Kuching to Jakarta

My next stop is Pangkalan Bun (isn't that a great name?) in the south of Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo, for a houseboat cruise, in search of orang-utans.

It’s not the most auspicious start. I’m flying from Kuching to Jakarta (which I've visited fleetingly before), as there are no direct flights linking Malaysian Borneo with Indonesian Borneo, or any direct flights between any of the cities in Kalimantan for that matter. I’m going to be zipping backwards and forwards over the jungle and the Java Sea. Not to mention crossing the Equator .

Jakarta's Soekano-Hatta Airport is almost too technologically advanced and a customs declaration and a health form both have to be completed before getting to immigration. Needless to say no-one asks to see the health form. The visa, though purchased at a counter is swiftly also attached electronically, and, to be fair, I’m quickly through the automatic gates.

I’m not afforded the same privilege at customs though, electronic declaration notwithstanding. I’m sent for yet another scan and then a check, which involves a through search of my case. The man with the purple plastic gloves is desperate to find some barbiturates. ‘Medicine?’ he keeps asking. In the end, he sighs and gives up. I’m relieved. Drug trafficking in Indonesia carries the death penalty. As they cheerfully remind you when you get on the planes.

But that’s not the end of my travails. My airport hotel has promised to meet me at the terminal, but there’s no-one waving a signboard with my name there. Just hordes of young men touting taxis and eager to tell me that hotel shuttle buses do not stop here. A young guy at a telecoms stall eventually calls my hotel for me. My chauffeur has gone to the wrong terminal.

Jakarta

So, Jakarta, Javan capital of Indonesia, (for the moment) I’m here. But not for long. I have a much too early start for Pangkalan Bun tomorrow. (read more about my last visit, to Java, here.) Indonesian food isn’t hugely different to Malaysian. Both countries speak versions of Malay, so Nasi goreng (fried rice) with sweet soy sauce and shrimp paste (often a fried egg on top) is ubiquitous. Today, I have lumps of satay and a chicken wing on the side, for lunch. But at least the meat is warm.

The big challenge currently is working out the cost of my meals. Everything seems exceptionally cheap. My meal is about £5. But the rupiah to GBP exchange rate is currently around 22,000. So £100 is 2,200,000. You have to tout thick wads of notes around. And everyone is a millionaire.

Early to bed, as I have to get up at 3.30 a.m. for my 6 a.m. Batik Air flight to Pangkalan Bun. You can imagine how thrilled I am. My lovely hotel insists on giving me breakfast to take away. And there are two boxes, as according to them, people don’t travel alone and I have a double room.

Check in seems to go OK . My luggage weighs in at 22 kilograms on their scale, but is accepted. I’m beginning to think that Soekano-Hatta isn’t a bad airport. Modern, clean, Indonesian longhouse style, with pointy tiled roofs and wooden rafters. Plenty of enticing little shops and cafes. There’ s a very long row of them winding all the way to security. That’s where the problems begin.

My breakfasts, with their bottles of mango juice, don’t cause any alarm for the uniforms on duty. But my backpack does. They don’t like my tripod. I’ve not a clue why. Perhaps it’s construed as an offensive weapon. But I’m told to go back and check it in. The path back to the desks seems even longer. Especially as I lose my way. When I finally get there, the clerks insist on charging me for overweight now. That involves another walk to customer services.

Finally, I’m free to trudge back to security. And I’m checking the airline gate. It’s changed. And the departure has been pushed back to 8.30 from 6. Despite this, the board says it’s on time. I eat one of my breakfasts: rice and omelette. Then, I decide to go back to the original gate and see if I can find out what’s going on. It’s all in darkness, but there’s a little lady, at a desk. ‘Problem with the plane’, she says. ‘They’re replacing it.’ ETD now is 9.30. But it's still shown as on time.

Batik Air to Pangkalan Bun

It’s bucketing down now, at the airport, as I sit in a dazed stupor of fatigue. A proper tropical storm. And it’s freezing cold, as the air conditioning is still blasting away. I’m so glad I got up at 3.30. Every flight so far this trip has been bumpy and this one is no exception, when we finally take to the skies. The cabin crew literally throw bread buns and plastic tubs of water at us. It could be because the plane is jumping about even more crazily at the time. Or maybe that’s the normal method of delivery. The female staff seem much more interested in doing their make-up. I’m swearing off ever travelling again. That’s a vow I’ve broken many times before.

