... notable events : Singapore to Haadyai

School was over. It was the 6 month haitus between pre-university and
university. It was the grey limbo of a statusless person who was
neither an adult nor an adolescent, neither a working member of society
nor a student, neither a man or a boy, neither here nor there.

This
was the period when our A-level results were still not yet released.
Our applications to universities had gone out based on our final school
exam results and this was the period of the agonising wait for a
response. Some of us took up part-time work, our pens hovering undecidely over the dotted line of job applications forms that asked
"Current level of education:........ or "Current working
status:............". Those with glib tongues lied through their teeth
to land plush jobs, others like me could only turn red in the face when
interviewers asked the dreaded question, "We are looking for permanent
staff. Why are you here?"

I needed the money because dad's
allowance was for a student, something
I no longer was and unless I was resigned to vegetating at home
hoarding my savings, this was the only way to get at a minimum level of
finances for a social life. I did eventually find work, taking on the
exalted position of a street interviewer, stopping and harrassing
people on the streets to ask them pointless questions on whether they
liked hair tonic A or hair tonic B better, or if they went to private
clinics or to the government polyclinics when they were sick. I even
took on the more challenging interviews where thick skin was the only
job requirement needed, needing to barge through offices and medical
clinics to interview the doctors on the types of medicine they usually
prescribed. I made a lot of friends in those couple of months I'm sure.

But
we were not really part of working society, the not-quite students of
the limbo months. Work was well... boring. We needed to have fun too.
That was when a group of us decided to go up to Haadyai in Southern
Thailand, the hard way. Camping, hitching rides or taking public
transport up the full length of Peninsular Malaysia. I had grown up
hearing tales of my dad's scouting exploits cycling through then Malaya, the
1000km distance from Penang to Singapore and back on his rickety
bicycle with his friends and how they sheltered and slept on the floor
of the Muar Police Station while gunshots rang in the distance from the
fighting in the surrounding jungles against communist insurgents of the
Emergency years, and how at the Singapore Merlion statue at Marina Bay he lost his floppy scouting hat when it blew off his head into the sea. There were 4 of us with our bags, pots, torchlights,
camping gear and blankets, who finally stood at the Singapore train
station of the Malayan Railway that morning for our first leg of the
trip. All Malaysians, all former students studying in Singapore, all
crazy.

I planned most of the details of the journey, for it was
more a journey than a trip. We would make a few overnight stops at
campsites, knowledge learned from my time in the scouts, and at
strategically placed friend's/relatives' houses throughout Malaysia.

Singapore,
Gunung Ledang (campsite),
Melaka (backpacker's hostel),
Port Dickson (campsite),
Kuala Lumpur (friend's house),
Pulau Pangkor (campsite),
Penang (grandma's house),
Alor Setar (aunt's house),
Haadyai.

After going through the immigration counters to exit Singapore and to enter Malaysia, we finally boarded the train, a slow mail train that would take us to Segamat, the closest stop to Gunung Ledang (Mount Ophir). We couldn't take the express trains as Segamat was not a sufficiently large station to warrant a stop by the express and only the mail train which stopped at every single station along the line would do. As it pulled out of the station, we were all cheerfully grinning at each other. This would be a grand adventure.

We arrived at Segamat station at about lunch time. The ride had taken a few hours and we were hungry. We took a quick lunch at a local food stall by the side of the road while I tried to remember my previous visit to the Gunung Ledang campsite and the way to get there. It wasn't far by bus, I remembered. After asking around a little for directions from passerbys, we soon found our bus. We boarded the bus with all our gear and after paying the bus fare, asked the bus conductor to let us know when to get off. He apparently was an old hand at this as the Gunung Ledang campsite was a well frequented site with most campers coming by train to the Segamat station. We were just another group in an unending line of campers headed for the popular campsite.

The bus had barely left town when we were told to get off. The narrow 2-lane road was deserted with only a single wooden pole at the side to show that this was a busstop. We crossed the road and started our trek down a side road leading to the campground. There were prominent signboards pointing the way to the Gunung Ledang Waterfall which was just below the campsite. The trek proved to be quite a walk but we got to the foot of the waterfall, guided in part by the small stream that appeared in the middle of our road which disappeared into a dirt road not far from the main road, as well as from the increasingly loud roaring sound of the waterfall was we neared it.

We marched up to the small police post at the base of falls to report ourselves. The police officer, a portly gentleman asked only one question. "Singaporean?" We all shook our heads in the negative. We were all Malaysians we told him. "Ok, go. No need to report." he said. Laughing, we left and started up the concrete stairs that led up the falls. Apparently the police either didn't care about Malaysians, or they didn't trust Singaporeans to take care of themselves. Probably the latter as there had been a few reports in the newspapers recently, of Singaporeans getting lost in Malaysian jungles on overnight camping trips.

