Category: SE Asia

It was Friday when I took the call asking me if I could head to a small island in the Gulf of Thailand to carry out a little writing project. I actually just couldn’t be bothered heading east, had too much on back in the UK and so wasn’t really up for a jaunt to the other side of the world. Those that don’t/haven’t travelled look at some of the places I have visited and tell me how lucky I am, how amazing life must be. And I accept that, over the years I have done some amazing things and created lifelong memories. In many ways I have been insanely lucky, fortunate and am always grateful.

However, travelling is exhausting, it really is. Particularly short term. This trip would have no time for jet lag, just get on with it, get it done, and get back home. So, this is how it all happened.

Firstly I needed to head to Madrid to pick some things up…

Then it was back to London…

Followed by a hefty 13hr 40min flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia…

The first hotel…

A flight to Singapore…

A flight to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam…

A flight to Phu Quoc…

It took 6 flights, 5 countries, 7,000 miles and 48 hours. Needless to say, I was exhausted.

 

Singapore is the last stop on our journey and somewhere we were all looking forward to. Anyone that has spent weeks in SE Asia and beyond will know exactly what I mean when I say that we needed some normality, cleanliness and, well, its actually quite nice being able to brush our teeth using tap water. But beyond a teeth groom Singapore is also one of the most advanced and modern cities/countries in the world yet it somehow retains its colonial charm and, after you have been a few times and seen beneath its sterility it offers up a real gateway to a multitude of Asian cultures borne from generations of immigration from all over the continent and world. With immigrants making up some 25% of the current population Singapore is a hot bed of amazing food and intertwined beliefs and people and whilst it is an Islamic country it is innately tolerant of all beliefs. Though pockets of society do exist in the form of China town and Little India. Both of which are incidentally the best and cheapest places to grab a bite to eat, to kick back with locals and to sip on a cold tiger whilst the humidity is kept at bay by ancient relic style desk fans clinging to a crusty ceiling.

We have been to Singapore a great number of times, perhaps twenty or so times in fact and so it was with a greased like ease that we slipped right into the tiny nation with an effortless bus straight from Malaysia via a quick passport stamp in Kotaraya II and then again in Woodlands.

Our time in Singapore was geared towards winding down, relaxing and trying to brush off the past eight weeks of travel whilst keeping with us a fond reminder of everything we love about SE Asia.

The first day was spent around marina bay which is one of the most expensive addresses in the world, far beyond our reach we decided to chill out on the lawn by the harbour and I figured some kind of climax was building. Turns out we had stumbled across the Singapore Kite festival (I was surprised that adults have kite festivals too) and so we made kites and tried to help fill a sky over crowded with some of the most bizarre looking contraptions ever. Jacks kite flew the highest and I reminded myself just what a fail I am at flying kites. Whilst the kids defied gravity I sank back into the grass and watched some opera singer bellowing out tunes Karaoke style and with a bloke who clearly never went through puberty.

The second day was rained off completely as thunderstorms and huge forks of lightening stole the show as they ripped across the black sky reminding us of the ferocity of nature. We observed from a distance.

Our third day in Singapore was a visit to the fabulous zoo, a place which I called in 2010 the best zoo in the world. And, still racking up the countless awards it continues to push the boundaries with its tropical rainforest setting, no enclosures and animals roaming freely around the grounds. Just a tenner entrance we spent some eight hours touching, feeling, escaping and enjoying the best man made safari in the world. I don’t want to under exaggerate the place, it really is a must do in Singapore and if you do nothing else, you must visit the zoo. Monkeys swing around freely, lizards, parrots, and every other half harmless animal you can imagine has complete and free reign. I got punched by a lima, Charlie accosted by butterflies (oo er sailor) and Jack scared everything off whilst Abi was scared of everything. The highlight of the day was seeing (just feet away) the stunning white tiger of which sadly, there are none left in the wild.

Home to some 2800 animals the zoo is a world leader in its field and real bench mark for quality. Chester Zoo (the best in the UK) is an embarrassing effort in comparison and the fact it charges so much more pisses me off to the point I might buy some new trainers.

The fourth day in Singapore was rained off again and we had planned to spunk a dollar paying into the best water park in the country. I am being absolutely serious, kids are like a dollar (fifty pence) and adults twice that. Instead we ended up watching Kick Ass 2 at the cinema and then having a little retail therapy.

And so though the end of the trip has been somewhat cumbersome and tired, the dream had to end somewhere and Singapore was where that dream ended. And in Singapore it rained.

So how do I wrap this up? Well, first of all I would like to thank the kids for everything, though this year has been easier than usual there has still been a good deal of times where we have had to push through exhaustion, whether it be from early flights, long days or searing humidity and heat. The little legs of the kids have walked hundreds of miles and achieved things I doubted were possible. But the biggest thanks from me, to them, all of them, is to thank them for the laughter. We have laughed so hard this holiday I have ended up in coughing fits (since Ive had a cough since Hong Kong) It really has been a real comedy fest of tumbleweed driven jokes and slap stick efforts. And that for me has reinforced the resilience I proclaim so loudly of my kids. There is a real trust from them in me, that every decision I make is the best one, that every step I take is in the right direction, and that every idea I have is the potential root of a grand dream.

To Gemma for believing in me, to Toby for his heart warming smiles and to Bekkie for continuing her altruistic ways in regards to her kids. To those that worked in the background such as June (thank you so much for everything x), Ralph and John and to everyone that has sent emails of encouragement and support along the way. To Terri for convincing me I had Bali wrong, and to everyone we met along the way who pointed us in the right direction and helped us out. We could not have done this without your help, support and we are eternally grateful x

And so that is that, big changes are coming in the next few months to www.tinytrekkers.com and also to tinytrekkers.co.uk so keep an eye out for developments. But for now I wrap up the summer with a smile, a thanks, an exhausting breath and an itch to do it all again. This summer has been the easiest of all, but it has also been one of the most rewarding. Bonds have been created, strengthened and reiterated.

I think back across the amazing memories we have shared, and then look now at Charlie showing the kids a magic trick which is so obvious I cannot fathom the confused look on Abi’s face. Jack does a sly laugh in some poker face attempt at letting Abi know he has figured it out and I remember I know the most amazing magic trick!

Got to go…

Thanks for reading x

 

I am currently reading a book called ‘a short history of everything’ by Bill Bryson. It is essentially, a short history of everything (obviously) and one of the things it touched on was the beginning of time and just how our earth and indeed us, came to be. Scientists argue that there is an explanation for how the world came to be and that is via a mixture of a few gases, a vacuum and not an explosion, but an immediate expansion into what we now know is earth. Over time shit happened and suddenly life formed and the earth was a done deal. The reality is that it is simply impossible to prove the Big Bang, but that is all down to a balance of probabilities and that really, is the best we can come up with. Far more realistic in fact than the story of some bloke with a beard creating the world in six days and then chilling out on the seventh. Who then decided to spawn a kid in Mary and that Joseph never smelt something dodgy and never figured something was rotten in Denmark when Mary gave birth to Jesus in a barn.

Now I have to be honest, the fellas that wrote the bible did a splendid job, they wrote not just a New York Times best seller but a book that would resonate with everyone that read it. But they missed a few details that would invariably catch up with them in history. And so those gaps have been filled with other forums of religion and when you throw into the fray science you have developed a huge question mark and portions of society who all seem to have the answer. But, as unlikely as it may seem that that one bloke created the world it is as unlikely that a few gases imploded one day and spawned an earth. Every part of every living thing defies everything we know to be possible and though many scientists would argue differently, we simply do not know how we got here, or whether Darwin has nailed it, or whether we did stem from a mischievous couple as the bible would lead us to believe.

I often get asked what religion I am, and the council – estate – ooyaah in me is inclined to answer in a butch ‘mam and dad tattoo styled prose’ “Church of England” which really is as good as saying “nuthink” or “nofin” as my accent would have you hear. I actually always answer “none” and thats the truth, and its not that I don’t have a religion, its just that I’ve not settled on quite what I believe. I mean, I am quite scientifically driven, but I doubt the Big Bang in that I think it is just a long winded way of saying “science doesn’t know” and I doubt religion because I cant see how an all loving higher being can let such innocent suffering go on.

