Seeking a glimpse of Malaysia in a more raw state than we have experienced in Penang and the mainland, we flew to the island of Borneo. It's about a 2 and a half hour flight from Penang to Kota Kinabalu (KK), and we were quite surprised at how close we were to The Philippines. KK is famous for its proximity to Mount Kinabalu, which stands at about 4100 m and is the tallest mountain in Southeast Asia. We had grand plans to see the mountain itself and hike around the national park that surrounds it, but those plans were derailed by the water-logged excitement of our first day in Borneo. We were going white water rafting.
We organized the trip before arriving, securing 4 spots on a paddle trip on the Padas River. Pelle and I were joined by two friends who currently live in a small town in the Malaysia state of Sabah. They work with the local school system to mentor teachers of English to help students learn better English. (It sounded like a tough assignment -- trying to make headway while battling all the usual school-related headaches and politics, but in a remote location, under unique cultural circumstances, with even less money and resources.) We were all very excited and also a bit nervous. Despite Pelle's and my incomparable experience rafting in the Grand Canyon, I wondered what rafting through remote jungle terrain would be like. I hoped the equipment would be reliable and sturdy. I hoped our guides would be personable and fun. I hoped our friends would have fun and not be too afraid. I hoped no one would get hurt. I hoped we remembered how to paddle.
After an insanely long drive through the wilds of Borneo and over a few absurdly steep ridges in the Crocker Range, we arrived at a town called Tenom (famous for the head-hunting traditions of the local tribes). Here we would catch a rickety old train that would take us to the launch point. The train was a rusty wisp of a thing with wooden cars and a colorful paint job. But it's what served as commuter rail for this part of the country -- paddlers and gear loaded on with families, groceries, young couples, and a few farm animals. After a half-hour on the neck-snapping 80-year-old tracks, we finally arrived at the launch spot.
We organized the trip before arriving, securing 4 spots on a paddle trip on the Padas River. Pelle and I were joined by two friends who currently live in a small town in the Malaysia state of Sabah. They work with the local school system to mentor teachers of English to help students learn better English. (It sounded like a tough assignment -- trying to make headway while battling all the usual school-related headaches and politics, but in a remote location, under unique cultural circumstances, with even less money and resources.) We were all very excited and also a bit nervous. Despite Pelle's and my incomparable experience rafting in the Grand Canyon, I wondered what rafting through remote jungle terrain would be like. I hoped the equipment would be reliable and sturdy. I hoped our guides would be personable and fun. I hoped our friends would have fun and not be too afraid. I hoped no one would get hurt. I hoped we remembered how to paddle.
Pelle and I took the front paddle spots with our friend Leah riding shotgun between us. Over the next hour and a half, we ran a few Class I and II rapids, then a few Class III and IV rapids. In Leah's trusty hands we baptized our new waterproof camera...The following video pretty much sums up the day:
Despite gallons of river water (along with unknown waterborne creepy-crawlies that would come back to haunt me for several days) now consumed, but thankfully no one sacrificed to the river itself, we had a great trip on the Padas River. But we then had to get back into the van and suffer 3-4 hours more on the road back to KK. We just couldn't cope with the idea of spending more time driving through more green jungle along winding narrow roads, so we bailed on Mount Kinabalu. Perhaps the next time we get to Borneo?
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