A mum, dad and their three kids from Tasmania, go on an epic adventure in Borneo for 3 weeks in December
Tag Archives: fishing
January 6, 2012Posted by on
John and Ik Hui are kindly dropping us to Key Point in the Beach Road area from where Golden Express Coach departs. Their hospitality has been amazing – as is all Asian hospitality from which Aussies have much to learn (ours is the more shut-the-door-on-your-way-out, laid-back kind). Whilst saying our goodbyes, the boys are looking the wrong way. I’m wondering why they are so rude and ask them to turn around. They say their goodbyes then turn back to study their original distraction – Doritos Man. Their jaws drop and they stare unashamedly as this fellow traveler stands awaiting the bus and eats an entire pack of Doritos without touching a single one. If you can imagine how that is done, you can understand why they would be so captivated. I might try it some time just to see how doable this is, but I feel it would be at the cost of very cheesy powdery lips.
Catching a bus to Kuala Lumpur from Singapore involves going to the Woodlands Checkpoint and exiting Singapore’s border control, then hopping back on the bus, crossing the border, hauling your luggage off the bus, going through customs in Malaysia, then hauling everything back on. It probably adds an hour all up to the five hour trip. On the bus the little boy next to me says “a lizard just crawled under your shoe” looking genuinely concerned. Without moving my shoe I say “would you like me to catch it for you”. His eyes widen and he shakes his head. Later, Lachie taps me and says I have a gecko on my shoulder. I ask him to grab it which he does. The kid is amazed but frightened. Lachie offers it to him but he’s actually petrified and his sister starts protesting. She says that if he touches it, he can’t sit next to her anymore. Their dad stretches forward with his camera and says “I have to take a photo of the hero!” People here poison them with insect spray because they’re frightened of them and think they’re dirty. We reckon they’re great though and they do a fantastic job of keeping the insects down. Lachie gets really close and checks the lizard out from head to toe. He names him Gary Gecko.
I enjoy the bus trip. From the confines of Singapore’s high rises, to the open road, the hills, valleys and now familiar tropical vegetation makes me feel relieved. Singapore is busy, densely populated and highly built up and while I enjoyed visiting, being a country boy I always like to fall back to open spaces. Along the way and bloke has been asking the driver to stop and dashing out to sort stuff out. I got to thinking “hang on mate, you’re holding all of us up here, why can’t you just sort your shit out?” It was getting a bit rich I thought. At the lunch stop however, after we re-boarded the bus, I couldn’t believe it when he was even given a turn at driving. When’s my turn?
Lachie, Oscar and I get lots of rest on the bus which is just what the doctor ordered. It gives us time to be with ourselves and our thoughts since we are sitting in the single seats. The kids actually enjoy this and said they preferred the coach to the plane. We arrive at KL around 3.30pm and grab a taxi to Mark and Deb’s in Petaling Jaya, just 16km out of town. I didn’t actually have enough cash for the taxi so I gave him everything I had including a Singapore $2 note. The cabbie took the lot. Inside, I say “Merry Xmas” to their smallest child (the one I dubbed “ninja” on our earlier visit) Ong Jia Chen. He replies “Merry Christmas. Who are you?” and proceeds to tell me that he likes Uncle Carter (his swimming coach) but that he made him disappear back home today…Ong Jia Chen has some powerful Chi going on in his little body. Later he asks him mum if he cries harder will I return?
We’re getting ready to go snakehead fishing. I’ve carried my rod and reel around Malaysia for four weeks hoping to target this species because they are widespread and have adapted to drains and ponds being a swamp type ambush predator that can even live outside of water. I saw a River Monsters program on the bullseye snakehead that is aggressively invading North America and was gripped watching Jeremy Wade catch these then track down its cousin, the giant snakehead that had allegedly killed a man in Thailand. One of these was kept in a tank at Nomad B&B in Kuching and when I’d asked if I can submerge my underwater camera for a shot, they mentioned that someone from Sweden had tried this and it bit him. Mark and his dad have organized some seventy little brown frogs for bait, and these are being kept in the shower and get a bath everyday to keep them hopping and fresh. We re-bag these ten at a time for each fisherman and load up our rods, food, drinks and eskies into the 4wd for a quick getaway in the morning. A couple of frogs did get loose in the bathroom, but they’re no match for ten year old boys.
