Let it flow

After breakfast with the monkeys, we were back on the van and headed to the river. We unloaded at a small village adjacent to a river. We were fitted for a life-jacket, put in a small boat, given a brief paddling tutorial, and shoved into the Sarawak Kiri River. Kiri, which means ‘left’, is a tributary which joins the Sarawak Kanan, or ‘right’, downriver to become the Sungai Sarawak River, which is an important source of water, food and transportation for the inhabitants of southwest Sarawak.

The river meandered quietly and serenely along its path through the jungle. Overgrown trees cradled the river, creating sufficient cover from the bold afternoon equatorial sun. We gently paddled, mostly allowing the water to pull us along, while we were staring intently at the leafy palm trees, ferns, and other abundant foliage lining the banks. Impressive limestone formations randomly cropped up along the shores dwarfed only by the mountain peaks on the horizon.

After traveling 4 km on the river we reached a sandy bank just beyond a suspension bridge that linked the two shorelines. We exited our kayaks and climbed up the roughly made steps to a small village at the top.

The small village, Kampung Danu, is a favorite lunch spot along the river due to the immaculate way it is kept with gardens, fruit trees and flowers. A local brought out for us a lunch of ginger soy sauce chicken, steamed rice, okra and some kind of greens that resembled spinach. It was all very tasty, and contributed to a refreshing afternoon break.

The small village had a surprising variety of produce growing, which ranged from typical tropical fruits like pineapples, papayas and coconuts to pepper corn plants, and an impressive variety of herbs and spices.

Back on the river, we began the remaining 7 km of our journey. The river picked up a little bit at this point, and there were a few more rapids to navigate. Our kayak picked up a little also, but it picked up water and somehow trapped it inside the plastic hull. The added weight from the water (not from our lunch, mind you) and the constant sloshing back and forth of the confined water would cause the kayak to tip one side and then the other, which made navigating quite a bit more challenging. It was hard to concentrate on the kayak when nature continued to beckon at every turn in the river. Majestic mountain peaks towered overhead, and unknown sounds and rustling rattled from the thick vegetation along the water’s edge.

Near the end of our trek, we stopped for a few minutes at a popular swimming hole to cool off in the cold waters before continuing around the bend to the take out point. By this time the water in our kayak had reached serious levels and navigating was becoming even more difficult. It took all our concentration and balance to keep the kayak upright. With the end only 10 feet away, we relaxed our concentration and immediately the kayak flipped over. Bryan emerged from the water shouting “My camera fell in!”. It had been on his lap and although waterproof, it was not secured at that point.  The water here was a think murky brown and rushing very quickly, and visibility was zero. We both dove under water repeatedly, feeling the stony waterbed with no success.  It was not to be found. About the time we were ready to give up, one of our guides from about twenty yards downstream hollered that he had found the camera. He had spotted the shiny blue camera as it was washing downstream and was able to retrieve it. Greatly relieved, and amazingly lucky, we exited the river and we were soon back in the van for our return ride to the hotel.

It was a beautiful adventure, and full of eye candy for the soul. Several times during the float I commented on how amazing it was to be paddling in a kayak down a jungle river in Borneo. Just a few months ago I would never have dreamed of the possibility. Now it was a reality, and we rested and reflected on the experience.