25 May 2013. Langkawi, Malaysia.

The simple but tantalising description from the cruising guide was enough to get me interested in finding the cave. I had no further information and the bay in question was an extremely wide, yet shallow bay some three miles across, located on the north west coast of Pulau Dayang Bunting, a large island to the south of Langkawi known for its spectacular limestone cliffs and rugged terrain. I thought it could be a time consuming search so we planned to spend five days out.

We left Rebak at 1430. There was only a knot or two of wind, and it was coming dead astern so we motored down to the Fjords. In truth I didn’t mind, as we had just repaired the refrigeration system, whose compressor ran off the main engine, and I wanted to test it out. Jolene had stocked the fridge and freezer with the essentials (ie. beer and ice) and I was please to see that in only half an hour everything was nice and frosty.

Jolene reads about how going to sea is a bad idea and you should never do it. G&T not pictured

We dropped anchor at 1600 in the wide bay as indicated by the cruising guide.  The tide was quite high and the shoreline was sheer limestone cliffs, covered in tenacious, hardy jungle. There were a few little nooks and crannies but no obvious beaches.

We took the outboard in close to the cliffs and ran along them. They rose straight from the water, and even though we were only a few metres from them, we still had five metres of water under us. There were many small cracks where swallows had nested but nothing that was worthy of the name ‘cave.’

We found a small bay, concealed by a fold in the cliff, which had a narrow white sandy beach at the end. Perhaps this was the beach from the guide? We took the dinghy in. The beach was small and the end of the bay was formed by a steep re-entrant which could easily house a creek and a cave.

However as soon as we jumped out, we found that the sand was only a thin layer covering thick, deep, cloying mud. We immediately sank up to our shins and could only pull out our feet with the greatest difficulty. The mud released a noxious smell and struck to everything. It was absolutely horrible stuff. It took us a little while – and a great many swears – to extricate ourselves, and, seeing that the tide had turned and was now falling, we got out of there before we became permanent residents.

It was now only ninety minutes to sunset and, disheartened by our lack of success, we turned Labyrinth around and headed for our night anchorage. The wind had freshened and backed to the west and looked to strengthen overnight, so I wanted to head to an anchorage I was familiar with, three miles away of the east coast of Pulau Singa Besar. There we would be sheltered from any change in weather and ready to continue the search tomorrow.

We found there were already two yachts in the anchorage – a monohull flying French colours and an Australian catamaran named Keris. I hadn’t even got the anchor down before someone on the catamaran was waving and hailing us. We were too far away to see who it was but I caught “… Jason …” and “… rebak …” over the wind.

We took the dinghy over and it turned out to be a couple we had met in Rebak three weeks before, Mick and Juanita.  They had been down to Pedang and now were heading up to Thailand. They were in no particular hurry and were interested in our hunt for the cave, so decided to join us the next day when the search continued.

26 May 2013. Pulau Dayang Bunting

We left the anchorage just before lunch, with Keris following on. Jolene had noticed a thin strip of sand, with cliffs set further back, over a mile north of where the cruising guide placed its anchorage, but I thought it was worth checking out. We anchored around three hundred metres offshore and I took the dinghy in for a recce while Jolene prepared lunch. It was high tide again and there was virtually nothing of the beach visible but I was immediately heartened as I could see some tarpaulins erected just inside the tree line.

I ran the dinghy up onto the beach and tied off on a convenient tree. The tarpaulins proved to be a small restaurant of sorts, with a dozen tables and three Malaysian guys cooking satay skewers and noodles. They said they did lunches for the tourist boats which stopped there and, more importantly, that yes, there was a cave back in the jungle!

I headed straight back to Labyrinth to radio the good news to Keris. As I did so three longtail boats full of Chinese tourists swooped in out of nowhere. Suddenly the beach did not seem so remote after all. Back on Labyrinth we prepped our away bags and headed back in on the dinghy, meeting Juanita and Mick on the beach, where they had arrived in a more stately style: paddling in by kayak.

