SO LONG, SABAH

The State of Sabah, Malaysia - on the island of Borneo. This is where I've spent the last three and a half months of my life. You could say I've been traveling, but when I tell people about my summer I'll say that I lived here. Outside of my homebase in Kota Kinabalu, a majority of my time has been spent between Charlie's jungle camp - Lupa Masa, and Mantanani Island. Jungle, beach, jungle, beach, repeat. Sabah has been good to me! Three and a half months isn't that long, but it's definitely more than just passing through. I will miss this place, and the friends I've made.

I started this blog in 2009 when I quit my job in advertising and left for Thailand to teach English. So far it’s just been a travel blog, and luckily I’ve been able to continue adding to it. But unlike my last couple of trips, I actually have a plan for my return to the states... graduate school! The next stop for me will be New York City where I’ll be attending NYU to get a masters degree in journalism. Up until now, this whole blogging thing has just been a fun way to keep family and friends informed on my pointless shenanigans, but who knows, perhaps I’ll find someway to make a livelihood out of it? I guess we’ll see.

Oh, but my adventures are not quite done! There's a village in northern Sumatra where my mom and dad used to live for a couple of years back in the 70s, so before I head back to the states I'll be making a quick detour through Indonesia to retrace my parents' anthropological footsteps...

TERIMA KASIH, CHARLIE!

Over gmail chat - sometime around the ides of March, 2012...

Charlie: Hey bro, how's the teaching job in China going?

Jesse: It's not.

Charlie: What happened?

Jesse: Well, they couldn't get their paperwork together so they reneged on the job offer last minute.

Charlie: Whoa, that sucks.

Jesse: Yeah... but I still came to China! I've been traveling around, seeing stuff, it's awesome.

Charlie: Nice! What are your plans?

Jesse: Not sure, I might look for a job here, something to keep me busy until I start grad school in the fall.

Charlie: Dude, you should come to Borneo. I could definitely keep you busy for the summer.

Jesse: Whoa, that sounds awesome! For reals?

Charlie: Totes.*

Jesse: Alright, well give me a few more weeks here in China, and I'll plan on heading down to Borneo in mid-April.

Charlie: Sounds good. See you then.

Jesse: See you soon!

*Charlie would never actually say 'totes'.

That's an ever so slightly abridged version of the chat that Charlie and I had over gmail back in March. The correspondence may have been a little more involved, but basically it didn't take much convincing to get me to Borneo. So as it happened, after six weeks of romping around China, I made my way to Kota Kinabalu where Charlie generously put me up for three and a half months, and pulled me into the adventure that is his life!

Charlie came to Malaysia in 2009 around the same time I moved to Thailand to teach English (this isn't the first time Charlie's appeared on my blog, you can see a less tattooed version of him if you scroll back to October of 2009!), but while I continued to bop around the world after my teaching gig, Charlie decided to stay put and make a life for himself in Borneo. And I must say, it is quite the life! From trekking through the interior jungles of Sarawak with the Penan, to nocturnal spearfishing under a full moon off the shores of Mantanani Island, the adventures I've been on with Charlie have been memorable to say the least. In my quest to build an interesting life story, I've found it very helpful to surround myself with interesting characters, and since Charlie has been the main character in this most recent chapter of my life, things have been pretty awesome!

Thank you, Charlie!

SABAH FLAG

The state flag is ubiquitous in Sabah, and although it proudly represents the second largest state in Malaysia, I couldn't help but to think that whoever designed it was inspired by the colorful and tiny island of Mantanani. First of all, the perspective on Mount Kinabalu is a perfect match, the light blue is like the water, the white is like the sand and coral, and the red is like the stunning sunsets. The only thing missing is a band of green for the palm tree groves. I had no choice but to make a photographic Sabah flag collage!

MOUNT KINABALU

I’ve had my eye on Mount Kinabalu since I arrived in Borneo, literally. The entire northern tip of the island sits under his watch, with his colossal 13,435 foot peak dominating the vista for miles in every direction. Typically a morning person with a bold presence in the early hours, Mount Kinabalu tends to disappear under a blanket of clouds mid-morning and vanish into the horizon for the remainder of the day. He’s inconsistent and moody, and whether or not you’ll get to the top for a good view is a gamble considering his tumultuous relationship with Mother Nature. With only a couple of weeks left in Borneo, I had no choice but to try and conquer this almighty beast!

It was mid-week when I set out on the two-day trek, and since most of my friends had climbed the mountain already, I embarked on the journey alone. Well, Kinabalu National Park requires hiring a guide for the hike, so I had this little local man trailing me up the mountain the whole way. He didn’t speak much English, but was always there to provide an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up with every glance over my shoulder.

You can opt to hike the mountain in a day, but it’s best done broken up into two, since reaching the summit in the early morning will give you the best chances of having a view. And when I say ‘early morning’, I mean by sunrise. People start the second day of the hike around 2 o’clock in the morning and ascend the mountain with headlamps so they can be on the peak at daybreak. Laban Rata Guesthouse is perched on the mountainside just below 11,0000 feet, and provides meals and dorms for the mid-hike repose.

