PLAN OF LARGE DUSUN HOUSE AT KIAU, N.W. BORNEO.
The greatest interest was shown in all we did, more especially by the boys and young girls who crowded on the pathway just in front of where we lay. When we extinguished our lamp and turned into our blankets they soon became quiet, the people of the house retiring to their private apartments, and the others to their houses in the village. It was a wet night, and we felt chilly, but slept well. Our first task after breakfast in the morning was to overhaul all our stores, arranging those we wanted on the mountain so that they could be easily carried, and packing the rest so that they could be left with safety. Our stock of rice was so low that we were rather alarmed, but “Musa” assured us that he should be able to buy some in the village. After re-arranging all our things, we took our guns and walked over the hill. We saw very few birds, nor were the plants we discovered of any particular interest, with the exception of a large white-flowered arundina, having a rich amethyst-coloured lip. We saw some immense ginger-worts, having leafy stems ten or twelve feet in height; also large ferns of the angiopteris type, while Mikania volubilis overran the bushes along our route.
Returning to the house, we engaged Boloung and Kurow, the acting head men of the village, and six of their followers, to take us up the mountain on the morrow. “Musa” and Pangeran Raman did most of the bargaining on our side, and at length concluded the matter by paying over the amount of cloth and brass wire as agreed. Next morning we selected sixteen of our men and started for the mountain. In a rich bit of shady forest on the other side of the Kiau ridge we found the evergreen Calanthe macroloba, bearing spikes of white flowers much larger individually than those of C. veratrifolia. A foliage plant marked with silvery blotches above and crimson beneath was also collected. Our road was a rough and tiring one of sloping hill-side paths very wet and slippery, and in places blocked by fallen trees. About one o’clock we reached a rushing stream, and our guides brought us to a large overhanging rock, where they said we must pass the night. It now began to rain heavily, so we at once told the men to cut sticks and palm-leaves to lay on the ground where we were to sleep, and over which we could spread our waterproof sheets and rugs. This was soon done, and meanwhile our “boys” prepared luncheon. We were disgusted at stopping thus early in the day, and wished our guides to proceed when the rain abated, which however they determinedly refused to do. To make the best of a bad bargain, I and Mr. Veitch explored the forest above our camp, where we found a pretty aroid with white blotched leaves, and another marbled with silvery grey; also a variegated plant resembling an anæctochilus, but which Professor Reichenbach tells me is the Cystorchis variegata of Blume. This plant I had previously gathered in another locality further south; indeed, it seems pretty generally distributed along the north-west coast. Specimens of two or three delicate filmy ferns were found near the streams; and at our camping-place, which we named the “Sleeping Rock,” the pretty little Adiantum diaphanum was plentiful, and living plants were brought to England from this habitat.