But the point I am slowly getting to is that we live in a world that it is often so damn beautiful that you cannot believe it has all just occurred courtesy of a very convenient and timely bang. I mean seriously, was space really just cruising along and then all of a sudden “bang” the world appeared, a newt crawled out from the sea and then a dinosaur popped its head up, it got cold, everything died and then a crusty and hairy looking fella peered out from a cave and evolved into Arnold Schwarzenegger?

Anyway, Malaysia is one of those countries that has you doubt science. It is beautiful in a way words cannot describe and is perhaps the best all rounder in Asia, it really does have everything, but being a modern country is also offers a traveller things which other countries cannot afford such as safety, hygiene and infrastructure. It markets itself as ‘truly Asia’ and its difficult to disagree, just look at any image of Langkawi and you will instantly be blown away by such natural beauty (we have been, it is amazing) and then look at all the islands (of which there are hundreds) and some of the best beaches in the region. Add to that Borneo, and you will find that Malaysia is not just one of the best countries in the region, it is also one of the most beautiful.

That is until you get to Johor Bahru. Picture this, you are sat in the office and draping the wall is a gorgeous A3 sized poster of a tropical country rich with rainforest, wildlife, beaches and surrounded by perfect and pristine white sand beaches licked with turquoise seas. As you sit drifting away into paradise you pick your left nostril and out falls a bogey (we’ve all been there) Bogeys are sticky little things and they need a bit of rolling encouragement to free themselves from the epidermis of the index finger. You decide this works best with an added power flick and then splat – The bogey lands on the poster, gravity has of course played its part in extending the edges somewhat.

That is Johor Bahru, a skid mark in paradise. A real shit flick of a city that I am convinced is so bad that no one wishes to lay claim.

Straddling the far south of Malaysia, it is the jumping off point for Singapore and was perhaps once joined to Singapore until even Mother Nature wanted rid and probably had a quick earthquake to create a distance.

I am half convinced JB (as it is known by those reluctant to admit where they are from) is actually a test city to see just how far backwards you can push a human before they chip.

It is impossible to walk as every road is practically a freeway, those that aren’t have pavements built a hundred years ago and so are now in a complete state of disrepair.

The cities malls are filled with empty stores and believe it or not, the main mall has not a single ATM.

Taxi drivers epitomise scumbags, they are the most dishonest of any we have ever encountered and though the law says a meter must be used it is impossible to get one to be used. They always drive the long way around and add extras for everything you could imagine. Due to the incomprehensible and illogical way JB has been designed you must constantly make u turns, and of course the driver will always make the wrong, or long u turn.

5 star hotels were maybe once such a rating but are now cockroach riddled mini beast habitats with herpes thrown in for free on Fridays. The buses are relics which continue daily to defy mechanical physics in their persisted operation.

Though I have digressed, the issue in point is that though sometimes you refuse to believe something natural could have created the beauty that lay before you. Likewise, sometimes its hard to believe that some little dick head on Job Seekers allowance with an hour free didn’t create such a shit place. I am not joking, cruise through Singapore and be in some Total Recall style city where everything clicks with a slickness and sterility that makes you want to wipe your feet on the way in, yet get to JB and its like a smack in the face off fat Mick. Travelling in the opposite direction is a bit like winning the lottery and being dragged from the reaches of poverty. Its akin to some little sket straight out of a council run rehab walking into the Ritz with a free minibar for life. I am serious, the disparity between Singapore and JB is deafening (if disparity could make you deaf) and as I sit here now my inner hormone fuelled subconscious cannot even muster porn tash in recognition of just how shit this place is.

Johor Bahru is easily one of the most illogical, garbage, spunk stain places we have ever been and it has convinced me quite comprehensively that we must relocate to Singapore, which, is the first thing on my agenda.

 

Other than trekking in Ubud, nipping to a few temples here and there and then scaling the spectacular Kawah Ijen, our time in Bali was spent relaxing around Legian and sometimes Kuta in the south of Bali.

We stayed in Legian which is much quieter and as we found out, massively cheaper than Kuta. I honestly couldn’t tell you the difference between the two in terms of locality other than Legian is further up the beach and Kuta further down. I suspect we spent most of our days between both places never really knowing where exactly we were (unless you go to Discovery mall at the far south, then you are definitely in Kuta)

But the point is, the two places merge into one and the most defining way to realise is either the costs, or the standard of the beach.

The strip of sand running down then length from Seminyak – Legian – Kuta is pretty much the same the whole way. It’s proper sand, the sort you can build castles with, and the type where it allows you to dig half the way to England. But whereas Legian is clean, Kuta is full of cig butts and bottle tops.

An example of the disparity in price is that in Kuta a boogie board was going to skin me 100,000 (£6) for a couple of hours, yet in Legian it was just 25,000.

Bali attracts Australians all looking for fun and a few Europeans looking for paradise. But largely the south of Bali is a surfers dream and the coastline is just littered with hundreds of hedonistic Australians looking for a rush of adrenaline, with a few British folk who have convinced themselves on the 15 hour flight over that surfing is as easy at it looks on tv….

Not wanting to embarrass any thrill seekers with my obvious surfing skills, I decided the kids and I would stick to something a little more family friendly and so I hired a boogie board (or body board), and then gave the kids a five minute lesson like I actually knew what I was talking about. Once we had sussed it out though it was brilliant, the waves in Bali are huge and easily dwarf the kids by up to five or six times. We realised that you have to catch the wave just before it breaks and you sort of throw the board downwards following the wave, if you nail it, then it accelerates you for the duration of the wave which could be about 100 metres and right up to the shore. Genuinely, after about an hour I was doing barrel rolls and axis spins and the kid in me was let out in full force. The kids loved it every bit as I did and we had a memorable and forgotten afternoon where the hours just flew by.

And really that was the vein of things in Bali, we went to relax, to see if we could love it and we spent some five or so days sleeping in, making our way to the beach, chilling out, grabbing lunch and then spending the afternoon on the beach.

We laughed with locals, had manicures, pedicures, henna tattoos, beers, bought crafts, straw hats and loved every single second. Every day ended with a mooch back to the gorgeous hotel we were staying in and calling into markets and shops en route and we realised that just about everything in Legian can be bought for 20,000 IDR (£1.20)

But really, that was our time in Bali, we became proper beach bums and have the straw like hair and deep tans to prove it. And it was nice, as those of you that have followed our travels will know, we rarely relax due to our get in, get it done and get out mentality. As a parent I sometimes over look the importance of down time and for us to schedule five days of nothingness is practically unheard of and it has taught me a valuable lesson that though the kids love culture, exploring and adventure; they also love jumping waves, digging holes and burying each other in the sand. And as their dad I love seeing them love life without concern, boundaries and restriction. Bali became our Costa Del Sol (albeit on steroids) and we laid back so much we kind of began to shuffle as we moved around. And then there were the locals 🙂 they are hilarious and rarely did an hour pass by where we didn’t find ourselves in absolute stitches, whether it be some guy trying to demonstrate how effective the Viagra he was trying to shift without the kids realising what he was talking about, or when I was trying on some glasses and a truck full of midgets all doing Saturday night fever cruised past with deep bass.

The Balinese showed themselves to be gentle, friendly, welcoming and the type of people you just love to know. Everything was a joke and they laughed like they were living the dream. They are the sort of people that will nip your arse as you walk past and then blame a mate sat texting, go along with it and what ensues is a window into a world where laughing and enjoying life is what matters. No pressures, no hassles, just a will to live life to the full and for me that sums up what we found in Bali.

We were blessed with blue skies every day and I don’t think the daily temperature dropped below 36 degrees allowing for us to stroll around carefree with the bodies out and I even grew a porn tash in recognition of just how relaxed we really were.

I write this now on the 6.20am flight to Singapore which is the 13th flight of the trip and meaning we only have two left. Those two flights are the homeward bound ones with a flight to Saudi Arabia and then one into London.

We arrived into Bali expecting the worst but hoping for the best, and we leave Bali having had one of the most amazing and relaxing spells of any of our trips. And though we didn’t actually do a lot, we achieved what we wanted and even when I was screwed a departure tax of 150,000 IDR (a tenner-ish) we cared more that we were leaving behind not just Bali, but Indonesia. And though at times it was hard, and we reached new levels of exhaustion, as a family we found our paradise and made memories that will last a lifetime.

It is with absolute sadness that we face the last part of the summer and I genuinely have a lump in my throat recognising that this dream is almost over. My family has grown incredibly close, and we have shared emotions at every step. And so with just 20 minutes of this flight left and Singapore coming into view I wrap up a dream and Bali and look forward to our last part of tour summer holiday of a lifetime.

