Move into the country, gonna meet a lot of leeches
We were a third of the way through the trek when the first sign of trouble arrived. I looked down at the slug on the end of my boot. It uncoiled, extended an inch and then, moving like a slinky, began to climb towards my flesh. Instinctively flicking it off, I spotted another on my sock. As I went to also launch this one into jungle oblivion it disappeared through cotton. Panicking, I pulled the sock down to find, what I now realised was a leech, clamped to my shin.
Of course, we should have expected it. We were in Taman Negara, the Malaysian Rainforest. This is a proper rainforest, 110% rainforest, a rainforest's rainforest. Think blazing heat, humidity you can cut with a spatula, and impenetrable, root-tangled terrain inhabited by man-eaters (leopards, black panthers and tigers) and giant insects. Of course, this didn't deter my associate Heseltine and I from throwing 60+ combined years of 'common sense' to the wind and heading into its depths without a guide, a map, and armed with little more than some crisps, a pack of cookies, and a litre of water each. Yes, I know, I know...
The plan was to walk along a supposedly well-signposted, easy-going trail (thanks Lonely Planet) that followed the Sungai Tembeling River for a paltry 10km - you walk further than that on a pub crawl don't you? - from Kuala Tahan, the biggest ‘town’ in the area, to the next village Kuala Terrengea. What could possibly go wrong?
So, having booked a boat to collect us from our destination at 4pm, we crossed the river at the crack of dawn (well, 9am) via water taxi and, like all the great explorers who've gone before us, stopped at a luxury hotel for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet.
Four plates of pancakes later, we were strolling along a wooden boardwalk that led out of the hotel, exchanging pleasantries with fellow casual hikers and wondering if there'd be a bar in Kuala Tahan. At this rate, we'd be there in a couple of hours with time to kill!
Spirits remained high as the boardwalk gave way to an uneven track and the foliage noticeably closed in. Steams crisscrossed the undulating path, vines and fallen trees had to be negotiated and strange bird calls rang out in the dense canopy above. We also ran into some of the locals; a giant centipede, a possibly deceased black scorpion and thousands of inch-long ants. Then, we realised the area was swarming with leeches.
At first, it's hard to spot the bloodsuckers who seem to appear from nowhere. You glance down and there’s one working its way up your shoe. While flicking it off you notice another halfway up your sock. Once you're actively looking for them you can see them reaching upwards from the floor like Mexican Wave participants as you pass overhead. Despite this, they somehow still manage to get 'onboard' and quickly head for the gap between your shoe and sock.
From this point on, things went downhill, although unfortunately not literally. Dripping with sweat in energy-sapping conditions and having to repeatedly stop and flick leeches away meant progress was slow. We were also now aware of our woefully inadequate water supplies which were disappearing quickly. Reasoning that we MUST be past halfway we decided to push on but the jovial mood was gone as we focused on conserving energy.
We hadn't seen another person for at least three hours.
‘What if we took a wrong turn?’, Heseltine asked what we were both thinking.
‘We can’t have.’ I replied, hopefully with confidence, but thinking about the numerous side trails and possible forks in the path we’d seen. Through the trees we occasionally caught glimpses of the river we were loosely following. But was that was definitely it? Could we have not split off into a tributary? With mental disintegration kicking in, we pressed on.
Mouth parched and clothes saturated with sweat, lifting my legs to get over tree roots was becoming a struggling. What's more, to the leeches' delight, I managed to rake a vine down the back of my calf drawing blood - here I am lads! All I could think about was water and whether Ray Mears recommended drinking your own urine if absolutely necessary. Even the normally stoic, monosyllabic Heseltine was talking in spaced-out tones like Ozzy Osborne on a peyote binge.
Then - a signpost. The first we’d seen since leaving the boardwalk many hours ago: Kuala Terrengea - 1km. Hallelujah! Buoyed by the news, we found a burst of energy and began to march, the jokes and anecdotes returning. Fifteen minutes later we were back at the gates of Hell. We should be there by now? This was surely the longest kilometre ever? Every step had once again became a trial. Had we misread the sign? Did it even exist?
Eventually, just as the first thought of cannibalism materialised, I saw a hut. Then another. And another. The humanity! The euphoria! Almost running, we noticed the first few huts were fairly dilapidated and clearly uninhabited - surely this was just the outskirts. As we headed deeper into the village, abandoned dwelling gave way to crumbling brick structures which gave way to rotting wooden cabins. There were certainly no bar here. Or shops selling ice-cold water. Or people for that matter: it was, in fact, a ghost town. Something the guidebook and park rangers, who booked our return boat, had failed to mention.
Our boat was due to arrive in one hour so the 'Idiot Backpackers who wandered into jungle with just packs of crisp found dead' headlines were probably averted. But without water it was going to be a torturous wait.
We sat on some steps and, in what's normally one of the great post-hike pleasures, took our boots and shoes off. That's odd, I thought, looking at my socks which were now decorated with spots of red. Peeling them off I watched calmly as several leeches dropped out on to the ground, unable to move due to being so bloated on my blood. Heseltine discovered the same horrors within his own footwear and the only possible reaction was to laugh hysterically, like Skeletor.
Through the cackles… a sound, a hum. Of a boat engine. Then we could see it. And it was coming our way. Our return ride was early! Punching the air like lottery winners we greeted the boatman like a God and hopped on board. He even had water for sale at a massively inflated price.
Saved and rehydrated, the journey back took just 15 minutes and throughout it we gazed silently at the jungle, fully aware what lied within.
