Peninsula Malaysia: It's a jungle out there

The avuncular park ranger smiled as he entered my name on a booking sheet. "You're going to enjoy this trek," he said. "Just be aware that it takes longer than you think. There are lots of little, little hills along the way..." I'd come to Taman Negara, a rainforest park in the "mainland" part of Malaysia, between Thailand and Singapore. I was in search of a challenge, and this hike seemed just the ticket. It wasn't just a chance to get deeper into the jungle than a city boy with a particular aversion to leeches should dare to contemplate: in a country which celebrates 50 years since independence on the last day of this month, the hike was my way of leaving the pell-mell development of the coast and seeking out an earthier Malaysia in its rural interior.

My chief preoccupation at Taman Negara was spotting wildlife – always difficult in the rainforest. The jungle hide the ranger had booked me into was just 10km away, but suddenly there was a real prospect of seeing tapir, sambar deer and – the holy grail of Peninsula wildlife-spotting – elephants.

My preparations, however, left something to be desired. The anti-leech spray that the rangers recommended turned out to be a potent insecticide with a label saying "avoid contact with skin". When I confronted them about this I was told that "you put it on shoes and socks – not the same as skin". I decided to take my chances with the leeches.

After a deceptively easy start, where I passed a stand of giant bamboo looming like an alien life-form in the dappled light, the trek soon became harder than anything I'd tackled before. The trail degenerated into a rough path, I had to traverse the gullies that separated the "little, little hills", and where it was muddy my shoes offered little purchase. On one awkward hillside my feet went flying out from under me, and I landed on my back a couple of metres below – minus my glasses. Somehow I was immediately conscious of what appeared to be a small brown toothpick making a strange nodding motion up my arm. A leech! Cursing, I managed to flick it away, and then miraculously recovered my spectacles after just a few myopic sweeps of the ground.

Others seemed to be coping just fine. Soon after my fall I was overtaken by two young women from Liverpool, both in shorts but entirely leech-free ("we got the spray"). As they passed, I ventured that if Britain had rainforest, it would be declared out of bounds on health and safety grounds. "That's part of the fun of being here," they said, before pressing onwards, leaving me feeling decidedly middle-aged.

Come mid-afternoon – just at the point when my spirits were beginning to rise, as I realised the hide couldn't now be far away – I turned a corner and the track abruptly petered out. The yellow trail-markers I'd been following were too sporadic to make exploring alternative turnings a possibility, and the bitter truth dawned on me that I would have to retrace my steps before nightfall. The trudge back was no easier for having covered the ground already: where the path was unambiguous on the way out, confusing forks presented themselves on the return journey. As exhaustion set in and the gloom deepened on the forest floor, it became clear that I was not going to make it back before dark. After vacillating for a few desperate minutes, I branched onto a side trail down to the Tembeling River. It was my only inspired decision of the day: below lay a flat, dry outcrop on which I could wait, secure in the knowledge I'd be seen by a passing boat. In fact, within an hour I was scrambling for my torch as I heard the faint hum of a motorised sampan.

Soon I was back at the park HQ, my wildlife tally meagrely augmented by encounters with a hissy monitor lizard and a startled wild pig. The ranger commiserated, then laughed: "You malu [embarrassing]". I couldn't disagree.

Two days later, suitably rested, I pushed on via the interior's magnificent railway, which operates for the most part on a single set of tracks forced through by Tamil labourers nearly a century ago. The train barrels past forested hills, limestone crags and, at one hamlet, oxen wallowing right next to the line, on its way north-east to the state of Kelantan. Here lies the Stong waterfall, one of Malaysia's most impressive cataracts – a multi-tiered affair which cascades down a stony gash in an otherwise verdant mountainside. This time I had no qualms about entering the forest as I had guides to escort me, but my jitters returned when they chose not to set off until dusk, when the lead member of our group sauntered up the steep trail without a torch.

Happily, an hour later we arrived safely at Baha's, an assembly of thatch and bamboo huts that started out as a biologists' field camp. A couple of acetylene gas lamps provided light, while our water came from a pool above the falls' lowest level, where we also enjoyed a chilly swim. With just two woks, our hosts whipped up a superb meal of steamed fish, vegetables and rice; afterwards we unwound to their renditions of Malay rock classics on a tinny guitar. I retired to my hut and to some very clammy bedding; sleep descended easily against the babbling serenade of flowing water.

Dawn was as spectacular as any from an aircraft window, as a series of crimson and vermilion hues splayed out from the horizon and above the plains, which were blanketed with clouds. The heat of the sun soon lifted these, filling the camp with mist. It didn't disperse until mid-morning, at which point we hiked further up, where we bathed in water the colour of rust, a result of the underlying rock. That afternoon, I descended to catch the northbound train with some regret: Jelawang had been a blissful excursion.

Then it was on to Kota Bharu, the bustling state capital of Kelantan, and one of the most paradoxical of Malaysian cities. This is a city of the arts – but Kelantan is also the most conservative state in the Malaysian Federation, and the Islamist government has largely banned genres such as wayang kulit (shadow puppetry) and the dance-drama mak yong, on the grounds that they contain Hindu or spiritualist overtones or have men and women appearing together on stage. It's a relatively unspoilt city, with many old shophouses, though both the Islamist party and the federal government have come out in favour of new apartment blocks and malls. Now a vast Tesco is taking shape on the outskirts.

But I was here to relax after my exertions in the jungle. On Friday morning I strolled around the city centre, where Kelantan's Islamist chief minister was sermonising to hundreds of Malay men and women, both under separate canopies. The real attraction, however, was the market, where hawkers peddled everything from machetes to petai, enormous twisty pods of beans typically eaten with a chilli dressing. One vendor displayed bottles of brown liquid next to a pile of what look like dried grass-snakes, varnished a dark chocolate brown. I was told that he was selling eel oil: "You put it on your penis. Wah! Makes you very strong." I don't think he was referring to enhancing my jungle trekking.

The writer is co-author of 'The Rough Guide to Malaysia'

Traveller's Guide

GETTING THERE

The author's flight to Malaysia was arranged by The Malaysia Experience (020-8424 9548; www.malaysiaexperience.co.uk), which offers a variety of packages and can customise itineraries.

Direct flights to Kuala Lumpur are offered by Malaysia Airlines (0870 607 9090; www.malaysiaairlines.com) from Heathrow. To reduce the impact on the environment, you can buy an "offset" from Equiclimate (0845 456 0170; www.ebico.co.uk) or Pure (020-7382 7815; www.puretrust.org.uk). www.ebico.co.uk

GETTING AROUND

Taman Negara is six hours from Kuala Lumpur by bus; change in Jerantut. Malaysian rail information is available on the website www.ktmb.com.my

STAYING THERE

Taman Negara has plenty of accommodation, mostly for budget travellers, but Baha's Camp in Gunung Stong State Park takes only a few guests at a time; stays there are best arranged through guesthouses or local tour operators in Kota Bharu. Huts cost around MYR10 (£1.50) per night, packages arranged through an operator – including food and transport – go from around MYR35 (£5.10) per night.

MORE INFORMATION

Tourism Malaysia: 020-7930 7932; www.tourismmalaysia.gov.my

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