 

People often tell me how lucky I am and how lucky the kids are, and I usually thank them and agree. But the reality is that whilst we are lucky in that I have the support of the kids mum I think to call us lucky would be like trying to explain away what we do as some unfathomable impossibility whereby we just happened to one day stumble upon a passport, some cash and a few airline tickets. That is absolutely not the case and there is nothing that makes us more lucky when compared to any other family. Of course some people are unlucky, and believe me I have had hard times in my life, I literally have dragged myself from the floor upwards and rarely stopped to reminisce. But I do agree that every now and again, some part of our journey comes along that does make us incredibly lucky, whether its perfect weather at a crucial time exaggerating the magnificence of what we are doing, or like the time we fell off a motorbike in the Himalayas with nothing dented but our pride. That is luck, everything else we do is the result of meticulous planning, cheek and well structured days that usually start early and end late. Literally, we come home exhausted, it takes me weeks to settle back into a slow existence where my days aren’t filled for 12 hours constantly.

Taking all the above into account however I do believe there does come times every now and again where we must be lucky, where we are afforded such an amazing experience that it can only be explained away with chance which multiplies itself into a pure, unadulterated blessing. Those moments where you stand there and your mind is physically unable to comprehend the information your eyes and senses are transmitting. When something is so perfect you are almost forced to believe in some higher being having created such beauty, its almost impossible to believe otherwise.

So when I looked out from the window of the train as we made our way across East Java, and I saw a stunning range of volcanos I never anticipated just what was there, or what lay ahead. I figured out the range was the Ijen plateau, and so once we left Ubud in Bali we headed for a few days of beach time but I had Kawah Ijen on my mind which is renowned as being the most beautiful climb in the range.

As we usually do, we go independent and there was for some reason a staggering lack of information on Kawah Ijen other than what people had seen once they got there. Getting there was somewhat mystifying with some suggesting you head from Bondowoso in Java (east) but to the west of Kawah Ijen, and others suggesting from Banyuwangi in Java (right on the fringes of eastern Java and the ferry port to Bali)

We found out that arranging a tour from Bali is practically impossible (i was pricing it up) due to the ferry crossing from Bali to Java. And so really, it is something that must be done somewhat independent.

Kwah Ijen is a stratovolcano (made up of hardened lava) that sits at its highest point at 2799m which is just short of 10,000ft. It last erupted in 2002 and has remained active ever since continually spewing out sulphur at one edge of the crater. This sulphur is mined by local folk who carry up to 90kg of the stuff up ridiculously steep and dangerous paths over a route of about 2 miles and get paid just $13 per day if they make two journeys. It is immensely difficult work and the miners are often poorly equipped against the fumes and elements with most suffering respiratory problems at some point.

At its crater Kawah Ijen has a 1 kilometre wide lake filled with sulphuric acid (and the greatest acidic lake on earth) which glows brightly turquoise and is flanked by Gunung Merapi in the imminent distance. All things considered it is just one of those places we simply had to check out.

People generally make the ascent of Kawah Ijen during the daylight hours, but for those willing to make the ascent in darkness a rare phenomenon awaits them known as blue fire. (more later) and they also get to witness the sunrise and so of course, this was what we needed to do.

Knowing it would be absolute darkness, freezing cold, desolate and sulphuric smoke would fill the landscape we bought a torch, face masks and packed our warm clothes and threw our boots on. Balancing getting onto the summit in time to see the blue fire and witness the sunrise, against getting to the summit too early and then sitting in the freezing cold for hours took some planning, and an element of luck and technology.

In any case we made the 5 hour journey back to Java, leaving bali at 6.30pm and arriving into Banyuwangi in java for 11.30pm, but due to time differences it was at 10.30pm. And, everywhere was closed. Pitch black and nothing opened I spent ages finding someone that could help with transport. Eventually a guy offered me a price of 700,000 (£40) and knowing it should have been 600,000 I agreed. The jeep was to pick us up, take us to the foot of the volcano, wait for us and then bring us back to Banyuwangi in the morning. All was agreed and the bloke suddenly started telling me a guide was compulsory, it isn’t. So I was told “my boss said the price is now 800,000” This really pissed me off, we’d spent about an hour sorting things out and now because I refused to be scammed with a guide the price had risen. We left and headed off into the dark in a direction I was sure the train station was, the idea was that there would likely be a hotel who could probably arrange something for us.

After about 5 minutes I saw some bloke selling tea from a porch and I asked him if he could help us find transport. He knocked up his father who said he might be able to help, he jumped on his scooter and shot off into the dark returning ten minutes later with a driver and a price of 600,000. He asked if I minded whether he brought his 7 year old son with us and of course I didn’t mind, I encourage such things.

Reports on the web say the road from Banyuwangi to Kawah Ijen is in state of disrepair and passable only by jeeps. It isn’t, we did it in a toyota minivan and arrived about 90 minutes later in darkness, cold and at the foot of the volcano under a stunning starry night sky scarcely illuminated by a half moon.

Guides surrounded us, but once I pulled out my torch and face masks and I think they knew we knew what we were doing. I thought we were the only foreigners there, but a couple of girls and a guy came over and asked if a guide was compulsory. I told them it was not and they asked if they could walk with us as they were a bit out of their comfort zone. The guy who we had arranged our driver with was called Edi, and his son was called Yusuf, Edi asked if he minded if he and Yusuf accompanied us and so we all set off at about 1.30am in absolute darkness up to an opening in the trees which was barely noticeable. I took the following photograph of the pathway ahead:

Despite guide books and web reports claiming you must pay entrance we were not charged going up, or coming back down.

The way I dealt with the situation about not arriving too late or too early was to use an app called Endomondo on my phone. It is a GPS based route tracker telling you how far/fast you have travelled, I knew the route was about 3km straight uphill and so this meant I could pace accordingly as well as having water stops/rest stops at sufficient intervals.

The route begins slightly steep, and after about 15 minutes becomes very steep, so steep in fact that coming back down was a comedy of falls and slips with jack falling some fifteen or so times. The route follows a well trodden volcanic pathway which twists and turns up for about 2.5km to a rest house (which I think is a sugar refinery) We were walking only by our own torch and there were times we had to take serious precautions as the pathway splits and drops and is at times littered with bare tree roots. It was fun for the kids though, a real adventure in the darkness led by a single white strobe of light.

By the time we got to the rest house we were dripping in sweat and stops of more than a minute resulted in us quickly getting very cold as the sweat lost its heat. In anticipation of this I had brought us dry T-shirts but I didn’t want to use them until we hit the summit. The walk was hard, and I don’t care what anyone else says, not only is it at altitude and so the air is thinner, but the smoke is thick from the rest house onwards and the pathway was a grinding, merciless climb where every step taken was felt. After 3km we were supposed to be at the crater rim, but it was another 1km of a winding, relatively flat path along the side of the volcano and under sparse greenery and foliage. By this point we had our face masks on and the smoke stung our eyes to the point where we could barely keep them open and they became simple slits.

The path eventually meets the crater rim and though it was dusty we couldn’t see anything other than the beam of our torch

We followed a path to where we could see the odd headlight moving slowly (these were the sulphur miners) and found ourselves at a view point which looked out into complete darkness except for some flickering and dancing of blue flames. It was one of the most bizarre occurrences the kids and I have ever seen and it literally looks like fire dancing around in the dark.

My camera struggled to focus through the darkness and so this photo is the best we got as we peered into the darkness of the crater:

The blue flames are actually sulphur in the lake setting on fire and burning, this doesn’t just happen at night, but obviously cannot be seen during the day. You can descend down into the crater and toward the flames for a close up look, but the track is dangerous and has claimed lives. Despite the assurances of a miner willing to mind us down I felt it an irresponsible and unnecessary risk to proceed with children in tow.

After we had sat in awe (and were so cold we just had to move) I checked my clock and it was 4am, the walk had taken us about 90 minutes, but we had a further 1 km to climb up to the craters highest point.

This was the point at which the walk became dangerous and the point at which we walked along the rim of the crater, in darkness we had no way of knowing how far the drop was, or how steep it was. We walked in single file slowly up across the cooled and dried lava and headed what looked like towards the stars. The walk was amazingly exciting as every step we took was in a landscape we could not see, to a backdrop of scenery we had not yet witnessed. But, after some 30 minutes we reached the summit of Kawah Ijen and after checking my compass we planted ourselves facing east and watched in awe as the horizon began to glow a fire like golden yellow.

