Post by L Roebuck on Jul 29, 2006 7:38:59 GMT -5
Trek into darkest Borneo
THERE are two ways to see some of the World Heritage caves deep in the jungles of Borneo: the easy way and the hard way.
From the isolated hamlet of Mulu, in the Malaysian state of Sarawak, several caves are a short way away in the vast Gunung Mulu National Park.
This 52,864ha park is an ancient equatorial rainforest with average rainfall of 5m to 6m, more than 3500 plant species (some carnivorous) and countless animals, insects and strange rock pinnacles.
It was home to headhunters, and their descendants live in longhouses which welcome visitors. It remains home to nomadic Penan people, although the Government has sought to settle them outside the park.
Gunung Mulu is the Holy Grail for people who love caves. There are more than 300km of explored passages, making them among the world's biggest underground caverns.
To see this subterranean world, take a longboat up the river from the Royal Mulu Resort and follow well-marked tracks or boardwalks to some of the best-known and most easily accessible caves. These include Wind, with its internal draughts, and Clearwater, with more than 100km of passages.
A 3km boardwalk from the national park headquarters through the jungle leads to the pretty Lang Cave and nearby Deer Cave, which houses the world's longest single cave corridor at more than 2km, and never less than 90m high.
In the late afternoon, millions of bats leave Deer Cave in massive clouds putting on a show for onlookers.
So much for the easy way to see Borneo's remarkable caves.
Thinking that it was all rather too tame to relax in a longboat, stroll down a boardwalk, marvel at a huge cave then return to the resort for an afternoon beer, we asked a local about the fabled Sarawak Chamber, the biggest cave chamber in the world.
With limited English he offered to guide us, and here the language barrier proved tricky. He told us to meet at dawn with lots of water, which seemed odd for what we assumed was another short boardwalk stroll; but the reason soon became clear.
We bought tickets at the national park headquarters, and soon left the boardwalk far behind as we walked, and walked ... and walked.
Four hours of solid hiking through rainforest so thick the guide needed a machete to hack through vines, fording a dozen streams and traipsing across ridge lines, finally brought us to an opening in a mountain.
Here, our grinning guide gave us miners' lamps to affix to our heads then waded through a lake and into the mountain, beckoning us to follow. A little tired, a little apprehensive, but with too much effort now invested, we followed.
Headlights on, we waded through a creek inside the mountain, then rock-climbed along its side, at one stage holding both sides of the rocky banks above the current.
After climbing small waterfalls and fording another lake in the pitch darkness, we started climbing upwards over boulders, rocky shale and bat guano. Lots of bat guano.
Spiders the size of my hand scuttled in the rocks, and at one stage the guide pointed a torchlight at a huge white snake on a ledge about 10m above us, hunting bats.
Legs throbbing, this climb upwards continued for an hour with a quick stop for lunch in a huge, hollow mountain.
As we pushed deeper into the mysterious underground cathedral I felt like Frodo Baggins crossed with Indiana Jones, minus the bravado. Our guide now became the most important person in the world, because there was little chance of finding the way back unaided.
Finally, dog-tired, we hauled ourselves over yet another boulder to reach the cone of lamplight signalling our guide. "There: Sarawak Chamber," he grinned. Before us stretched a vast cavern, so colossal that torchlight fades into nothingness, leaving us with the distinct anticlimax of staring vaguely into oblivion with no chance of seeing the far walls.
We were exhausted, but it was a sublime feeling, peering into the blackness few have viewed, looking at one of the biggest "things" in the world and knowing we had earned the right with honest sweat.
Then it was time to turn back: another hour scrambling over boulders and scree, another hour stumbling, drenched, along the subterranean creek trail, then a forced four-hour jungle march back to Mulu. Much of the final leg was done in silence and darkness, as sunset had long passed.
When we finally arrived back at Mulu, we toasted our triumph and slept the sleep of the knackered.