The restaurant was now full of Chinese tourists enjoying a day trip lunch, a meal that was made much more eventful by the troop of opportunistic macaques which watched from nearby trees. As soon as a meal was left unattended, even for a moment, one of these monkeys would dart in and stuff as much food in its mouth as it could before it was noticed. Then, chased by a barrage of insults and utensils, it would flee to a nearby tree where it could enjoy its purloined mee goreng in peace.

We headed back into the jungle and had not gone two steps before an enormous monitor lizard, at least two metres long, broke across the path. It paused and, deciding we were best avoided, slid into the mangroves and swam away with a flick of its tail.

The path skirted the mangroves but then sunk into water just as we reached the cliff. We could see the cave clearly now (which I later discovered was called the Cave of Pasir Danang) but we could also see something else clearly – the high tide had flooded the cave. I waded into the entrance and was soon up to my neck. This was enough for Juanita and Jolene who volunteered to go back and watch the monkeys, but Mick and I continued.

The entrance passage was a long tunnel and the cool water was quite deep so we swam in. It wasn’t long though before wonderful crystal and rock formations started appearing. Elaborate white stalactites formations filled the roof of the passage and our stubbed toes and barked shins told us there were corresponding stalagmites below us.

In places the water rose almost to the ceiling and in others it was only shin deep. Generally we were up to our chests. The passage gradually opened out into a series of chambers. Each was bedecked with a multitude of white limestone formations which glittered as our torches played over them. Delicate curtains of rock hung from the walls as if they were petrified drapes and tiny, fragile helictite twisted and crossed over themselves.

Abruptly, about fifty or so metres in, the nature of the cave changed. The gentle, almost organic limestone formations disappeared and we found ourselves in a long narrow cleft around fifteen metres long. The walls had changed to a dark, basalt like rock and the sheer sides showed that, rather than this being created by the gentle action of water of millennia, this tunnel was born of some violent tectonic catastrophe of an ancient age.

  Beyond this was a series of giant caverns that opened out and linked to each other like the ballrooms of a stately mansion. There were still limestone stalacmites and tites draping themselves over everything but the dark rock was shot through with thick veins of marble that spilled out like poorly poured cement.

These chambers were full of tiny, chittering bats clutching at the ceiling and were decorated with long streams of prayer flags that someone had hung in there at an earlier time. The bats seemed not too concerned with our presence, although every now and then one would launch themselves and come very close to us, veering away at the last second. Something slimy and sinuous brushed against my feet and I couldn’t help but think of the garbage compactor scene from Star Wars!

This series of grand chambers continued. We moved above the high water mark, but our feet were still wet with fresh water flowing from further in the cave.  We were over a hundred metres in when we found both the source of the fresh water and the end of the cave – a shaft, choked with boulders, that ascended up into the mountain above us. It was via this shaft that the cave was carved over millennia, as rain water drained from the jungle above, patiently widening cracks and crevices as it flowed down to the sea.

We made our way back out and found the ladies waiting for us at the restaurant. The Malay cooks greeted us as well and, perhaps happy we had returned intact, gave us a six pack of beer which we felt we definitely had earned! The tourists soon left and the cooks began packing up the kitchen. They said they were only there when a big group of tourists came down and I felt lucky to have found them.

 We sat there for most of the afternoon, drinking our beers and watching the monkeys scavenge  leftovers. One stole a jar of barbeque cooking paste and wrestled with it for a while. Eventually it dropped the jar near us and Juanita, taking the hint, removed the lid and placed it back. The monkey tried the paste and found it tasted somewhere between awful and rank poison. It dropped the jar and moved on to find something more palatable (and wash its hands in some spilt water.)

What? Where am I going to get a wok?