The trail was steep, and I realized quickly that there's no such thing as a switchback in Kinabalu National Park. The entire hike is a little over five miles in each direction, but the increase in elevation from the trailhead to the top is over 7,300 feet. As we started the hike my guide informed me that it would be a good five or six hours to Laban Rata, and I don’t know what got into me, but I was on a tear heading up the mountain! In just over two hours I was perched on the deck of the guesthouse drinking a beer and scarfing down a plate of mee goreng telur. Exhausted and full, I retired to my dorm for an afternoon doze and fell asleep to the sound of heavy rain on a tin roof.

The guesthouse was crowded when I awoke from my nap and the afternoon storm had come and gone. I spent the end of the day on an earthen terrace below the guesthouse and celebrated eventide by watching an endless parade of clouds march and morph through the sky. The residual vapor from the afternoon showers held a rainbow that seemed to bridge heaven and earth, and while the slope of the mountain obstructed the setting sun, the colors of dusk pushed through as the clouds below rolled over hilltops through a pink and orange light. I could see Kota Kinabalu and its outlying islands along the coast, and watched the twinkling city lights grow as daylight faded. With a long afternoon nap behind me and the growing anticipation of a summit sunrise, I was hardly ready for sleep, but with an alarm set for 2 a.m., I forced myself into an early bedtime.

It doesn’t matter if you’re close to the equator in the middle of summer, if you’re at 13,500 feet pre-dawn, it’s going to be pretty damn cold. After renting a jacket from the guesthouse, we set out in the middle of the night for the final leg of the ascent. The tree line broke soon after our departure, and our footsteps followed the wake of our headlamps as we scrambled up the rock face through the darkness. I was on par with my previous days pace, and made good time in reaching the summit a little before 5 a.m. The peak was small and awkward, and got progressively more crowded as dawn approached. Arriving early gave me the chance to stake out a good place for the sunrise, but trying to keep warm with over an hour until daybreak was challenging. By the time the sun started to peak over the horizon, I could barely feel my fingers enough to handle my camera.

We were blessed that morning with the perfect balance of clouds and clarity, and when the sun finally broke, the land was hit with an explosion of color. While the cloud cover above remained a static palette for the mutating shades of dawn, the opposing peak wore a tumbling billow that moved as though it were in a time-lapse. I could see for miles, all the way up to the tip of Borneo and out across the coastal islands. On so many mornings I’d gazed upon Mount Kinabalu from the shores of Mantanani, and now I was looking down on the island as a little speck in the South China Sea. It was an amazing sunrise. And I also gladly welcomed the warmth that it brought.

The hike back down to the guesthouse revealed over 2,000 vertical feet of beauty that had been covered in darkness just a few hours earlier. The collection of peaks that appeared saw-toothed from below were divided by sweeping moonscapes that rolled down towards a misty green earth. I took my time hiking down, and still reached the guesthouse before I usually get out of bed. After a quick rest and a small breakfast, I hit the trail again for the final leg of the descent, and reached the bottom mid-day on a wobbly pair of legs. I’d conquered Mount Kinabalu. Or maybe I’d become his friend. He did decide to give me a most excellent view, after all, and an experience that I’ll never forget.

MANTANANI MOONRISE

I was in Thailand a few years ago when I first realized that a full moon simultaneously rises with the setting sun. The astrological concurrence happened while I was on a rooftop in Bangkok with a great group of friends and a not-so-great bottle of tequila, and while I spun circles watching the two celestial bodies slowly trade places in the evening sky, I wondered why people don't consciously observe this stellar phenomenon more often. Ok, the world renowned Full Moon Party was about to pop off that night a few hundred miles south on Ko Pha Ngan, but that's more about drugs, neon paint, and fire dancing than actually enjoying the moon. Anyways, I'm talking about catching the two together, a sunset-moonrise.

I've seen quite a few moonrises in the past, but they were impromptu, and rarely in a place where I could also enjoy the sunset. So unexpected, in fact, that they would usually start with someone saying, "Whoa! Is that the moon?" One such occasion happened after work while I was living in San Francisco. My friend Davis and I were strolling through Chinatown on the way to North Beach, and as we crossed Broadway, we looked down past the neon lights and strip clubs to see a glowing moon rising up over the pavement. That's when we ditched the idea of going to a bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a liquor store, and b-lined it to the top of Telegraph Hill, just in time to see the full moon crawl up into its cradle between the towers of the Bay Bridge and continue up into the stars. It was magnificent. But why wasn't the hilltop packed full of people?

The eastern tip of Mantanani Island is an ever-shifting thin strip of white sand that stretches out into a turquoise-blue sea. If you can get up early enough it's a great place to take in the sunrise, or in the evening, a moonrise. I was on the island in early June when I noticed a luminous luna in the night sky. I checked the internet to see if a full moon was approaching, and it was. So the next day I convinced a group of friends to head out to the eastern tip of the island for the moonrise-sunset. Damn weather! It was a cloud-covered bust. Don't get me wrong, it was an amazing place to experience the transition from day to night, but sans moon and sun, the fade into darkness was nothing but a gradual dimming of the heavens.

