Maliau Basin: Sabah's Lost World

In February, 2014, I traveled to Sabah (one of the Malaysian states on the island of Borneo). My purpose there was to collect samples of the insect and microbial communities that live inside of the carnivorous Nepenthes pitcher plant "cups" (modified leaves filled with pools of rainwater and plant digestive enzymes). Here is some of my writing from a once-in-a-lifetime visit to Maliau Basin, a conservation area also called "Sabah's Lost World" due to its remoteness. The rainforest has never been logged or lived in, and was only recently explored by scientists; so it is one of the few remaining places of pristine wilderness in the world. I led a research expedition with a few Malaysian graduate students and my partner, Dan. This first photo is what Maliau Basin looks like from space (in Google Earth).

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Misty clouds curl around hills covered in thick jungle, Shorea and Agathis overstory trees stretch high above the canopy. Elegant raised walkways connect dining room, sleeping area, a majestic archway for visitor registration, all constructed of heavy dark-red ironwood. The doors of my room open directly to the rainforest, a symphony of unknown creatures (frog? monkey? bird?).

Then endless steep up and up to Nepenthes Camp (formerly Camel Trophy, constructed in 48 hours in 1993). I stop to take a breath every three almost-vertical steps, flicking leeches from my muddy shoes at intermittent rest stops. Sweat pours in rivers down all surfaces. Finally at the basin's rim a cool breeze caresses. The ground falls away behind trees on both sides to tantalizing glimpses of a steep drop and blue mountains. The forest changes, and our first pitcher plants sporadically appear along the path. Now in mysterious mossy woods, thick green carpets wind up tree bases like broad velvet skirts raised above waists. Bright yellow and orange fungi decorate the moss, the fancy jewelry of the forest.

Stream crossings lead--at last--to camp, perched above a treeless helipad densely covered with ferns. Others (including our speedy porters) are already there. We rest, drink more water, sit gratefully still, feel the muscles, a little ill. Dinner is always instant noodles. Can't wait to sleep, but our second level (rat poo) bunk beds fill with the toxic fumes of burning plastic from the cooking fire below. Doesn't mesh with the pristine never-logged never-lived-in wilderness of it all, but ah well, this is what happens when the convenience of plastic packaging reaches that world.

"Nepenthes paradise garden" fills the next day: more blankets of soft brilliant mossy green, white sandy soil, and the small trees of the kerangas forest. Winding vines of opulent flared golden pitchers twist around trunks. Neon hybrids with candy stripes. Red calico patches and eye-spots, diminutive hairy tentacles, hungry oval mouths. We take photos, carefully number tags, write GPS coordinates. In the dwindling light back at camp, a slender civet cat visits, eating scraps tossed into the woods.

The third day we walk to two waterfalls. Marking pitchers along the way under a misty raincloud. Our sore muscles clamber down steep cliffsides, dreading the return. Takob Akob waterfall is idyllic, perfect for a vacation postcard. We eat lunch sheltered in a shallow cave; roots hang from the ceiling above. Although it is cold, I can't miss the chance to swim through the deep pool to the crashing water's edge. Standing on the rocks next to pounding heavy water is exhilarating. The next waterfall is Dan's favorite. Flat slabs, like enormous stone steps, drop out of sight covered in thin layers of red tea water. We are on the edge of a tropical world.

Camp has a treehouse, a platform one hundred feet high. The skinny metal ladder requires multiple rest stops during ascent. We leave a handmade wooden dodecahedron covered in all of our American and Malaysian signatures, a small token of our appreciation.

The last day of fieldwork is early morning packing and then pitcher plant sampling over and over and over (taking much longer than planned) before a long, knee-breaking, slip-sliding descent back to the research center. Showering the sweat, mud, and memory of leeches off my skin is luxurious.

Dealing with samples is a long process, measuring pH, recording volume, filtering some, culturing from others, adding preservative. At midnight the generator shuts off, and I am left in the research lab in pure darkness. The last samples have to be finished with only the light of a headlamp and my ethanol burner.

The next day, we clean up, carefully pack samples, spy monkeys and giant ants along paths, and walk through beautiful tree-top canopy bridges (sponsored by Ikea). Confusion with our ride back means Dan and I get to stay one extra lovely relaxed day at the Maliau Basin.