 By late afternoon the tide had fallen by over a metre and Jolene decided that she wanted to try the cave for herself. We found it was now mostly empty of water which made it both easier and harder to navigate. Easier because you could see where you were putting your feet but harder as you couldn’t just float over any difficult obstructions. There were still places where the water was up to our waists but most of the time there was just cold fresh water flowing over our ankles.

She made it almost all of the way in before a now dry boulder blocking the passage helped her decide she had gone far enough. Importantly, she got to see the main formations and I got to see the mysterious creature that had brushed against my feet – a type of almost blind catfish that hid beneath the rocks in the stream. There were also tiny colourless shrimp and pale white crabs with long delicate legs peering from the recesses of the cave. As we made our way out we discussed how it must work with them living in fresh water but being drowned in salt water twice a day.

We returned to Labyrinth, to head back to our anchorage. That night it was overcast and moonless. There was a strong tidal stream and the water sparkled with phospherence. It streamed as it flowed over the anchor ropes, flickering and glowing in long trails which made it seem as if the ropes were ghostly blades, flaming with an unearthly fire.

27 May 2013 – Pulau Singa Besar: There is a way.

Two weeks earlier we had explored a ruined education centre on the far side of Pulau Singa Besar. It is one of the many failed ventures dating from the nineties and early 2000s. The island is a national park and the centre was where visitors were expected to land. But for one reason or another it had failed and was then abandoned, to be reclaimed by the jungle.

 The centre was a fascinating modern ruin; offices where invading vines strangled fax machines and eagles perched on turnstile gates. In one room full of shattered science displays we found a large relief map of the island. There was a single line painted over the map, running from one side to the other, a distance of around five kilometres. It was not marked with any information but I guessed that it was a jungle trail.

Since our search for the cave had been successful we decided to remain at anchor for the day. Going over my notes I realised the bay where we were anchored was where the map indicated the path finished. Perhaps it was indeed a jungle path; The weather was good so I decided that today I would try and find it.

That morning I had seen three men wandering along the shore as I had had my coffee in the cockpit. This island was a national park and no one lived there so I decided to head to their campsite and see what they were about. I found them cooking up a giant wok of fried rice. I asked if they running a restaurant, like the island yesterday. No, they laughed. They had their own boat and were travelling around the islands on holiday. But I could join them for breakfast if I liked.

 They would go from island to island and camp overnight whenever they found one they liked. Their boat was an eight metre long tinny. It held an enormous icebox and half a dozen twenty litre containers of petrol. I asked them if there was they knew about the path across the island.

 “No,” one of them said. “There is a way. We do not know it. But there is a way.”

 This phrase stayed in my mind as I bid them farewell and headed off. There is a way. Often it is not clear where you are going or how you will find your goal. But there is always a way.

 I walked down the beach. I remembered the relief map showed the path coming out the north end of the beach and it was not long before I found a sign reading PERDANA. The beach was actually a narrow spit of land between the sea and a lush mangrove forest. It was soon after low tide so I turned into the mangroves and tried to find the way.

 Memories of the foul mud that befell us two days before were fresh in my mind but I found that, although the mangroves had a sulphurous smell about them, the mud was soft but not deep. It was reasonably easy to find a path through the exposed roots that rose up like arches in a cathedral, raising their trees above the tides that swamped this area. Tiny crabs scuttled for their holes as I approached and every now and then there was a flicker of a mudskipper sliding away.

 After a hundred metres or so the mangroves ended and I found myself in jungle once again. The path was quite clear at this point and any tree that had fallen across it was hacked with machete blows to show you the way. Soon I found myself on the shores of a wide artificial lake. There was a concrete retaining wall and a weir where a large monitor lizard was sunning itself.

No doubt another failed initiative, the lake was around eighty metres wide and quite dark in colour but cool and fresh. Lilies clogged the surface, forming miniature landing pads for the dragonflies that danced and hunted their prey over the water. A black PVC pipe heading down to the shore and I remembered there was fresh running water back at the campsite. But I could not find a path leading on – both ends of the lake were clogged with thorny palms and vicious wait-a-while vines.