Kalimantan - in a Nutshell

• Kalimantan is the Indonesian portion of Borneo, the third largest island in the world. Kalimantan constitutes 73% of the island's area. The rest of Borneo consists of Brunei and the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak.
• Kalimantan is divided into the imaginatively named provinces of Central Kalimantan, East Kalimantan, North Kalimantan, South Kalimantan, and West Kalimantan.
• The name Kalimantan is derived from the Sanskrit word Kalamanthana, which means 'burning weather island' or 'very hot island', referring to its hot and humid tropical climate
• Kalimantan is characterized by its vast tropical rainforests, but it also has mountains, and extensive lowlands, with swampy areas along the coasts.
• The Indonesians are in the process of moving Indonesia's capital from hugely sprawling Jakarta, in Java, to east Kalimantan. The future capital, Nusantara, is a planned city, which will be carved out near Balikpapan. It is not expected to be completed until 2045.

A Houseboat at Pangkalan Bun, Kalimantan

And I’m swiftly appeased by the beaming face of my new guide Chatlin, under her soft safari hat. As well as the fact that I’ve become a VIP. My houseboat is sumptuous. A boutique style double bed, mosquito nets turning it into a stylish four poster, on the upper deck, for me to lounge on, plus two settees, two bean bags and two steamer chairs, set right up front, like twin thrones. Another double bed, in my room, on the lower deck, with air con, plus bathroom, with hot shower. That’s also got its own balcony deck, facing aft. This one has a wicker chair and table set. I’m not sure I have time to test them all.

Tuti is cook, Isun is captain, Imul is assistant captain, animal spotter and also, it seems, my butler, tidying up, bed making and serving food. Shock-headed Isun is very shy. He doesn’t speak English and disappears when he sees me coming.

We’re soon chugging down the Kumai River, to the Seikonyer tributary, which we then pursue, into Tanjung Puting National Park. The muddy waters are lined with palms, which have adapted to the brackish water here. Every five minutes, we pass another houseboat. They are called klotoks here, though that seems to be a generic name applied to all the flat bottomed river craft. It's supposed to reflect the noise the engine makes, 'klok tok tok tok'. So why isn't it kloktok then? I don't think I'm up for that conversation.

And I don’t think I’m biased when I pronounce that my klotok is by far the prettiest. Mine is a super deluxe. There are also deluxe and standard. The latter involves sleeping on a mattress, on the upper deck. Not even a bed. I’m very happy where I am.

It proceeds to pour down with rain again and canvases are unfurled around our vessel. So, it seems like a good moment to try out the bed, on the upper deck. I have three days and three nights of swanning about, on a boat, with four people at my beck and call. This includes four visits to feeding sessions at orang-utan rehabilitation centres.

Bounteous Banquets on the Boat

There’s a veritable banquet laid out for my meals. Fish, prawns, vegetables, battered tempeh and the sweetest of pineapple. Breakfast brings sweet little crumpet like pancakes and the best strawberry jam I’ve ever tasted. The meals are accompanied by beautifully crafted edible decorations. Watermelon becomes Christmas trees and cucumbers, plants, with red flowers provided by small chilli peppers. I’m far from doing justice to it all. There are at least six dishes on offer at every sittingl. And, just in case I’m still hungry, there are plates of snacks in the morning and fritters in the afternoon.

Orang-utans

• Orang-utans are the only Asian great apes. They are now found solely in parts of Borneo and Sumatra, but, during the Pleistocene, they ranged throughout Southeast Asia and South China. The genus (it has to be mentioned) is Pongo. What was originally considered to be one species is now three; the Bornean orangutan is P. pygmaeus, with three subspecies. The name comes from the Malay words orang, meaning 'person', and hutan, meaning 'forest'.
• Studies have suggested that these are very intelligent animals, capable of learning to use tools and sign. Their DNA match with humans is 97%. (compared to the almost 99% match with chimpanzees and bonobos.) They build complex sleeping nests, each night.
• Orang-utans have evolved to live in trees, with proportionally long arms and short legs. At about 75 kilograms, adult males are about double the weight of females. The dominant adult males (and only those males) develop distinctive cheek pads or flanges and make long calls to attract females and intimidate rivals.
• All three orang-utan species are considered critically endangered, mostly due to human activities (poaching for bush meat and retaliation for consuming crops, deforestation, for palm oil cultivation and logging and the illegal pet trade).

Tanjung Puting and the Orang-utans

An hour later, we pull into a dock, with several other klotoks, for the path to the first Tanjung orang-utan feeding station. We’re traipsing along a jungle path, with a group of Americans, who quickly degenerate into loud coos and giggles, as we’re joined by a solitary young male, Apri, on his way to the platform. He keeps a wary distance, swinging parallel to us and venturing onto the main path, when the Americans leave a big enough gap.

