I could start this post several different ways. For example:
In my savory description of the olfactory wonders of Borneo, I forgot to mention one unique smell. Bat guano has the earthy odor one would expect, but it’s an altogether alien experience.
Or, I expected the Garden of Eden to be much less rainy.
Or, I can honestly now say that I’ve been attacked by a golden earwig.
Or, shooting at balloons with a blowgun may not be cultural, but it sure is fun.
These hooks all introduce the topic of today’s adventure: a mini-vacation. We’ve traded our Dr. Frankenstein personas for something more like Ferris Bueller, though hopefully an Indiana Jones complex comes along for the ride.
Today the four of us caught a half-hour flight to an isolated mountain range in the interior of Sarawak Borneo, a UNESCO World Heritage site named Gulung Mulu National Park. It’s been hailed as the Jurassic Park of Sarawak, without the dinosaurs. Included are the world’s largest cave passage and the world’s largest cave chamber (I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference though), as well as beautiful pristine rainforest, canopy walkways and birdwatching towers, a 4-day mountain, and giant limestone formations that have been described as the world’s worst parachute landing. The only ways to get here were propeller-plane, longboat, or four-wheel drive, the latter two taking half a day. You might say it’s fairly isolated.
The only housing still available was the posh Royal Mulu Resort. It’s a happenin’ place, with tons of bustle and commotion. Minus the sarcasm, it’s still a very luxurious resort, although the Rajah Brooke’s birdwing butterflies flitting lazily along the boardwalks indicate just how relaxing the place is. There’s plenty the resort offers, including ATV tours and kayaking and cultural demonstrations. But most people are here to explore the park.
We went on a guided tour to see the caves. Our tour guide, a very helpful fellow, showed us through the rainforest, which wasn’t hard considering that the entire route to the first show caves is a wooden boardwalk about a meter off the ground. But he did point out several trails and plants and bugs that we never would have seen, and explained the formation of the limestone caves and the diversity of the region.
He also took us through the first two show caves of the park. Lang’s Cave is a smallish cave, as far as these caves go, but in the grand scheme of things I would have no difficulty fitting my family’s entire possessions in about a quarter of it. There are several artificial lights in the cave, designed to emphasize the peculiar stalactites and helictites and limestone formations that make this place famous. From there we went to Deer Cave, which houses only a couple million bats, with plenty of room left over for swiftlets. Oh yeah, it’s the largest cave passage in the world, and it would have been even larger if a section of forest (the “Garden of Eden”) hadn’t fallen in. Since it’s also a show cave, the trail is a boardwalk, the lights are electric, although the guides are legit.
We were going to watch the bats make their grand exit from the cave, but like Niah, they didn’t show, probably because it was sprinkling pretty heavily when we came out. But the redeeming aspect of our cave experience was the fact that we got to party with Abraham Lincoln on the Fourth of July--there’s a perfect natural likeness of his facial profile jutting from the cave entrance.
Friday, July 10, 2009
July 3--Air means water
Sorry to unnecessarily scare you. With all the last-minute excitement, the possibility of an extended stay in Borneo, I failed to emphasize that all plans hinged on the cooperation of several airlines and travel agencies, which we all know is a difficult feat to accomplish. So it looks like we will be staying for the original itinerary and coming back as planned. We’ll stay in (near) Lambir until June 7, when we will fly to Kuching for a few days. Then a day in Singapore, a few hours in Tokyo, and the rest of the summer in Lincoln. By the twelfth of July, 2009 A.D., I will have left Borneo. Surprisingly, I can’t even find the words to say right now. It all seems so fast.
We had to mail our leaf samples today. This means we’ll have no physical test subjects to work on for the remainder of our stay. We still have plenty to do—learning and writing code to analyze our light curves, and troubleshooting said code when it doesn’t work, as well as transferring numbers from book to computer, making graphs, and trying to understand what in the world our data tells us. Also, when we drove into Miri tonight to mail our leaves, we almost got hit by an SUV passing a motorbike over a hill, while we were being tailgated by another SUV. Somebody said it could have been annihilation for our little Proton.
Since it’s one of our last days here (we’re going on a mini vacation tomorrow) and it’s our Iban assistant’s last day here (before she goes back to university), we had a party tonight. We’re all going to miss her a lot, because she always brings a cheerful attitude to the house even after a rough day in the forest. Plus she cooks wonderfully and does laundry perfectly and serenades our late-night data analysis with a little guitar strumming. So we bought her a new guitar. I’m told it has much better action than the one she has now, and I guess that’s a guitarist’s term to indicate it makes playing more fun, less painful. Plus it looks like the quintessential acoustic guitar, and it’s a worldwide brand, and sounds like a heavenly harp in the right hands.
