The Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre takes animals that have been apprehended from the illegal exotic animal trade, taken from people’s homes, or found. It currently has a lot of birds, some monkeys and gibbons, a sun bear, some crocodiles and some snakes.
They try to nurse any injuries, then prepare them for one of four fates:
Return to the wild
Relocation to a breeding location
Relocation to a sheltered habitat, when it's evident they won't make it in the wild
Eventual death
As far as I could tell, animals are not euthanized; they are held until a natural death happens.
The facility was built in 2004, and has been operated by the Friends of the National Parks Foundation since 2012. I'm not sure who built it, but FNPF took over at government’s request. Most of the funding comes from an Australian animal protection society, and FNPF is always looking for more money.
The manager is a veterinarian. I didn't have a chance to meet her since she was in Jogjakarta getting married when I had my visit. The staff take care of the animals and the facility. They have been working on providing more interest in the cages, trying to effect a change from cages to habitats.
The only place where I saw an effective habitat was in the hornbill enclosure. There's a species of hornbill that likes to sleep in Java and spend the day in Bali, and three of them were enjoying life in a large netted space. Alongside the hornbills was an equally large (and equally high) enclosure currently occupied by a handful of crocodiles. They were having lunch as I was there, but I kept far far away. Lunch looked like some kind of bird, possibly scrawny chicken.
Another predominant species of bird were cockatiels. Apparently, the further east you go, the larger they get. There’s a cockatiel native to Bali that is only 30 to 40 centimetres long. Its colouring is also not as bright as some larger ones.
There were a pair of young bald eagles. It seems as though raptors are a fashion accessory for some Arab men. The two caged today each had problems with one eye. Blinded perhaps.
I didn't look carefully at several of the animals. I find reptiles to be especially creepy, and many people know of my fear of primates. I was trying hard to look like a concerned person, not a scared one, so I focussed on my guide whenever I got uncomfortable.
The animals that I did look at appeared to be content. They were not showing indicators of self harm -- broken skin, bald patches, etc. My guide told me that when FNPF took over, many animals looked distressed.
A few weeks ago, five pythons were returned to the wild. Every year about a thousand birds are set free. The rehab-and-release program is a success.
FNFP looks for volunteers who are interested in animal welfare and care. Volunteers can engage with animals, adding stimulation to their day. Attention is paid to the probable fate. If an animal is destined for the wild, touching is off the table. If an animal is living out its life, personal contact is okay.
Volunteers also are expected to help with cleaning. To ensure there is no spread of disease, animals are quarantined when first entering the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre, and enclosures are kept very clean.
Volunteers pay a modest amount for accommodation on site. There's a four-bed dormitory with a small kitchen and toilet. FNPF stocks filtered water, but does not provide food for volunteers.
A week-long commitment allows volunteers to learn the routine of the various animals, and ensures the rescued animals get the best care possible.
The Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre is in Tabanan, about an hour outside of the tourist centre of Kuta, or an hour and a half from Denpasar airport.
Sunday, 8 January 2017
Traditional village in Bali
The rain is pouring down, the birds are chirping, and I can't believe my good fortune.
I started the day with an attitude. Anita left last night, and I was indulging in a big dose of “oh poor me.” I was due to start my volunteer stint with the Friends of the National Parks Foundation at the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. Anyone who knows me is probably trying to get over their snort of surprise, because it’s a well known fact that I'm not an animal person.
However, I asked to spend time at each of the FNPF sites, so that meant I needed to include the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. The best part, from my perspective, is that it was away from the tourist centres that have given me such a poor impression of this island.
I dilly dallied in the morning, went to breakfast just before they started packing it away, and then packed my own possessions. I decided that I should do laundry after all, and asked the front desk how to gain access to the guest laundry. It's on the second floor ma’am, and you get coins from here at the front desk. It's 50 to wash and 50 to dry, so how would you like to pay the 100,000 rupiah.
Gasp. Cough. Uh. I think I'll wait.
One Canadian dollar is worth just over 10,000 rupiah. I have trouble with the huge numbers when I see prices, but I've almost gotten over it. Even so, $10 Canadian to wash socks and underwear was too much.
So I checked out, called a grab car, and made my way to Tebanan. It took just over an hour of driving in constant traffic and motorcycles buzzing around the cars. There was barely a break in the shops, temples and assorted buildings lining the road. In other words, I didn't feel like I was out of the city that I've come to hate.
