Funnel Vision. Travelling Up River Into The Heart Of Borneo.
In July, the rivers are low in Borneo, as we discovered having arrived at the banks of the mighty Rungan, an impressive tributary off the even mightier Kahayan River. Standing on the dock, one actually has to 'look down' at the ‘Rhui Rahayu’, an altogether, stately looking Klotok, which will be our home for the next three days, moored sixteen meters below us! It ‘s bulky rear structure and elevated foredeck reminded me of a 1950’s drinks cabinet.
It was love at first sight.
I’m in Palankaraya, Kalimantan, (the big, Indonesian owned, bit of Borneo,) just a two - hour flight from Jakarta. What intrigued me about this provincial capital, even though I saw very little of it, were the rows and rows of wooden, co-joined houses, perched anxious cheek by nervous jowl, clinging limpet-like to the river banks.
A few of the houses sit at curiously acute angles, tottering on stilts as high as twelve meters above the water keeping the structures safe from the river’s dramatic rises and falls. Running through this curious neighbourhood is a wooden boardwalk connecting the water- borne residents to dry land. As we step aboard the boat, the last sound I hear is the clack, clack of the boardwalk’s slats as a scooter scuttles along its surface.
Our boat, or klotok is a traditional Indonesian riverboat used primarily to ferry goods and people along the bigger rivers of Indonesia. Its gets its name from the sound the diesel- powered engines when travelling, “Klo tok, Klo tok, Klo tok”.
The Rhui Rahay is the latest (and smallest) addition to Wow Borneo’s rapidly growing luxury river fleet. It accommodates four with ease in absolute comfort while a skipper; a guide, a cook and an impossibly cheery mechanic attend to our needs.
The engine bursts into life with a throaty cough and a satisfying belch of black smoke that erupts from the funnel and we chug away from the bank our way north, into the heart of Kalimantan. Within minutes, the city boundaries are behind us; the only other boat traffic we will encounter from here on in will be the tiny ‘alkons.’
These canoe- like structures, are just half a meter long and powered by ‘long tail’ engines, ; they zip nimbly along at high speed, their gunwales, just centimeters above the waterline. Fishermen crouch low in the bow staring forward, ever vigilant for signs of sandbanks and sunken logs; we barely warrant even a cursory glance.
The river is extremely low and apparently we may have trouble up-river if it has silted up. This announcement provides not even a hint of concern as gin and tonics are sipped, hornbills and eagles spotted soaring high overhead as we slip willingly into a somnambulant cocoon while a breeze, soft a gossamer wafts over us.
The river –banks glide past seemingly deserted but actually alive with activity. Fishermen, drawing deeply on their ever present clove cigarettes, squat silently under low - hanging trees, and their lines dangling hopefully in the water where the currents are mild. A troupe of monkeys scamper along the banks, deftly stealing the bait from the fisherman’s hooks easily avoiding the stones thrown by the disgruntled fisher folk. A little further on, three wiry Dayaks roll a gigantic tree trunk out of the forest, while mud -splattered illegal miners toil waist deep as they dredge the river bed in their quest for gold.
After three hours the boat veers left and we are on Rungan’s big brother, the majestic Kahayan or Dyak River. A kilometer wide, when the river is high, it meanders like a giant brown sake over six hundred kilometers heading south from Borneo’s high mountains to empty itself into the Java Sea.
We anchor for the night under the canopy of a huge banyan tree and a sky peppered with a million stars. Our trusty crew, ply us with more drink and snacks before we tuck into a sumptuous dinner of local fish, rice and variety of perfectly prepared vegetables. As a lazy moon makes its way into the tropical night, I have to keep reminding myself where I am, exotic Kalimantan, a place of steamy jungles; home to the hornbill, orangutan and the ever-smiling Dyak people.
Kalimantan is derived from the ancient Sanskrit word, Kalimantan, meaning. 'burning weather island. ’ An ironic description as, just two months after we completed our journey devastating deliberately lit fires are engulfing the entire region, The insatiable appetite for more and more palm oil meaning that, in a few years this corner of paradise could be converted into plantations.
Cries of howling monkeys, screeching parrots and cockatoos and the high pitched whine of alkons making their way up – river, wake us at dawn. Fresh, local coffee and breakfast is laid out on the foredeck as the klo tok, klo tok, klo tok from the engine adds to the morning cacophony. We are heading for the small Keleweit Island in search of three wild orangutans who have made it their home.
It turned out not to be our day as we tramped stoically in the equatorial heat all over the island searching in vain for the elusive trio. Undaunted, we travel further upriver to Bappalas island, a monitored orangutan sanctuary, and there they were.
Three or four orangutans stretched out on their backs, enjoying the mid-morning sun. They seemed not a least bit concerned as we drifted into the bank to get a better look. These particular orangutans are in the last stage of their repatriation in readiness for their journey back into the wilds of North Borneo, many of them having spent much of their early years in captivity.
One of them, Kasey sits in the shallows splashing herself to ward off the fierce midday heat. She apparently has become rather famous with her own Facebook page, after having being rescued from a poacher’s trap where she lost her left hand. Our floating gin palace suddenly feels like a sanctuary, far from …well anything or anyone really. Life for the remainder of the journey, is a series of visual feasts as we chug sedately at four knots, gliding past more of the illegal gold miners, tiny villages, desperately clinging to life on the riverbanks, camouflaged, doe- eyed fishermen eking out their days catch and children romping joyfully in the shallows as only children can.
Let us hope sanity prevails and we allow this almost pristine environment a chance to recover so that the people and wildlife that inhabit it have at least a decent opportunity to survive.
Photographs copyright Paul v Walters