Luckily I was on Mantanani a month later for another full moon, and this time had the addition of an ideal forecast. That morning I hiked out to the tip of the island for the sunrise with my friends Yanti and Ramaesh. It was a tiresome daybreak trudge, but once we reached the eastern strand and saw the sun rising up over the sea, it was all worth it. I love kicking off the morning with a good sunrise! The weather was flawless that day, but in fear of a second botched attempt at a Mantanani sunset-moonrise, I hiked out to the tip of the island alone as evening approached. And, well, it would’ve been nice to share it with someone, but at the same time, it’s probably better that no one was around to hear me whoop and holler as the celestial show commenced. Mount Kinabalu, which is usually only visible in the early mornings, was popping off the horizon with acute detail. And as the sun disappeared over the island to west, the moon rose up in the east over the distant mainland, casting a pale reflection across the darkening turquoise.

My second sunset-moonrise was beautiful, and I will make an effort to see this monthly event more often. The next one happens in early August. I’ll be in Indonesia. And September, New York City...

NAT NAT BEACH

The next day Natalie, Merissa, Ricky, and I rented some kayaks and paddled out to Cadlao Island in search of Nat Nat Beach. After an hour or so we floated up to an empty stretch of white sand along the west side of the island. The bay was lined with a craggy jungle that tumbled down off of a solitary mountain, and except for a couple of friendly dogs and a few fisherman that lived in a little shanty on the beach, we had the entire place to ourselves. Bearing a few cans of mango juice as gifts, we approached the fisherman to see if we were in fact on Nat Nat Beach. And we were! We’d found Nat’s geographic namesake! That’s when Nat carved her name in the sand and posed for pictures.

The day was ours to be lazy, sauntering around the beach, relaxing in the shade, sipping rum cocktails, and floating in the sea. We considered kayaking up the coast to another beach, but realized that we were perfectly content where we were. As the afternoon came to an end, we hopped in the kayaks and paddled back to El Nido. The next day we made our way back to Puerto Princesa where I caught a flight back to Kota Kinabalu, and Nat and Mo to Manila. Only a week in the Philippines, what a tease! Over 7,000 islands and I only saw a handful. There will be a next time. I will return...

ISLAND HOPPING

By the time the typhoon blew over and the paradisal weather arrived, Natalie, Merissa, and I were itching to get out and explore the Bacuit Archipelago. The elements had kept us stranded in El Nido since we’d arrived, and the islands had been taunting us from stormy seas, but with permission from a picture perfect forecast we were finally free to play! A charismatic young Lithuanian guy named Ricky entered the scene, and was more than happy to organize a day trip with us. There were plenty of outfits in El Nido offering package tours, but being the wheeler and dealer that he was, Ricky cut out the middleman and nabbed us a cut-rate local guide. Our group total was six with the addition of a friendly French couple, and after picking up some lunch supplies from the market, we set out to explore the islands.

Forty-five minutes after leaving El Nido, we floated into a tranquil cove off Matinloc Island. With the exception of a few small beaches, the tiny inlet sat wrapped in steep and jagged cliffs. After some excellent snorkeling and a splash in the crystalline water, we slipped through a fissure in the limestone and swam into the Small Lagoon. Even at low tide the passage was tight, and one-by-one we entered the enclosed reservoir. The water inside took on a flat emerald hue and as we swam across we sent out gentle ripples that lapped into towering karstic walls. On the far side of the lagoon a partially submerged hole in the rock opened up into a small swimmable cave. A few beams of light poured in through a fractured ceiling and illuminated the cavern walls with shimmering reflections. After some aquatic spelunking, we left the cave, made our way back across the lagoon, and swam out to our boat. Incredible.

Before stopping to eat we took a cruise through a big lagoon and skirted around a few more islands. The Bacuit Archipelago was captivating. For lunch we picnicked under some trees on a small beach surrounded by limestone cliffs. There was another boat anchored off the strand when we arrived, but after they left we had the whole place to ourselves. We nibbled on sweet pineapple and sipped on rum punch while our guide grilled up a delicious fish, and with the addition of rice, some good company, and an amazing beach, it turned out to be an ideal meal. 

With full tummies we pushed back out to sea. And not long after that the engine decided to retire for the day. Our guide gave it a tinker but it was no use, and soon we were in search of a tow, with our next destination being at the mercy of whatever help came our way. This unplanned turn of events didn’t really bother anyone, and in fact, we all seemed content just drifting around among the karstic giants. But soon enough another boat came floating by and roped us along for a tug back towards the Small Lagoon, and from there we hitched another tow to Seven Commandos Beach.

Seven Commandos Beach ended up being our last stop of the day. Only accessible by boat, but not too far from El Nido, the beach was manicured and lively, and even had a little snack and beverage bar. A picturesque palm tree grove provided plenty of shade and the view out to sea gave way to a horizon speckled with islands. We were still without a motor, so when our ride was ready to leave, we took off for El Nido. We returned a little before nightfall, and after jumping off the boat we strolled down the beach and watched the sun as it melted into the sea. It was a perfect way to end the day...