The last road, the block-long road on which the Wildlife Rescue Centre is located, had very little traffic. It looked promising.
The driver dropped me off in front of the gate. The gate was open, but there was an impression of being deserted. I went inside, and hailed. Phew. Someone appeared.
You're a … Volunteer? Yes.
Turns out the manager, the only one who knew I was coming, was in Java getting married. My contact with FNPF was there too. The people left at the centre spoke very little English. More than my Bahasi (my only phrase is thank you). I showed them an email from my contact. I got up the Google translate app. They read my text, and offered none in return. They gave me a bed in the four-bed dorm, a sheet and a towel. They were kinder than I was.
Behind the scenes, the airwaves were buzzing. At one point, I spoke to my contact, but didn't feel as though either of us understood the other. I went for a walk in search of food. Two convience stores, a lovely walk, and no food. When I got back, I was informed that BomBom would be coming tomorrow. Oh okay.
I played a game on my iPad.
Things got better after about half an hour. BomBom appeared, with excellent English. He's a vet with the organization. He showed me around, and gave a basic orientation. Most volunteers here want some certification saying they've worked with animals. We're not used to someone saying they don't want to work with the animals. What do you want to do?
I don't know. I want to feel better and feel useful. I understood that as a volunteer, I would be helping to raise the profile of the organization, and I was here to learn about the work of this site, not to tend to the animals. The only thing I've enjoyed during my short time in Bali has been a bike ride through the rice fields.
Okay. More phone calling. More sitting, wondering what was going on. More thinking about finding an affordable resort, staying there a few days, then flying home.
It's settled. You can go to the rice fields, if you're willing to stay in a modest traditional home. Sure.
Only problem is, he can't come get you until six o'clock. Can't I just get a grab car? It'll be expensive. I checked, and a grab car from Tebanan to Ubud was 111,000 rupiah. It seemed reasonable to me, and I could go right away.
BomBom had a discussion with the driver. Turns out I'm not going to Ubud. I'm going near the mountain. We settled on 200,000 rupiah. The whole way here, the driver kept saying “very far, very far.”
I still don't have a clue where I am. My phone signal is not strong enough to be a hot spot for the Internet. All I can tell you is that I'm on a ridge in Bali. The road from Tabanan is on the next ridge over, and if we had mad a turn where the Besi Kalungsign said, we would have gone down another steep hill.
The houses are decorative, and go off a central corridor. They kitchen house is behind my bedroom house, and my hosts house is diagonally across the courtyard. We entered through a gate, and my bedroom house I'd about five or six doors from the gate.
What do I mean by decorative? The roofs are tile, and have ornamental flourishes on the top and at the corners. The walls are white plaster and tile, elevated on tiled platforms. The walkways are cement, made pretty by floral mosaic. Columns help the roofs extend over verandas, making sure people and furniture don't get wet, or exposed to the bright sun. There is Balinese lawn (not composed as gas as Canadian lawns are), frangipani and Palm trees and Bougainvillia in the courtyard. Doors and window trim are a warm wood.
Outside my door is a large bird cage, and the songbirds within are loudly competing with the thunder and rain. Roosters crow in the distance, and regular family noises round out the soundscape.
From this experience, I understand why people like Bali.
I started the day with an attitude. Anita left last night, and I was indulging in a big dose of “oh poor me.” I was due to start my volunteer stint with the Friends of the National Parks Foundation at the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. Anyone who knows me is probably trying to get over their snort of surprise, because it’s a well known fact that I'm not an animal person.
However, I asked to spend time at each of the FNPF sites, so that meant I needed to include the Bali Wildlife Rescue Centre. The best part, from my perspective, is that it was away from the tourist centres that have given me such a poor impression of this island.
I dilly dallied in the morning, went to breakfast just before they started packing it away, and then packed my own possessions. I decided that I should do laundry after all, and asked the front desk how to gain access to the guest laundry. It's on the second floor ma’am, and you get coins from here at the front desk. It's 50 to wash and 50 to dry, so how would you like to pay the 100,000 rupiah.
Gasp. Cough. Uh. I think I'll wait.