We found a nice spot just above the main falls to pitch our tent and as it was probably the off-peak season, we were the only campsite around. Our tent was just simple canvas sheet propped on two stout bamboo poles which we had chopped down with a saw from a nearby grove, and a large groundsheet laid on top of a bed of leaves to keep the damp away. The tent proved rather useless as 2 of us decided that the night was much too nice to sleep "indoors", and we promptly plonked ourselves, bedrolls, blankets and all onto a large almost-flat boulder by the river where we could see the stars. After a quickly cooked meal, we stuffed ourselves into the beds to eat and chat. It grew dark very quickly and it was soon almost pitch dark except for the dim light from the stars above peeking through the jungle canopy. The roaring waterfall making a not unpleasant droning sound far below us as we drifted to sleep. This was the life.

We woke to the strange feel of wet bedding. I was up with a start. Uhhh....

Either the river water had risen, or we had slid down to the water's edge. The bottom of my blanket was soaking wet. "Hehehe..." we grinned sheepishly at each other, each thinking the exact same thing, that we could have been swept down the water fall if the water had risen any faster. Oh well, live and learn we told ourselves. We made breakfast and then decided to go for a swim after stuffing ourselves with coffee, scrambled eggs, pancakes, hotdogs and canned sardines with bread. I think we outdid ourselves that first breakfast of the trip. It was the only time we made the effort. Cooked food at the subsequent camps were increasingly dismayal affairs. We packed up a little after breakfast, breaking camp so that we could move off for Melaka right after our swim.

We swam in the various pools just above the waterfall, splashing around and making fools of ourselves but since there wasn't another to see, we just went plain crazy-silly. That was when we noticed that the river water was rising, and rising fast. It must be raining further upstream. I told everyone to pack up everything. The faster we got everything packed into bags and under waterproof sheets, the better. I proved right. The rain arrived very quickly and there we crouched, in our swimming trunks huddled underneath plasticsheets. We had unfortunately packed our tent and it was too late now to repitch it. The rain had come too soon, and we were caught in what was becoming a major downpour.

We were soon shivering underneath the plastic sheet and some large banana leaves which had been pulled over our faces to suppliment our make-shift shelter. This just wouldn't do. We were all going to get a cold if things didn't improve. Standing, I walked out into the rain and tried to get everyone to follow me. Only one other person followed me. Oh well, don't say I didn't warn the rest. The two of us started doing stretches and rubbed ourselves vigoriously, bringing back warmth into our cold bodies. I also did a little more exploring and found a sheltered spot underneath a big boulder next to the swiftly flowing river. For awhile, this spot proved perfect, shelter from the rain and the cold winds coming down the mountain. We kept rubbing our arms and bodies, keeping warm as best we could. But even this meager shelter didn't last. The water level rose dangerously until the spot we were standing on was flooded with fast moving water. We moved back out into under the jungle canopy rather than risk being swept off our feet by the water. I'm not sure how long the rain lasted but my arms were aching by the time the rain tapered off to a very light drizzle. Taking the opportunity presented by the break in the storm, we whipped out towels and dry shirts and dried ourselves as best we could. Feeling better but still wary of the weather, we grabbed our things and started down the stairs, headed back down to the police post at the base of the mountain. We didn't relish the thought of having to spend anymore time in the pouring rain slapping and rubbing ourselves silly.

We made it just as the rain restarted itself. Safely under a solid roof now, we towelled off properly and dressed with me handing out and forcing everyone to swallow vitamin C pills. But the pills came a little late for one of our party though. He was one of the 2 who had sat things out shivering under the plastic sheet and not kept warm, and now he had caught a cold. To make matters worse, he had received a call during the night and he had been deliberating whether he should return home to attend to an urgent matter. The cold made up his mind for him and as we treked back out to the main road, we were already redividing the supplies amongst the remaining 3 adventurers, everyone in low spirits from such a lousy start to the journey.

An agricultural supply truck belonging to a government forestry agency rumbled past us while we were still walking out towards the main road. We flagged it down and asked if we could hitch a ride out to the road. It turned out that the driver was headed to Melaka, exactly where we were going! The driver very cheerfully opened the back of the truck and we piled in, squeezing ourselves amongst the bags of fertilizer and plants. Our returning friend was dropped off at the main road as he was originally from Muar, a town not far from here and he was quite confident of being able to find his way home. The rest of us, a little cheered from our good fortune in finding a direct lift to our next stop, dozed in the back all the way to Melaka.

We arrived at Melaka in the evening, hungry and tired. We checked into the first backpacker's hotel we found, not bothering to shop around for better bargains and headed for the famed seafood hawker stalls of the old town. After a good meal of crab and other delightful eats, we were soon thoroughly satiated. With a full tummy, we returned to our hotel and were soon snoring away on the lumpy queen-sized bed of the hotel, all three of us, lined up like sardines on the bed.

We woke up in good spirits the morning after and made our way to the front kitchen area where they had breakfast ready for us. Smiling politely at the other backpackers, most of them western couples on shoestring budgets, we noted with a smile the grimy rundown condition of the hotel, which was little more than a few rooms filled with bunkbeds on the 2nd storey of a old shophouse. We checked out after breakfast, eager to move on. We caught a bus heading to Port Dickson, going towards an old campsite known as the Blue Lagoon.