About seven o’clock next morning we started on our upward journey. It was hot work at first, but we could feel it perceptibly get cooler after the first two or three thousand feet. At about four thousand feet mosses are very plentiful, the finest species gathered being Dawsonia superba, which fringed the path, but nowhere in great plenty. A new white-flowered species of burmannia was also gathered, and small-flowered orchids were seen. In one place a shower of small scarlet rhododendron flowers covered the ground at our feet, the plant being epiphytal in the trees overhead. It was very misty, and the moss which covered every rotten stick, and the vegetation generally, was dripping with moisture, and every sapling we grasped in climbing upwards was the means of shaking a shower-bath on us from the trees above. At about five thousand feet a dead and broken pitcher of Nepenthes Lowi lying in the path led to the discovery of the plant itself scrambling among the mossy branches overhead, its singular flagon-shaped ascidia hanging from the point of every leaf. It is a vigorous-habited plant, with bright green leathery leaves, the petioles of which clasp the stem in a peculiar manner. The only plants we saw were epiphytal on mossy trunks and branches, and we searched for young plants diligently, but without success. All the pitchers hitherto seen are cauline ones, and as the plant has never yet been seen in a young state, it is an open question as to whether the radical pitchers differ in shape or size, as is the case with most other species. As we ascended higher, epiphytal orchids, especially erias, dendrochilia, and cœlogynes became more plentiful, and we came upon a large-flowered rhododendron, bearing rich orange flowers two inches in diameter, and twenty flowers in a cluster! It grew on a dangerous declivity, and not one of our lazy men would venture to get it for us. Such a prize, however, was too lovely to forego, and after a wet scramble among the surrounding bushes, I secured it in good condition. Two or three other species were seen in flower, but none equal to it in its golden beauty. Casuarina trees became common, and higher up these were joined by two or three species of gleichenias, and a distinct form of dipteris. Phyllocladus also appeared, and a glaucus-leaved dianella (D. javanica). Here also were two of the most distinct of all rhododendrons, R. ericifolium and R. stenophyllum. On open spaces among rocks and sedges, the giant Nepenthes Rajah began to appear, the plants being of all sizes, and in the most luxuriant health and beauty. The soil in which they grew was a stiff yellow loam, surfaced with sandstone-grit, and around the larger plants a good deal of rich humus and leaf débris had collected. The long red-pitchered N. Edwardsiana was seen in two places. This plant, like N. Lowii, is epiphytal in its perfect state, and is of a slender rambling habit. Highest of all in the great nepenthes zone came N. villosa, a beautiful plant, having rounded pitchers of the softest pink colour, with a crimson frilled orifice, similar to that of N. Edwardsiana. All thoughts of fatigue and discomfort vanished as we gazed on these living wonders of the Bornean Andes! Here, on this cloud-girt mountain side, were vegetable treasures which Imperial Kew had longed for in vain. Discovered by Mr. Low in 1851, dried specimens had been transmitted by him to Europe, and Dr. (now Sir Joseph) Hooker had described and illustrated them in the Transactions of the Linnæan Society, but all attempts to introduce them alive into European gardens had failed. To see these plants in all their health and vigour was a sensation I shall never forget—one of those which we experience but rarely in a whole lifetime!
We reached the cave (altitude 9,000 feet) about three o’clock, wet and hungry, but far from unhappy. Our first care was to light a fire, which was not at all easy to do, since everything was dripping wet. We secured a bit of dry wood at last, however, and by whittling thin shavings from it with a knife, we managed to start a good fire, and some of the men were directed to cut firewood; but so paralysed were they by the wet and cold, that it was with the greatest difficulty that we could persuade them to do this. Poor old “Musa” cut some wood and made a floor to the cave, after which some brushwood and leaves formed a substitute for a mattress. The next difficulty was to obtain water, since the men we had sent to search for it returned empty handed, having failed to find any. As a last resort I had to undertake this duty myself, and, descending the hill-side, I found a tiny pool in a gully, from which I procured a little in our cook-pots. It was not near enough, however; and in wandering in search of more, I came upon a patch of the large nepenthes, from the old pitchers of which I was able to augment my supply by carefully pouring off the rain water from a rather liberal under stratum of flies, ants, and other insect débris. Our guides slept under a rock a little further on and higher up the mountain side, and they found a stream from which good water was procured by our men in the morning and during our stay here.