One Canadian dollar is worth just over 10,000 rupiah. I have trouble with the huge numbers when I see prices, but I've almost gotten over it. Even so, $10 Canadian to wash socks and underwear was too much.
So I checked out, called a grab car, and made my way to Tebanan. It took just over an hour of driving in constant traffic and motorcycles buzzing around the cars. There was barely a break in the shops, temples and assorted buildings lining the road. In other words, I didn't feel like I was out of the city that I've come to hate.
The last road, the block-long road on which the Wildlife Rescue Centre is located, had very little traffic. It looked promising.
The driver dropped me off in front of the gate. The gate was open, but there was an impression of being deserted. I went inside, and hailed. Phew. Someone appeared.
You're a … Volunteer? Yes.
Turns out the manager, the only one who knew I was coming, was in Java getting married. My contact with FNPF was there too. The people left at the centre spoke very little English. More than my Bahasi (my only phrase is thank you). I showed them an email from my contact. I got up the Google translate app. They read my text, and offered none in return. They gave me a bed in the four-bed dorm, a sheet and a towel. They were kinder than I was.
Behind the scenes, the airwaves were buzzing. At one point, I spoke to my contact, but didn't feel as though either of us understood the other. I went for a walk in search of food. Two convience stores, a lovely walk, and no food. When I got back, I was informed that BomBom would be coming tomorrow. Oh okay.
I played a game on my iPad.
Things got better after about half an hour. BomBom appeared, with excellent English. He's a vet with the organization. He showed me around, and gave a basic orientation. Most volunteers here want some certification saying they've worked with animals. We're not used to someone saying they don't want to work with the animals. What do you want to do?
I don't know. I want to feel better and feel useful. I understood that as a volunteer, I would be helping to raise the profile of the organization, and I was here to learn about the work of this site, not to tend to the animals. The only thing I've enjoyed during my short time in Bali has been a bike ride through the rice fields.
Okay. More phone calling. More sitting, wondering what was going on. More thinking about finding an affordable resort, staying there a few days, then flying home.
It's settled. You can go to the rice fields, if you're willing to stay in a modest traditional home. Sure.
Only problem is, he can't come get you until six o'clock. Can't I just get a grab car? It'll be expensive. I checked, and a grab car from Tebanan to Ubud was 111,000 rupiah. It seemed reasonable to me, and I could go right away.
BomBom had a discussion with the driver. Turns out I'm not going to Ubud. I'm going near the mountain. We settled on 200,000 rupiah. The whole way here, the driver kept saying “very far, very far.”
I still don't have a clue where I am. My phone signal is not strong enough to be a hot spot for the Internet. All I can tell you is that I'm on a ridge in Bali. The road from Tabanan is on the next ridge over, and if we had mad a turn where the Besi Kalungsign said, we would have gone down another steep hill.
The houses are decorative, and go off a central corridor. They kitchen house is behind my bedroom house, and my hosts house is diagonally across the courtyard. We entered through a gate, and my bedroom house I'd about five or six doors from the gate.
What do I mean by decorative? The roofs are tile, and have ornamental flourishes on the top and at the corners. The walls are white plaster and tile, elevated on tiled platforms. The walkways are cement, made pretty by floral mosaic. Columns help the roofs extend over verandas, making sure people and furniture don't get wet, or exposed to the bright sun. There is Balinese lawn (not composed as gas as Canadian lawns are), frangipani and Palm trees and Bougainvillia in the courtyard. Doors and window trim are a warm wood.
Outside my door is a large bird cage, and the songbirds within are loudly competing with the thunder and rain. Roosters crow in the distance, and regular family noises round out the soundscape.
From this experience, I understand why people like Bali.
Tuesday, 3 January 2017
Borneo -- Upside Down House
The Upside Down House was on our list of things to do, and when we found ourselves with a free day, it seemed like the most logical place to go.
The Tourist Information Bureau is across the street from the hotel, so we knew where to start -- or at least where to ask how to get there. We could take a bus ... probably cumbersome. Or, the man at the tourist information bureau suggested, we could get a Grab Car. Grab is like Uber, only better, in his opinion. They don't charge you more if the traffic is bad (uh, isn't it more fair to the driver to charge more if it takes longer to get there???)
