Looks like the software's picked the wrong one.... again...

To get to the national park from the cameron highlands seemed, on a map, not too great a leap. of course, the area we had to cover WAS national park, tea plantations and mountains. not, admittedly, fast moving territory. mary and i had a bit of a "discussion" about which way we HAD to go in order to get to the middle of the park - i was adamant that we could get a reasonably direct transfer somehow (i mean, there just must be one.... the people who live here can't possibly have to go to K.L. all the time) but my beloved companion felt differently. so we went and booked tickets for a boat and bus combo - they take you fairly close to where you'll be staying, then chuck you in the river with a big engine and some bits and bobs of wood and the whole contraption floats you up to the main town in a jiffy. sounded dandy...

our bus driver was, presumably from the way he spoke about the locals, not himself a local. from his stories and general knowledge (which he imparted constantly throughout the journey to the lucky couple in the front seats) certainly had a leaning toward pakistan, but we really weren't certain. in any case, he liked dogs. he believed they were good, and pointed every one out along the route. believe me, there are a lot of wild dogs in malaysia. too many to feign enthusiasm after a couple of hundred of grim smiles. he also explained to us that the dogs are not welcome in the local towns because the people have misunderstood or misinterpreted the teachings of the Q'ran and believe that it tells them not to have dogs. but they can. that one came up a lot and the couple in the front looked genuinely terrified - clearly suffering from that all-too-common difficulty of knowing how to get out of an imminent conversation about religion. in any event, they failed.

also on the bus, surprisingly, was my next door neighbour from hall in first year of uni, who we'd met already in melaka (also by chance). he and his companion were suffering from the night before and were no doubt delighted when the minibus, after weaving its way up and down the swirling roads a little, pulled onto a deserted motorway - completely new. the guide/driver informed us it still wasn't quite finished and wasn't technically open to the public, but since it was empty in both directions he was free to drive as recklessly quick as he wanted, using all four lines to navigate corners without the least bit of tilt or incline to make the passengers feel queasy!

eventually we arrived at the dock, after briefly losing one of the german passengers in our toilet-stop town when he'd nipped into kfc. the driver was furious and walked back through all the shops 'til he found him. we all sat in the back of the bus and giggled, exchanging little comments like "someone's going to be in trouble"..... it WAS earrly in the morning.

at the boat stop they tried to sell us return tickets, transfers to majorca, blue whales... pretty much anything under the sun could be organised by your good friends by the water, but we just weren't feeling it, so we had some food instead, then boarded the boat. alongside, as we heard western voices saying "there ARE life-jackets, aren't there?" there were some boys pulling off a most fantastic scam. they'd stuck an eel onto a hook, and an ugly eel it was too, then they were lowering it into the river, waiting a little while, then clamouring, getting excited, and offering to sell you the right to take a photo of the cute kids who'd just caught an eel - and what an ugly eel.... yes. well, marks out of ten for trying, but no thanks.

the boat was a long one with about two milimetres of clearance from the waves. we sat, two by two, snugly in line. the super-tourists were picked out instantly by their wearing the lifejackets, much to the amusement of the boat crew - i think they knew something we didn't about the effectiveness of said devices.... anyway. the journey itself took a few hours - it was good fun and a great way to see wildlife, from monkeys to birds to buffalo - but the problem was the rain. it arrived about halfway and set in. fair play, we had a roof. but the bags were all up front, covered by a stretched tarp. when mary collected her bag at the other end, it was soaked. possibly from below, as well as from above. anyway, it didn't take long before it all started to honk - not audibly, but painfully indeed.

you land on a floating platform, some three metres from the land. your bridge to civilisation is a boot-width, sodding wet plank of wood, sploshed liberally by the waves from passing boats,  which shakes and moves in time with the pier. now this is real fun when you're going to dinner or for a drink, and as all the bars, cafes and whatever else have a similar setup, you do get used to it. WITH your big bags though, it's a different story. we were lucky, not skilled, in avoiding a soaking. that much was abundantly clear from the sounds behind us as we walked on towards out accomodation - the Durian Chalet, set in a Durian plantation. may sound an odd choice of lodgings, but actually it was grand. didn't smell of durian at all, we had to walk through a rubber plantation to get to it, and that in itself was interesting, but being some 500 metres from the town itself, and the town itself being fairly small, we got the full effect of the jungle noises at night and the skies were something else altogether.

here, we encountered leach number one, but that's tomorrow's story....