Starting at around 5am the landscape slowly and almost cautiously came into view, it was like you imagine the surface of the moon to be like, dusty, dry and devoid of life other than those who had made the effort to witness nature at its absolute best and most exciting. We shivered and huddled together and we made up half of the people who had made it to the summit to see the sunrise and this only confirmed to me just how much effort we had put in (as we descended we noticed several tourists who had simply not made it in time) After there was sufficient light we snuck a peek over the crater rim and it rocked me to the core and the kids almost in unison vocally extended their awe at what lay before us. No image I had seen did the view justice and I simply don’t have the vocabulary to describe what a phenomenally spectacular view it really was.

I hope the leading photo has done it some kind of justice, but it cannot tell the massive scale at which it is in reality.

We were completely mesmerised by not just the view, but the landscape in which we could now see. It is luner-esque, baron and like no where else on earth outside of a volcanic region. And as we made the walk back across the rim I told the kids how proud of them I really was. We had been up for over 36 hours, had travelled some seven hours and walked all night up a hill that is extremely steep for 90% of the way, we had done it wearing face masks and in darkness led only by a torchlight. We had made the effort to summit Kawah Ijen and it had rewarded us in a way which I cant imagine could ever be beaten. We had felt every step of the climb, had transversed a crater in which a wrong footing could’ve resulted in serious consequences and through my pride of the kids I wondered if I had perhaps gone too far this time. But it was difficult to balance risk with what filled our minds and the kids were really in their element, Jack was skidding in the dusty lava and every now and again Abi would do a fake fall which she swears wasn’t fake.

As we made the descent it became apparent just how high we were as the clouds were thousands of feet beneath us.

And now we are safely back in Bali and the trek last night is a beautiful memory I reflect on just what we accomplished, I think about how every step I take is two steps to Jack and yet he persisted through the darkness clinging to his inhaler for the first time of the entire year. I think about how my timid little girl looked at me reassuringly as she followed my every footstep around the rim and I feel absolute pride that she continues to do something every day which scares her. And then I think to Charlie who throughout not just the climb, but the entire summer has been an absolute workhorse. He carried around 5 litres of water and plenty of food and clothes up that volcano. Every step he took was against gravity and with a bag so heavy most adults I know would have given up. Yet with a cheeky smile and a will to succeed to he pushed himself past his bodies own abilities.

Everyone of us involved in ascending Kwah Ijen put in nothing short of maximum effort and as we descended back down the volcano I saw many tourists heading up in daylight looking at the kids and wondering how on earth their tiny legs had defied what even they felt was impossible.

Kawah Ijen rewarded our efforts with the most spectacular sunrise we have ever witnessed, draped across the most amazing view we have ever seen. I am still a little taken back by the whole experience, but right now it seems that after 5 years of seeing and doing things most people only dream of, we might just have topped every thing which preceded Kawah Ijen.

Combined with the company I keep, last night was the best night and experience of my life.

The kids all agree 🙂

 

The taxi from our Probolinggo hotel pulled up at the train station and I went inside to suss out the situation to Banyuwangi, the farthest East point in Java and from where we would do what I had planned, it is also the jumping off point for Bali. But you must understand, Bali is scamsters paradise and it sort of radiates from the entire island meaning that parts of East Java are tinged with Bali-ness. Probollinggo train station is one such place. The price was written on a board and was 55,000 IDR (£3 odd) but the guy was telling me it was 125,000 IDR, he was smug, smiling and when I suggested he was ripping me off he simply shrugged and suggested we took the bus then.

The prospect of a 6 hour sweat box on wheels was enough to force me to cough up for the 11am train to Banyuwangi. Let it be noted that I still haven’t got over it, and so I opt never to mention it again.

The train is actually better than I remember and it arrived almost on time to a familiar looking coastal station in which we were immediately accosted by touts looking to shove us off to bali.

Now, the issue I had was that I had pre-booked and paid for the following five nights in Bali/Lombok, but I had since decided to slip in a slight detour to a particular place which would take around 24 hours. The idea was then to head to Bali and continue to our accommodation booked in the Gilli Islands which is off the coast of Lombok (the next island along eastwards)

Once at Banyuwangi scams were in full force and so given it was now around 5pm we decided to reschedule and head for Bali and to the Gillis. We hopped on a ferry and watched Resident Evil as we cross the 30 minute stretch of ocean that took about an hour.

Once at the port of Gillimanuk I set about looking to get us to Denpasar which is the main city in Bali. Taxi drivers wanted a million rupiah (£60) for the 70 mile journey which should have been less than half of that and so we headed to the bus station, and there, well, there we were reminded just how much of a rip off and full on hassle pelt Bali was. The bus, which is a piss take of a machine really, and nothing other than a miniature sized aluminium box whereby Guinness world records for the most people squeezed into a bus ever are achieved daily. The price should have been 25,000 IDR and in true Balinese fashion the price, for us, had doubled. The driver wanted 50k for each of us and then was looking at charging for our bags too, and given there was absolutely zilch room anyway was on about 50k a bag. He wasn’t even the driver and so we boarded the bus and I brushed him and about 15 or so other guys off. A few of them started getting a bit aggressive and lucky for them it was dark else I would have unleashed my superman ninja skills and Kapoowed them in the chin. But one particular guy, the one who had tried to screw us got really loud and really aggressive and in my face. The fact that I knew he was trying to shaft me and that he knew that really pissed him off. In the end I knew that if we didn’t leave the bus station it would get out of hand and so we went back over to the port where I reported the matter to police who laughed, joked, pointed, laughed some more and then tried selling me an overpriced taxi.

We stood on the road, it was now dark and about 8pm and I considered heading back to Java, but we had reservations in Legian that night (Bali) and then reservations in the Gilli’s so I persisted and tried to find a ride for a reasonable price. As we looked I saw a foreign couple sat on a wall and approached them to see whether they fancied sharing a taxi. They had encountered the same issue at the bus station and were heading back to Java, the guy explained they had planned just 3 days in Bali and people had warned them what it was like, but now they had seen first hand they decided to (in his words) “f*ck Bali” we continued our search and met 3 guys who too were heading back to Java because they couldn’t get out of the port. This means that that dick and his crew at the bus station turned away 9 foreigners rather than charge us the local price – Such is the arrogance and believe me, it is endemic in Bali.

We finally got a ride for 600,000 (£40) and I was pissed off the entire way. We arrived at our hotel around midnight and I headed to the local K-Mart for some water which was (I kid not) three times as expensive as in Java.

Now, the Gilli islands are three little, Robinson Crusoe style islands dotted off the north west coast of Lombok. They really do look gorgeous, and so having priced it up with the help of the hotel manager set off, knowing it should cost about 220,000 IDR (£12) to get there. Now I tried, I mean I really tried, but the absolute best price I could get worked out at about 800,000 each. The bus to the port should’ve come in at 18k but was now 80k, the boat supposedly stopped running at 1pm but was supposedly meant to run around the clock. I was met with a complete wall of defiance and within ten minutes had simply had enough. As an aside, I asked a woman how much for a banana, she said “16 thousand Rupiah” the bananas in Asia are like a third the size of UK bananas and they grow on trees everywhere. That she would try charging me a quid for a banana the size of a child’s turd should highlight just how ridiculous Bali is.

So, in true us style we stropped, and headed where things should have been cheaper, forgoing two nights in the Gillis we headed to Ubud which is cultural bali at its best.

Naturally we got completely rooted on the ride up there with the driver pissing about the whole way stopping at temples and everywhere else we didn’t want to go in some attempt to cream me. Then, when i didn’t tip him he moaned at me.

Without doubt though, Ubud is gorgeous. It really is, featured in Eat, Prey, Love it has attracted middle aged women trying to find themselves for the past few years and with them, naturally prices have risen. But, standards have remained consistent with even the stingiest of rooms being of a decent standard. Accommodation in Ubud is largely homestay based and local Balinese are proud people who work hard, and aim to please. For those with cash to burn Ubud is also home to some of the most luxurious and most beautiful hotels in Asia. Think spas, tea light candles and massages for breakfast surrounded by rice fields.

The main road in the town is aptly called Monkey Forest rd, and all the parallel roads leading from that eventually encompass a few other once independent villages. Temples dot the streets and in terms of Balinese culture it is perhaps as good as it gets.

