Trekking Tioman: Tekek to Juara

Juara Jungle Joy

The jungle screams. It whispers too. Mutters and warbles and calls. As the temperature rises, the pitch of the cicadas' constant chirr climbs the frequency scale until by late afternoon it no longer sounds organic, becoming instead the constant scream of an electronic alarm demanding attention.

Attention is required!

Amber backtracks in an instant, her already falling foot reversing direction in midair. I'm behind her on the trail and her action appears to me as a flash rewind of videotape. As I gain her side, a red-headed, black snake maybe a meter long lowers its head and winds toward the rocks to our left, displaying as it goes a scarlet blaze that runs down both sides of its body.

Amber, Sebastian and I left just after dawn to climb the 300m high ridge that separates Pulau Tioman's main town, Tekek, from the sleepy seaside village of Juara. Juara lies on an expansive crescent of white sand on the island's eastern coast and we'd planned to walk over in the cool of the day and spend the night before returning the next day, perhaps by boat if we found the walk too arduous for Tioman's holiday mood. It didn't quite work out that way...

Although the ridge isn't high and it's only about 8km from our hut to Juara, the walk is strenuous indeed. We're each bearing daypacks that hold the essentials for a night away, plus about 4 kilos of water. They're not heavy, but by the time we've climbed halfway up the ridge I'm saturated as if by a downpour. I wonder how long it's going to take to acclimatise and I'm again in awe of the feats of those European explorers who hacked their way through jungles like these all over the world.

Sebastian says "Oh yes. Imagine them: At camp in the evening, writing in their journals "Today we persevered through the most impenetrable thickets of vicious thorned vines to attain at last our objective..." - while the guys who actually did the work make them drinks and dinner!" Hehehe - touché!

We're sitting on a flight of steps that winds above the cascades which provide Tekek's water supply. Our resting spot is in deep shade and in the even deeper gloom of an alcove in the overhanging foliage a small black bat scribes figure eights in the humid air as he snatches his fill of the myriad tiny flying critters that abound here. It's only 9.00am, but already the temperature must be 28^oC which I'll admit isn't that hot, but add almost 100% humidity and it feels like we're in a rice steamer!

We begin climbing again and the invisible monkeys high above us drop half eaten mangoes as we pass. It sure seems they're trying to hit us! The river on our right is appealing, but there are signs admonishing us not to consider bathing in the town's water. Once we reach the crest the cement steps built for the climb vanish and the trail is dirt and rock and root. We have to take care to step high over the fallen palm fronds. They look so soft and lush when they're held high in the canopy, but at our feet they display extensive protective coats of black thorns. They lie in wait to seriously scar the shins of the uncareful. I guess we probably shouldn't be wearing shorts, but the idea of long pants in this climate strikes me as more horrendous than the risk of a spiking from a palm frond.

I love this. The grind of the climb is forgotten as I marvel at the sights and sounds of this wonder of nature. There are towering, buttressed trees growing from the tops of massive boulders. At the other end of the scale of life, iridescent butterflies flit through the shafts of sunlight falling through the canopy. There are boulders by the trail that wear curlicued micro-vines like tribal tattoos. The soundtrack is an inspiration as well. A legion of unseen animals combine in this jungle symphony. Wing and throat, leg and membrane - I mimic those I can and some of the birds seem inclined to respond.

I have to stop. The main difficulty for me on rough wilderness trails like this is the attention walking requires. You pretty much always need to be looking where your feet fall, which means you're not free to see all you're passing through. Lonely Planet says this walk should take about two and a half hours, but I could spend most of the day doing it - especially when I want to make pictures of the scenes that catch my eye. Don't take me with you on a walk you're in a hurry to get to the end of! Taking a break and sitting in silence also gives the jungle inhabitants a chance to forget you're there and affords the opportunity of having them approach you.

