The next day we booked a trip to Mulu Caves which we would visit in a few days. With De-Tavern induced heavy heads we caught a mini-van to Bako National Park. Our goal was to stake out one of the few remaining troupes of proboscis monkeys on Earth.

The mini-van delivered us to a jetty and quicker than you can say “fried rice” we booked a small boat to ferry us across to the park. It wouldn’t have been a true SE Asian experience if the boat made it the whole way without trouble. So we went ahead and broke down close to shore. The boatman pulled out his tool of choice, a hammer, and beat the outboard back into submission. Soon enough he steered down river as fast as the subservient engine would carry us. We rode high on a few ocean swells to land at the Park entrance, sore butts as a testament, less than two hours later.

Bako is surprisingly close to Kuching and is the oldest National Park in Sarawak. Bako’s sandstone geology and steep slopes lend themselves to accentuating its ecological significance as home to no less than 5 species of pitcher plant, the bearded pig, many endemic plants, and the famed Jimmy Durante of primates- the proboscis monkey. It’s proximity to Kuching makes it a popular day trip, but we’d decided to spend a few days exploring what it had to offer.

It was slightly after noon when we arrived. Dave, Mike, Geetha and I (Noa had gone back to Kuala Lumpur the previous day) promptly dumped our gear in our chalet and hit the trail, Within 30 minutes we spotted a large male proboscis feeding in the mangrove. His honker was huge! It was obvious why they had earned their name proboscis, meaning nose. The guy next to us said he’d been looking for 3-days and this was his first sighting. What a stroke of luck!

We watched him feed for a while then headed up the Telok Pandan Kecil trail with a goal to reach a beach and dip in the ocean. We hiked through kerangas, an Iban word which means ‘soil too poor to grow rice’ and noticed Nepenthes pitcher plants of several species. The sandstone substrate and steep slope combined with the intense heat made me feel more like I was hiking in the desert Southwest of America more than the tropical rainforest of Borneo. I was thrilled!

The hike wasn’t easy. The heat and steep slopes took a toll on our city-soft bodies. When we finally reached our destination, the aching muscles rapidly faded and gave way to a breath-taking view of the ocean with a sweet hidden cove 100 meters below.

A white bellied sea eagle swooped by and punctuated the view.

Mike and Dave descended the hill with youth-like exuberance and Geetha and I stayed up top to soak in the view a bit longer.

Shortly thereafter, Geetha decided to head back to Park HQ and get a head start on the long trek back. I joined Dave and Mike down below for a swim in the briny sea.

After ½ hour of swimming, hootin’ and hollerin’ about how lucky we were to be there, we sprinted back to Bako HQ. We arrived a little before dark, just in time to spot a family of bearded pigs combing the beach for morsels of food.

After a shower and dinner one of the locals spotted a colugo (flying lemur) in a nearby tree. Even though they’re called flying lemurs, they aren’t related to lemurs at all. In fact, these mammalian oddities are related to no other living mammal. We went over to witness this spectacular mammal. It gave us a show and spread its hairy, membranous wings and glided from one tree to another in search of fruits or leaves.

Nearby, a Waglers Pit Viper distracted us for a brief moment as we watched it bask in the fading light, motionless and unconcerned about our proximity or presence.

The next morning our weary bones told on us. Geetha decided to stay back in the chalet to recuperate. Meanwhile, Mike, Dave and I embarked on an expedition that took us through old growth rainforest and kerangas by a different route, albeit back to the same beach we’d swam at the day before. The steepness of the slope tempered our aspirations to make it a long hike of 15 km. We decided to call it a day and head back to camp by means of a short cut the map revealed.

Later that night, after a meal of rice and something or other, the sounds of nocturnal critters gearing up for a night of foraging serenaded us to sleep. Cicadas, some of the loudest ‘singers’ of the insect world, rapped their timbals in an ersatz orchestra. Ah, sweet respite from honking horns and diesel engines.

The next morning, on our departure we had one last look at the mangrove as we boarded boat for another sore butt ride home.