Regardless, we let him call us a car, and that's how we met Robert. He used to have a small farm, but now he has a nice Toyota SUV. He was happy to take us to the Upside Down House and 3D Museum for 39 Ringet. It was about an hour away, so it seemed like a good deal.
When we got there, he asked how we will get back, and decided it was safer to wait for us. Then he asked the admissions lady if he could come with us, since he was our driver. Sure. This way please. Easy peasy.
The lady at the first stop gave us plastic bags to put our shoes in. There's carpeting inside. Uh, okay. Then she showed us how to hold our camera. At this point, I was totally confused.
Turns out the 3D Museum is a building with 28 paintings for people to insert themselves, and take a picture.
Here are some of our shots:
After we left the Upside Down House, Robert decided we should see a swinging bridge. He said the locals use it for foot traffic, bicycles, and motorcycles.We chuckled at the description, until we actually saw a fellow on a motorcycle crossing.
I was a little less comfortable than the guy on the bike. The planks weren't the same as they would have been in North America...
Robert was delightful. Not only did he do a fabulous job of taking photos of Anita and I, but he helped make our day special. It really was fun.
The Tourist Information Bureau is across the street from the hotel, so we knew where to start -- or at least where to ask how to get there. We could take a bus ... probably cumbersome. Or, the man at the tourist information bureau suggested, we could get a Grab Car. Grab is like Uber, only better, in his opinion. They don't charge you more if the traffic is bad (uh, isn't it more fair to the driver to charge more if it takes longer to get there???)
Regardless, we let him call us a car, and that's how we met Robert. He used to have a small farm, but now he has a nice Toyota SUV. He was happy to take us to the Upside Down House and 3D Museum for 39 Ringet. It was about an hour away, so it seemed like a good deal.
When we got there, he asked how we will get back, and decided it was safer to wait for us. Then he asked the admissions lady if he could come with us, since he was our driver. Sure. This way please. Easy peasy.
The lady at the first stop gave us plastic bags to put our shoes in. There's carpeting inside. Uh, okay. Then she showed us how to hold our camera. At this point, I was totally confused.
Turns out the 3D Museum is a building with 28 paintings for people to insert themselves, and take a picture.
Here are some of our shots:
Then we moved on to the Upside Down House. No pictures were allowed in the house itself, but there were a few scenarios. Anita found some garden tools.
I was a little less comfortable than the guy on the bike. The planks weren't the same as they would have been in North America...
Robert was delightful. Not only did he do a fabulous job of taking photos of Anita and I, but he helped make our day special. It really was fun.
Borneo -- Mount Kinabalu
We didn't hear from Robert last night or this morning, so we decided to take a minibus to the base of Mount Kinabalu. It's the second highest mountain in Malaysia, and a major attraction in the Kota Kinabalu area. Robert is our favourite driver. He took us to the Upside Down House, and acted as our photographer. He had a great car, and an even greater sense of humour.
Most people interested in Mount Kinabalu climb it. It's a two-day one-night excursion. We were interested in the trails in the vicinity. There's a whole network, and we chose one that followed a stream (Silau-Silau), followed by the Kiau View Trail. The predicted time was just over three hours for under four kilometers.
The trail descriptions show how people use language differently. Here's how our trails were described.
Silau-Silau Trail: (3057 meters. 60 to 80 minutes) this trail is one of the easier trails in the park and it also one of the most frequented by visitors. There are several entrances/exits to the trail, which gives hikers flexibility in choosing trail length and the time spent hiking. The trail follows a stream running through the park and the moist and protected environment along the trail encourages the luxuriant growth of mosses, ferns and orchids. By starting at the trailhead at the lower road, hikers have the option of joining the Kiau View Trail trailhead (1.5KM mark on Power Station Road) to complete a small circuit.
Kiau View Trail: (2544 meters, 60-80 minutes) this trail is of moderate length and with the exception of the entrances, the route is fairly level. Several viewpoints along the trail provide vistas of the hilly range and nearby Kadazan Dusun village of Kiau. The original trail to the summit, used by last century is climbers, began in Kiau.
Okay, those were almost normal descriptions. Here's the Bukit Ular Trail description:
This trail is seldom used either safe to walk. Hikers will start from the end of the Power Station Road. Walk along the house fence to get into the forest. Hikers can break the journey by joining the power station road down below about kilometer before the power station as it exits near the Kiau Gap shelter or extend it by joining Mempening Trail to reach park headquarters. This trail is a good point to see some secretive and rare birds such as Everett's Thrush and Blue Banded Pitta, both are endemic to Borneo.
The landscape on the first trail was gorgeous. The stream gurgled and flowed; the path climbed alongside ferns, mosses and tree roots. It looked remarkably like any number of trails in Lynn Canyon Park, Goldstream Park or Canada's south west coast in general. There were even trees with the same smooth reddish bark as we see on Arbutus trees.
On the second trail, we walked into fog. The view was hidden from us, but we still enjoyed the walk. It climbed; it dipped. We followed paths that would have been creek beds, had it been raining. We were grateful that it was not.
The real drama came on the ride home. The skies opened, and opened hard. There were spots where a lesser driver would have hydroplaned. Water splashed up so that if pedestrians had been in the vicinity, they would have been soaked in the face. I was more than grateful that we were not on a motorcycle.
Thankfully, we were in a car. When we went to the minibus stop in the morning, the next bus was likely in an hour. We didn't want to wait. A driver asked if we wanted to go in a car. Maybe, how much? 150 Ringet. Sure. He was surprised by the answer. I asked if I should have bargained for 140? He laughed and led us to his car.
Of all the cars we've been in, his was the plainest. 12 years old, paint job looking tired. Seats looking equally tired. It ran well enough, and was comfortable. It was all we needed.
As we were driving to the park, I did the math. If we had taken a bus, it would have been 30 Ringets each way, for each of us. That's 120 Ringets, and slaves to a bus schedule. This way, we were comfortable, had a driver willing to wait or make side trips, and only a tad more expensive. I thought it was a good deal.
As we were driving down the mountain in the pouring rain, I was even more grateful. It started to spit as soon as we left the park. Imagine if we had to wait in a shelter, with wind, waiting for a minibus that may or may not have already been full. They don't usually leave the next town unless every seat is full. I'm not sure where hikers are supposed to fit in.
On top of that, we got to stop at the giant pineapple. In most roundabouts, there is a sculpture that represents the surrounding community. There was a giant pineapple at the bottom of the hill, and another one part way up. We stopped at the higher one.
There were also some large ones at a nearby fruit stand.
Monday, 2 January 2017
Mulu Day 4 -- Merry Christmas
Christmas morning arrived with the promise of chocolate. Four years earlier, I carried a pair of Terry’s dark chocolate oranges around Kenya to savour on Christmas morning. They were no longer spherical by the time I presented them, so I did not repeat the measure on this trip.
Instead, Anita had hoarded a Lindt dark chocolate bar acquired at London Drugs before her departure. It was divine. She was better, but not well. A slow day was in order.
We had not yet explored the pool, so today was an ideal time to try. It's a fair size -- maybe 20 meters long, 8 meters wide and a consistent 1.2 meters deep. The temperature was perfect, and most other guests let us have it to ourselves. Bliss. I got hungry so we ordered potato wedges and a watermelon citrus drink. Even more bliss.
Dinner began at 6:30, and it was a special buffet for Christmas. Many of you know that we wax rhapsodic about the Christmas Brunch at the Fairmont Norfolk in Nairobi. It was an incredible event with fabulous food, amazing surroundings and sweet music. I highly recommend it.
Well dinner at the Mulu Marriott didn't disappoint. There was traditional Asian foods, traditional turkey, roast beef, trimmings, salads, and a barbecue! The chef learned of our food limitations, and brought me a plate of stir fried vegetables and Anita some gluten free pasta with a marinara sauce. It was perfect. Anita had a chocolate mousse as her amuse bouche; I found some veggie sticks. Neither of us had room for the beautiful desserts.
Christmas was a quiet day, and we really enjoyed it.
Instead, Anita had hoarded a Lindt dark chocolate bar acquired at London Drugs before her departure. It was divine. She was better, but not well. A slow day was in order.
We had not yet explored the pool, so today was an ideal time to try. It's a fair size -- maybe 20 meters long, 8 meters wide and a consistent 1.2 meters deep. The temperature was perfect, and most other guests let us have it to ourselves. Bliss. I got hungry so we ordered potato wedges and a watermelon citrus drink. Even more bliss.