The campsite that I finally led our small backpacking group to turned out to be a different one from the one I had initially imagined. I had intended to use the campsite next to an army base. It was a campsite I had used twice before and it had very interesting human-sized holes in the ground and was the perfect spot for telling creepy ghost stories under the light of the moon, but alas memory failed me and the one actually arrived at was another one which was a little more commercialised, with condominiums and toilet facilities right by the beach front. The site was very different from the way I remembered it although the familiar landmarks were still there. It proved to be a good choice all the same since it certainly didn't hurt to have showers and running water just next to the campsite. We pitched our tent and settled in for campfire meal in full view of the setting sun over the Melaka straits.

The next day was a full day of seaside activities. We canoed, swam, dug clams, and did our damnest to roast our skin to a reddish peeling mess of sunburnt flakes. We spent a total of 2 nights on that beach, playing day and night until our young sun-baked bodies were screaming for soothing relief and a soft bed. Port Dickson was a mere 2 hours from Kuala Lumpur, our next destination, and halfway point of the trip. In Kuala Lumpur were beds, nice, soft, clean beds, and that as far as we were concerned at the time, was all that mattered.

Kuala Lumpur was an opportunity to replenish and resupply. We stayed at the home of one of the guys who like me was also from Kuala Lumpur. I resisted contacting my relatives and friends, prefering to simply slip through undetected. After a well rested night we were at it again, hoversacks on our backs and on a bus to Pulau Pangkor.

We reached Lumut in good time, arriving at the ferry terminal just before lunch. We bought our ferry tickets and settled down at the jetty to wait. We chatted and laughed the carefree banter of youth. We took photographs and we threw rocks into the water until the ferry arrived. The ferry ride was a nice change of pace.  Balanced precariously on the rear railing of the ferry, we thoroughly salted our already sun-baked skin and hair.

Our camp at Pangkor proved the easiest of our three campsites. After what was a very satisfactory dinner of crabs and other local seafood delicacies, we roamed the island searching for a place to bed for the night. We finally rented a simple stilted shed on the southwestern most corner of the island, a remote beach that was filled with empty unrented stilted sheds. We were the only ones on the whole beach. The sunset was spectacular and we attempted photographs of our dark silhouettes wading in the surf against the orange sky.

The next day was a full day for us and we were determined to explore the island. There were only three ways to explore the island, by taken the notoriously spotty bus service, renting motorcycles or renting bicycles. We didn't want to squeeze into buses with the locals and only one of us had a motorcycle license. We deliberated renting motorcycles anyway and risking the day on motored wheels even without licenses but rationality prevailed and we settled for bicycles. On hindsight, the unlicensed risk would have been the better option as we underestimated the number of hills we had to climb on our round-island tour. From our base at the southwestern corner, we ranged far and wide and got as far as the northwestern tip and the southeastern tip before giving up from shuddering calf muscles. My bicycle was the worst, the cycle chain jumping so often that my hands were soon blackened from the grease of having to reset the chains. We left Pangkor island the next day, swearing to take a more luxury route, no more camping for us. Our next stop was to Penang.

Back onto the mainland, we caught a public bus from Pangkor to Butterworth/Seberang Prai. The bus rocked and bumped it's way north, stopping at villages and towns I never knew existed, some too small to even have a proper street, others large enough to have shophouses. The journey took half the day to traverse the final 200 or so kilometres along the old highway until we finally arrived at the ferry terminal opposite the island of Penang. We boarded a ferry to the island and were soon on our way to my grandmother's house.

The stay at Penang proved the most relaxing of the stops, eating and sightseeing, taking in a leisurely high-tea at the top of the TAR complex, the tallest building in Georgetown, the capital of the state of Penang. We also went to the famous Batu Feringgi beach, to Kek Lok Si Temple, to Gurney Drive and other interesting places with me acting as tourguide as I was the most familiar with Penang. Penang was also where a second traveller left the group leaving us with just two. He didn't want to go to Thailand and so Penang would be his final stop.

From Penang, the much reduced group of two were soon on a bus to Alor Setar, the capital of the state of Kedah where my aunt and cousins welcomed us to their home. My aunt made no disguise of her intention of introducing my cousin a year younger than I, to my friend but he played it cool. All through the stay, he must have been rather stressed to have my aunt on his back but he took it all in his stride. My little cousin acted as tourguide for our excursion up north across the Thai border into the small shopper's paradise of Haadyai. The three of us roamed the streets soaking in the sights and sounds of southern Thailand, drinking way too much of their local iced coffee which was made with boiled milk, coffee and crushed ice, giving it a distinctive taste that until today I order when eating at Thai eateries every chance I get.

We had by then, travelled more than over 1000km, backpacking along the way across 2 national boundaries and stopping over at multiple campsites and homes. Haadyai was the end of what was an enjoyable but tiring adventure. Our travel lust thoroughly satiated, we returned to Singapore not a little eager to resume the dull normacy of life at home, to return to the peace and quiet of everyday life until the next lure of adventure calls us again and we dust off our backpacks to go yet again on another wild adventure.