At 05:30 there’s a knock on my door. It’s Jonathan, but I don’t don’t need a wake-up call, I’ve been awake since 4 – as is common when I’m going on a fishing trip. It’s a quick breakfast of enormous meat and veggie bao, out the door at 6:14 and into the pajero for the long drive to the district of Bidor in the neighboring state of Perak. One of Mark’s friends Sam joins us who is an equally keen fisherman. At Kampung Coldstream we pull off road and into farmland and palm plantation where ponds and lakes abound. We pull up at a beautiful large pond surrounded by tall tropical grasses and covered with thick kang kong pond weed (kang kong is one of my favorite vegetables by the way). One side of the pond borders a palm plantation, another has nesting storks in some tall trees adjoining a Peking duck farm. These scatter as I approach, all herding away from me. In the distance I smell a pig farm and at various intervals can hear the squealing of feeding time. There is a family of Asian Otters in the pond behind bobbing up and down busily (everything otters do looks busy).
Excitement mounts as we see fish rising all over the pond and arcing fins scything the surface. Big fish. These are the telapia and carp that are being raised here – I suspect on effluent from the pig farm – suspicions founded by the smell and crust at a drain pipe entering the pond on the other side. Mark shows us how to stun the frogs, then pierce their heads to kill them and rig them up so they can be cast and retrieved over the weed without getting snagged. This is foreign fishing to me. We cast the frogs on top of the weed and slowly retrieve them. They get caught as we drag them back toward us, then release in a jerky hopping motion which simulates a live frog. Top level predators, the snakehead living under the weed sense the vibrations and sound and strike at the frogs – that’s the theory anyway.
Lachie has a couple of hits that mangle his first frog but doesn’t hook up. I eventually have one grab a frog but on setting the hook, the frog pulls straight out of it’s mouth. The next take I get, I actually strip line to let it really swallow the bait before trying to set the hook, but the strike pulls it free again and the frog sails past my head. Mark has missed a couple too, though his dad has landed one. I’m a bit perplexed so I switch to something I know. Maybe being the aggressive “eat anything” predator, they’ll take a soft bait. I rig up with a hot pink Strike Tiger grub and start a slow retrieve and bang I’m onto a good fish first cast. These fish are so powerful and the waters full of weed and snags that we’re fishing high poundage line and a locked up drag so I just hold it and let it tire whooping “I’m on!!!” across the water. The kids grab the fishing bag and start running toward me. On landing the fish, it’s grabbed the lure so hard, I have to physically prise its jaws open and use pliers to get the hook out. I’m elated that I’ve landed my first snakehead. I lift up the fish and take a good look and snap a few shots. The head is flat and pointed like a snake with two beady black eyes on top. The mouth wide and hard. The skin on the fish actually looks like snake skin – black on top changing to white underneath with a primal type of fin running over it’s back and halfway under it’s belly. These ancient monsters are well represented in the fossil record and look like it too. They are prized for their healing ability when served as soup to convalescing patients.
After a few more casts, I lose the princess on a snag. Switching to an old faithful Berkley black and gold T-Tail after noticing some small grey baitfish in the water, a few casts later I’m on again. This one’s a bit smaller, so he gets to go play another day but he’s completely chopped the T-Tail in half. I head back toward the car where the kids have retreated and on the way back notice a snakehead hovering in the water a couple of feet from the bank. I toss out the T-Tail and draw it past it’s nose. I dangle it there, then jig it up and down – it pays no attention. Perplexing. Somehow these fish need to have their aggression triggered to make them strike – the most aggressive are ones protecting their nest. These have been known to attack people – such as the kayaker in Delaware.