Dinner began at 6:30, and it was a special buffet for Christmas. Many of you know that we wax rhapsodic about the Christmas Brunch at the Fairmont Norfolk in Nairobi. It was an incredible event with fabulous food, amazing surroundings and sweet music. I highly recommend it.
Well dinner at the Mulu Marriott didn't disappoint. There was traditional Asian foods, traditional turkey, roast beef, trimmings, salads, and a barbecue! The chef learned of our food limitations, and brought me a plate of stir fried vegetables and Anita some gluten free pasta with a marinara sauce. It was perfect. Anita had a chocolate mousse as her amuse bouche; I found some veggie sticks. Neither of us had room for the beautiful desserts.
Christmas was a quiet day, and we really enjoyed it.
Mulu Day 3 -- Part 2
I left you at the village by the river. Ocean had been using the blowpipe; the Scottish-Australian dad had a go, and did well (hit the target). By this time, many tour groups were at the village. We left before the crowds, wanting to get to the caves before the masses.
The first stop was the Cave of the Winds, not to be confused with the Wind Cave near Kuching. All caves get their air flow from temperature differences within the cave. Hot air comes in through the mouth, and meets cold air within the cave. Those of us that learned our Laws of Thermodynamics from Flanders and Swann know that heat passes from hot to cold, so when hot air mixes with cold, the cold soaks up the heat and there is often movement as they mix.
In the Cave of the Winds, there were interesting crystals formed as bacteria or micro-organisms fed on the calcium in the limestone. This gave the limestone features a fuzzy appearance.
There were also curtain stalactites, where formations came down from the roof in sheets. Any minute, I was expecting an orchestra to play.
Again, it's difficult to describe the scale of these caves. Meter-wide walkways looked like matchsticks in the distance, and people (the hoards coming in as we were leaving) looked like miniatures in a diorama.
The hoards weren't really hoards. We were there in low season. However, at times it felt like every hotel guest was on the river at the same time as us. The Scottish couple that we met on the way in from the airport had a vantage point on an old trail and said afterwards that at least ten boats followed us, each with at least ten tourists. We had two tourists (Anita and I), a guide and a boatman in our longboat. Luxury.
Although the Cave of the Winds had some movement, there wasn't a lot. The air was close, and it was both hot and humid. Anita started to feel unwell again, so after a brief rest at the base of the Clearwater and Lady Caves, she decided to opt out of the final cave visits.
Ocean and I climbed the 200 steps to the cave entrance on our own. First, we went to the smaller Lady Cave because the other group there at the time opted to go to the Clearwater Cave first. The Lady Cave has a stalagmite that resembles a woman, particularly when a light is cast from a certain direction. Some people say it looks like a Muslim woman; others say she resembles a Catholic Mary. I thought she looked most like a peasant.
The Clearwater Cave is another spectacular show cave. It's high, deep and in every respect, enormous. There's a river running through it with wonderfully clear water. I passed when offered the opportunity to dip my hand or foot in the water. Perhaps it's deeply ingrained in me that mountain water is cold. I know this water had to be warm, given the fact there was no fog from cold waters evaporating in Equatorial air. Intellectually, I knew the water was warm. Viscerally, I thought it was likely to be cold.
As Ocean and I were leaving, I got a taste of what it must be like to be a high season visitor. A constant stream of tourists were making their way in, stopping at the stations of the tour. With Ocean as our guide, I never had the impression that the information was rote or the same as given to everyone else. He talked to us like he was sharing the wonder and splendour of the phenomenal places.
When we rejoined Anita, she had not regained any strength. The thought of a three hour trek to Camp Six was not appealing, and we decided to return to the comfort of the Mulu Marriott. It meant missing the Pinnacles, but better to be comfortable when ill.
The boat ride back to the hotel was about half an hour. We reclaimed our bags, checked back in and got the discount for returning guests. We also were assigned a room in Block Two, as Epau was concerned about Anita having to walk too far. Epau is the tremendously wonderful woman on reception that has a smile that can brighten the dullest day. She always had an answer to our questions, remembered us, and asked about our adventures.
While Anita slept off her nausea, the Scottish-Australian family (dad, mom, teenaged son and daughter) made their way to Camp Six. Rather than scale the Pinnacles, they were off to the Headhunters Trail.