On the drive out, we notice the paved road has expanded even closer to the conservation area's entrance during our eight days inside. The empty peacefulness of the research station may not last much longer, as the Maliau Basin becomes easier to access. I hope it is respectfully relished for the rare experience of old-growth Southeast Asian rainforest, for many generations into the future.

Bako National Park in Sarawak, Borneo

I've been wanting to write this post for over a year, and I am finally doing it. Here are photos from my March 2013 visit to Bako, a gorgeous preserve on a small peninsula near the city of Kuching in Malaysian Borneo. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.

I was traveling alone, and the park was a perfect, safe place to visit and stay a couple nights. My boat arrived in the early afternoon, to a sandy beach surrounded by the strange shapes of limestone cliffs.

 

 Immediately I went on a hike. Macaque monkeys lounged in the sun along the first part of the trail. As the path increased in elevation, lush tropical foliage transitioned into sandy white soils and small, stunted trees. Lovely Nepenthes pitcher plant vines grew over the trees, and some were flowering!

 

  

 

Sweaty and happy, I arrived at the beach. It was lovely, nestled between cliffs covered in brilliant green tropical plants. The water was so warm and salty that it was not refreshing, but the green ocean was beautiful.

   

Some of the cliffs were fantastically colored: purple, green, yellow and blue, above the white sand and the orange water of a tannin-filled stream.

The park headquarters had sleeping cabins and a large, open cafeteria where cheap meals were served three times a day. The food was simple, yet tasty, and the hostel was rustic, but nice. In my shared room I met two friendly Danish girls who went on a long loop hike with me on my second day. A highlight of the walk was a waterfall and swimming hole, with very red water. The dark, rich color is from tannins in the tropical leaves.

One of the reasons Bako is so special is the variety of ecosystems contained within a small area. A one-hour hike may pass through trails densely covered in networks of roots shaded beneath plants with large green leaves, then over sandy exposed soils and pitcher plants, and along black pockmarked volcanic rocks with stunted conifers. 

  

Because Bako is Borneo's oldest National Park, and because it is inaccessible from land, it has been well protected from poachers. This means animals are abundant and not too afraid of humans.  I got quite close to a family of round-bellied, long-nosed, leaf-eating Proboscis monkeys.

  

Bornean bearded pigs (with their dainty little feet that look like high-heels) wallowed in mud pools around the living areas. 

 

A camouflaged green pit viper watched people walk past on the path.  

 

On a great night walk led by one of the park rangers, I saw a colugo (sometimes called a flying lemur), tree frogs, many huge spiders and stick insects, and lots of sleeping birds.

  

Sunsets after dinner were amazing...

 

...with baby bearded pigs traipsing along the ocean's edge. 

  

I highly recommend Bako to anyone who has a chance to visit.

Fun-a-day Bugs

 This past January,  I made a wire and bead insect every day (approximately) for the whole month. Some days I forgot or didn't have time, and others days I made a few all at once, but the final product was 30 funny little buggies. It was for Boston fun-a-day, and the insects were displayed together at the end of April in the fun-a-day yearly art show, at the Aviary Gallery.

Photos of each are shown below, along with them all in the display case (an actual entomology drawer).

Wildlife of the Florida panhandle

The pitcher plants in Florida are found in longleaf pine savannas in the Apalachicola National Forest. In the photo above you can see the tall Sarracenia flava pitchers, surrounded by sticky carnivorous sundews, catching the late morning light.

 Sarracenia minor is beautiful, with colorful stained-glass-window translucent sections of the leaf. Insects fly inside and are tricked by the light coming through the back of the pitcher, which makes it more difficult to find a way out.

 Sarracenia leucophylla is more rare in this region, and has striking red and white coloration.

 While excitedly approaching a rare species, I almost stepped on this giant cottonmouth (water moccasin), who reared up and hissed at me. The fattest part of its body was about as big as my thigh, and I was all alone, on deserted dirt roads, with no cell phone service or snake bite kit. Luckily it left me alone.

Creatures seem to love perching on the tall Sarracenia flava pitchers. The most adorable tiny frog basked in the sun atop one, and many large green spiders used the outlooks as a place to catch unsuspecting butterflies, right out of the air.

Montana trip

3 images of Glacier National Park from the level of an insect: