Explore Taman Negara Rainforest’s High Weirdness – Insane Beauty
ON THE HUNT FOR ANCIENT WEIRDNESS
Advertised in Maylasian guidebooks as “the oldest living rainforest on earth”, the ancient Taman Nagara rainforest has remained underdeveloped and little explored, an alluring destination for travelers that like the freedom to roam on muddy trails in thick foliage for hours without passing other tourists.
A fondness for the word “ancient” has been with me since childhood. It conjures images of ancestors humbled daily by natural phenomena, using primitive tools to solve life’s puzzles. In our human world, the still standing structures of past civilizations are regarded as ancient. However, when coming face to face with the far older wonders of the natural world, calling man made edifices “ancient” begins to feel absurd.
One of travel’s great powers is its ability to instantaneously redefine a word such as ancient.
It was during our visit to the Taman Negara Rainforest in central Malaysia, where I was confronted with my new definition of ancient. In a place where eons transpired before humanity built anything.
The Taman Negara (translation from Bahasa: National Park) has been growing unimpeded since the eruption of the Lake Toba super volcano on neighboring Sumatra 74,000 years ago.
According to the Lake Toba Catastrophe Theory, the eruption was a global altering event that contributed to the population bottleneck in central Africa and India, which continues to affect the genetic make-up of the human population today.
Since then, this misty, muddy tract of earth, teaming with life unchecked by human whims has evolved without ever taking us into consideration. The results are difficult for the eye to see at first, until one looks a little closer to discover a host of alien lifeforms thriving under megalithic flora and fauna of the Taman Negara.
Coming from Terengganu on the east side of Malaysia, home of the stunning Crystal Mosque, we cut inland by bus.
We traveled by boat for several hours from Jerantut to Kuala Tembeling and up river to the little village of Kuala Tahan which sits nestled across river Tembeling from the park.
Several guesthouses and not much else line the little settlement of Kuala Tahan. Water buffalo graze near the line of floating cafes along the muddy river bank. Aside from these, one of which is a small convenient store that mostly sells tarps, flashlights and mosquito repellent, there’s not much to Kuala Tahan.
The Mutiara Taman Negara Resort is the one higher end stay and the only one located on the park side of the river. It bills itself as an “Eco-Park Resort” and from our quick walkthrough, it seems to do its best to be a luxury resort but so little infrastructure this far into the jungle means guests would have to make concessions.
This small village exists merely to patronize the park’s tourism and thats honestly a relief. A well developed chain of hotels and stores would no doubt be a disturbance and its nice to see the human interruption to the natural state of the park remains minimal.
We settled on a the Tahan Guesthouse, a charming low price option with a smattering of ramshackle Rooms located at the foot of a long durian lined road.
NIGHT SAFARI
There are several guided tour options ranging from a 2 day overnight in a giant cave to a week long trek through nearby Titiwangsa mountains. The adventures within our limited time frame leaned toward various day treks to nearby summits and the canopy walk. For the first evening, we opted for a “Night Safari.”
Our goal was to sneak a glimpse at bioluminescent green mushroom specimen that illuminates in the dense jungles of South East Asia. I had been fascinated by this glow-in-the-dark fungi since a particularly stoney bit of channel surfing landed me on a National Geographic mycelium special.
Accompanied by an official Taman Negara guide, the purity of darkness makes an immediate impression.
Once within the moonless jungle canopy, the dark of night was brushing blackhole levels of void. It’s unsettling to slosh through the muddy tracks as the mud deepens with each tour.
From the Wildlife Headquarters, our group of ten or so entered into the chasm of night. Just hours earlier it was an inviting emerald jungle. The first stop was a long sit within a trio of raised hide outs set up for nocturnal animals watching. The animals are attracted to a group of salt licks set up in the middle of a small clearing. 
Over the next half a hour, the guides whip their flashlights over the salt licks as deer, tapirs, and wild boar congregate for a taste. Grunts and slurps echo into the nothingness, a few oinks and a strange screech jolted the group. A chorus of gags passed through the hide as an odorous cloud of territorial animal scents settled among our group.
Witnessing the wildlife in their natural nocturnal habitat felt like an act of harmless espionage. As their nightly routine commenced as it has for millennia, it was our man made gasps and giggles that sounded out of place. As were our flashlights and hiking boots and cameras and all our “unnatural” things.
Leaving the hide, we began a long walk over dozens of make shift mud bridges that bent and wobbled with every step. We were off to the see the mushrooms. As we approached, we were able to take turns on the mud bridges with an earlier group as they walked by.
Off in the pitch black distance, we could see a growing group of little green Christmas lights.
A smattering of a few at first, followed by a long line of neon bell shapes lights.