The first stop was the Cave of the Winds, not to be confused with the Wind Cave near Kuching. All caves get their air flow from temperature differences within the cave. Hot air comes in through the mouth, and meets cold air within the cave. Those of us that learned our Laws of Thermodynamics from Flanders and Swann know that heat passes from hot to cold, so when hot air mixes with cold, the cold soaks up the heat and there is often movement as they mix.
In the Cave of the Winds, there were interesting crystals formed as bacteria or micro-organisms fed on the calcium in the limestone. This gave the limestone features a fuzzy appearance.
There were also curtain stalactites, where formations came down from the roof in sheets. Any minute, I was expecting an orchestra to play.
Again, it's difficult to describe the scale of these caves. Meter-wide walkways looked like matchsticks in the distance, and people (the hoards coming in as we were leaving) looked like miniatures in a diorama.
The hoards weren't really hoards. We were there in low season. However, at times it felt like every hotel guest was on the river at the same time as us. The Scottish couple that we met on the way in from the airport had a vantage point on an old trail and said afterwards that at least ten boats followed us, each with at least ten tourists. We had two tourists (Anita and I), a guide and a boatman in our longboat. Luxury.
Although the Cave of the Winds had some movement, there wasn't a lot. The air was close, and it was both hot and humid. Anita started to feel unwell again, so after a brief rest at the base of the Clearwater and Lady Caves, she decided to opt out of the final cave visits.
Ocean and I climbed the 200 steps to the cave entrance on our own. First, we went to the smaller Lady Cave because the other group there at the time opted to go to the Clearwater Cave first. The Lady Cave has a stalagmite that resembles a woman, particularly when a light is cast from a certain direction. Some people say it looks like a Muslim woman; others say she resembles a Catholic Mary. I thought she looked most like a peasant.
The Clearwater Cave is another spectacular show cave. It's high, deep and in every respect, enormous. There's a river running through it with wonderfully clear water. I passed when offered the opportunity to dip my hand or foot in the water. Perhaps it's deeply ingrained in me that mountain water is cold. I know this water had to be warm, given the fact there was no fog from cold waters evaporating in Equatorial air. Intellectually, I knew the water was warm. Viscerally, I thought it was likely to be cold.
As Ocean and I were leaving, I got a taste of what it must be like to be a high season visitor. A constant stream of tourists were making their way in, stopping at the stations of the tour. With Ocean as our guide, I never had the impression that the information was rote or the same as given to everyone else. He talked to us like he was sharing the wonder and splendour of the phenomenal places.
When we rejoined Anita, she had not regained any strength. The thought of a three hour trek to Camp Six was not appealing, and we decided to return to the comfort of the Mulu Marriott. It meant missing the Pinnacles, but better to be comfortable when ill.
The boat ride back to the hotel was about half an hour. We reclaimed our bags, checked back in and got the discount for returning guests. We also were assigned a room in Block Two, as Epau was concerned about Anita having to walk too far. Epau is the tremendously wonderful woman on reception that has a smile that can brighten the dullest day. She always had an answer to our questions, remembered us, and asked about our adventures.
While Anita slept off her nausea, the Scottish-Australian family (dad, mom, teenaged son and daughter) made their way to Camp Six. Rather than scale the Pinnacles, they were off to the Headhunters Trail.
Sunday, 1 January 2017
New Year's Day in Kota Kinabalu
After a long day in the van, driving three hours to and another three hours from, the Sabah Agriculture Park, I lobbied hard for a quiet day. I wanted to do nothing more than replace my lost snorkel.
Anita reluctantly agreed. We looked into the possibility of renting bicycles, but the tourist information bureau lady wasn't sure if the rental place was open. She called on our behalf, and either “got a wrong number or they were very hung over.”
When going down the road to find it, we found a massive multiblock street market. It's a regular Sunday morning feature, and there’s a wide array of things for sale. For a few minutes, we stood behind the fresh pineapple juice stand. The vendor takes the top off a pineapple, screws in a large screw beater and turns on the portable mixer until the fruit is juiced. Add a straw and hand it in its natural container to the customer.
There were stalls for shoes, kittens, hats, tote bags and dozens of other market type things.
We were also in search of breakfast, so we went to a permanent store and bought a delicious fruit smoothie. Anita wanted to taste mine before committing, only to learn they ran out of mango after mine.
