We all bounded out of our hammocks after a surprisingly good nights sleep, to spend the next five minutes desperately hopping on the wet, sandy ground whilst trying to get our ant-infested boots on. It turns out that the conga line of ants running up the tree three of us tied our hammocks to, was now running down our hammock lines.
After a brief fire to get a brew on, conversation turned to the day's activities. It was decided that we would spend the next few days gathering food, before exploring and finally making a bush shelter on the final night.
The first food to gather was to be 'née bong' palm-heart. This is the central part of a large, spiny palm, often yielding as little as three coke-cans in size of asparagus flavoured flesh per tree. This gave rise to the name "Millionaires salad", of which it is the major constituent. It's also the answer to the question I posed on my previous posting.
To acquire the née bong is a relatively easy undertaking, especially given the yield of almost pure carbohydrates. One simply locates a née bong tree, an easy task despite over 800 species of tree per 5km square in the jungle (putting that into perspective, the UK has about 50 species overall), given the quantity and size of spikes all over the tree including every layer under the outer layer. We then chopped the palm down, selecting the top meter of the trunk, discarding leaves and all else. Now came the tricky part, whereby the outer layer was torn off and the section was chopped down until a distinct change in colour was noted. Once identified, the palm heart was removed for immediate consumption, tasting like chunky asparagus, or to be thrown onto the fire with a layer of outer husk to yield a more delicate flavour, akin to an asparagus and potato bake.
That was survival food one sorted. Now for some meat.
Large animals are surprisingly rare in the jungle. Thinking back to the New Forest back in the UK, there are many large mammals, whereas in the jungle many mammals are at best rare, if not endangered. Whilst good from a safety point for animals such as the bear and clouded leopard, this means reliable protein must be taken from an alternative source, in our case frogs.
With insects everywhere, frogs were abundant. So too were snakes, which feed on the frogs, but let's ignore that for now. We fashioned two types of spear to fell our dastardly foe, one made from a metal tip, purchased a few days before from a fishing shop, one from bamboo. Both were equally effective, but the durability of the metal tip was significant after the first struggle with a frog.
I was to draw first blood, but not on the intended target, a small (60cm) snake was also hunting that night, so I decided that adding it to the pot may be wise, not least in case it was venomous! With so many species of snake in Borneo, no-one knew what this one was, and many baby snakes are just as deadly as their adult counterparts.
So, with a small snake coiled around my spear, slowly dripping snake juice, I was feeling manly, almost Rambo-esque. Right up until I had to stumble in the dark, alone, to catch up with everyone else, fresh with the thought that mummy snake may be around. She would probably be rather irate, to say the least. Wait for me!
Hunting continued for about 90 minutes, using the reflection of the frog’s eyes to locate them. Often we were being thrown by large spiders, which also create the same reflection! At the end of the hunt, our haul was substantial, with my snake and two frogs adding to a tally of about 15 frogs. Dinnertime!
Each evening we would gather to collect water and wash in the lower pool, right next to a large colony of bats. Oh, and feed the local leeches, of which there were at least one per trip.
On return, still drenched from washing our clothes, we would eat, talk and undertake small projects such as carving items for traps the next day. Then it would be time to strip down to our boxers, check each other for leeches, removing with a lighter if necessary, and jump into the hammock. Once in our hammock, you had to position yourself carefully over the sleeping bag, as the mosquitoes can bite through the hammock and your clothes, as one guy found out the hard way. By now you are covered in sweat and have to powder your feet which have been in damp boots all day before drifting off with the sounds of the jungle ringing in your ears.
The next day it was the turn of more water-dwelling creatures to hit the menu. With a large bit of netting and some traps improvised from bottles and leftovers, traps were set in our local washing pool to catch shrimp and fish. No longer than 5 seconds after trying to peg out the net, it was teeming with shrimp. So bad was the infestation that often shrimp would jump into the pot you were washing up, whilst you were washing it up!
Two hours later, the traps were ready for collection, with the wriggling contents to be boiled in bamboo containers over the open fire. They were more than sweet enough to not need any butter or garlic, and vastly superior to the frogs. Yum.
The next morning, I was up significantly earlier than all else and began the task of getting water on the boil for breakfast. Whilst searching the camp for some additional water, I neglected the fire, which promptly set fire to the thatched roof, badly singing one of the tarps. Hardly my proudest moment. Although I contest that to design an elevated fire, which needs to support five people, putting a thatched roof at a low height above the fire is a rather flawed. After a quick repair to prevent the daily downpour from drenching our firewood, it was time to go fishing.
Using the central part of a large fern as a rod, and line and hooks from our sets, we were off to fish in the main pool, spear in hand. Here fishing proved less than fantastic, but one creature was attracted by our activities. A turtle. With bait used as a lure, Mr Turtle (or Mrs Turtle, one cannot really tell with turtles) was lured into spear range, before being brutally despatched. Turtles are hard to kill, very hard, even after lots of vital part hacking, they still have a tendency to try and limp off.
With more née bong and shrimp collection, our evening spread was impressive.
The remaining days followed similar formats, with downpours quickly swelling the river, preventing fishing.
On the penultimate day we decided to go exploring, following an established path. Everything in the jungle becomes overgrown very quickly, paths are no exception. However, they are substantially better than nothing, which results in lots of hacking, a blunt parang and yet more sweat.
After two hours of walking through the jungle we came upon a well established camp for the boarder patrol, which are tasked with preventing smuggling. Apart from the M16's on their beds, they didn't look very scary wondering around in shorts and a t-shirt in the hard-baked sand cleared by years of use. Mistaking us for a British military patrol, probably due to the excessive use of olive green, they smartened up and looked all busy, before relaxing once we told them our true purpose.
After a brief chat relating to why we would ever *want* to visit the jungle for pleasure, they took us on a guided tour to a local waterfall and we all posed for a photo shoot. It turns out we were the first visitors, probably ever!
Daylight hours running short, we returned to our camp by following "blazes", cuts on prominent trees, to lead the way. This route took us via a local swamp, ending up in a nice meal of army rations, before settling down for the night.
The final day's task was to build a rather involved monkey trap and make a shelter I was to "sleep" in. Everyone said I would get eaten alive by mozzies, but oh well!
With the trap constructed, focus turned to the shelter and all chipped in to help me build it before darkness. Although the shelter was pretty much completed, during some final adaptations too much weight was placed on one of the primary supports, which promptly snapped, shedding the roof and damaging the bed. After an attempt was made to fix it in the dark, the decision was made to abandon construction. Perhaps I will get the chance to feed some mosquitoes in South America instead!
The time had come to pack up and move on to the next stage of our journey - the x- headhunting tribe of the Iban, once used as jungle trackers by the British military….
Until then!
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