The party was fun, with a couple of Iban families gathered around several heaping pots of steaming rice and a plate of honest-to-goodness barbecued chicken. We even pitched in with a cake with American chocolate, which is a real step up apparently. We danced to the Indonesian version of Poco Poco, a local hit. I added a ton of sweetened condensed milk to rose-flavored juice to create a concoction called air bandung. We listened to a worship song accompanied by the new guitar. We relearned how to dance Iban-style. I ate a whole pepper, and regretted it immediately.
I’ll miss her. I’ll miss eating on the floor. I’ll miss it here.
We had to mail our leaf samples today. This means we’ll have no physical test subjects to work on for the remainder of our stay. We still have plenty to do—learning and writing code to analyze our light curves, and troubleshooting said code when it doesn’t work, as well as transferring numbers from book to computer, making graphs, and trying to understand what in the world our data tells us. Also, when we drove into Miri tonight to mail our leaves, we almost got hit by an SUV passing a motorbike over a hill, while we were being tailgated by another SUV. Somebody said it could have been annihilation for our little Proton.
Since it’s one of our last days here (we’re going on a mini vacation tomorrow) and it’s our Iban assistant’s last day here (before she goes back to university), we had a party tonight. We’re all going to miss her a lot, because she always brings a cheerful attitude to the house even after a rough day in the forest. Plus she cooks wonderfully and does laundry perfectly and serenades our late-night data analysis with a little guitar strumming. So we bought her a new guitar. I’m told it has much better action than the one she has now, and I guess that’s a guitarist’s term to indicate it makes playing more fun, less painful. Plus it looks like the quintessential acoustic guitar, and it’s a worldwide brand, and sounds like a heavenly harp in the right hands.
The party was fun, with a couple of Iban families gathered around several heaping pots of steaming rice and a plate of honest-to-goodness barbecued chicken. We even pitched in with a cake with American chocolate, which is a real step up apparently. We danced to the Indonesian version of Poco Poco, a local hit. I added a ton of sweetened condensed milk to rose-flavored juice to create a concoction called air bandung. We listened to a worship song accompanied by the new guitar. We relearned how to dance Iban-style. I ate a whole pepper, and regretted it immediately.
I’ll miss her. I’ll miss eating on the floor. I’ll miss it here.
Friday, July 3, 2009
July 2--Bukit Lambir
Since we don’t have much time left here, and since there’s nothing left to do but massing leaves and statisticizing data and verbing nouns, we took a ten hour hike.
The four of us left around nine in the morning, after a hearty second breakfast of leftover curry. We hiked through the forest, bypassing all the trails that would take us to the waterfalls that we’ve already been to (Latak, Nibong, and Pantu), the hills we’ve already conquered (Bukit Pantu), the ponds we’ve already tried to catch fish in. We found new ponds; don’t worry. We crossed several streams, which was a welcome break from the monotonous hilly trail. It seems like the trail between Pantu and Dinding goes up as much as it comes down, leading to a very exhausting trek without any noticeable net change in elevation. But after walking past the trail leading to Dinding Waterfall, we soon started the upward climb towards Bukit Lambir, the highest point in the forest. I don’t know the distinction between Bukit (hill) and Gulung (mountain), but this hill seems significantly higher than your average Midwestern knoll. At one point we were desperately holding on to the ropes leading up the rock face, which were conveniently slippery, as might expect in a rainforest. There was even a clear change in forest types; other plants started cropping up—fewer ferns, more conifer-like trees. We also saw a lot of mushrooms—big red flat ones with bright green undersides, huge shelf fungi hanging off abandoned logs, tiny neon highlighters of mushrooms showing off from the leaf litter. And a lot of rocks. But I’m not a geologist. Yet.
We finally decided to stop—at the top. We had a clear view of everything for several miles (sorry, kilometers). We could see the ocean—it turns out it’s not very far from us at all, but all this time we had no idea. We could see the interior of Borneo, a vast tangle of trees. We could see a giant rainstorm headed our way, including an impenetrable wall of rain slowly advancing. Fortunately, the chain of hills is large enough to significantly alter the weather patterns, and even though it rained a lot at the house and a little in the plot, we only felt a few drops.
On the way back down we stopped at Dinding to cool off. It’s a very nice waterfall, with a very tall drop and a moderate pool. Most importantly, no tourists. We spent a considerable amount of time there, not looking forward to the demanding hike back. We ended up arriving at the house around 7, just in time for a supper of fried okra, rice, omelets, and laksa Sarawak. And that was pretty much our entire day. We figured we’d see as much of Lambir as we could, and today we accomplished just that.
