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2010 Borneo

Day 22 – Kapit -> Belaga

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Well this morning did not start well.  Huge thunderstorms all night that continued as we left the hotel and grabbed a morning teeth rotting coffee.   We headed to the boat ferry terminal to buy a ticket for the Belaga ferry and were directed to the other boat ferry terminal where there was no ticket man in sight, this ferry terminal seems to be the poor cousin of the other one and there isn’t even a seat.  We waited and waited and eventually a ticket man came but not for the Belaga ferry which is heading upriver and as 9:00am came and went, it was obviously late.   There were another couple of westerners also waiting for the ferry and we stood there getting wet and now standing in piles of now wet rubbish (yes the rubbish from yesterday hadn’t washed anywhere just sort of clumped together in large manky piles).  Finally a ferry came and we jumped on board, paying once on board – I can’t work out how they know how many people they have.  We took off at a fast pace, but the windows were soon covered in the muddy river water, so I couldn’t see out.  After sleeping on the ferry yesterday, decided not to take travel sickness pills today so I wouldn’t miss out on the sights.  Scott went outside and took some photos, but the rain came on and off.  So instead I watched a fantastically crap film called Damage, not once, but twice.  The ferry made random stops to some very remote areas where there didn’t even appear to be a ferry stop with people just jumping on and off from the slopes against the river. 

How you even know what stop this is is puzzling.
How you even know what stop this is is puzzling.

 

There, however, is limited logging or palm oil plantations this far upriver and the jungle is extremely dense with just small communities who all live in longhouses.  You kind of feel you are now getting away from civilisation, except the fact you are in a speedboat ferry, but if you try and ignore the loud droning of the engines you can sort of imagine you are entering the darkness of the jungle.

The Lonely Planet suggested the trip would take approx 4 ½ hours, but 6 boring and butt numbing hours later we arrived at Belaga.  We got off the ferry to be greeted by an emissary of Daniel (who we rang the previous day) and as we made it further up the steps, Daniel himself appeared and gathered all the tourists up and whisked us off to his guesthouse.  And from here it all comes unstuck.

Scott, Tracy, Daniel (Canadian (not tour guide)), Cecilia, Marie and Jaques (French) decided to stay in the old fashioned local longhouse that night after a visit to a crystal clear swimming hole.  Sounds perfect doesn’t it?   We quickly went into the small town shopping street and grabbed a coffee and a gift for our longhouse hosts before we all piled into a ute and headed to the water hole to find it a muddy fast flowing river.  It was however very cool, but also very busy with locals, so we wandered a bit upstream for somewhere quiet which involved walking on slippery rockets trying to hold onto the odd twig etc along the riverbank.  Again we wore our Havaianas which have not developed offroad techniques since last time.   I of course slipped and fell into the water and am now sporting a lovely bruise on my shin.  We could only stay a short-time as we had to go back to the guesthouse and get ready for our night away. 

We headed back down to the jetty where we were faced with the world’s narrowest little boat.  Everyone that knows me will understand I hate boats and the smaller they are the more I hate them.  So I already had a foreboding that things weren’t going to go well, maybe I am psychic. 

Happy aren't it!
Happy aren't I

 

Anyway we headed off with Daniel (tour guide) steering and a local man rowing at the front.  We made it about 20 metres before there are engine problems and we randomly float back down to the jetty where Daniels ducks off to get a new sparkplug leaving us sitting in the boat.  Meantime being laughed at by some stupid children who thought it was funny to try and put fish bait on the back of the local man’s shirt.

Stupid kids
Stupid kids

 

As you can imagine my mood was seriously starting to disintegrate, I was hungry, paranoid about tipping in as people were moving around and the boat was moving, the river was moving and there were speedboats whizzing by – not happy. 

Now seriously unhappy
Now seriously unhappy

 

Daniel couldn’t find a replacement sparkplug but someone else comes alongside and bangs and taps away with the motor and off we set again, this time with the local man emptying the boat of the extra water we seem to be taking on.  We made it a bit further upriver this time, but the engine keeps cutting out, so we call it quits and head back to the guesthouse and get ready to go to a closer longhouse that can be accessed by car.  There is quite a lot of sporting activity here though – tennis, badminton, soccer etc. 

Hi ho hi ho, back to the guesthouse we go
Hi ho hi ho, back to the guesthouse we go

 

We all jump into a ute and head off again.  We arrived at the longhouse which appears to be similar to a council housing estate/squat with drunk people everywhere.  It is the end of the Gawai festival and in the Lonely Planet they state this is the best time to visit Longhouses – not if you want to see something other than drunk locals it isn’t. 

Not my romanticised ideal of a longhouse
Not my romanticised ideal of a longhouse

 

 

 

Alternatively a prison camp
Alternatively a prison camp

Anyway everyone was too drunk to meet us, cook or clean etc, so we all gave up and went back to Daniel’s Guesthouse.  Now I have to say that my psychic abilities had definitely been in overdrive as I had a premonition this would happen.  We headed straight out after Daniel refunded out money and had something to eat as Scott and I hadn’t eaten since the night before and luckily found somewhere that was open and did some quick food. 

Belaga is very small and there isn’t very much to see, so we did a couple of laps and headed back to the guesthouse and chatted before having an early night.  I was very disappointed as all I wanted to do was stay in a traditional longhouse for the night – even better if it hadn’t involved a boat.  There was another couple staying (Italians) and they went out drinking the local Tuak (wine) with the Canadian.  We didn’t have a very good sleep due to bugs etc (window was open).   C’est la vie.