Trading Nike Sandals for a Durian

Date: Saturday July 27, 2002
Destination: Bukit Kutu (Kuala Kubu Bharu, Selangor)

20 members of the CIMP trekking crew left on Friday night to camp by a river at the base of Bukit Kutu. And I skipped yet another overnight excursion. So what? Life's a trading market. Once a choice is made, it's always best to see things positively and have good laugh. So while I enjoyed the comfort of my bed for another night, I'm sure I dreamt of how they "suffered" the pains of camping—human bodies packed in beat-up tents cuddling together to fend off the cold under the pale moonlight.

     I was to start my journey at 5:30am Saturday morning, but I overslept. All I could do was wonder if the treking crew would be around to greet me when I got there. For a second or two, I contemplated staying in bed. I don't care what everyone would say if I didn't show up. It shouldn't matter if I stayed home to watch Saturday morning cartoons on TV (for those who don't know, I finally got my first TV fixed at home three weeks ago). But I had to go. The mountain was calling. And I would scale the mountain again, even if I had to do it alone this time. When I left home, I was an-hour late.

     The drive from home to Kampung Pertak took me an hour and a half. The sun was just coming up, the air still cool and fresh, mist slowly shifted and lifted between mountain ranges, and I cruised steadily along the Highway. Traffic was light and I enjoyed every bit on the road. It's a pity the Trekking Crew spent about 4 to 6 hours getting to the same place the night before. Yet, I'm sure waiting two hours for a van to get fixed, discussing which was the easiest and fastest way to get to the North-South Highway from Sunway College, religiously following instructions even though road signs were hinting it was obviously the wrong way, and being in a train of vehicles taking two extended detours when driving in the dark must have been quite an adventure for some.

     I found their campsite by the first river crossing. I was just in time for breakfast. Everyone (except for Desmond, Bang Qin, and Craig who had hit the trail) was crowding around Uncle Don's Mountain Café for their serving of scrambled eggs, boiled weeners, pancakes with maple leaf syrup, and tuna sandwiches. When everyone had their fill, it was time to trek.

     We crossed the first river. Then came the next river. The day wasn't very hot and humid, and we all trekked at a comfortable speed. Bernadette led the way, and I chose to be at the back of the pack. We walked along the trail and passed through a wild durian "orchard." The fruit was in season, and the durian fruits were scattered everywhere. I realised that we should always trek when durians are in season. Trekking wasn't such an arduous task when one took in the sweet aroma of durians. Also, the thought of picking a durian or two on the way back spurred me on. I couldn't wait to get home.

     That's when Sze Ning said, "Mr Tan, you haven't made your usual 'I want to go home' complain!"

     It was true. It has become a habit of mine just to say those words. Yet I didn't do it this time. I was enjoying myself too much. I was walking quite briskly, and my left knee didn't bother me. Pretty soon I reached "The Grave" (the spot that branches off into a number of trails) and caught up with everyone else. Actually, everyone was waiting for me. The trail diverged into two paths, and Bern wasn't sure of the way. I wasn't sure of the way too, so I simply made a choice. As we walked on, the trail looked vaguely familiar. But Jason and I thought the treking crew should just press on. Some seven minutes later, we were heading back to the junction. Several trekkers must have been wondering if I knew the way, or regretting the wasted time spent on the wrong way. I thought it was a good warm up for the steep slopes we were about to trek. Once we got on the right trail, I was trekking with the leading pack—Craig Gerow, Bern, Nee On, Sze Ning and Adrian—all the way to the peak. So much for wanting to be in the back pack.

     We reached the ruins of the British Hill Station around noon. We did not stop there, but headed straight for the peak not far away. I was the first to climb up the rock top; It was a clear day, but it wasn't clear enough to see the Straits of Malacca. Even so, the view was quite spectacular. Since the rock could only accomodate four comfortably and I've been there before, I made my way down. That was when, suddenly, a thunderous buzz filled the air and a black cloud darted across the forest canopy. Bern screamed and ran for her life. The rest of us could only stare at the swarm of bees move in such fashion for the first time in our lives. Coming to the peak has been worth it after all.

     An hour later, we started to go down the mountain. We stopped at the Rock for a breather, and that's where I was bitten by some insects. I thought I was the only victim of the attack. I found out a few days later that the itch on my left arm was minimal compared to some other trekkers. Apart from that, nothing exciting happened.

     As we were passing through the durian "orchard" on our way out, Nee On picked up a durian. I picked two. Boy, oh boy! Carrying durians by the stem was difficult. Somehow paying RM10.00 for four durians seemed like a better deal. But I wasn't about to let the durians go; so I carried them out the rest of the journey—for some 20 minutes. When we reached the second river crossing, Nee On, Sze Ning and I started looking for our sandals. Earlier that morning, I wore a pair of sandals to keep my boots dry when I crossed the rivers. After crossing the second river, I put on trekking boots. But I soon found a pair of sandals in my hands. It was awkward and clumsy to carry them in my hands and I didn't want them dangling next to my waist pouch. Since my sandals were getting worn out, I was prepared to lose them. I hid the pair of sandals under some bushes knowing that I would collect them on the way back. Sze Ning and Nee On thought it was a novel idea, and busied themselves by hiding their sandals, too. Now, it was a matter of changing back into our sandals to cross the rivers again. I found mine quickly, and so did Sze Ning. But Nee On kept rummaging through bushes for his NIKE sandals. He just couldn't find them. Well, he most probably lost his sandals to some orang asli, but he at least got a durian in return.

     That night, I had a feast on my priceless durians. It was a great way to end a great day. I enjoyed the trek, the drive, the time spent, and most of all my durians. I wonder if Nee On's durian was as good as mine.*