Mainly Hindu, temples saturate the locality and offerings fill the streets. Every now and again you momentarily forget you are in Bali but have been transported to a cultural and beautifully manicured paradisiac of nature. For instance, right now I write this from the balcony of my hotel and look out over a small, but distinctly beautiful courtyard of a temple. Beyond that are banana trees and tropical foliage, it really is something special. But if I remove my headphones and head down to the street it is ruined. High priced food, £2 for a can of coke and taxi fares to make your eyes water dominate this once sleepy village. Once perfect and quiet temples are now magnets for touts looking to exploit their own religion and a tenner might get you a traditional dance.

I was frustrated to have been so dumb as to come back to Bali, we could have gone to anywhere else in SE Asia and I chose this scam fest of a nation and I felt regret. The kids sensed it too and pessimism swept over us. Though a side trip to monkey forest kind of geed things up a little where the kids messed about with monkeys and generally climbed, played, smiled…… (Never mind)

That night I planned the next day and tried to steer us from anywhere tourists might go as I knew it would just end up being an overpriced chore. And after some consideration decided we would go trekking.

Ubud and its surrounding villages sort of straddle ridges and so I figured that if we walked out on one ridge, we could probably cross onto a parallel ridge and then walk back. Turns out I’m not the first person to think of that and there is a trek known as Campuan Ridge. We donned our boots and headed out of town and it really surprised us just how close to nothing Ubid actually is. At it’s heart is restaurants, home stays and arts and craft shops. Yet within ten minutes we had passed lonely temples and were amongst tropical greenery. It was absolutely gorgeous. And as I stood admiring the view I swear a lion jumped out from a bush and munched my leg. The kids reckon it was a mosquito but believe me it was something sinister and with teeth. The walk follows a ridge (obviously) and the ravine is beautiful. Check out this picture of a typical scene:

Stepping out onto this trek was like becoming ourselves again, we instantly smiled, suddenly life was perfect and I played an awesome trick on Jack. We stood in some shade and I applied a little sun cream to his face (it was red hot) I told him I needed to get something out of the bag and so to keep his eyes closed and his face upwards. Of course we all did one and retreated some 10m back behind a tree and stared at Jack stood there, alone, eyes closed and looking up. After about 5 minutes we were in in silent stitches and I heard him say “have you got it yet dad” as he stood there waiting. I don’t know how long he would have stood there, but I felt sorry for him and we had a group hug and walked off.

As we passed scenery that would make it onto the pages of National Geographic we played games, kicked coconuts and sang songs whilst skipping through rice fields on the sly. It was perfection in a perfect place and we had finally found the side to Bali that people crave. We passed abandoned temples, walked through tiny villages and were the only foreigners in sight. Suddenly, a place we just could not love became paradise and nothing mattered. We had discovered that magic piece of something that had first drawn tourists to Bali in the seventies, that special moment and magical view that lives with you long after you have left. We found a local shop and I convinced the woman owner to make us a late lunch which cost us pence, and as we sat eating perhaps the cheapest meal on the entire island we looked out across rice fields and Jack did his gangam style dance. The kids played with a tiny dog called La la and free lollies were handed out. I realised that this was Bali, this was the Balinese and as much as I knew it was a temporary high and that we would soon head back to reality I knew this was a moment we should cherish.

The walk back was just as amazing as the walk out and we found empty temples, rice fields and a culture, warmth and welcoming that was synonymous with everything I was assured existed but hadn’t yet found.

We arrived back in Ubud late afternoon after trekking some 9 miles, the kids had loved it, I had loved it and we had finally found the real Bali and suddenly, at the top of my agenda was continuing this new found paradise and working out how we could continue to love the side of Bali we had found, whilst avoiding the masses and overwhelmingly dominant side that is hard to avoid.

Note to Terri – You were right 😉

 

Some of the best memories we have from the many places we have travelled come from Indonesia. I would go as far to say that Java would firmly cement itself in my top 5 countries and I was excited to return and to do some things differently, as well as do different things. But I was fully aware that additionally, some of our worst memories also come from Indonesia. A lot like India in its mentality, it is the sort of country that you have to tolerate, but if you can manage to tolerate it you will see it for the place it really is, and that, is nothing short of paradise.

From world class beaches, rain forests, a culture unrivalled, some of the best diving and snorkelling in the world, nature to rival anywhere else on earth and smoking volcanoes piercing the sky every where you look; Indonesia is paradise if you want it, and the best thing is that much of it is untouched. You physically have to want to get to many parts of it and it can take days, but we knew full we’ll if we stepped off the beaten path a little we would be rewarded with dream like visions and pinch me moments. This was to be our red letter day, the penultimate country on our 2013 trip and where most people would start winding down and relax on a beach in Bali, we are still at full pelt, absorbing and feeling everything around us. This trip has been a whiz and Hong Kong seems ages ago, Egypt feels so distant it feels like it was years ago. But now, as we trundle across Eastern Java on a train I have the most amazing people with me, people who are still amazed daily, still appreciative and yet still keen for more.

Out of the dusty window we look at a range of volcanoes, though two lie dormant just waiting for a geological calling of seismic proportions, one bellows smoke high into the sky. But what makes it even more surreal is that between the rural railway line and those behemoth secrets of millennia past, lie fields of coffee plants, chilli plants, mango plantations and local Indonesians just milling about in fields teeming with crops.

We are now of course in the Southern Hemisphere having crossed the equator on a bumpy flight out of Kuala Lumpur. But the day hadn’t started there…

Leaving Kota Kinabalu was typical of what we had come to expect, we were completely rooted on the taxi fare with requests starting at 105MYR which is a ridiculous £20 for the 15km journey, it should has cost about a quarter of that. Eventually when I fluttered my eyelids and then promised to never do it again we paid 60 MYR, still a screwing, but less so.

The alarm pinged us out of bed at 3.45am and by 4am (and in complete darkness) we were speeding to the airport and to catch our Malaysian Airlines flight headed to Kuala Lumpur. The flight departed at 6.05am and, as luck would have it, was bouncing around the sky in no time at all. Naturally, the coffee I was hoping for to kick start my day (and a tea for the kids) was not allowed, as the flight was so turbulent hot drinks were banned. Personally, I am surprised that the crew were allowed to walk around as long as they were before, as expected, the captain put the plane on complete lockdown with everyone strapped in. The flight took around 2 and a half hours and was bumpy for about two hours of it, I stropped because I couldn’t have a much needed coffee and the kids sat loving it like they were on a roller coaster. I remember hearing somewhere that there are three stages of turbulence: light, this is where if you out a cup of water on the table there will be ripples in the water. Then there is medium, which is the point at which the cup would actually fall off the table, and finally severe, this is where the luggage lockers come open and the plane risks damage to the airframe. Our flight was medium, and I think many people may have been a little worried. But us, having walked off a flight out of Tokyo a few years ago (which suffered severe turbulence) we are less bothered. I say less bothered, the kids couldn’t care less!

Kuala Lumpur airport is not as big as you might think, considering its a major airport. There are two terminals, which for all intents and purposes seemingly operate completely independent of each other and are about 20 minutes apart by bus. The terminal you are likely to fly into on an international, premium airline such as BA or Malaysian is KLIA, if you are flying on a budget airline such as Air Asia you will fly into LCCT, I think plans are in place to join the two terminals, but for now, and for us, if you fly into KLIA you must take a bus to LCCT from the station located on floor two and then at the end of the terminal. The price is supposedly 1.50, but it was 2.50 with kids half price (50p and 25p) and took the allotted 25 mins.

LCCT is chaos, we have flown out of and into it many times and at all hours and it is completely jammed every time. But, despite how it looks, it is very well managed and slick and quite seamless.

Our second flight of the day was at 2pm and so we relaxed and made the most of free wifi before boarding and taking off headed to Surabaya in East Java on time.

As you would expect flying over the equator it was quite a bumpy flight (as most are this time of year) but once we were firmly in the Southern Hemisphere the skies opened up to a pristine deep blue, and from 34,0000ft we gawped at how beautiful Java was from the air, dotted with volcanoes and a white beach strung around the coast it was gorgeous. Jack missed it, as the day had caught up with him and knocked him clean out for the duration of the 2 and half hour flight. Waking him up when we landed he wasn’t even aware we had taken off.