But Apri stays some way from the stage (it really is just like a theatrical performance), when we eventually reach it, separated from rows of wooden benches, by ropes. It’s already occupied, by Roger, the aptly named alpha male or King of the Swingers. He’s working his way through a heap of fruit, whilst keeping a watchful eye out, to make sure no other primate intrudes.

Eventually, after he’s chewed through an enormous quantity of bananas, he deigns to allow a female and two youngsters alongside. One’s a pop eyed and grinning nine-month-old. They don’t stay long. They’re not as hungry or greedy as him; Roger continues to exert his right to monopolise the feast. Our young friend is still waiting, along with another wistful companion. They hoist themselves up, into the canopy, tutting, and hopeful that Roger will eventually leave and that they will be courageous enough to take their chance, if he does.

Camp Leakey

Day Two takes us deep into the jungle. The river narrows to a channel cut through the pandanus. Dragonflies hover, butterflies shimmer, jewel like kingfishers dart across our path and crocodiles (small false gharials) bask in today’s sun. Once, a properly wild orang-utan comes to investigate, retreating rapidly, from the river bank, when he sees us. Then, up the Black River to Camp Leakey. The jungle is denser here, closing in on us. But there’s a welcome, if soporific breeze, blowing into our faces.

Camp Leakey was the site of the first orang-utan rehabilitation centre in the park, caring for orphans and rescued pets. The apes here are now on their third generation. Again, the rangers strew sweet potatoes and bananas across the wooden platform, but in this case Bob, the resident Bornean white bearded gibbon, presides over the whole affair, a compere, looking down from his lofty perch.

Jacob, the local alpha male isn’t putting in an appearance today, so Nirvana, an adult male, sneaks in, stuffs his mouth with sweet potatoes, crams more into his hands and clambers up a tree, to eat in safety. He repeats this performance several times. A smaller male follows suit. Another, very small male, chances his luck and stays on the platform, filling his mouth as fast as he can. Two females with babies do the same, one female resolutely refusing to face the intent audience, or show her baby. Another is more intent on hoovering up as much food as she can. Her baby lets go of her fur, every so often, grabbing what he can, but immediately retreating to his mother's back.

The Funky Gibbon provides the comedy, swinging in every so often, to steal bananas and facing down his larger friends. He has competition from squirrels, who are much swifter at sneaking in to steal food. So fast they’re just a blur on the camera.

Pondok Tanggui

Day Three brings me to the third primate rehabilitation centre, at Pondok Tanggui. It’s another delightfully choreographed performance. Plenty of babies, with startled faces and hair on end. The variety of ape hairstyles is astonishing. Half way through, the alpha male, Silent (for obvious reasons), appears. He’s very laid back, positively indolent. He’s happy to let it all go on around him and the juveniles swing overhead, on the flimsiest of tall trunks.

The comic relief here is provided by a troop of long tailed macaques who seem unfazed by the giant patriarch and leap in and around him, nobbling sweet potatoes. He seems happy to tolerate them, in his turn, perhaps more wary of them than they are of him. They turn spiteful very quickly, when dealing with each other. He only swats once, at the easiest target, a tiny baby.

Roger Revisited

A final visit to see Roger and his family. He’s in a benevolent mood today, keen to fraternise with the females and happy to share his repast.

Proboscis Monkeys

• The proboscis (or long nosed) monkey is endemic to Borneo, found mostly in mangrove forests and on the coastal areas of the island. They pine and die in zoos.
• This is one of the largest monkey species native to Asia. The males weigh in at up to 23 kilograms. The females are half that size. And you can’t miss the penis, which is bright red, with a black scrotum. Both sexes have bulging stomachs that give the monkeys what resembles a pot belly. Many of the monkeys' toes are webbed.
• But the key feature is of course, the nose. Male noses are much larger. No-one is quite sure why, but it is thought that a large nose increases the volume of the mating call and so has developed, by natural selection. Perhaps that’s why Cyrano was so successful.
• The babies are dark grey to black initially, eventually developing the reddish-brown fur and long nose of the adults. Though tail and limbs remain grey. and almost white in the case of the former.

Monkeying About in Borneo

We have several endearing encounters with troops of proboscis monkeys, frolicking in the palms and taunting us from the treetops. The males’ large bulbous noses, really are extraordinarily ugly. The females are less well endowed. Though the babies are cute as ever, shimmying up the slimmest of trunks, tails waving.

One group are feeding very close to the river, where they flatten the pandanus, as they crash onto it, making their way to the water primrose, they favour. As with the larger primates, the alpha male takes the best spot and the females, some with babies, are allowed to feed in the vicinity. But not too close. It’s a privilege to see them, especially after all the fuss about the solitary male in Bako.

