(xv) jungle wildlife

The Rain Forest. It's aptly named.

I see little wildlife as I head towards Uncle Tan's campsite. Lone passenger on motor boat, torrential rain pounding into my face. I arrive at camp feeling like the new Castaway in an ill-thought Mancunian version of the show. Only wetter.

Accommodation comprises wooden open fronted huts, no doors, 3 double mattresses separated by mosquito nets. I am unsure where the hat is to throw my keys into. Irrelevant, as tonight my only nighttime companion is a rat. Indigenous creature - tick.

Night walking tour.
I don wellies and join other tourists for a jungle walk. Feet squelch in ponded mud. The air hangs heavy with humidity. Torchlight my only guide.

A kingfisher perches on thin branch, 5 feet from the mud. Camouflaged by beauty, no predator could stoop to kill such rainbow delight. Blind by night, her only defence her frail perch; alerting the kingfisher if predator creeps close. Perhaps blinded by her own daytime reflection, stationed always at water's edge, staring dutifully at her own resplendence.

I tear my eyes from kingfisher techicolour, and readjust to murky khaki of jungle delight. A turtle swims by, spiders linger on rocks, deadly caterpillars lurk on tree trunk, beady frog's eyes shine out from moist leaves.

Night Boat
Crocodile eyes glow with orange menace in reedy recesses. Brighter than cat's eyes, but too transfixing for road application. Hallucinogenic, hypnotising - each driver would be drawn towards central reservation. Towards death.

Monitor lizard lazes in evening light, hugging tree branch close; river viewpoint. Limbs relaxed into body, snakelike, latent power. Hybrid of land and water; all the skill but little venom of close relatives.

Early Morning Boat
'MORNING. GOOD MORNING.' Teo, our guide, holds less subtlety that countryside cockerel welcoming imminent sunrise.

I wake, resident of a new water village. Stilted houses keep risen river levels at bay. Wooden walkways perch above campsite lake. As I head for coffee, a turtle swims past my raised path.

The reward for early rise is Kinabatangan's river glistening beneath misted vista. Tree lines fading in the distance like accomplished oil painting. Soft morning light glittering with the mystique of nature. Sapling trees overtaken by river's rapacious waistline, banks widening by the hour. The thin strip of indigenous forest shrinks still further, squeezed by both expanded water and irrepressible palm oil plantation.

Macaque monkeys squabble over breakfast provisions. Later they fight for tree branches, barney over playmates and scrap for dominance. A fun, lively life. The shriek and howl a constant presence through daylight hours. If I were a monkey I would love to be...

The Proboscis Monkey. Rounded belly from tasty but poisonous leaf, Emperor's nose, steady manner. Relaxed, calm, pensive. If I were a monkey I would probably be...

Last night's monitor lizard, still prostate on nighttime perch, slinks into waters beneath as we approach.

Fishing Trip

3 Western Tourists. Ampong our guide. Dilla his 13 year old nephew. School break, beautiful smile and replete demeanour - so pleased to be allowed to holiday with the grown-ups.

Worms scavenged from bankside, hooks baited and lines cast into murky river.

And wwwaaaaiiiittt.

Still waiting.

Still waiting

Line pulls.
Excitement.
Slllooowwllly reel in.

Flirtation.
A little more.

Teasing.
A little more.

I caught.
I caught....
Yeah, I caught Dave's line.

Strictly that's a 13 stone catch.
He wins. He caught 15.

Maybe I'll have a beer.

We count our haul.
One.
We count again.
It doesn't take long.

I feel the scornful gaze and graceful ease of eagle above. The Fish Eagle, white bellied, surveys the waters. Waiting it's moment. I'm certain he feeds better than I.
I still had a lovely day. Dilla's aptitude with the reel ensured a good barbecue too.

I stayed 3 nights and four days. Many night tours, and morning rises. The only certainty the endless cycle of weather. I learned eventually to need only 2 sets of clothes. A wet set. A dry one. Just don't confuse them. Nothing dries in the rainforest, least of all the bar.