<p>I had no inkling then that a few months down the line, I’d be visiting the very same UNESCO World Heritage Site, Gunung Mulu National Reserve, getting lost in the pristine virgin rainforests of Sarawak, Malaysia.<br /><br />When my eyes accidently fell on the ludicrously cheap promotional fares to Malaysia, thoughts of increasing my carbon footprint were firmly suppressed and quietly shown the door. With the reckless click of a finger, I had an e-ticket staring at me in the face. Soon enough, I was in Kuala Lumpur. <br /><br />Bat caves<br />Confining my explorations to the province of Sarawak in Borneo with just eight days in my kitty, Mulu unsurprisingly was the highlight. At the camp headquarters, there are a lot of options to choose from when it comes to activities that are conveniently categorised into forest activities and cave activities.<br /><br />First off, I choose to do the canopy forest walk followed by a tour of two of the main show caves. Walking amidst the treetops at 15-20 metres above the forest, traversing all of its 480 metres, I was informed by my well clued-up guide Robert that this tree-based canopy walk is supposedly the longest of its kind in the world.<br /><br />Robert expertly pointed to insects and animals that were so well camouflaged. Robert could even detect these jungle denizens from the sounds they emitted and the direction they came from. We spotted in the dense foliage lizards, squirrels and long-tailed macaques.<br /><br />We were even lucky to catch a pit viper lazily basking in the sun a few metres away from the canopy. A magical hour later, we walked back through the jungle to the main path. Flanking us on both sides were ancient trees with mammoth girths majestically looming over us with strange creepers and orchids entwined around their barks. Awestruck, I suddenly felt the sounds of forest descend over us and felt strangely compelled to speak in hushed tones.<br /><br />As we fell into conversation again, we exchanged cultural notes. He got talking on the island’s different tribes. “Most of us are Christian now, though we still retain distinct local tribal identities. I myself am Orangulu.” He continued, “Orang means people. Orangulu, therefore, will be people of Ulu, Ulu being a place.” Intrigued, I half-jokingly quizzed him on the strikingly similar etymology of Borneo’s most famous primates Orangutans. I whispered, “So if Orang means people, it should follow that Orangutan actually means the people of Utan?” <br /><br />He smiled and even as he nodded a yes, we’d reached the path leading to the show caves. With no other takers for the canopy walk, Robert flailed down the first group of about 15 people heading towards the bat caves and foisted me on to their guide. <br />Deer Cave and Langs Cave are impressively large show caves that wend through the side of a hill. The caves are home to 12 different species of bats. As you enter, the rancid smell of bat poop hits you, getting stronger as you go deeper into the caves.<br /><br />Though lit in parts, it is advisable to carry a head torch for easy viewing of the myriad stalactite and stalagmite formations in the exceedingly damp caves that once used to be an ancient river bed. Over the years, the limestone has formed into mostly grotesque shapes but some are interestingly life-like; there is one that looks like Abraham Lincoln.<br /><br />I walked, gazing at the bats clinging to the surface high above. Sunlight streamed into the dark cavern from where the rocks were completely eroded, making them into natural skylights. Curtains of fern hung down the entrance, rustling in the occasional wind.<br /><br />It’s aptly named the Garden of Eden. Nearby were two columns of water (called Adam and Eve showers) gently cascading down, lightly spraying us all. And then the grand finale, it was time for what I’d come there for — the bat exodus. <br /><br />Various groups were ushered out towards late afternoon to the viewing area called the bat observatory, a little distance away from the caves. It had been three days since the last bat exit, we were told. One big group waited uncomplainingly for over half-an-hour with barely contained excitement.<br /><br />As impatience was just beginning to set in, hunger pangs won over the tiny mammals and we finally saw the bats emerge on their way to feed on fruit or small animals, depending on their species. It was something I’d never seen before. Millions of bats streamed out in weird formations. “It’s a survival technique,” one guide informed us.<br /><br />“In a group, they have a better chance of survival against predators like eagles and vultures. Later that evening, not yet satisfied with an already exciting day, I set out after dinner with two other fellow travellers on a designated night trek. It was supposed to be more a 45-minute ramble in the woods to spot as many different species of insect life and small creatures of the wild.<br /><br />Half-an-hour into our absorbing walk, engrossed in spotting wildlife such as hedgehogs and rare jungle fowl, we realised that we were lost. It was almost midnight before sense prevailed and we decided to trace our steps back. More than an hour later, we were back, safe and sound by the river, soaking tired feet. <br /></p>