A third and last night on board. A gentle swell rocks the boat and I have to utilise the bolt on my sliding door. It’s been a fabulous adventure, but I won’t miss the steamy jungle (it’s 80% humidity) and the ever present insects.

Balikpapan, Kalimantan

Next up, Balikpapan, this time via Surabaya, in eastern Java. Two opportunities for Lion Air to mess me around. Lion Air is a domestic airline behemoth in Indonesia. It has countless subsidiaries. Most of them are promoted as low cost. Super Air Jet is low, low cost. And they have a reputation for unreliability, as I’ve already discovered. Though Batik Air, who I used on my delayed flight, to Kalimantan, are supposed to be their up market, full-service offering. I brace myself for a long day.

In the event, the day’s flights go smoothly. (Lion Air are waiting to smite me the following day). Balikpapan Airport doesn’t follow the usual Indonesian airport longhouse roof style design. This airport was built to service the new capital, Nusantara and it’s multi-tiered, with green tinted plate glass and porters wearing bright red shirt uniforms. It has to be said, it’s efficient.

The first glimpses of the city are modern also: tower block hotels, signage, army barracks. But they soon give way to traditional Malay style markets, restaurants, sundry street stalls. The traffic crawls along the narrow road. The many motor bikes have the advantage here zipping around with whole families aboard. A popular taxi here is the ojek, motor bike.

Today, numerous cattle are tied up alongside the road and are being ferried around, squashed into the backs of numerous trucks. It’s Eid in two days’ time and the traditional meal is halal beef. It will be freshly slaughtered for the feast.

Samboja Lodge and More Orang-Utans

I’m staying in the jungle again tonight, this time at Samboja Lodge. It’s the headquarters of the Borneo orang-utan survival foundation, the largest orang rehabilitation centre in the world.

I’m happy to see Asia’s largest primate for the fifth time on Kalimantan. These are all rescue animals, notably damaged by captivity or circus ownership. Some will never return to the wild. The youngsters, often orphans, rescued from land clearance, have more chance. They live on islands and are supported through various stages, from nursery, to university, before being chipped and released. They are tracked for two years, to ensure they are safe and well. And to track their behaviours. It’s very thorough.

The channels between the islands are not actually very deep, but orangs can’t swim and the keepers bend their knees, so that the water appears deeper than it is, if they need to clear it, or approach. Even so, one intelligent male saw through the ruse and built a bridge.

The apes here are exceptionally well treated. Their diets are scientifically designed and they’re fed a huge variety of fruit. Specific nutrients are placed in peanut butter packs or bamboo tubes. The primates love these. One large male has even been taught to clear his platform and wash his hands before it’s handed over. He waves his arms to signal for more. Unlike Oliver, he’s allowed some.

Sun Bears

• Sun Bears are the smallest bears in the world, (males are roughly 70 cm to the shoulder and 65 kilograms), named after the hemispherical markings on their chests.
• They live mainly in Southeast Asia and India.
• They’ve got very long claws, which they use to feed and climb. This bear species lives in the trees more than any other of their family.
• Sun bears are very shy, very solitary and very hard to spot in the wild. Man is their main predator.
• Their chances of rehabilitation are much slimmer than orang-utans. Captivity inevitably renders them less aggressive

Sun Bears at Samboja, Kalimantan

But I’ve actually come to see the sun bears, who have been similarly rescued and are similarly treated. The sun bears look deceptively cute, standing up, on two legs, to beg for their bamboo food favourites. They have balls, swings and all manner of toys, in their large jungle compounds (the foundation has replanted huge amounts of forest). So much better than most zoos.

All this is explained by expert guide Iman, who has been here 18 years. It seems like an excellent set up, which we survey from the top of a watchtower. 77 steps. I can help prepare bear food for the afternoon if I like, but I decline. I’ve decided to relax and admire the jungle canopy, from my room balcony, instead. Possibly a snooze.

But Lion Air has other ideas. They’ve cancelled tomorrow’s direct flight, to Makassar in Sulawesi. I can’t help but wonder if this has anything to do with the impending holiday. Instead, I’m offered a flight via Jakarta. Two hours there and then back again. And Super Airjet on one leg. God forbid. Or, a slightly shorter journey, via Surabaya, on Lion. Starting at 6 a.m., which means I have to get up at 2.30 a.m. Talk about Hobson’s Choice.

The final option is Batik Air Direct. They only have business seats left and the flight goes this afternoon. Which also means giving up my relaxing jungle time and paying an additional night in Makassar. It racks up an extra 250 USD in charges, but I’m taking it. I can’t face those bumpy flights (there are a lot of clouds above tropical Indonesia) all the way back to Java, and waiting at the airport, in transit yet again.

Sulawesi next.

(Or read more about Indonesia here.)