The four of us left around nine in the morning, after a hearty second breakfast of leftover curry. We hiked through the forest, bypassing all the trails that would take us to the waterfalls that we’ve already been to (Latak, Nibong, and Pantu), the hills we’ve already conquered (Bukit Pantu), the ponds we’ve already tried to catch fish in. We found new ponds; don’t worry. We crossed several streams, which was a welcome break from the monotonous hilly trail. It seems like the trail between Pantu and Dinding goes up as much as it comes down, leading to a very exhausting trek without any noticeable net change in elevation. But after walking past the trail leading to Dinding Waterfall, we soon started the upward climb towards Bukit Lambir, the highest point in the forest. I don’t know the distinction between Bukit (hill) and Gulung (mountain), but this hill seems significantly higher than your average Midwestern knoll. At one point we were desperately holding on to the ropes leading up the rock face, which were conveniently slippery, as might expect in a rainforest. There was even a clear change in forest types; other plants started cropping up—fewer ferns, more conifer-like trees. We also saw a lot of mushrooms—big red flat ones with bright green undersides, huge shelf fungi hanging off abandoned logs, tiny neon highlighters of mushrooms showing off from the leaf litter. And a lot of rocks. But I’m not a geologist. Yet.
We finally decided to stop—at the top. We had a clear view of everything for several miles (sorry, kilometers). We could see the ocean—it turns out it’s not very far from us at all, but all this time we had no idea. We could see the interior of Borneo, a vast tangle of trees. We could see a giant rainstorm headed our way, including an impenetrable wall of rain slowly advancing. Fortunately, the chain of hills is large enough to significantly alter the weather patterns, and even though it rained a lot at the house and a little in the plot, we only felt a few drops.
On the way back down we stopped at Dinding to cool off. It’s a very nice waterfall, with a very tall drop and a moderate pool. Most importantly, no tourists. We spent a considerable amount of time there, not looking forward to the demanding hike back. We ended up arriving at the house around 7, just in time for a supper of fried okra, rice, omelets, and laksa Sarawak. And that was pretty much our entire day. We figured we’d see as much of Lambir as we could, and today we accomplished just that.
June 30--Groovy
Fortunately, it did not rain today until we were well out of the field. After removing the leaves we needed, there was only one leaf left on Macala 4, and it seemed quite lonely as we released the tree. An austere flag, waving us a sad farewell.
It was spectacular, the way everything got accomplished. Now we can weigh the dry leaves, which doesn’t take very long at all. We’ll also start analyses with statistical tests and computer programs; I spent most of the night making 55 graphs on Excel, each with multiple sets of data and error bars. Once you get into a groove, it’s not that bad. That holds true for most everything we do—weighing leaves, measuring chlorophyll, wringing wet clothes. We got into so much of a groove that we didn’t realize how little time we have left.
But soon the groove will change, and who knows where it will go. Maybe it’ll end up as a jazzy halftime groove full of lazy days on the beach. Perhaps it’ll switch to a double time jam session supercharged with mountain climbing and city exploration. Most likely, the way our phone calls to ticket agencies and airlines have been going, it’ll simply fade into a familiar tune as we pack our bags and grab the next flight over the pond. We haven’t been able to make very many arrangements with such short notice, but however we go out, rest assured that we aren’t looking for any last-minute excursions to redeem our time here; every day has made it worthwhile.
It was spectacular, the way everything got accomplished. Now we can weigh the dry leaves, which doesn’t take very long at all. We’ll also start analyses with statistical tests and computer programs; I spent most of the night making 55 graphs on Excel, each with multiple sets of data and error bars. Once you get into a groove, it’s not that bad. That holds true for most everything we do—weighing leaves, measuring chlorophyll, wringing wet clothes. We got into so much of a groove that we didn’t realize how little time we have left.
But soon the groove will change, and who knows where it will go. Maybe it’ll end up as a jazzy halftime groove full of lazy days on the beach. Perhaps it’ll switch to a double time jam session supercharged with mountain climbing and city exploration. Most likely, the way our phone calls to ticket agencies and airlines have been going, it’ll simply fade into a familiar tune as we pack our bags and grab the next flight over the pond. We haven’t been able to make very many arrangements with such short notice, but however we go out, rest assured that we aren’t looking for any last-minute excursions to redeem our time here; every day has made it worthwhile.
June 29--Down to the wire
Remember that little blurb about having to get everything done by the 30th? Maybe, since you just read it if you’re reading these posts in order, or maybe not, since you haven’t got there if you’re reading from the top down, which is a terrible way to go. You’ve got some big news ahead of you.
We are on a time crunch more than ever before. It’s been raining on and off today, which means that the absolute last chance for any photosynthesis recordings rests on tomorrow. We have two trees left, sitting out in the drizzle right now with a full complement of leaves. Tomorrow this must change, because we need a full three days for the leaves to dry. Even if we can’t haul the machine out tomorrow, we still have to trudge through the mud to gather our precious greenery. And that full three days? That would put us right at the night of the 2nd/morning of the 3rd, which is when the packages get shipped. So some of us may end up staying up late, others waking up early, all to put pieces of dried leaves on an expensive balance and record the five digits that appear. But it’s all with a goal in mind, a purpose that supersedes all drudgery. This is research at its finest.