Now, you have to understand that Java is a huge country, home to some 134 million inhabitants it is the most developed part of Indonesia. But Java is a small part of a huge picture. The Indonesian archipelago is the longest in the world stretching right across the equator for over 2700 miles and at its farthest Eastern point will tip you off just north of Australia. Or, if you fancy it, the island of Timor.

Java is speckled with volcanoes right across the island and forms part of a collective of temperamentally hot cones called the pacific ‘ring of fire’, with Indonesia having 129 active volcanoes it has more than any other country in the world with the most recent eruption of an Indonesian volcano (as of 22/8/2013) being a little over a week ago on 12/8/2013.

The reason for this is that Indonesia sits above the Eurasian plate which is where the Indian Ocean and the Western pacific plates meet. At this meeting point the plates melt about 60 miles beneath the surface. Without entering into a geology lesson, we all know what happens next.

Sadly the results of nature kicking off cause real and serious tragedy, as pointed out by LP Indonesia ‘with tectonic activity comes devastating earthquakes and tsunamis, such as those of Boxing Day 2004, off Java in 2006 and Sumatra in 2009’. For a volcano you may have heard of and an eruption which literally changed history, read up on Krakatau (Krakatoa) which is Indonesia’s, and perhaps the worlds most famous volcano.

But moving on, with a comprehensive railway system and excellent roads that transverse the island you can get around quite easily and somewhat cheaply. But, we have already taken the train from West to East and were none too keen to repeat the somewhat exhausting experience. Literally, the entire decision to come to Indonesia again was based on whether or not we would have to cross Java by train.

Once we landed in Surabaya, which is Indonesia’s second largest airport we headed outside to find not even a dot of information. At this point I had completely forgotten I had packed a guide book and so we looked to head on a bus to Probolinggo (where our hotel was booked) a couple of hours drive in good traffic.

In the end we took the easy way out and took a taxi all the way to our hotel, where we ordered local food and were all fast asleep by 9pm. I quipped to the kids, that we had woken up in summer but were going to bed in winter since we had switched hemispheres, they were impressed for a whole minute as they managed to find terminator 2 on the tv.

The following morning I awake at 4am to the call to prayer and couldn’t to really get to sleep after that, but the kids slept soundly. As I planned the next 48 hours I was so excited for them, for us and for what we have planned. The single reason for coming back to Java, what should be a real highlight of the entire trip, and something which might just be one of the best and most amazing things we have ever done. Yes it would be hard, yes it would be an exhaustive 48 hours, but it had all the hallmarks of epic proportionality. The one thing you talk about when you get home, and the thing you know you’ll remember for the rest of your lives. And so when we left our hotel that morning and jumped into a taxi to the train station we were all more than a little excited…

…But then, things don’t always go to plan and so now I sit and write this from a rice paddy in Bali, surrounded by Balinese beauty consisting of a volcanic mammoth that dominates the island, and a blinding greenness interrupted only by the occasional temple. We find ourselves back in Bali, but amongst culture and nature, neath a clear sky of a million stars, with the casual scent of incense wafting past with a frequent regularity. We are on without doubt, and without question one of the most beautiful and diverse islands in the world. A place that last time we had hated and left. We have given Bali a second chance, or perhaps we have given ourselves a second opportunity. But we find ourselves back in paradise, somewhat sooner than anticipated and our amazing 48 hours is now rescheduled.

For now though, we have plans on this island and though there were complaints last time that we hadn’t given Bali a chance, this time we delve right beneath the surface and though we can’t do everything, the next week is jammed from 7am through 9pm and so when we do leave, we will know we have done everything we possibly could have. And so when we boarded the evening ferry from Ketapang, Java I had big expectations, not just of Bali, but of ourselves.

The trip may be drawing to a close, but in Bali we were just getting started.

 

East Malaysia is one of those countries that has a lot going for it in just about every single way you can imagine in terms of nature. Be it spotting rare and endangered wildlife, spotting birds, white water rafting or even paragliding off a mountain and hoping not to land in a tree.

Speaking of which, I once watched a documentary about rain forests/jungles and airborne forces. In a particular war (I forget which) the only route of entry was from above, but the issue with parachuting into jungles is that it carries a high degree of danger. The odds were something like 2:1 that you wouldn’t make it, that didn’t mean parachuting into a dense rainforest would instantly kill you, though for some it did. Death would occur slowly and often painfully as soldiers would break limbs once they hit the trees, left to die on the floor beneath them, or by hanging from a branch some 40m high or more. So the commander was talking about man power and that they needed 1000 men on the ground, his solution? Drop 3000 airborne soldiers and so the odds would likely dictate that at least or approximately 1000 soldiers would survive the drop.

Completely irrelevant to this post, but an interesting piece of military history nonetheless.

Wherever you are in Borneo, whether it be in East Malaysia or Indonesia, if you were to get off the bus at a random stop you would find yourself immersed amongst natures finest. And so when I looked at making our way back to Kota Kinabalu I figured we would do just that, due to time constraints we cannot unfortunately be so spontaneous and ad hoc and so I researched a nice little place where we could do something a little different. That nice little place was a small town called Ranau some 110km East of KK and almost half way between KK and Sandakan.

As it goes in Sandakan I was attempted scammed on the bus ticket. The exact same bus company that had brought us suddenly no longer offered child fares, I negotiated hard to get at least some discount. Yet again a reminder of the unscrupulousness of some Borneans. Something which got boring on day one.

The bus driver was the slowest driver on the road and so what should have taken 3 hours took around 5 and as these things go, about ten minutes out of Ranau and the skies opened up sending down torrential downpour, the sort that soaks you to the bone in ten seconds.

Once we got kicked off the bus (thankfully under a shelter) we waterproofed our things, threw on the goretex and boots and set off to find our hotel. I spotted a KFC and so in need of some fried chicken we took shelter and planned the next move. I had absolutely no idea where the hotel was and just assumed we could walk to it. After a bit of asking around it turned out we were supposedly ‘far away’ and that it was in a village that would costs 20MYR to get to (4 quid) Now in Malaysian terms thats quite steep for a taxi, and so I felt we were in for a bumming, and some 2 miles later I realised I had been well and truly had. Still, it was raining and late and so we didn’t care too much.

Our little jungle retreat was a home stay in a village called Kampung Silou and the following morning when the clouds cleared I realised we were right at the foot of the stunning Mt Kinabalu. It towered over the village and pierced the blue sky quite majestically. We all stood frozen in time admiring its beauty over a packet of Oreos and a bottle of mirinda, orange flavour. Retreating back to our home-stay I realised just how beautiful, isolated and tranquil of a place we were. Owned and run by a retired Dr and his wife it was the perfect place, so isolated there were no shops, no buses, nothing. If you wanted food the Dr’s wife would knock up some chicken and vegetables with rice, there were animals floating about, and the chill out area was set above a lush river teeming with aquatic life. At night a bat would fly round dive bombing us at will whilst the kids watched TV and I sank a few beers wondering how life had got so good.

Surprisingly few foreigners make it to Ranau, which I am guessing is due to the fact it is rip off central and perhaps the most unorganised place we have ever been. An example, I needed a bus to a place nearby called Poring (more on which later) and I asked what time the bus came. I was told there is no times for buses, they come completely randomly and are run by villagers. It seems that what happens is that suddenly, somewhere someone who owns a minibus thinks ‘I think ill become a bus driver and drive somewhere’ I kid not, that literally is what happens. If you have a slow day where no one can be arsed driving round you are knackered, and there is no way to know. Its a case of wait and see. This got really tedious really quickly as I got off on a bad foot with the only guy in two who operates and kind of minibus/taxi. A scamster of epic proportions he had dollar signs in his eyes whenever he saw me. He would literally take a one ringgit note off someone then look at me and tell me it was twenty. Complete scumbag, I sat on the steps of the towns central gathering point- May Bank, and wondered what to do next as it seemed our only option was to get readily ripped off. As I am sat chilling, the kids in the shade trying to avoid the harsh sun I wiped sweat from my eyes and in that split second saw a clapped out minibus pull up and break so hardly it skidded slightly, held together by paintwork and hope a guy jumps out. Picture this, he is wearing a purple, silk and loud shirt, he has all these mood rings on his fingers and to top it off is wearing skinny brown pants about 5 sizes too small. His grin takes up most of his face and he pointed to me, put his thumb up and said “ok” as he continued his animated smile. I looked quite obviously confused, wondering who he was or what even he wanted. I stared at him and again the thumb was extended and his smile was even bigger this time as he repeated ‘ok’ I asked him what he was on about and his only response was ‘ok’ Suddenly a skinny fella pops out of nowhere and explains this wannabe-must-have-been-60-pimp was willing to take us to Poring for 35 ringgits, somewhat less than the 60 we had been offered so far. Needless to say I had found a new best mate and we jumped in and set off on the 15km journey through the jungle. After about 5 minutes, with the windows open and driving along at the vehicles maximum limit of about 20mph he breaks into song. Not some mumbling kind of sweetness, but actual song. He was smiling and laughing and so I did the natural thing; I started beat boxing to his singing. He abruptly stopped and looked at me, I tailed off my beat boxing and went silent. He turned his attention to the road and started singing again. I took the hint.

