The latter is stated to be in the Kina Batañgan country. The distances and heights are estimated.
Between us and the mountains, bearing S.E. by E. eighteen miles, there was a grassy plain, perhaps three miles by two, on which were many villages, and through this there flowed a fair-sized river. We could trace its course as far as the third spur that springs from the main one; then a line of hills appeared to obstruct it; but beyond we could again trace the course of a stream, which is probably its source. This river, it was stated by the people of the country, flows into the lake of Kina Balu. It runs from the S.W. to the N.E. With the exception of the plain above-mentioned and a marsh, whose commencement we could observe north-east of the plain, all the country appeared hilly, and most of the land was cleared, and either under cultivation, or showed the remains of former plantations. We could observe in the second valley two villages—the first called Tuhan, the next Inserban, and at both cotton is said to be cultivated. Many villages and detached houses were also observed, whose names our guides had forgotten. The road to the lake is by the two above-mentioned villages, while the names of those beyond are Penusuk, Tambian, Paka, and Koporiñgan—these are stated to be on the route, or close to the lake. A few words concerning this mythic sheet of water, as it has generally been considered: that it exists to the east of the mountain appears from inquiry to be almost certain. Its size it is unnecessary to estimate, though our informants stated that, standing on one bank, it was not possible to see the opposite one. It cannot, however, be of the great size marked in the old maps, or in the situation assigned to it, as the whole country, from E.S.E. to the western coast, was distinctly visible, and the Ida’an expressly stated that it was farther to the north and east of the plain I have before noticed. Mr. Low made many inquiries during our first trip, and we jointly questioned the Ida’an, on many occasions during our long stay at the Kiau village, and they spoke of it as a certainty, many affirming that they themselves had been on trading expeditions to it. I may add that Mr. De Crespigny, who lived some time at Maludu Bay, heard that the lake was to the south of Kina Balu, where it certainly is not. Peterman’s map is entirely incorrect as to the position of the lake.
I must now make a few remarks on the vegetation which covered the mountain. Cultivation extends, in a few places, to the height of 3,500 feet, but beyond that there is a fine jungle, on the main spur, to the height of 6,000 feet; it then begins to degenerate, and in the exposed portion of the ridge the trees are bent across the path, inferior in size and covered with moss. But above this height, in sheltered spots, the trees again increase in size; beyond 7,000 feet, however, there are few fine trees, the vegetation changing its character, most of it consisting of flowering shrubs, varying in height from ten to twenty feet. The trees, however, on the sides of the spurs continued of a comparatively large size until we had passed 9,000 feet; at 10,000 feet the shrubbery became very straggling, and above that it was only scattered among the granite rocks. On the W.N.W. spur, called the Marei Parei, the vegetation even at 4,500 feet was exceedingly stunted in many places; while above, in equally exposed situations, the jungle was of fair size: probably, the nature of the soil may account for it, that of the Marei Parei district being formed of decomposed serpentine, containing very much peroxide of iron. Kina Balu appears to be the seat of the pitcher-plant, Mr. Low having made a collection of extraordinary-shaped ones—perhaps the most beautiful in the world.