I wander back to the opposite shore to find the boys have given up because it’s hard to cast and retrieve a dead frog continuously with no result, and are playing around the car so I tell them just chuck the frog in the water instead of baking it crisp on the roof of the car where their rods are leaning. The sun is really up now and starting its torment. The rods are now leaning against some tall grasses with the frogs sunk to the bottom. It’s not long and Oscar’s rod pulls flat. He races over and strikes to find nothing on the end. The hook fails to set again. These fish are tricky. I cast it back in for him, but this time strip of lots of loose line. The snakehead are taking the frog into their mouth, moving away before swallowing. Any resistance leads to the frog being spat out. The next time he’s rod bends, he has his first snakehead.
Around midday, the heat starts to beats us into submission. Even though we’ve got full sleeves and hats on, the heat is what I consider an preview to hell. Eventually, with my core temperature rising, I give up and sit in the shade of a short palm oil tree, half naked trying not to move. The boys accompany me and we suck back water and 100 Plus an isotonic fizzy drink. We are wilted. Husked. Punished. Oscar plays around a nearby palm trying to climb it and I let him know that there are sometimes ant nests in there. Sam who has joined us for some relief mentions that he doesn’t usually venture too far into palm oil plantations because of the cobra’s. I let Oscar know about this too.
Eventually Mark and his dad pull over and give way to the juggernaut that is the scorching, oppressive sun and sitting down in the shade with us. Mark has copped a leech helping land my third haruan (the local name) which was tangled in a mass of weed. We decide to head into the nearest Kampung and get some drinks and shade. Oddly, his dad recommends the curry noodles, which equally strangely were so delicious the boys were nearly licking the bowl.
I photograph the lady preparing them, scooping the noodles into a huge boiler to cook them and the old aunties around a plastic table on the corner all laugh and tease her in Malay. She ducks and looks embarrassed, which encourages me, so I switch to video and film the scene. A table of men are flipping and shuffling mahjong tiles. They must be escaping the heat too.
Around 4pm we head back checking out a few other ponds on the way, but returning to our original site. The boys continue with their bottom fishing as this seems to be the most effective method in the middle of the day. Jonathan has hooked a fish but struggles to land it. Oscar takes over manning the rod and Lachie gets down and hand-lines the fish in. They call it a team effort and chalk it up as a “Band of Brothers” effort. Lachie still hasn’t landed one on his own, but just before we call it a day, manages a small one, so we’re all happy.
Thunder clouds begin to roll out across the horizon and we hear the rumble. The odd lightning flash goes off and a cooler breeze has picked up. The light changes from the harsh white light of a fiercely hot day, to the warm evening glow of a monsoon clouded evening. The pond looks really pretty now, and I can see rain on the mountain range. I count the time between the flashes and rumbles and conclude the storm cell is still a few kilometres away. The breeze is waving the grasses and the white storks are hovering over their nests. Eventually it starts to spit and satisfied with our catch of thirteen, we decide to start our long trip home.
It’s dark now and the boys are all asleep in the back of the Pajero. We’ve had a sumptious feed of charsiew, roast pork, yam, fried sweet potato leaf, and soup on the way back through Bidor. We fly south along the Utara Selatan Highway toward Selangor and the road is relatively uncrowded. In the back it still smells froggy and the silence as each of us is lost in thought is punctuated by pounding on the roof of the esky, as the prehistoric channa striata launch themselves out of the shallow water and crash their bony heads into the molded plastic in a bid for freedom.
I still feel hot.
December 4, 2011Posted by on
A forced rest for the kids on our last afternoon is only partially successful. I lie under the fan upstairs with the boys and close my eyes while they draw in their writing pads. Abbey is downstairs and I have no doubt the little dynamo rabbit not resting.
A couple hours later Mark and I decide to try and find a pond or drain that might host the snakehead. Deb and the kids tag along. We buy ice-creams at reception and head out of the park. Just outside mark spots a troupe of wild monkeys feeding in a low fruit tree and I tell the kids that if they don’t talk and walk slowly with no sudden movements they should be able to stalk up quite closely. Amazingly they manage to get almost underneath before the adult primates begin to move away to higher or further branches. I stop the kids and we watch. The black furry monkeys with tails longer than their bodies are in serious feeding mode grasping bunches of small green nuts or fruit and stuffing their faces dropping as much as they eat. They make a noise I would never have expected. It’s the sort of noise we make when we’ve bought our favorite drink or chocolate and go to eat it and find the kids got to it first leaving an empty bottle or wrapper and we groan with a mixture of disappointment and frustration “ohhh who did this??!!” The monkeys made this soft moan.