By 10.00am we've reached the end of the dirt trail. There's a rotunda in the forest with three concrete benches and a central table, but its roof is smashed and lies askew, the victim of a falling tree. I imagine that the jungle doesn't like this outlier of civilisation - "Take that! You wanna sit down? There's logs and stones aplenty! And don't I provide the shade you desire?" The final three kilometers into Juara are all downhill, on a concrete road of one vehicle width, which the locals are intent on pushing through to Tekek to make the most of the opportunities tourism presents.

As we descend, the jungle gives way to a forest of food and rubber trees. Being more remote, the people of Juara live much as the folks on the west coast did prior to the tourist boom. In addition to fishing, they farm tapioca, sweet potato and a wide variety of tropical fruits, as well as harvest rubber in the traditional way. The groves of fruit trees and fields of tapioca and potato extend all the way to the village, which we reach after another hour's unhurried walking.

After eating a great meal at a café on Juara's magnificent beach, I'm selected for the recce to find a place to stay. Thinking it won't take more than five minutes I leave all my gear with my companions and head off. I should have taken my hat. I wound up walking another couple of kilometers to the end of the beach and established that the sweetest place (Rainbow Chalets) was fully booked and there appeared to be only two other choices. One was near the far southern end of the beach where a very basic hut was as much as our place at Air Batang (ABC). The other was three times the price for units that from the outside seemed comparable to those at ABC.

By the time I got back to my companions I was saturated again. I hadn't checked the (much closer!) northern end of the beach, but as Sebastian was already talking about going back and Amber wasn't looking too mortified at the thought, there didn't seem any need. There certainly wasn't a lot to do at Juara and the beach, while a beautiful stretch of sand, didn't have any of the coral gardens that were a few meters off the shore at ABC. I was a little disappointed I hadn't taken my camera on the scouting mission though - I missed a few good ones there. My hat would've probably been an even better idea - my head must've looked like a tomato!

The afternoon rain began to fall as we set off on the return journey. The climb from Tekek had been brutally steep but mercifully short. The grade from Juara back up to the forest is much more gentle, but there's no respite for that first three kilometers. We were glad of the rain, even when it increased to a solid hammering of warm fat drops that soaked us to the skin and raised the most amazing sound from the tropical foliage flanking the road. We were accompanied on our climb by the constant shuttling of Isuzu light trucks that bore loads of sand, cement and aggregate up to the road head. Their drivers laughed and waved at us as we stood bedraggled in the plantlife of the road verge to give them room to pass. A few minibuses full of tourists coming over by the new road route laughed and waved as well. Pffft we thought - they're completely missing the experience!

As we arrived at the point where the jungle trail diverges from the new road the clouds broke and the temperature started climbing again. We were mighty glad of that afternoon downpour - it would have sapped us badly if we'd had to climb back up here under the blazing one o'clock sun. We re-entered the jungle knowing the hardest was behind us.

The rain had cranked the jungle up a notch. Scents became almost tangible. The sweetness of the canopy fruits and flowers that fell with the rain, the moist undercurrents of sodden vegetation returning to the earth, the (perhaps imagined) hint of wet fur of jungle mammals. Life moved with the water, mostly unseen, but revealed here and there in the blooming of chapatti size fungi on fallen trees, the chameleon-like reptile which froze mid-step at our sudden arrival - the snake under Amber's foot!

The trek back down the ridge into Tekek was swift - perhaps too much so, as we hadn't long left the cover of the jungle for the beachside path back to ABC than we were assailed again by the heat of the westering sun. It's two kilometers at most from the Juara track back to ABC, but I was sodden again by the time we got back and my feet were starting to whine. Trekking boots are not their preferred covering here!

A while later we were showered, changed and beginning to feel the twinges as our muscles tightened from the day's exertions. We'd covered about 18km (I claim 22) and climbed to about a thousand feet twice. We sat, well pleased with our Tioman style Tom Collins, and watched as that now not so fierce sun completed its journey to the horizon.

I was thinking of Sebastian's European explorers as I got out the journal to write...