Article: www.news.com.au/travel/story/0,,18207189-27983,00.html
THERE are two ways to see some of the World Heritage caves deep in the jungles of Borneo: the easy way and the hard way.
From the isolated hamlet of Mulu, in the Malaysian state of Sarawak, several caves are a short way away in the vast Gunung Mulu National Park.
This 52,864ha park is an ancient equatorial rainforest with average rainfall of 5m to 6m, more than 3500 plant species (some carnivorous) and countless animals, insects and strange rock pinnacles.
It was home to headhunters, and their descendants live in longhouses which welcome visitors. It remains home to nomadic Penan people, although the Government has sought to settle them outside the park.
Gunung Mulu is the Holy Grail for people who love caves. There are more than 300km of explored passages, making them among the world's biggest underground caverns.
To see this subterranean world, take a longboat up the river from the Royal Mulu Resort and follow well-marked tracks or boardwalks to some of the best-known and most easily accessible caves. These include Wind, with its internal draughts, and Clearwater, with more than 100km of passages.
A 3km boardwalk from the national park headquarters through the jungle leads to the pretty Lang Cave and nearby Deer Cave, which houses the world's longest single cave corridor at more than 2km, and never less than 90m high.
In the late afternoon, millions of bats leave Deer Cave in massive clouds putting on a show for onlookers.
So much for the easy way to see Borneo's remarkable caves.
Thinking that it was all rather too tame to relax in a longboat, stroll down a boardwalk, marvel at a huge cave then return to the resort for an afternoon beer, we asked a local about the fabled Sarawak Chamber, the biggest cave chamber in the world.
With limited English he offered to guide us, and here the language barrier proved tricky. He told us to meet at dawn with lots of water, which seemed odd for what we assumed was another short boardwalk stroll; but the reason soon became clear.
We bought tickets at the national park headquarters, and soon left the boardwalk far behind as we walked, and walked ... and walked.
Four hours of solid hiking through rainforest so thick the guide needed a machete to hack through vines, fording a dozen streams and traipsing across ridge lines, finally brought us to an opening in a mountain.
Here, our grinning guide gave us miners' lamps to affix to our heads then waded through a lake and into the mountain, beckoning us to follow. A little tired, a little apprehensive, but with too much effort now invested, we followed.
Headlights on, we waded through a creek inside the mountain, then rock-climbed along its side, at one stage holding both sides of the rocky banks above the current.
After climbing small waterfalls and fording another lake in the pitch darkness, we started climbing upwards over boulders, rocky shale and bat guano. Lots of bat guano.
Spiders the size of my hand scuttled in the rocks, and at one stage the guide pointed a torchlight at a huge white snake on a ledge about 10m above us, hunting bats.
Legs throbbing, this climb upwards continued for an hour with a quick stop for lunch in a huge, hollow mountain.
As we pushed deeper into the mysterious underground cathedral I felt like Frodo Baggins crossed with Indiana Jones, minus the bravado. Our guide now became the most important person in the world, because there was little chance of finding the way back unaided.
Finally, dog-tired, we hauled ourselves over yet another boulder to reach the cone of lamplight signalling our guide. "There: Sarawak Chamber," he grinned. Before us stretched a vast cavern, so colossal that torchlight fades into nothingness, leaving us with the distinct anticlimax of staring vaguely into oblivion with no chance of seeing the far walls.
We were exhausted, but it was a sublime feeling, peering into the blackness few have viewed, looking at one of the biggest "things" in the world and knowing we had earned the right with honest sweat.
Then it was time to turn back: another hour scrambling over boulders and scree, another hour stumbling, drenched, along the subterranean creek trail, then a forced four-hour jungle march back to Mulu. Much of the final leg was done in silence and darkness, as sunset had long passed.
When we finally arrived back at Mulu, we toasted our triumph and slept the sleep of the knackered.
Article: www.news.com.au/travel/story/0,,18207189-27983,00.html