As we move off Mark says it was lucky they were wild and I realize instantly why he says that. The kids we’re eating icecreams right underneath. If they had been fed by humans the kids would have been under siege – which would have been funny for us but not for them.
Spotting a golf course we ignore the private property sign and look for the water traps. A caddy in a golf cart makes a beeline for us and we make a lame story about a short cut to the clubhouse. One large pond has a worker on his motorbike checking on a pump house so we ask about the snakehead. We see movement on the surface and small heads pop up. Lizard? Turns out they were a group of Malaysian otters. Fish don’t stand a chance in here.
He says that if we ask at the clubhouse we can get permission to fish another pond. I do this and they say no. A bit of arm twisting later and they agree. We start fishing and a security guy arrives on his motorbike with big sunglasses (remember the TV show Chips?) and for the entire time we fish he watches us. I’ve never had a security detail while fishing before. Turns out the presence of mangrove indicates the water is too salty for snakehead so I remain luckless. The kids on the other hand have found an even better hermit crab called Victor. Herman gets superseded.
Up at the club house we grab some contraband Tiger beer and some sandwiches and cool off admiring Malaysia’s first Arnold Palmer designed golf course. John and Hui Peng are bringing cars to take us out for dinner but are running late. It’s dark before they arrive and the rain has started. Rain that doesn’t stop for the entire night. They drive partway back to Kuching to Buntal Kampung. A rough small Malay village with ramshackle buildings, huts, shacks and lean-to’s. Dogs and cats wander about trying to keep out of the gentle drizzle and people smoke under their dimly lit verandahs.
We pull up at Lim Hock Ann Seafood which is a raised giant galvanized roofed shed with no walls, rough sawn plank floor fluro lights and ceiling fans in the unlined roof cavity. The entry is like a fish market with whole freshly iced fish of all kinds, crabs, clams, oysters, prawns and lobsters. Fish mongers deftly slice huge whole fish and halve live crabs with one whack of their sharp cleaver on the block. The halved crabs keep squirming.
Mark begins negotiating the dishes (I don’t see any menus) and this takes some time. Wooden plywood topped tables and plastic chairs are arranged in the eating area and tea is boiled in great steel gas fired urns and served in 2 litre alloy jugs. It reminds me of being in a woodshed. I feel at home and excited about a seafood feast.
Before the meal we all tuck into a small round fruit about golf ball size. Peeling the tan colored thin outer shell reveals a white segmented translucent flesh which is the texture of aldente pasta. Two or three segments contain seeds which are sour like lemon so these are studiously avoided. At some stage Abbey who is sitting with her ‘sis (Mark and Deb’s Joleen) peels a whole heap and wraps them in serviettes for a midnight snack.
The dishes were divine. Teo chu style steamed whole fish with mountains of fresh ginger and preserved plum, wok fried crabs that we pick slowly pick over for their sweet white flesh, whole prawns, black bean straw clams, deep fried crispy squid, stir fried vegetables in garlic with tea and steamed rice.
Turns out John is a PhD in chemistry from Monash Uni and Hui Peng did economics there too so the conversation is a good complement to the food. A dog fight outside is the only incidental entertainment and I get over there to take a happy snap but the loser had already retreated under the building looking all hang dog (joke). I snap the winning mongrel sniffing a pile of festy garbage just next to the eating hall.
We walk through the rain back to our cabins for our last sleep before making our way to Bako NP tomorrow. I check our clothes line and the clothes that I’ve been drying for the last 36 hours are still wet. I hadn’t really planned for this and we’re nearly out of clothing so fingers crossed I can fix up something at Bako.
Oscar releases Herman back into the wild at the same spot he was apprehended. We hope he finds a better shell. Victor meanwhile is being housed in posh imported euro digs – a Heineken box courtesy of Lim Hock Ann Seafood.