It commenced to rain heavily at nightfall, and we found it very cold, although we kept a good fire burning nearly all night, one of the results being that we were nearly blinded by the smoke, there being a draught towards an opening at the hinder part of the cave. The wet dripped from the roof all night, and the walls were also wet and slimy; indeed our quarters were neither extensive nor luxurious; still we made the best of them, and, after all, were rather sorry to leave them at last. We arose at daybreak to collect plants and roots, in the which we were tolerably successful; and before night we had secured all our collections in baskets and bundles ready for the men to carry down. It was very cool and misty in the morning, but about noon it became clearer, and it was hot indeed, the rocks and old trunks reeked in the sunshine. A slender-growing species of calamus was very common in the low forest below the cave, and it supplied “rattans” of excellent quality for tying up our plants. At least three showy species of cœlogyne grow on the rocks and mossy banks here, at 9,000 feet elevation; and a dainty little plant with reddish pseudo-bulbs in clusters, each bearing a single spathulate dark green leaf, is common. This last has erect spikes of pure white flowers and buds, reminding one of the lily of the valley in cool, fresh purity, an effect partly due to its column being of a soft green tint, like a speck in the interior of the blossom. The cœlogynes are very distinct and beautiful as seen here blooming among the coarse sedges and shrubs. One has white flowers with a blotch of gold on the lip, eight or ten of its waxy flowers being borne on an erect scape. Another has yellow sepals and petals, and a white lip corrugated with brown warts. Another, not so showy, has a nodding spike of white and brown flowers.
We ascended about 9,000 feet, and were delighted with the charming views obtainable during clear weather. The whole upper portion of the mountain along the south and south-eastern slopes is nearly devoid of vegetation, except where there are streams and rather sheltered gullies up which the stunted trees and a few other plants struggle up near to the summit. On the north-western side the rocks rise very precipitous; and here vegetation fails to gain foothold. Looking upwards in the early sunlight, we had clear views of the shelving granite slopes, on which are numerous shallow channels down which streams of water pour during misty and rainy weather. When we gained the top of the great spur the morning after our arrival at the cave, we were delighted at the immense panorama which lay at our feet as we looked back. Looking away south-west we beheld the coast-line from the mouth of what our guides said was the Tampassuk river right down to Gaya Bay and Pulo Tiga, which was distinctly visible, the many-mouthed Menkabong river glistening like a silver net quite close to the coast-line.
Looking south-east over a billowy sea of silvery clouds we saw a gigantic range of mountains, and from this the conical peak of Tilong rises through strata after strata of cloud, or stands out on a clear blue background of pure sky, according to the state of the atmosphere. This claims our interest as the beacon of a land unknown; and this magnificent peak, Tilong, is by repute as high, or even higher, than Kina Balu itself. Altogether we spent three days on the sides of Kina Balu collecting plants, flowers, and seeds; and after a life on the plains and among the coast mountains—hills compared with this grisly giant—we found the climate most deliciously cool and invigorating. Rain generally commenced about 3 P.M., and continued until eight, the remainder of the night being clear, bright if moonlight, and cool—so cool, indeed, as to make a good camp fire and woollen shirts two or three-fold and blankets very desirable. The mornings were generally misty, every leaf and branch dripping with the rain and heavy dews common here at night, especially during the wet season. About noon the sun was warm, and the temperature at 9,000 feet rises to 75° if the day is fine and dry.
As I have elsewhere said, our Malay followers suffered much from what to them was bitter cold; indeed they seemed perfectly helpless, with scarcely energy to make a fire and cook their food. They have no notion of actively bestirring themselves in order to keep warm. Our food supply, too,—that is, the rice—ran short, and so the men were reduced to live on kaladi and sweet potatoes roasted in the embers and eaten with a little salt. Our Dusan guides also complained of the cold, and tried to hurry us in our descent; indeed at last they would wait no longer, and they slipped away, leaving us to reach their village alone as best we could. We were fully determined not to be defeated in our object, however, and keeping ahead of our own men we descended leisurely so as to gather plants by the way, until all had as much as they could possibly carry down. I carried my servant’s load in order that he might carry a lot of rare specimens which I had secured for him in a handkerchief. The descent after the rain of the night before was difficult and dangerous, and we had a good many falls. Once I fell down a steep place a depth of about twenty feet, among shrubs and creepers, which saved me from serious injury. Mr. Veitch and myself, my “boy,” and a solitary Labuan man, went on a-head of our main party, and just at nightfall discovered that we had lost our way. The right path lay across a clearing down which we turned instead of pushing across and striking the path beyond.