Time for Tea

We were to be up early for our action packed day and after a few introductions we set off in, of course, a Land Rover, at just gone eight o'clock. I hoped it wasn't the law to wear seatbelts in Malaysia as nobody seemed to, indeed, the Land Rover didn't even have any - I was sat in the front again. We drove for around an hour through hill farms full of heavily laden plants with fruiting bodies. With the removal of the rainforest and the sharp elevation of the landscape, it was clear to see that soil erosion was unfortunately an issue. There were some breathtaking views as we swooped down hillsides along the ever twisting roads. We briefly stopped in a lay-by before heading off-road and into the jungle.

The initial stretch of dirt track was a steep climb and I shouldn't have been surprised to see the old Defender cope with it with ease. Its aging capabilities were, however, matched by the heavily and deeply grooved track from the almost daily downpours. The Land Rover managed to tackle it for the most part until suddenly it slid about a metre into a trench causing the alarmed French in the back to start screaming. We were now at a near forty five degree angle, and at serious risk of turning over. Our driver, and guide for the day, opted for speed rather than caution or precision and as such we became fast. I would have been worried but we were so far tipped over (on my side) that the distance to the ground wasn't very much so, at worst, I would have had a few cuts from the smashed window and a bruised arm from the driver landing on top of me. After a few failed attempts to right the vehicle the driver ordered us to get out. The people in the back could do so by way of the back door but being sat in the front I had to climb out of the window, which being the old sliding type wasn't the easiest of tasks. He eventually crept free and back at one hundred and eighty degrees, or more like fifty degrees due to the incline, we climbed back inside to continue our drive through the jungle.

Three quarters of an hour later we arrived at a small clearing where a water-filled ravine put an end to the drive, it was all on foot from here. The trek started with a seriously precarious crossing over a rickety, loosely bound, bridge made from slippery bamboo. We clambered over fallen trees and climbed up rocky outcrops in search of the world's largest flower. I couldn't belief my eyes when I saw a couple people that had come in a second Land Rover join our group. The man of must have been about sixty five but it wasn't his age I found ridiculous. Walking as if at a dinner dance with his left of smartly tucked behind his back, he staggered painfully behind wearing a full suit and matching brogues. I couldn't believe his choice of attire and he suffered as a result falling and slipping at seemingly every opportunity, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed for him.

The trek was wonderful, surrounded with an array of brightly coloured flora and fauna. Strange flowers and fruits hung from trees or sat ominously on the ground. Tiny bees landed on our moist arms and legs during a break and we were advised just to let them harvest the salt from our skin to prevent being stung. Butterflies erratically flapped around our heads as we set off to see the reason for our trip. We forded babbling brooks and saw the occasional waterfall. The parasitic flower is understandably rare, flowering for just 5-6 days every two to ten years. I was extremely lucky as it was day three of bloom for the flower we were going to see which meant it was at its biggest and most colourful, apparently being orange and red and the size of the Land Rover wheel. Due to the nature of its flowering habits the tour cannot occur for most of the year.

'And it's here, in the dense, humid rainforests of Malaysia, that we are witness to the magnificent Rafflesia flower' I could hear the pioneering legend that is Sir David Attenborough in my head as we drew ever closer. I remember being in my early teens and watching Wildlife On One as he enthusiastically talked about his remarkable stumbling upon this extraordinary find. I could still here him.

We were briefed on the 'Dos and Don'ts' and then allowed to progress alone to discover the flower. The first thing to hit me was its sheer size and the wheel analogy was no exaggeration, more like an understatement. It was sat at the bottom of a tree looking ready to gobble up any passerby with its enormous goblet centre, with five huge, flat, blunt petals attached, which inside had a disc encrusted with large but pliable spikes. The whole thing was various shades of orange and red from rust to tangerine and was speckled with white spots. It could have easily been fake, though it was obvious it wasn't, as it looked so unusually out of place in its surrounding sat with detritus on the forest floor. It looked like, once fertilised, it would grow into a Triffid and attempt world domination. There were small cannonball shaped objects that our guide informed us were buds but he didn't know how many months it would be until they blossomed.

We walked back to the car and had a dip in a mountain pool, beneath a small waterfall, on the way then set off to retrace our tracks in the Landie. We'd had our turn to get stuck and it wasn't long before we came across someone that had done the same. Somehow, he had managed to get himself wedged almost perpendicular to the track and after watching him struggle for ten minutes our guide decided to get the rope and pull him out. Our next stop was at a small aborigine village where we had a short talk before blowpipe demonstrations and the chance to have a go.

