Borneo - Part One

Where I last left off, we were relaxing on a tropical beach. A lot has happened since then. In one day, we travelled from the Perhentian Islands to East Malaysia, on the island of Borneo - a travel day with 10 separate modes of transport, including two flights. It was a write-off travel day purely to get us from point A to point B with enough time to enjoy point B properly, and I recommend it to no one. By the end of the day we could do little but climb into our beds, utterly exhausted, and rest as much as possible before an early flight the next morning - one that would take us to Gunung Mulu National Park. So within 27 hours, we went from calm tropical beach to steamy Borneo jungle.

Sometimes I wonder, "Why do we do this to ourselves?"

Our guide picked us up from the airport, took us to our chalet, and before we knew it we were trudging through the jungle on the way to the caves. The sounds of the jungle were almost deafening, with birds screeching and cicadas buzzing and creeks gurgling. Wildlife surrounded us, from annoying mosquitos to magnificient butterflies, spikey caterpillars to giant snails, and all manner of creepy-crawlies, most of which we didn't see but sometimes felt, when we found that itchy red spot a few minutes later. The air was so hot and moist that my clothes were damp before we'd even started walking.


There was no respite even when we entered Lang Cave, but at least we were in the shade. We were now surrounded by stalagmites and stalactites, drooping out of the limestone in a way that was both beautiful and disgusting. All the while I couldn't help thinking just how old this cavern was, how long each protrusion out of the limestone has taken to get to this size. How much bat shit stinks. You know, all the normal cave stuff.

We did a short loop and came back to the mouth of the cave, and saw that the jungle was being bombarded with possibly the heaviest rain I've ever seen. As you'll see in the video I was hardly in the rain for long, but trust me when I say my clothes were dripping afterwards.


Deer Cave is the biggest cave in the world open to tourists, over 2km long and 174m tall. And that doesn't describe half of it. Exquisite trees, like straight out of a fantasy novel, crowd above its craggy entrance against a backdrop of mountain that soars into the clouds. Inside, the seething black mass of bats on the ceiling chirps in anticipation of the evening, when the bats will swarm out of the cave all at once and take to the jungle, hunting for insects. A cool breeze blew through the cave from the back entrance, an opening revealing trees so dense that it looked like no man, woman or lady-sir has ever entered them before.


And then, as soon as we exited Deer Cave, the old Chinese man from our group pulled out his phone and started waving it madly at the sky, desperate to regain reception. Unbelievable. I had no words. You'd think he needed it for life-support.

Anyway, on our second day we visited two more caves, this time travelling up the Melinau River. But the river was shallow, and our guide kept getting our boat stuck in the rapids. Every time he did, the owner of the boat - a local sitting up the front - would turn to look at him with an expression of, "Oh come on, really?" More than once he was forced to jump out and literally drag his boat - with all of us in it - off the rocks. It was quite funny to watch, but I have to admit, I felt for the guy. Our guide clearly wasn't the most trustworthy driver.


The Cave of Winds was our first cave for the day, earning its name due to the hollow wind that sweeps through the tunnel. A forest of bizarre stalagmites and stalactites stands in the darkness like towers of an abandonned city, ancient and untouched by anything for centuries. There's a creepy kind of beauty about formations that old.

The other cave we visited was Clearwater Cave, which was cool and peaceful until the old Chinese guy started playing trashy pop music for everyone on his phone. Kym shot a look of daggers at him so his wife made him turn it off, which was awesome-sauce. (If either of us had real daggers, I'm sure we would've thrown them instead.) But really, I cannot conceive of the thought process that would lead someone to blare out music - of all places - IN A SMALL CAVE.


Not to worry, we were soon back in our boat, sliding downstream admist our serene jungle surroundings... or at least, they were serene, until both the man and his wife were yabbering away noisily on their phones at the same time. I wonder if they were talking to each other?

And again... "Why do we do this to ourselves?"