It was approaching 1100, which was when I had told Jolene I would return, so I headed back to the shore. More boats full of Malays were arriving and the campers, who were moving on by this stage, told me they were a film crew come to shoot a Survivor style show on the island for local TV.

 After lunch Jolene and I radioed over to Keris as we had decided to head back in and have a swim on the beautiful white beach. Mick and Juanita were quite happy to join us and we all met up on shore, they arriving once again by kayak. The tide was at its height and the mangroves were flooded under a metre and a half of water. Jolene and I snorkled among the trees, finding our way through the maze of roots and half glimpsing fish that fled at our approach.

Juanita and Mick were keen on seeing the lake so we decided to head back to the boats for the afternoon and try the lake once the tide was down. I spent the afternoon conducting engine maintenance and Jolene baked flatbread. I also checked the photos I had taken of the relief map a fortnight earlier and it clearly showed that the path lead around the north side of the lake, which I had found to be clogged with vines and scrub.

We headed back in at 1700. The tide was sufficiently low so we all headed into the lake. The others wandered along the weir as I searched around the north side for the path. There was a thick wall of scrub but, crouching down, I could see a tunnel leading through the vegetation. Following it for a moment brought me out into a patch of jungle where there was an obvious track heading around the shores of the lake. I had found my path! Looking down it I saw a flash of movement as a tiny deer bounded away. I decided this was a good omen. However there was only two hours of daylight left, so I resolved to return tomorrow and try then.

Wandering back up the beach we found the film crew had arrived in force. There were a dozen or so of them and they were joined by dozen firemen, clad in orange and grey camouflage uniforms and who arrived in a red fastboat with BOMBA painted on the side.

We found the director who explained that they were shooting the pilot of a new show called KIDNAP. Tomorrow four celebrities – actors and actress types – would be spirited away from their homes in Kuala Lumpur and flown out to the islands where they compete in a series of competitions such as shooting targets with slingshots, finding treasure in the mangroves and eating fat pink sea slugs which lay glistening on a table to the side. The crew were busy erecting large banners explaining the stands while the firefighters, who were there as safety supervisors, carried a large rope which seemed destined to be a flying fox.

That night we sat in Labyrinth’s cockpit watching the sun set. As it slipped below the horizon, three stars appeared in a tight triangle just above where the sun had disappeared.

 “Dollars to donuts, one of those is Venus,” I said to Jolene.

 “Then what are the other two?” she asked.

 I thought for a moment and then got out my tablet, bringing up the Sky Map app. “You won’t believe it,” I said, delighted. “But that’s Venus, Jupiter and Mercury.”

 We looked at this amazing phenomenon. Three planets together, the only thing in the sky, just above the horizon. “I’ve got to get a photo of this!” I said. “I’ll need a time lapse, so I’ll have to go in.”

 “Go,” said Jolene without hesitation.

 I jumped in the dinghy. It was low tide, a low, low tide and the reef was almost fully exposed. I cut the engine and carefully rowed in, mindful that it was only a few minutes before the planets would follow the sun below the horizon. I had hoped to get to shore, but the reef completely blocked my way. So I ended up setting the tripod up in waist deep water just outside the reef and snapped some shots just as fast as I could.

Clockwise from top left; Jupiter, Mercury and Venus.

 Twilight was over by the time I headed back. I could just see Labyrinth. There was no moon but the Milky Way filled the night sky.  My home, floating out there on the wine dark sea. As I brought the dinghy in, I could see Jolene inside, making dinner in the galley, a tiny picture of domesticity framed by a vast spread of stars.

28 May 2013 – Pulau Singa Besar: Kidnap

I was up and ashore by 0830 the next morning. The low tide was over 200m from the shore so I tied the dinghy off on some heavy rocks and put out the fishermen’s anchor as a stern anchor. I expected it to be high tide when I returned, meaning the dinghy would in 2m depth of water.

