moments when other rather bored looking backpackers looked to join us but we kept the “laughter rule” in place. If you’re not funny you’re not getting in. On account of that our only extra head was Tobias, a little gay Jewish boy. Not that he was terribly funny himself, but in a country that refuses to let Israelis enter, and outlaws homosexuality, the boy truly deserved some kudos. All “Chang”ed out by 9pm and too tired to watch a movie, we all retired early.
The Cameron 4
Up, showered and dressed for the fields we hit the road. Damn it, we need to make a stop for breakfast. The oddest thing about Kang hostel, is that in a town of very little choice, when most of the backpackers are staying at their meagre facilities, they don’t do food. Why sell to ready customers? That’d just be crazy. A rice porridge later, up, showered, dressed for the fields and FED, we hit the road.
There are about 14 numbered and mapped treks in the area. We were following trek 5 to the waterfall, beyond to the watchtower and around the peak of whatever small mountain was closest. Chris couldn’t believe his luck. Kathrina had him convinced that Irish people simply didn’t hike, trek or even walk uphills and as such she was patriotically obliged to refrain from such activities (all the while he was chomping at the bit for a bit of mountain climbing). So the truth was out. There are at least 2 Irish people not afraid to pull a calf muscle or sprain an ankle. Kathrina’s world was in tatters. To begin with the track follows a nice bricked pathway and I was worrying that it was a stroll we were getting.
At the waterfall
After the waterfall things started to look up. Literally. The climb to the watchtower had a sign saying “Path Closed” but it didn’t exactly have a locked gate. Having decided upon a route we then claimed it as our “Traditional” route and like ants and Orangemen we let nothing deter us in the following of that route, so up we started to climb, and then up some more. Every top was just a resting spot being overlooked by the next hike. There wasn’t even much of a view, surrounded by trees as we were. With more false dawns than Liverpool FC the hills just kept going up.
It wasn't all this flat, or pretty
We passed the broken down watch tower, that had promised so much, but it was collapsed in a heap, well below the tree horizon. There was no option but to keep on climbing. Lay on Macduff, And damn’d be him that first cries.
Resting or Posing?
The hiking route was fun, lots of roots and fallen trees to cross, mucky stream beds to descend and cross, hill slides to avoid, that sort of thing. We successfully found our peak, and negotiated a descent. A good days wholesome fun. There was but one viewing point along the route, not at the summit either! From here we could see tea plantations, mists and hill chalets like German boarding schools, and though I couldn’t see the tear in his eye I could hear the shake in his voice when Chris asked me for a hug. The poor fella’.
The "View"
We were almost back to town and making our way through somebody’s market garden, specifically eying up the cabbages, when the heavens let loose their fury upon us. It was punishment for the bad jokes thrown at every race and creed over the 5 hours of our trek and we knew we deserved it.
A little rain
Gods wrath tasted good.