Visiting our Cousins in the Jungle

It was a slog getting to Kalimantan, the Indonesian portion of the island of Borneo. Rain and contrary winds are pretty much par for the course at this time of year.  Sailors with any sense are all on the other side of the equator enjoying dryer conditions and more favourable winds. After a full month of sailing these waters, we’ve yet to encounter another sailboat.

There are, however, some advantages to being here during the off-season, most notably the dearth of other sailors and international tourists.  Locals are surprised, but seem genuinely happy to see us.  Popular attractions aren’t over-run.  The best anchorages are totally empty. Resorts are mostly open – some have a few guests, others have none.  

More often than not, we – a couple of ‘grotty yachties’ – have been a restaurant’s only dinner guests.   One benefit of being almost comically outnumbered by servers and kitchen staff, is that they have the luxury of time to linger and chat.

On our recent three-day visit to the Tanjung Puting National Park, we were again reminded of our good fortune to be here during the off-season. The park is home to Camp Leakey, the world’s largest sanctuary for wild orangutans, and an important research facility for the study of these amazing creatures.

It’s remote. There’s no onsite accommodation. No eateries, or gift shops. Getting there starts with a half-day boat ride up a jungle river.  

Our home, and means of transportation, for the three-day, two-night expedition was a ‘long-boat’, operated by Majid Orangutan Tours.  During high season, each boat has a minimum of four guests.  Since it wasn’t, Sharon and I had the privilege of being the only guests aboard, tended to by a crew of four – a captain, a guide, a cook, and a mechanic/deckhand.

Think ‘glamping afloat’, on a 21-meter long, double-deck vessel – guest quarters upstairs, and the crew’s quarters downstairs. 

We lazed away the days, mostly flopped-out on our lounge chairs, watching the jungle go slowly rolling by.  Rising when another wonderfully-prepared Indonesian meal or snack magically appeared on the dining table.  Our extremely knowledgeable guide, Aria, would come upstairs, now and again, to point out various bird species, plants, or impart interesting tidbits of information about the park.  

Occasionally, the boat would stop along the lush riverbank vegetation for us to enjoy the antics of various types of monkeys – strange looking proboscis monkeys, oh-so-dapper white-bearded gibbons, or impish macaques – sometimes only a few meters away.  Entire troops effortlessly climbing through the jungle’s canopy, often on impossibly thin tree branches. Then acrobatically launching themselves extraordinary distances from one treetop to another.   

Endlessly entertaining, and at times absolutely breathtaking!

When least expected, a flash of bright-coloured plumage would sweep quickly across the river, ahead of our boat, and disappear into the foliage.  These, we learned, were usually Stork-billed Kingfishers – electric-blue wings and large, sturdy orange beaks resembling the nose-cone of a rocket.  We also spotted the, rare in these parts, White-crested Kingfisher.

Majid’s father pioneered ‘long-boat’ jungle tours back in the late 1980s.  He now has 12 boats.  Other operators have joined the ‘industry’.  Now, more than fifty long-boats are licensed to ply the Sekonyer River and ferry visitors to and from the park. 

Happily, there were less than ten boats in operation, strung out along the fifty-kilometre jungle waterway. Most guests were Indonesians from Jakarta and other big cities, along with a sprinkling of international visitors, and the odd professional wildlife photographer.

The only time you become aware of how many boats are on the river is when you arrive at the park’s research camp or one of the ranger stations.  Since many are following a schedule dictated by the feeding times for Orangutans being reintroduced into the wild, things can get a bit hectic.  

Boats arriving early tie up to the wharf, and others then raft alongside, often three or four deep. We never arrived early.  So, we disembark by climbing from boat to boat and ultimately onto the wharf.

Undeniably, the star attraction, what everyone’s come to see, is the critically endangered Orangutan.  It would be a massive understatement to say we’re excited, when we get to the first ranger station and start walking through the jungle.   

We hear them before we see them.  Great crashing sounds in the jungle’s trees, off to the side of the path.  Next, you see branches trashing about, as orangutans move through the canopy.  Orangutans are the world’s largest tree-dwellers, but stealthy they’re not.

Then we catch a glimpse of something moving. A large shadowy form is shimmying down the trunk of a tall tree, at surprising speed.

Soon, we spot another, a mom with a youngster tightly clutching her waist. Using her weight deftly, she bends a large branch in the direction she wants to travel – before casually snagging a limb on a neighbouring tree, and letting go of the previous one.  Arms and legs working seamlessly in double tandem.

I’m not sure what I expected, but I was gobsmacked by their size, strength, and agility.  These are very impressive creatures.  Great apes, rather than monkeys – larger, more intelligent, and tail-less.  

The world’s four great apes – orangutans, gorillas, chimpanzees, and we humans – are very closely related.  In fact, we share over 95% of the same DNA. 

Eerily familiar, yet quite different. Compared to us, orangutan have very long, much more powerful, arms. Their hands are huge, easily brushing ground when they stand on proportionally much shorter legs.  Feet more like hands, toes more like fingers.

But they aren’t built for standing or walking upright. They move awkwardly when on the ground – hunched over more like a bear, often using their long arms to help paddle them forward.

Orangutan are territorial, and solitary, rather than social. They compete for food, rather than cooperate. The only obvious social bonds are between mothers and babies, which extends until about eight years old, at which point it is completely severed. 

Adult males are much bigger than female, often double the weight and nearly two feet taller. They develop large cheek pads, giving them a somewhat menacing look.

Part of the work of the park and research station involves reintegrating orphaned and previously captive orangutans back into the wild. Sadly, these critically endangered animals are still illegally killed for ‘bush meat’, often leaving orphans behind. Feeding stations are intended to support reintegration.

At the first one, we, and about thirty other visitors, encounter Roger – the dominant male in this part of the jungle.  Seated alone on a large wooden platform, and facing away, he’s munching down on sweat potatoes and bananas the rangers have set out.

We’re about 15 meters away.  Roger occasionally turns his enormous head our way. He stares briefly with closely set eyes, as we whisper and snap photos. But, mostly he ignores us.       

Now and again, a bold female cautiously approaches him, and tries to snatch away some of his hoard of the better food.  He takes a swipe at the ones who intrude too closely.  They retreat out of harm’s way.  Safer to compete with the other females. 

Younger, smaller males don’t dare approach. They lurk quite a distance way, waiting for any dregs Roger might leave behind.

That evening, guided by a park ranger, we went on an hour-long walk in the dense jungle. To be honest, we weren’t that keen on going.  Donning powerful headlamps, our reluctance was quickly displaced by awe. Expertly, the ranger spotted things we’d have missed; various types of frogs, big-hairy tarantula spiders, giant forest ants, scorpions, and glow-in-the-dark mushrooms.

Elated, well-fed, and exhausted, we slept well that night, cocooned under an elegant pink mosquito net. Our long-boat nestled alongside the riverbank in a seemingly endless thicket of huge reeds.

The next day, at the next feeding station, we encountered Atlas – clearly the king of his domain. There are also a number of others, all lower down the orangutan pecking order.  He’s younger than Roger, but at least as big, and more aggressive.

Our guide tells us Atlas recently destroyed the feeding platform, for unknown reasons. Maybe just fun.

For the first half hour, he simply eats, relentlessly stuffing copious quantities of food into his mouth.  He allows a female, with a fairly large baby in tow, to approach and eat.  Then abruptly swings his massive hand in her direction as she ventures too close.  Backing away she gathers up all the bananas and sweat potatoes she can, including four she sticks in her mouth like huge cigars.

Having dined, Atlas now rises.  Then suddenly he’s heading our way.  People scatter, unsure of his intent, laughing nervously.  The guides and rangers try and keep calm, while directing visitors to retreat as he advances.

My heart rate quickens.  If he gets violent, I’m clearly no match.  In situations like this – not that there’ve been that many – I’m more of a runner than a fighter.  But what about Sharon?  She not much of a runner these days.  I don’t recall mention of wild animal attack in our marriage vows. Was it even implied?

Soon we all realize his game.  Atlas is a born ham.  He struts about, then pauses to strike an audacious pose for the cameras. But he’s close, way too close to relax ones guard, and absolutely unafraid.  Fortunately, and despite those enormous canines, he’s not a carnivore. A thought I find comforting.

Eventually he gets bored, and decided to chase some of the rangers who are nearby. They seem to know his schtick, and calmly, but quickly run down a path.  Soon, he tires of it all and climbs back up into the jungle canopy.   

Sometimes things like this don’t live up to your expectations.  Other times they exceed them. This one, did that in spades.

As we meandered back down the river, it was with a feeling of deep gratitude for being able to see and experience all that we had over the previous three days.