The rain started to come down thick and fast as we drove to Sungai Palas, one of the BOH tea plantations that is still owned by the same Scottish family that started it eighty years ago. On arrival, we were given a tour of the small factory and watched the tea making process, of which I had no previous idea about beyond the drying of the leaves. The machinery was the original, now eighty year old, models making it feel like a visit to Beamish's exotic counterpart. Tractors drove around with hessian sacks full of tea leaves while others took away the ground product of varying coarsenesses. The factory had a contemporary cafe and shop which overhung the tea fields from one of the hills, providing breath taking views. It felt really special to witness these delicate hills filled with thousands of tea bushes all trimmed to the same squat height for easy picking. Viewed from a distance, they looked like a giant maze of tiny alleys where one could easily get lost. The workers, with their woven hats stood out as they wandered the maze tending to their crop. The vast sea of textured greenness was magnificent and after a slice of strawberry cake and a sample of tea I could have starred at the nicely contoured landscape forever.

After a couple of stops along the way to admire the view and learn about the management of the plants and how the leaves are harvested, we drove to the top of Mount Brinchang and climbed the tower to be rewarded with a view of the surrounding hills and mountains which were draped with low clouds. Peaks, the colour of Malecite, jutted out above the cloud and mist, peeking mysteriously as the evening light faded. We had a walk through the high altitude forest, called mossy forest, that can only exist above a certain height. Carnivorous pitcher plants hung with curtains of dark green moss amongst the gnarled and ancient trees.

We started the drive back to the guest house but only to be thwarted by a team resurfacing the steep road, the only one down the mountain. We parked, after a fight between the driver and the handbrake, and watched the men work laying the steaming tarmac. I was quizzed, one that had started on the morning trek, about my course, my trip and my life by two curious Australian teenagers travelling with their English parents who seemed to want to know what it was like to be a 'young grownup'. I was happy to talk to them, trying my hardest to inspire them to live their dream, whatever that might be, and convince them of the virtues of school and university, in an attempt to quash the anti-education thoughts that most teenagers have; they were both clearly academic types. Eventually, we were allowed over the soft virgin road surface and heading for home in the darkness. En route I got a text from Naomi telling me that I'd passed my exams! I hadn't been able to check owing to the early start and time difference so I was thrilled, as were my fellow trekkers, to hear the news. I could continue my journey with true piece of mind.

The Cameron Highlands, whilst an idyllic location, was not really one for celebrating so I revisited the restaurant I'd been to previously, which the guide said was the best in town, and opted for 'Mutton with sauce' and an apple lassi. It came out in a big clay pot and was bubbling and steaming so after a letting it calm down I tucked into what was a delicious meal, despite its name. Satiated, I returned to the Guest House in the pouring rain and planned my last day.

The next morning, I went to Kumar's to have breakfast. I blindly picked something from the breakfast selection and I was pleasantly surprised when an A4 size double layered fried flatbread filled with eggs and onions and lamb, was brought out with a small dish of curry sauce, the combination was delicious. With it, I had a Milo Ice, a chocolate malt drink that I discovered when in Malaysia the year before and on landing had restarted my addiction to it. Having been to Malaysia several times before, Mia also knew of the deliciousness and had found it in the UK a few weeks earlier but it just wasn't as good as the real thing.

It was a glorious day in the Highlands so I decided that I would revisit the tea plantation in full day light. I loved it so much that I had to go back - I was eager to be amazed once more. The cafe, factory and shop were all situated 2km from the main road and it was this walk through the tea plantation that I wanted to do. I was dumped at the roadside next to some stalls selling local fruit and started the walk along the hilly twisted road to the cafe. The slow walk through the hill fields provided some of the most amazing and absorbing views that constantly changed due to the sharply changing landscape - my breath was taken all over again. Up close, the age of the lichen covered plants was apparent and I stole a leaf to inspect it. They were wider and longer than I had imagined and almost brittle but devoid of that classic tea smell. It was an enchanting walk through the hills, one that made the trip to the Highlands worthwhile. Many pictures later I passed through a cluster of houses, presumably where the workers lived with their families, before arriving at the cafe where I, again, indulged in tea and cake.