Yet, within a few quick steps we had arrived, they were barely in the distance at all, our depth perception had been so skewed by the dark that we were hardly fifteen feet away. The colony of mushrooms were simply miniature.
Sprouting on the trunk of a fallen tree, most were the size of a child’s thumb. During the day the mushrooms would wilt slightly and wait till night to stand erect and begin their light show. Sprinkled around the log was a host of nightlife, giant millipedes, bugs of all kinds large and small, lizards, moss, small podded plants as if they were using the glow of the mushrooms as a source of light. In a land where light was so scarce, you take what you can get.
Wake Up Call in the Taman Negara
The next morning started as a clear day with thunder cracking around us. Squinting upward, there wasn’t a cloud in site, after another crack I was tracking the sound toward a thin bamboo outhouse.
The frame of the hut yanked from side to side like hurricane palm trees. We remained frozen, mouths agape as the structure struggled to maintain its integrity. We witnessed a massive reptilian tail flash through the thin walls and disappear into the facility where a clash of jungle beasts had commenced. The arena of battle, the feeble squatty potty we had all been using.
A barrage of booms and splintering bamboo snaps emanated out of the latrine and echoed throughout the Taman Nagara.
The ruckus continued for quite sometime, a group of onlookers, astonished at the sheer magnitude of the noise, were waiting for the structure to give way and crumble so we can have a glimpse at what animals were the cause of such madness.
The structure teeter tottered once more in unison with a horrid screech followed by a satanic hiss. Clawing its way to through the window popped a massive monitor lizard. Its weight tilting the outhouse nearly the ground, the beast casually slipped off sending the outhouse flying upright and kicking open the the door.
The lizard sped away at top speed into the jungle legs kicking in and out so fast it created a cloud of smoke in its wake. In unison we turned our heads back to the toilet and caught a second lizard squirm its way into the toilet bowl and the mysterious land beneath.
The Corpse Flower's Corpse
Today’s agenda was to conquer the canopy walk but first, a detour to find the Rafflesia plant, a carnivorous flower, famous for its size and smelling of rotting flesh.
Rafflesia grow from a single vine to the world’s largest flower in 12 months only to bloom and feast for one week before dying. Unfortunately, we had missed that week by a month. As many guides in the park explained, “the whole jungle smells of death that week”. The odor attracts millions of giant flys, giant ants, giant millipedes, giant… insects.
These gargantuan bugs were simple prey for the carnivorous flower.
To a person, the guides hated the flower. Though they kindly provided directions on where to see it, they would not accompany us to the viewing.
Named after Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, (who’s name is plastered all over the Singapore peninsula for establishing “modern” British Singapore) the flower is a pure “A class” parasite who’s flowers are formed for a week of gluttonous feasting.
After hiking up a large muddy hill, we came upon thick foliage growing over a trail that led to a gently roped off area. The flower itself was merely a corpse, but the size, like so much in the Taman Nagara, was incredible. So large it was hard to wrap my mind around, the modern human brain just isn’t built to contemplate Jurassic sized lifeforms.
Perhaps we have been at the top of food chain for so long, our brains cannot adjust to the thought of a world where we actually are closer to the bottom. A month after its demise, the smell of the Ruffelsia had lessened to a waft of fish flakes and not a billow of rotting flesh. I was a little disappointed by how unoffending the smell was.
The Taman Negara Canopy Walk
The canopy walk was in fact very, very long. The suspension rope bridges went on and on, well over an hour of walking, up, down and over a few dozen trees. The density of the jungle made itself know once again, for the view at the top of the canopy was mostly more canopy. This time with a little more sunshine and flocks of birds like the stunning Rhinoceros Hornbill (pictured) and the Fairy Bluebird. We also spied a few monkeys and dozens of the native squirrels.
Deep in the park there are endangered mammal species like the Malaysian Tiger, Orangutan and the very rare clouded leopard but the long trek guides we talked to said sightings of these endangered species are very difficult and should not be expected.
If you are not one for heights, like myself, a canopy walk in the Taman Negara is just the right kind of thrill.
In hindsight it was very safe. The act of walking across the wiggly rope bridges, as they swing from side to side, caused me bouts of anxious terror. Occasionally feeling the suspension tightening and launching me up a few inches was enough for a series of high pitched yelps and a chorus of giggles from the park supervisors, who weren’t used to seeing such a large white man squeak.
Jungle Mud Flood in the Taman Negara
It was starting to get dark when we found ourselves back near the first bridge, the canopy walk making a massive tree top loop. However, for all the internal fears about heights, mud leaches, tigers, horrible flesh flora – It was the walk back in the waining daylight of the jungle dusk, where the ancient rainforest provided me with terror.
Some of the encroaching darkness was the due to the time of day, but dark clouds had hastened the evening and small cracks of thunder began as we made our way back toward the trail that ran next to the bank of the river. But then…
One last boom of thunder and for the next four hours, it dumped.