Poring hot springs is a world heritage site and home to the world famous hot springs (I’d never heard of them either) But we weren’t necessarily there for the springs, but for one of the highest canopy walkways in the world, some 41m above the ground, I was to find out it must also be one of the dodgiest walkways in the world. In order to get there you get screwed an environment fee that quite obviously and expectedly is fifteen times higher than the local price 25MYR for adults and 10 MYR for kids (about a fiver and then two quid) but once in, you really are amongst some gorgeous nature. I know I keep going on about it, but you really have to see it to believe and appreciate just how gorgeous a place it is. We walked past the hot springs and then continued deeper into the rain forest, it was a gorgeous day and we had decided that we would do the orchid garden, bat cave, butterfly garden and then the walkway. It didn’t turn out like that and instead we did the walkway, which the kids absolutely loved, and on which no one jumped (it was that suspiciously unsafe) then we descended back toward the springs and spent a few hours swimming and relaxing at the hot springs. Now, I am no hot spring expert and though I do know the geology behind them (it is water heated by the earths core and then sprouted upwards to the earths surface) I kind of expected them to be warm. Instead they were absolute freezing, genuinely, colder than cold water out of the cold water tap. I suspected something dodgy was going on.

After we chilled (literally) at the hot springs we tried to find somewhere to eat. Naturally the only two or three restaurants nearby were all booked up by coach loads of day trippers and so we grabbed something simple and then looked for transport back to Ranau. Of course there was none, no taxis or buses or anything. We had to convince some guy to phone someone in Ranau and come get us, the costs was 45 MYR which wasn’t so bad as I wanted to stop off somewhere very special on the way back.

The Rafflesia is one of rarest flowers in the world, growing in only a few specific places and taking years to finally blossom (which lasts only a few days) it has been alluding botanists for decades. And so, when some farmer discovered one on his land he naturally decided to make it a super temporary attraction and we just had to take an opportunity to see something we likely never would again. Personally I think it was snide and the significance was a lot better than the actual flower. Charlie was convinced it was fake (it wasn’t) and I was pissed off we couldn’t get a pose at the head of the thing. Just a kind of photoshop looking insertion through a makeshift fence.

Back at our little retreat we chilled out and then the following day set off back to Kota Kinabalu. Naturally there are no buses and you literally have to stand on the main road hoping for one to come past and have space. We stopped 5 coaches and none had space. I told the kids we would stop one more and then would have to resort to hitch hiking, thankfully though, whilst the bus had no space, the driver let us sit on the floor for the 3 hours or so journey. But we didn’t mind.

Our final day in Borneo was spent doing nothing, I finally managed to get a coffee and we spent the afternoon watching Pacific Rim at the cinema.

That pretty much wraps up our time in Borneo, it was as amazing as I remembered and we genuinely have had the most special of times. But it is hard to forget and put aside the constant over pricing and scams from people just so blatantly willing to scam. And I know I have touched on this before, but the difference between Borneo and the rest of Asia is that in for example India, the initial price is always high, you haggle and then agree on a much lower and fairer price. But in Borneo they give you a ridiculous fare and then refuse to haggle. They would honestly drive off (or deny you entrance) rather than negotiate on their outrageous price. Its been really tiring and we have found ourselves paying way over the odds for many things, most of it knowingly and in full compliance, and that, for me has left a real blot on the places we have been.

But come to Borneo on a loose budget and you probably wont be bothered too much, it is still cheaper than Europe (except for maybe taxis) and offers so much in terms of natural beauty and adventure.

Without doubt, Borneo is one of the most accessible and amazing encounters with rainforest nature you can get anywhere and we have really had a blast. The kids have loved every day and I think some of the most cherished memories of the entire trip will come from this place – I can already think of a few!

…In fact, I can think of a lot!

Next stop Indonesia.

 

I remember some time back watching a program on TV called holiday showdown. It’s essentially two families who are polar opposites sent on each others holidays. One family was from the lower echelons of society and loved the simple things which camping in a rainy field brought them. The second family were wealthy self righteous and quite obnoxious individuals that loved luxury and the finer things in life. Their holiday was to see the orang utans in Borneo. I remember a quip from the campers “whats the point travelling all the way to a rain forest on the other side of the world to see a ginger monkey” in their mind they had a point.

But the point I am trying to make is that Borneo is set up to cater for wealthy tourists, not of the kind that drive ferraris to school, but holidayers who want two weeks in luxury, in a tropical getaway surrounded by some of the best nature in the world. Where endangered species swing in the trees and where diversity in nature is amongst the best in the world. Of course they likely retreat to pedicures and manicures whilst sipping mojito through a straw and feeling like they have done something wonderful.

Borneo is the largest island in Asia and the third largest in the world. It is spread across the tropics and is home to one entire country, and two parts of countries. You have East Malaysia which is a sliver of rainforest across the north of the island. Then for the South you have Indonesia and some where sandwiched on the west coast the tiny nation of Brunei. If you were to look from the air at Borneo (I have actually done this) you would see what looks like a huge rainforest surrounded by pristine looking beaches and turquoise seas that spread across coral reefs. It really is a nature lovers paradise.

On the surface it is an expensive part of Malaysia and the locals think every white person is minted and more than willing to feed the five thousand. Every attraction has multi pricing where often tourists pay some fifteen times more and taxis are amongst the most expensive we have ever come across, more-so than the UK and though every local we have met has been exceptionally friendly, they are more than happy to lose a fare and are extremely unwilling to shift on their first offering of a price no matter how ridiculous it may have been.

Anyway, we rocked up at Kota Kinabalu with nature in mind. KK as it is more favourably known is revered highly by guide books and it is hard to see why. There is a few things to do which either resemble maritime or colonial time. But we didn’t find any real reason to linger and so set about making our way across Borneo and to Sandakan, a megacosm personified.

The bus costs 43/25MYR (£8.50/£4.80) and took some 6 hours. After about an hour I was completely zonked and I must have sensed something going on, turns out every one was staring in awe at something on my side of the bus. Being a Yorkshireman I am by my nature nosey and so shifted a cursory glance to my right. Instantly I too was mesmerised, we were at the foot of the highest and grandest mountain in SE Asia. Some 4000m high (about half the height of Everest) we were close enough to touch it and with blue skies with a few clouds rolling over the flat summit it was a sight to behold.

Sandakan is a simple place and easy to navigate. Buses run from the centre of town to various mile points. Generally they all go up one main road that extends out of town to certain points. The mile points are called Batu. And so if you needed to get to the main bus station at batu 4, you would jump in a batu 4 bus, or any batu higher. Coming in the opposite direction you are in luck as every single bus passing you is going to Sandakan terminal. Additionally there are loads of mini buses flying around town in a similar batu style fashion. Fares are around 1 ringgit per 4 mile jolly or part thereof.

Taxis are notoriously and ridiculously expensive and there really is no reason to use them as everywhere is either walkable or well connected by public transport.

The main reason for us being in Sandakan was the same as it was 4 years previous; to see the most elusive and intelligent primates on the planet. In fact Orang utans exist only in two parts of the world, that is in the rain forests of Borneo and Sumatra (Indonesia) There are just four places in the world dedicated to seeing our orange wispy haired tree loving friends and Sepilok (some 14km out of town) is the best place to get up close.

Feeding times are at 10am and 2pm and is how the centre supplements the orang utans diet whilst giving the public a way to experience what has alluded zoophiles for centuries.

Tickets cost more for foreigners (naturally) and come in at 30/15MYR (£6/£3) and a ticket is good for the entire day, so if you excitedly turn up for the 10am feeding and our ginger friends cant be arsed tree swinging you can try again in the afternoon.