We went to our usual mall to visit the grocery store (more oatmeal, apples and instant noodles) then, after emptying our bag in the hotel room, headed to the newest mall for Nando's. The Imago Mall was massive, glitzy, upscale and full. Overwhelming is another good word for it.
Nando's was on the outside breezeway, out of the crush of traffic, and was a welcome sight. The menu was slightly different from our Nando's in Millstream Village or Langley. We had chicken tenders rather than a kabob each. Unfortunately, they were out of spicy rice, so Mediterranean was an acceptable substitute. We thoroughly enjoyed our meal.
The dive store was a little more difficult to find. The wonderful folk on Sea Tango, who took us snorkelling days before, said there was a dive shop on the second floor of Imago Mall. The concierge said they were mistaken. Down Under Diving was in the next building, behind 7-11. She drew us a map.
We found a door. It looked blank. Anita tried upstairs. It looked so shady that I refused to go up the stairs. We went into 7-11 and asked. The clerk was confused. We went out the other door of 7-11 and found it! Yippee!
According to Anita, I bought the most expensive snorkel in the store. I wanted one that was similar to the one I lost. I also wanted some plastic connectors so that I wouldn't lose another one. The bill was higher than I expected. Sigh.
We took a grab car back. Grab is a service like Uber, and we've had great success with it. Then we spent the afternoon on the Internet and watching The Intern. It was a charming movie, one that I can heartily recommend.
Dinner was at Madben’s, and we found the menu limiting. They sprinkled bread crumbs into the salad dressing, so Anita could not eat her Caesar salad. She enjoyed two bowls of creamy pumpkin soup. My eggplant penne was delicious and a good portion size.
So, for a quiet day, it was not completely quiet. But we did rest. A lot.
Anita reluctantly agreed. We looked into the possibility of renting bicycles, but the tourist information bureau lady wasn't sure if the rental place was open. She called on our behalf, and either “got a wrong number or they were very hung over.”
When going down the road to find it, we found a massive multiblock street market. It's a regular Sunday morning feature, and there’s a wide array of things for sale. For a few minutes, we stood behind the fresh pineapple juice stand. The vendor takes the top off a pineapple, screws in a large screw beater and turns on the portable mixer until the fruit is juiced. Add a straw and hand it in its natural container to the customer.
There were stalls for shoes, kittens, hats, tote bags and dozens of other market type things.
We were also in search of breakfast, so we went to a permanent store and bought a delicious fruit smoothie. Anita wanted to taste mine before committing, only to learn they ran out of mango after mine.
We went to our usual mall to visit the grocery store (more oatmeal, apples and instant noodles) then, after emptying our bag in the hotel room, headed to the newest mall for Nando's. The Imago Mall was massive, glitzy, upscale and full. Overwhelming is another good word for it.
Nando's was on the outside breezeway, out of the crush of traffic, and was a welcome sight. The menu was slightly different from our Nando's in Millstream Village or Langley. We had chicken tenders rather than a kabob each. Unfortunately, they were out of spicy rice, so Mediterranean was an acceptable substitute. We thoroughly enjoyed our meal.
The dive store was a little more difficult to find. The wonderful folk on Sea Tango, who took us snorkelling days before, said there was a dive shop on the second floor of Imago Mall. The concierge said they were mistaken. Down Under Diving was in the next building, behind 7-11. She drew us a map.
We found a door. It looked blank. Anita tried upstairs. It looked so shady that I refused to go up the stairs. We went into 7-11 and asked. The clerk was confused. We went out the other door of 7-11 and found it! Yippee!
According to Anita, I bought the most expensive snorkel in the store. I wanted one that was similar to the one I lost. I also wanted some plastic connectors so that I wouldn't lose another one. The bill was higher than I expected. Sigh.
We took a grab car back. Grab is a service like Uber, and we've had great success with it. Then we spent the afternoon on the Internet and watching The Intern. It was a charming movie, one that I can heartily recommend.
Dinner was at Madben’s, and we found the menu limiting. They sprinkled bread crumbs into the salad dressing, so Anita could not eat her Caesar salad. She enjoyed two bowls of creamy pumpkin soup. My eggplant penne was delicious and a good portion size.
So, for a quiet day, it was not completely quiet. But we did rest. A lot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)