<p>I had no inkling then that a few months down the line, I’d be visiting the very same UNESCO World Heritage Site, Gunung Mulu National Reserve, getting lost in the pristine virgin rainforests of Sarawak, Malaysia.<br /><br />When my eyes accidently fell on the ludicrously cheap promotional fares to Malaysia, thoughts of increasing my carbon footprint were firmly suppressed and quietly shown the door. With the reckless click of a finger, I had an e-ticket staring at me in the face. Soon enough, I was in Kuala Lumpur. <br /><br />Bat caves<br />Confining my explorations to the province of Sarawak in Borneo with just eight days in my kitty, Mulu unsurprisingly was the highlight. At the camp headquarters, there are a lot of options to choose from when it comes to activities that are conveniently categorised into forest activities and cave activities.<br /><br />First off, I choose to do the canopy forest walk followed by a tour of two of the main show caves. Walking amidst the treetops at 15-20 metres above the forest, traversing all of its 480 metres, I was informed by my well clued-up guide Robert that this tree-based canopy walk is supposedly the longest of its kind in the world.<br /><br />Robert expertly pointed to insects and animals that were so well camouflaged. Robert could even detect these jungle denizens from the sounds they emitted and the direction they came from. We spotted in the dense foliage lizards, squirrels and long-tailed macaques.<br /><br />We were even lucky to catch a pit viper lazily basking in the sun a few metres away from the canopy. A magical hour later, we walked back through the jungle to the main path. Flanking us on both sides were ancient trees with mammoth girths majestically looming over us with strange creepers and orchids entwined around their barks. Awestruck, I suddenly felt the sounds of forest descend over us and felt strangely compelled to speak in hushed tones.<br /><br />As we fell into conversation again, we exchanged cultural notes. He got talking on the island’s different tribes. “Most of us are Christian now, though we still retain distinct local tribal identities. I myself am Orangulu.” He continued, “Orang means people. Orangulu, therefore, will be people of Ulu, Ulu being a place.” Intrigued, I half-jokingly quizzed him on the strikingly similar etymology of Borneo’s most famous primates Orangutans. I whispered, “So if Orang means people, it should follow that Orangutan actually means the people of Utan?” <br /><br />He smiled and even as he nodded a yes, we’d reached the path leading to the show caves. With no other takers for the canopy walk, Robert flailed down the first group of about 15 people heading towards the bat caves and foisted me on to their guide. <br />Deer Cave and Langs Cave are impressively large show caves that wend through the side of a hill. The caves are home to 12 different species of bats. As you enter, the rancid smell of bat poop hits you, getting stronger as you go deeper into the caves.<br /><br />Though lit in parts, it is advisable to carry a head torch for easy viewing of the myriad stalactite and stalagmite formations in the exceedingly damp caves that once used to be an ancient river bed. Over the years, the limestone has formed into mostly grotesque shapes but some are interestingly life-like; there is one that looks like Abraham Lincoln.<br /><br />I walked, gazing at the bats clinging to the surface high above. Sunlight streamed into the dark cavern from where the rocks were completely eroded, making them into natural skylights. Curtains of fern hung down the entrance, rustling in the occasional wind.<br /><br />It’s aptly named the Garden of Eden. Nearby were two columns of water (called Adam and Eve showers) gently cascading down, lightly spraying us all. And then the grand finale, it was time for what I’d come there for — the bat exodus. <br /><br />Various groups were ushered out towards late afternoon to the viewing area called the bat observatory, a little distance away from the caves. It had been three days since the last bat exit, we were told. One big group waited uncomplainingly for over half-an-hour with barely contained excitement.<br /><br />As impatience was just beginning to set in, hunger pangs won over the tiny mammals and we finally saw the bats emerge on their way to feed on fruit or small animals, depending on their species. It was something I’d never seen before. Millions of bats streamed out in weird formations. “It’s a survival technique,” one guide informed us.<br /><br />“In a group, they have a better chance of survival against predators like eagles and vultures. Later that evening, not yet satisfied with an already exciting day, I set out after dinner with two other fellow travellers on a designated night trek. It was supposed to be more a 45-minute ramble in the woods to spot as many different species of insect life and small creatures of the wild.<br /><br />Half-an-hour into our absorbing walk, engrossed in spotting wildlife such as hedgehogs and rare jungle fowl, we realised that we were lost. It was almost midnight before sense prevailed and we decided to trace our steps back. More than an hour later, we were back, safe and sound by the river, soaking tired feet. <br /></p>