On the other hand, we have not wasted a single day here at Lambir. Every single day it was sunny, and every day it was kinda cloudy but without any rain, and even every day we thought it might clear up but it didn’t, we were out there, getting all the info on four to six leaves. We wasted not, wanted not, whatever that means. Plus our professor said our photosynthesis graphs look great so far. With satisfactory results from a full set of data, we’ve proven we’re worth our salt. Again, whatever that means.
We are on a time crunch more than ever before. It’s been raining on and off today, which means that the absolute last chance for any photosynthesis recordings rests on tomorrow. We have two trees left, sitting out in the drizzle right now with a full complement of leaves. Tomorrow this must change, because we need a full three days for the leaves to dry. Even if we can’t haul the machine out tomorrow, we still have to trudge through the mud to gather our precious greenery. And that full three days? That would put us right at the night of the 2nd/morning of the 3rd, which is when the packages get shipped. So some of us may end up staying up late, others waking up early, all to put pieces of dried leaves on an expensive balance and record the five digits that appear. But it’s all with a goal in mind, a purpose that supersedes all drudgery. This is research at its finest.
On the other hand, we have not wasted a single day here at Lambir. Every single day it was sunny, and every day it was kinda cloudy but without any rain, and even every day we thought it might clear up but it didn’t, we were out there, getting all the info on four to six leaves. We wasted not, wanted not, whatever that means. Plus our professor said our photosynthesis graphs look great so far. With satisfactory results from a full set of data, we’ve proven we’re worth our salt. Again, whatever that means.
June 28--Back to adventure!
We can stay in Borneo longer. I can barely believe it myself.
Our professor has decided to stay here at Lambir to identify and collect seeds, fruits, and flowers. The entire basis of her research (did I say she coauthored papers earlier? I meant authored…) is the functional traits across the plot here. A unique aspect of these forests is a thing called masting, where almost all the trees in the forest produce flowers all at the same time. The cool thing is scientists don’t know why. It’s not very well studies, mainly because it happens over a timespan longer than most grant funding.
This is one of those years. So our professor is planning on staying until August for this once-in-six years opportunity. The real bomb she dropped was that we can stay too, since her flights will be all rearranged anyway. But we don’t even have to stay here at Lambir; we practically have free reign as far as planning our own excursions and adventures. The only downside is that we’ll be paying out of pocket for any expenses now; I think we’re all willing to take that risk, considering that everything is extremely cheap here.
As much as I would love to come back home (and apologies to the Cornhusker State Games dodgeball team), I really feel like this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to explore the culture and environment of a land half a world away. I may never get to do this again in such a nation rich in history and diversity. My heart is still set on home, but my mind is on Borneo right now.
Since we found this out a few days ago, we still don't have any details down, mainly because of our flight plan changes. But let's just say that we're all looking forward to climbing a mountain, going snorkeling, exploring the largest caves in the world, hopefully seeing bearcats in their native habitat, taking a bus ride across the countryside, maybe checking out a world music festival, and hopefully spending a few days in Japan. We're not trying to get our hopes up or anything, but we are keeping our options open.
Our professor has decided to stay here at Lambir to identify and collect seeds, fruits, and flowers. The entire basis of her research (did I say she coauthored papers earlier? I meant authored…) is the functional traits across the plot here. A unique aspect of these forests is a thing called masting, where almost all the trees in the forest produce flowers all at the same time. The cool thing is scientists don’t know why. It’s not very well studies, mainly because it happens over a timespan longer than most grant funding.
This is one of those years. So our professor is planning on staying until August for this once-in-six years opportunity. The real bomb she dropped was that we can stay too, since her flights will be all rearranged anyway. But we don’t even have to stay here at Lambir; we practically have free reign as far as planning our own excursions and adventures. The only downside is that we’ll be paying out of pocket for any expenses now; I think we’re all willing to take that risk, considering that everything is extremely cheap here.
As much as I would love to come back home (and apologies to the Cornhusker State Games dodgeball team), I really feel like this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to explore the culture and environment of a land half a world away. I may never get to do this again in such a nation rich in history and diversity. My heart is still set on home, but my mind is on Borneo right now.
Since we found this out a few days ago, we still don't have any details down, mainly because of our flight plan changes. But let's just say that we're all looking forward to climbing a mountain, going snorkeling, exploring the largest caves in the world, hopefully seeing bearcats in their native habitat, taking a bus ride across the countryside, maybe checking out a world music festival, and hopefully spending a few days in Japan. We're not trying to get our hopes up or anything, but we are keeping our options open.
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