We had a very heavy day on Saturday, or rather the boatmen had, as the Madalam was little more than a succession of shallows, up which the boats had either to be poled or hauled. At one place there was a steep, rocky rapid, indeed a cascade, where we had to unship all our baggage while the boats were hauled up a miniature waterfall. All day the men were nearly as often in the water as out of it; they worked very well and cheerfully. We stopped that afternoon at the junction of the Trunan (or Trikan) with the Madalam.
Sunday, January 22nd.—The Trikan is a very narrow river—practically a stream. We were now no longer bothered with shallows or rapids, but with trees that had fallen across the channel. Some of these we crept under, others were well above our heads, some we dodged round, while others had to be cut away.
We passed some durian trees, and the ripe fruit was floating in the water or had fallen on to the banks. Our men collected these with joy, and soon we had the extremely unpleasant odour of durian around us. Durian is a large fruit with long, hard spines. When ripe it is yellow and red externally; the thick rind has to be chopped open, and within four compartments are the large bean-like seeds, surrounded by a slimy paste which has a variable and indescribable taste. The first durian we tasted was on the steam launch going to Brunei; this was not quite ripe, and the stink of the fruit, combined with the hot oily smell of the engines, was not encouraging. We persevered, but the flavour was a mixture of slime, onions, and phosphorus, and all that afternoon and evening we had resurrection tastes of phosphorus. Wallace, in his Malay Archipelago, and others, have written in praise of durian; so there is another side to it, but our first experience was certainly not promising. The one I tasted in the Trikan was nothing like so unpleasant as the first two I tried. I made three attempts in all, and then gave up all hope of becoming a confirmed durian eater.
In about two and a half hours we came to a narrow channel, about five hundred yards long, cut by the Kayans for the passage of the war canoes, as the stream itself runs under a large rock. Shortly after passing this rock we heard a shout; we yelled, an answer was returned, and we were rejoiced to find we had made connection with the party sent to meet us.
It appears that Hose had left for the interior before hearing from Limbang that we had arrived. He took McDougall with him, as the famous and powerful chief, Tama Bulan, was very ill. Mr. R. S. Douglas, the Extra Officer of Baram, read Mr. Ricketts’ letter, and kindly came on himself with some men to meet us. He had started on Tuesday, the 17th, and arrived at the trysting-place half an hour before we did! He had gone about a hundred and ten miles by boat, and we had gone about ninety miles. The greater part of both our routes had been difficult travelling, and yet everything was so well arranged by Messrs. Hose, Ricketts, and Douglas that we synchronously arrived at the spot agreed upon in the depth of the jungle.
We soon settled our plans and then had tiffin. At two o’clock we started for our tramp across the watershed to the upper waters of the Malinau River. For about half-way we followed the track cut by the Kayans, along which they used to haul their canoes, and to facilitate this arduous labour they had lain trunks and poles transversely across the track. We had a rapid and interesting seven-mile walk through the jungle, and I made my first acquaintance with land leeches. We diverged from the main track to a narrower one, which led us several times over streams and small rivers, across which we had to wade.
About five o’clock we had reached the hut that Douglas had previously erected at the head waters of the Malinau. As the carriers could not transport the whole of our luggage on one trip we had to wait over the following day for them to fetch the remainder of our goods.
On the morning of January 24th we crossed the river and strolled in the jungle. Being what is known as “Old Jungle,” it was much more easy to walk in than “New Jungle,” as the tall forest trees, by cutting off light and air, prevent a dense undergrowth from springing up. Wherever land has been cleared and then allowed to revert to jungle the undergrowth has a chance, and a practically impenetrable tangled mass of vegetation results.
For the first time I saw various species of pitcher plants growing wild; some grow close to the ground, others climb to a height of about six feet. We also came across the forest paths made by wild pigs and by deer. Even in full sunshine the forests are dull and gloomy, and the lower vegetation reeks with moisture.
These jungles are inhabited by the simple nomadic Punans, who build rough shelters in which they sleep for a few nights, and then wander again in search of game and camphor trees.