The highest point on the island was 300m in altitude and the ridges and creeklines looked steep and unforgiving. I wanted to be back at Labyrinth by 1300 as there was other work to be done so I didn’t expect to get all the way across the island and back in that time. However, since I was exploring some new territory I carried a day pack with communications, medkit, 24 hours of food and water and other items in case the trip did not go according to plan. I was going to check in with Jolene hourly and she was to raise the alarm if she hadn’t heard from me by 1400.

I crossed the mangroves without difficulty and easily found the small tunnel which marked the start of the path. It was clearly rarely used as leaf litter and deadfall covered it all along its length. However it had been marked with small red and white plastic ties acting as trail blazes. It would have been impossible to follow the path without these blazes. Even so, they were often obscured by growth or crushed by deadfall and often I would have to cut the trail looking for the next blaze to follow.

The path ran along the north side of the large lake and then followed a narrow creekline up into the hill. The rise was quite gentle at this point and I made good time. The vegetation was old, tall trees and there was not much undergrowth to slow me down. Visibility was good as well so there were not often need for the blazes.

The relief map showed that there were three dams on the creek and the path crossed the third and highest dam and then climbed a hill to the south of the creek. I was soon at the third dam, which was around five metres across. The dam itself was full of dead vegetation.  Tiny clear shrimp swum energetically in circles and large predatory boatsmen skimmed along the surface.

I crossed the dam and then headed up the hill. It was incredibly steep and very over grown. There was some wire netting strung up beneath the trees and a few trees were marked with machette strokes but no red and white plastic blazes. After a hundred metres it was clear that something was not right. I was climbing on all fours and there had been no signs for fifty metres. The undergrowth had thickened as I had got higher and now it was impossible to pass without me hacking a new path.

I descended back to the third dam. I backtracked to confirm that the that I had not lost the path but yes, it definitely did lead to the dam. The north side of the creek was now impassable so it was clear I could not follow that side. But the south side seemed just as bad. The only was on seemed to be up the creek. The sides of the valley were now quite steep and the creek was shallow and filled with small boulders. The water was flowing quite slowly. I moved carefully around the dam and began to follow the creek. It wasn’t long before I was rewarded by a red and white blaze dangling from a vine and I knew I had found the way.

The banks of the creek rose and it was not long before I was scrambling up a narrow canyon. There were many waterfalls with clear fresh water tumbling over moss slicked rocks. At no time was the creek impassable, however it was not without a few challenges. There was only one difficult cliff and someone had helpfully left ropes tied to the top to assist in my passage.

Finally two red trail blazes were strung across the creek at head height. Looking around,  I saw one on the south bank and then another twenty metres up the slope. I had found the south ascent I was looking for. Either the old map was incorrect or someone had re-routed the track to avoid a change in the terrain. Regardless, I felt very pleased and confident in my efforts so far. To have found an old map, made a supposition about its features and then have them proved right was a thrill and I continued up the hill in high spirits.

However the delays with the path and the difficult terrain in the creek had eaten up time and I knew now that there was no chance I would make it across and back. Instead I resolved to get as far as I could along before turnaround time. Allowing for two hours including safety margin for my return, this meant I would begin to head back at 1100.

 The trail was completely overgrown but clearly marked with blazes – sometimes only ten or twenty metres apart, such was the thickness of the undergrowth. The hills were quite steep and I could see why this was never a popular tourist destination. Between the indistinct path, steepness of the terrain, humidity and temperature of the jungle and the slippery, sometimes difficult creek, this walk was for experienced bushwalkers or trekkers only.

 Another annoying hazard were vicious wait-a-while vines which hung innocuously across the path. These had horrible barbed hooks which would greedily grab at you if you brushed against them and dug into your skin with great ease. They were coupled with a large fern tree which, while it looked  innocuous, had long needle like thorns lurking beneath soft lush leaves. These caused you to treat any branch you had to duck under or brush out of the way with great trepidation.

The path crested the ridgeline and steeply descended the other side. There was a narrow creek and I slowly approached. My caution was rewarded when I spotted some movement and froze. There was a wild pig staring across the creek at me. These timid creatures were rarely seen and I was amazed to be so close to one. I moved my hand to my camera and it was gone, shouldering aside the undergrowth and bolting into the jungle without a moments hesitation.

I climbed the far ridgeline and saw that it was approaching 1100. I was pleased with how far I had come and my success at following the path so did not feel too disappointed that it was time to turn around. I dropped my pack to have a rest and had a little look around. Somewhere I had picked up a leech but a hot match convinced it to let go.  Some faded and dying palm fronds had been cut and tied together to form a small bivouac. Nearby I found a recently fired shotgun cartridge and I began to wonder what was going on here!

I guessed it was a small hunters camp that someone from Langkawi was using to take potshots at the wild pigs. The island was a wildlife reserve, which unfortunately meant it was more likely to attract poachers as this was where there were still animals left to hunt. But I could find nothing more to support this idea and so left it as a mystery for another day.

The return trip was much easier – as they always are – and it only took me an hour to make it back to the shore. I was pleased to see my dinghy was where I left it, although of course now it was high tide so that meant it was 200 metres off shore. But I soon had it back in and was back at Labyrinth where Jolene was there to greet me with a cold drink.

It was a well timed return as not much later I heard the roar of engines and the churning thump of helicopter rotor blades. A pair of speedboats rounded the headland with a small helicopter flying just above them, a cameraman leaning out the window. “Looks like the celebrities are here!” called Jolene.

The speedboat sped around Labyrinth and headed into shore. The chopper peeled off and made a few low passes over Labyrinth, with the director who we had met yesterday leaning out the passenger side door and waving at us frantically as the cameraman filmed us waving back. “I guess we’re on the show,” I said.

We spent the rest of the afternoon watching the drama of Kidnap play out on the shore. Although we couldn’t see the pink sea slug eating and shooting competition, the final test was a kayak along the shoreline to a zipline that stretched between the main island to a small islet, where the competitors had to paddle a surfboard out to a finish line at a buoy. The red Bomba fastboat was zipping back and forth with a camera crew and what had to be the show’s host on board – who else would be wearing a grey suit in a boat in the tropics?

What the show’s producers didn’t realise that this narrow gap between the islands and the islet was used by the day-tripping tourist boats as a short cut at high tide, when the water was deep enough to allow their passage. They had been an annoyance to us for the last couple of days as they would pass at top speed, throwing out a massive wake that sent Labyrinth rocking. Most now decided that several fireboats and a helicopter was enough reason to go the longer way around the islet.

But some must have seen it as a challenge as they roared in, dodging the boats full of frantically waving firemen, only to hit the zipline at twenty or thirty knots, bringing them to an abrupt stop with a loud twanging noise and great tumbling of tourists flying off their seats. “This show is going to be great!” said Jolene as the second boat ran into the line at full tilt.

Challenge accepted

29 May 2013 – Return to Rebak

We decided that it was time to return to Rebak Island. The trip had been a complete success and, although I still wanted to complete the island crossing, we had only planned to be out for five days. We wanted to head south to Singapore and then into the South China Sea and, as the monsoon was finally setting in, the sooner we left the better. I had originally planned to leave Rebak at the end of May – now with only a few days left we put that back two weeks to finish some final provisioning and maintenance.

Keris left a few hours before us and, although we delayed with a last swim on the beautiful white beach, it was soon time for us to weigh anchor. Fishermen were laying long nets across the channel and Jolene got up on the roof with binoculars to spot for their floats and guide me around them.

  There was a gentle swell rolling in from the north and the sky was bright and blue. Eagles rose on updrafts cast by the soaring cliffs.  It was a brilliant new day, a new day at sea, where everything seems possible and all things were filled with limitless potential and any direction could be the way.