At the risk of repetition, I will make a few observations on each of the rivers which drain these districts. I have already remarked that the shallowness of their mouths renders them unfit for European commerce; in fact, the fresh-water streams soon become mere mountain torrents. The Ananam I have not ascended; the Kabatuan is apparently but a collection of salt-water creeks, with a few fresh-water rivulets. The former town of Meñggatal was situated about three miles up it, and only at flood tide would it float a frigate’s barge. Near the town the banks were grassy, and many cocoa-nuts were grown in the neighbourhood. The Mengkabong, also, can scarcely be called a river; it is rather a large salt-water lake with numerous islands, some containing hills of several hundred feet in height; it is very shallow, many portions of it being dry at low tides, while others have but a few inches of water. It appears to be filling up fast, and, perhaps, affords a clue to the cause of the formation of the plains that extend beyond, which all appear to be composed of alluvial deposits. Many fresh-water rivulets drain the neighbouring hills, and pour their waters into this creek, but it is always salt; it extends, perhaps, five or six miles in a straight line from the shore. The Sulaman I have not entered, but I have seen it from the hills on many occasions; it presents the appearance of a lake, and is reported as a salt-water creek. We could observe, by the rivulets that drained into the Tawaran, that the Sulaman has no interior, but it has a depth of twelve feet at its entrance. The Tawaran, on the contrary, is a fresh-water river even to its mouth, the flood-tides making but a slight impression on it. Large native prahus can safely ascend it for six miles; after that it depends on the state of the weather, rising and falling very rapidly as it is influenced by the rains. The banks of the river as far as Bawang village are flat; there the hills commence; and three miles beyond the Tawaran divides into two branches; one coming from the south, the other from the E.S.E. They immediately degenerate into mountain torrents, and are not to be used by boats, but at some risk produce is occasionally brought down on rafts. Every range of hills affords the parent stream a rivulet, but the Tawaran does not penetrate far into the country; its sources are in the main spur of Kina Balu; the east branch rising between the second and third sub-spur, on the west side of the main spur; the southern branch appears very small. On both occasions I passed the Tawaran, it was of a dirty yellow colour, being filled with the detritus of the neighbouring hills. Land slips are very common, which afford a considerable amount of matter for the torrents to carry seawards. The Tawaran is subject to very sudden inundations, the waters occasionally reaching the houses at the village of Buñgol, though fifty feet above the stream. There is no foundation for Dalrymple’s story, which has been often repeated, of the Tawaran rising in the lake; it evidently springs from the main spur of Kina Balu.
The Abai is a salt-water creek, but preserving more the appearance of a river; much of both banks are mangrove until we approach the houses. Its depth varies: on the bar it is but one fathom, while inside it deepens to four, and it has a channel to the villages of about two fathoms. It is a favourite anchorage for native prahus, being admirably adapted for them. Two small rivulets join the Abai; the Gading, and the Paka Paka, both inhabited by the Ida’an.
The Tampasuk is essentially a fresh-water river, very similar to the Tawaran, of no importance to European ships, except that in wet seasons its waters run unmixed half a mile out to sea. It differs from the Tawaran, in having occasionally immense granite boulders in the stream; while the latter drains only a sandstone country; but, like the Tawaran, it divides into two branches; the eastern one flows from the northern portion of Kina Balu. We could observe its direction for above ten miles, as it ran through the low land, and its course was E.S.E. from the junction. The Pengantaran, that drains a portion of the north-west of Kina Balu, bringing down immense quantities of blocks of serpentine, is the only other stream worth noticing. The natives seldom make use of the Tampasuk beyond the spot where the river divides, though above it rafts are occasionally used; but it evidently is not a general practice, as the river is filled with fish traps, which require the stream to be dammed across with loose stone walls.
The hills do not press closely to the river’s banks; if they do so on one side, the other is certain to have a strip of low land, along which the path is carried; in fact, from the sea to Koung village there is but one steep hill to cross. Sometimes there are small plains, that skirt the banks; at others, gently sloping fields. The steep hills commence a few miles below Koung, on the left bank, and continue, with few exceptions, to the base of Kina Balu. The village of Labang Labang, on a spur of Saduk Saduk, has an easy slope from Koung, while towards the great mountain it is very steep. Near Labang Labang the river divides and assumes different names: the principal branch is called the Kalupis; the other, the Dahombang, or Hobang, and this receives the Kini Taki and the Pinokok. Between the Hobang and Pinokok streams is a sort of table-land, about a couple of miles across, by perhaps four in length; it is not absolutely flat, but the ground swells very gently. The Kalupis has its source at the very summit of the hill, and we could trace its course from the time it was but an inch deep, till collecting all the drainage of the top, it dashed past our resting-place (at 9,000 feet) a fair-sized mountain torrent. About 1,000 feet below, at the head of the Kalupis valley, it throws itself over the rocks, forming a fine cascade of perhaps 1,500 feet in height.
I may notice that off the coast between Gaya Bay and the western point of Maludu Bay there is often a very heavy ground swell, and the rollers occasionally are so dangerous as to prevent vessels attempting to communicate with the shallow rivers. I was once very anxious to visit the Pandasan, but when we arrived off its mouth, the rollers looked so dangerous, that the captain of the steamer decided it would be unsafe for the ship’s boats to venture in, and I scarcely regretted his determination. The ground swell was so great, that it was almost impossible to stand on deck.
Having noticed the principal features connected with the physical geography, I will add a few notes on what Mr. Hamilton correctly calls political geography.
The population of these districts consists principally of three classes—the Lanun, the Baju, and the Ida’an or Dusun.