There was no way to prepare for such rains.
Within minutes, the trail was awash in coffee colored water making impossible to safely run back.
Call to Prayer Home
We had a 30 minute hike in front of us and the jungle was alive with the sound of water violently pummeling leaves of all sizes, creating a chorus of unforgettable atonal splashes.
At times, there was doubt we were heading in the right direction until a fuzzy PA speaker from the depths of jungle began a distorted rendition of the Call to Prayer. The singer from this deep jungle Mosque had augmented his voice in such a way as to pierce through the natural cacophony of the jungle and reverberated down trail.
A wild skronk was singing confident, loudly, and terribly. The atonal pile of sour notes punctured the jungle and provided us with a guide home.
I’ll never forget the way it ripped through the aural tapestry of the Taman Negara.
At odds with the birds and monkeys and the torrential storm. If this call to prayer was not so off key, it would not be able to guide us through this dense, ancient chaos. Again, something human was injecting itself into something ancient.
We followed the siren song of this hidden jungle mosque through the muddy thunderstorm and back to the dock. A single boat was left on our side of the park when we finally emerged.
The rangers had gathered everyone in sight, ushered them back to their rooms and battened down the hatches at the first crack of thunder. We were most likely on the last leg of the canopy walk. The last remaining boat guide was overcome with laughter at the site of us. We were clearly the only folks that hadn’t booked it for their guesthouse at the first sign of rain.
We piled into the boat and motored across as a deluge of rain formed waves in the tiny river. Wet as mops on the other bank, we hunkered under the metal roofed food stalls with the cooks who had just finished kneeling for their afternoon call to prayer. We hadn’t the energy to walk back to our guesthouse and instead ordered food at one of the wok stations.
Looking across to the flooding staircase into the Taman Negara park, our Nasi Goreng and luke warm Carlberg had hit the spot. The second dish, a pyramid of beef sticks appeared on our table along with some river vegetables, fresh ginger and steam rice.
The beef itself was lean, spiked with chilis, lemongrass and gleamed with a green glow. The taste was just gamey enough to receive our full attention, my buddy remarking it reminded him of the taste and texture of deer. Could this be one of those nocturnal jungle deers from the Night Safari? The flavor was reminiscent of Bak Kwa, a sweet Chinese jerky that was usually served grilled but the cook had layered the jerky with aromatics like they do in Thai Drinking Jerkey (Neua Dad Deow).
It was delicious. The perfect dish to conclude our wet and wild walk back. The gamey flavor of the meat harmonized with ginger, lemongrass, galangal and curry leaf. Within a few bites, we were ordering a second plate.
After some fumbling around translations with the cook, we confirmed it was a local style jerky, wok fried in white sambal and fresh palm oil (causing the green hue) and that we were not enjoying night deer but river buffalo.
Malaysia is full of food adventures and no foodie world tour is complete without rampaging the streets of Melaka, Penang and KL in search of some of South East Asia’s finest food. However, this meal, under the clangs of a jungle monsoon, soaking wet, mud up to my knees, was among the best meals of my life. An unrepeatable experience.
These are the types of messy circumstances that burn an unforgettable dish into the brain. The various decisions that make up the components of a tumultuous day, in where the body and mind are humbled and in need of immediate nourishment to recover.
When that nourishment comes in the form of genuine novelty, a new taste, a new friend, a new prayer, you have the etheric ingredients that make up a perfect meal. The first step in creating a dish like this, is to travel.
Fat and happy, I crossed my leg at the table and looked down to find a few leaches around my sock.
Another big white man squeak and everybody was laughing at me.
I lifted my feet up to the chef to show him – he giggled and shooed his hand toward me, this means come here, the opposite as in the west.
He took an empty skewer from the briquettes and one by one poked the leaches with the end of the rod causing them to fall off one by one.
The treatment was performed one eye closed with great precision. Within two minutes the leaches were gone, leaving nothing but a few swipes of blood on my sock. How wonderful was this man?
I sat back down and ripped into the second plate of buffalo using only my hands, watching all the water in world spill from the sky and onto the ancient jungle of the Taman Negara. What a weird place.
Enjoying the ancient chaos from the comfort of a manmade canopy where my brain could dismiss the lessons learned today and go back to thinking it was at the top of the food chain.
– Public Transport and Private Bus system in Malaysia is fantastic. Bus it to Jerantut. From KL, it takes 3 hours.
– If you don’t make it to Jerantut before 3pm, you will need to spend the night there, or you can use private transport to Kuala Tahan for extra cost or catch a boat from outside Jerantut to Kuala Tahan.
– Bus from Jerantut to Kuala Tahan about 90 minutes, 2 buses daily, 8 am and 3 pm.