Like yesterday, I planned to climb the mountain again, but this time on foot. I did, however, accept a lift by a friendly, if slightly fraught , lady who was going my way but driving a friends large car which didn't suit the steep and winding roads of the plantation. We talked about what we were both doing in the Cameron Highlands and she said that she'd seen me in the cafe taking pictures. I was dropped at the foot of the mountain and at the start of the 7km ascent. I was more than willing to walk the distance but was offered another lift, this time from a young Malaysian couple from Melaka who wanted to know about life in England. As a thank you, I took them on the mossy forest walk. From there I walked another couple of kilometres to the trig point where I started my trek down the mountain - trail 1 of the 14 walks in the Cameron Highlands. It was advertised as a very steep two hour, arduous walk along a slightly ambiguous trail. The trail started well with a signpost and a gentle descent which quickly turned into one where I had to brush the undergrowth from in front of my face and try and avoid the boggy, water logged areas that made the now steep path more treacherous. I was climbing down rocks and hanging off trees' roots and branches when I came across a temporary plateau that seemed unusually flat and smooth. I didn't stop to think that I might sink up to my ankles in thick, brown, peaty mud when I started to walk across it so I was glad of my Goretex shoes which kept my feet nice and dry.

About halfway down I caught up to some Czechs who were also enjoying the walk. They marvelled at my platypus and its ingenuity while one of the women found it disgusting. They enjoyed telling me about their multiple and highly enjoyable trips to London but I couldn't stop too long so I trudged on and left them with their cigarettes. At various points, where the path became extremely steep, there were thick ropes tied to trees but there was too much give in them to be of much use. I could hear the chattering of primates in the trees but knew not where they were. It was a strange and slightly disconcerting feeling knowing they were watching my every move. Astonishingly, the land levelled out and I was at the Army Base and the main road of the town of Brinchang after only an hour and twenty minutes so I didn't have to worry about being back late.

Wandering through the hectic market I spotted weird and wonderful things on sale, mainly food. There were deep fried whole crabs and delicately wrapped prawns stuffed with various vegetables and every other combination in between, or so it seemed. I wanted to sample each one but didn't know when the buses would cease so, as I spotted one across the road, darted through the passing Land Rovers to catch it. This was a local bus for local people and as such was growing things it shouldn't have been, had mesh where it should have had panes of glass, had exposed wiring where it should have had buttons and had a conductor of probably the same age but they all just added to the fun of local transport - at least it was quick.

Back at Kumar's, I was now getting the great Kumar himself coming out to welcome and seat me. It was a cool night so a seat next to the Tandoori oven, with its raging belly of fire, was nice plus it meant that I could watch the chef throw in the naan bread onto its clay walls or put in long skewers of Tandoori chicken. A nice feature of many of these Asian eateries is that all the food is cooked and prepared among the tables and customers rather than in a kitchen in the back full of swearing, sweating chefs. I was recommended the Banana Leaf which was an actual banana leaf with several dollops of different dishes and sauces, rice and poppadoms.

Back in my room with a belly full of yummy food, I turned my light off to go to bed. Immediately, some kind of fauna, which was a little too close to my ear, starting calling to something else which thankfully remained silent.

I was up at six in the morning ready for my bus to Ipoh. It was pitch black and pouring with torrential rain. There was no one in reception and no sign that anyone would be imminently so I left a note saying thanks and goodbye, I had no alternative but to check myself out.

I walked down the garden steps for the final time and got some delicious Indian breakfast from the only open restaurant before leaving in the bus at eight o'clock. The drive to Ipoh followed a tortuous path through the mountains passing slow long wheelbase, fixed chassis lorries full to bursting with watermelons along the way. We were in Ipoh within two hours but I was the only one alighting as everyone else was heading north to Penang.

In search of a bus to Taiping I stumbled into the bus station where a rack of women, all hanging out of their booths, saw my pale skin and synonymously started chanting "KL, KL, Kuala Lumpur, Kuala Lumpur, Kuala Lumpur, Kuala Lumpur. Pudu Raya, Pudu Raya, KL, KL, KL!" waving vigorously as they did so. I reluctantly walked over, the women reaching crescendo as I did so. I asked for a ticket to Taiping and was immediately referred to another booth where I was quickly given a ticket and told that I would be taken to the bus when it came. The chanting continued after my purchase with every new flurry of people in an effort to drum up some custom. I sat and scoffed a Milo ice cream, next to a large pan of bubbling sweet corn, in the obviously much warmer atmosphere of the lower altitude. I was now a thousand metres or so closer to sea level. As I sat next to an old lady dressed head to toe in fuchsia pink I got out my laptop to continue writing and couldn't help but laugh when the lady from whom I had just bought a bus ticket changed her chant to include Taiping. It was evident that she was tailoring her sales technique to demand.