Looking to get to the 10am feeding (since we had other things planned) we went to catch the batu 14 bus only to be told it wasnt running. But guess what, there was a mini bus heading that way. I wiped the sign from my forehead that must have said ‘dick head’ and then walked off instantly finding a batu 14 bus parked around the corner.

The journey takes about 45 minutes and you get kicked off at the junction for Sepilok. From there you can either hop in one of the taxis all waiting to screw you readily, or walk. Those are your only two options (genuinely) But knowing the walk is only about a mile and half we set off (its actually a decent enough walk) We were on a time scale and so we tabbed it out for about a mile until some bloke in a pick up pulled up. An elderly, frail looking Malaysian guy, he wound the window down and his wife’s head popped out of his window “would you like a lift” she asked. We didn’t need asking twice and piled into the back of the pickup. We graciously thanked them and they told us they were then heading to the Proboscis monkey centre and we could literally be ferried around with them for the day if we liked. We politely, and gratefully declined and posed for a photograph they had asked of us.

The kids were in excitement overload as we walked the wooden pathway through the rainforest. Stopping and gawping every few steps at some other beast of beauty they discovered which included a viper coolly hanging from a branch above. The sound of male insects looking to get it on was deafening yet somewhat relaxing at the same time. In any case it all built the suspense for the event that we hoped awaited us.

The viewing area is surrounded by rainforest and being in the tropics you sweat profusely in the harsh humidity. But that didn’t matter as we stood looking ahead as some fella pulled out a large bucket of fruits on a raised platform just feet away. Primate screeches rang out and loads of little silver back monkeys appeared keen for a freebie. Their efforts were futile as within seconds huge orange arms gripped the vine and graciously swung what we had all come to see into view. Over the next twenty minutes we saw a total of eight orang utans come out of the trees. It was what we hoped for, but somewhat surreal. From where we were stood we could see before us maybe fifty or so monkeys, plenty of funky looking birds and then completely stealing the show were eight gorgeous yet so sadly endangered orang utans, there were four adults and three small ones and then a baby which clung helplessly to its mother. It was an event words cannot justifiably describe and every one of us left amazed, excited and grateful.

It was more discerning to know that by the time the children are my age orang utans may well be confined to history, described only through images of time gone by. Notoriously difficult to breed in captivity, in the face of mans desire for increased habitat at the expense of nature, our closest relations (94% of our DNA is identical) are on a one way road to extinction. And that is sad and made our moment ever more poignant.

Just down the road, or about a kilometre, is the rainforest discovery centre. Usually the only recognition the RDC gets it gawps from bus loads of tourists all headed for Sepilok. But having been in 2009 (albeit briefly) I knew this could be a place we could spend the remainder of the day. Entrance is a measly 15 ringgits (£3) with kids being something like half, and under 6 free. Naturally Abi rolled back her years and we were sorted.

Now, picture a wooden decked area covered with rainforest vines and to the backdrop of natures finest and thickest fauna and trees. Look out the front and you see a small, yet pristine lake glimmering under the blue sky. Disturbed only by the shade from the rope bridge which crosses it, it kids an adventure pending. It is as picturesque as you can imagine, and when you mix into the fray tranquility, serenity, and a bio diverse collective of ecosystems stemmed from the tropical rainforest which encompasses it, you can somewhat imagine the Rainforest Discovery Centre.

We walked for miles that afternoon, we climbed canopy walkways and spat off the sides trying to work out how high we were. We spotted rare birds and various other creatures, animals and insects. All the while to the sounds of nature. What we did that afternoon was be kids again, all of us. We ran, laughed, fell over and had a no holds barred afternoon where nothing mattered. There were no rules, no issues, no problems and we felt like we had Borneo to ourselves. Jack did his usual gangam style dance at any opportunity he got and we, by going back to basics learned to love the world around us. And try as we might (and we did seriously put it to the test) the rope bridge was as safe as you could hope for. Though it did almost flip over at one point taking Abi with it, much to the amusement of the rest of us. Though Abi still doesn’t see the funny side, some five days later.

Every now and again I slip into the trip rest days, which is kind of a misnomer really as we don’t actually rest. But most days we get back to the hotel around 7pm after leaving at around 8am. It gets exhausting and so what we do is plan just a simple thing, then we get back the hotel for maybe 4pm and then relax. Our final day in Sandakan was penned as being one such day. The only variance was that we would head to the memorial garden in the morning and then go back out at night to a local bowling alley having spent a few hours chilling out in between.

The memorial garden is dedicated to 2500 Australian and a few British prisoners of war who were forced on a march across Borneo to Ranau by the Japanese in World War Two. Tragically only six soldiers survived, and this was because they took an opportunity to escape. The events were famously renamed the ‘death march’ and the concentration camp from where they departed was made a memorial garden in remembrance of those who lost their lives on the march.

To get there, take a bus to batu 6 and ask to be let off at Taman Rimba. Its a ten minute walk up the road past the garage on the right.

Entering the grounds we saw how well kept it was, gardens of pristinely manicured bushes all make the relics of the camp seem even more obtrusive than they would be normally. The kids were drawn to a huge lizard racing across the floor, but when we all calmed down that it wasn’t in fact Godzilla I sent the kids off to find out the significance of where we were. They came back and told a tale of tragedy and sadness, and we set off to explore. At the memorial monument we saw lots of wreaths and as we looked on sombrely an elderly Australian woman with her husband approached us. She explained that today was Memorial Day (we had no idea) and they had flown from Australia for the occasion. But, and I have reflected on this since, they had no connection whatsoever to the march other than their sovereignty. I questioned why they had come specifically and the answer was succinct, “in Australia we have no history, and so this is our history” It was one of those moments that comes along every now and again where you realise there are still some really good, heart warming individuals around.

For me though, the proudest and most significant event which happened not just in Sandakan, but on the whole trip so far revolved around Abi and Jack. There is a visitor centre in which the tale of events is laid out both visually and textually. The kids were sat watching a video of what had happened and as I walked around reading the boards, Abi came over and cuddled me. I responded with a soft squeeze and noticed she was crying. In answer to my asking what was wrong she tearfully answered that what she had seen had upset her. I suggested she go sit outside and she agreed it was the best thing. About a minute later I realised I had had an absence of mind and that I should be with her comforting her and so went out. I saw her sat on a step and next to her was jack, they had their arms around each other and I walked over asking if Jack too was upset to which he answered “a little bit, but I saw Abi was sad and came to give her a cuddle” It was one of those moments where as a parent you could just melt, where you realise just what good people your children are. It was one of my proudest moments as a parent, in Abi I had a daughter that could recognise and empathise, that could see tragedy and understand it way beyond her years and in a way which physically saddened her. Yet in Jack I have a little six year old boy who knows very little in life, but he saw his sister upset and took it upon himself to comfort her, to physically embrace her and hold her close to him as if to protect. It was a moment perhaps insignificant to Jack and Abi, but a snap shot in time I know I will never forget.

On the way back to Sandakan we grabbed some ice creams and made our way back to relax for a few hours before heading to Champs Bowling hall, Sandakan.

The prices were clearly marked on a board that adults were 8.50MYR and kids under 17 were 3.50MYR. Pretty reasonable fees by all accounts, but in order to prove the kids ages you need to hold a Malaysian identity card. The fact Jack stands just a couple of feet tall or that Abi could hide behind a blade of grass was irrelevant. I pulled out all our passports and they too were not acceptable. It seems that a passport can get you into a country, but isn’t sufficient proof of age for Champs bowling. Its complete bollocks, and what is really happening is that tourists are being forced to pay full price. The bloke in charge refused to budge and accept that my miniature sized doppelgängers were below 17 years old and so I refused to be openly ripped off (he was laughing with his crony and speaking in Bhasa Malaysian) they knew what they were doing, and so our rest day became more of such.

Waking up the next morning I began to pack our things and asked the kids whether they had enjoyed Sandakan to which they all agreed they had. So much so, a forty minute exchange of what they all loved ensued. On my part, I agreed. I loved Sandakan and what we did, but between a mixture of unscrupulous bastards, inflated entrance prices and apparent penalisation for being a foreigner I really do feel like I deflected a lot of bull shit that perhaps might otherwise have ruined what was ultimately a dream few days in one of the most amazing places in the natural world.