| acrophobia: n. a pathological fear of heights. I am a lifelong acrophobic. Amusement park rides are something I can only watch from a safe distance. I once survived a ride on a kiddie-coaster, but only just barely. Open fire-escape stairs make me physically ill. I have to hold on with both hands to walk up and down the stairs to the basement of my house. I have come to the island of Borneo, the interior of which is virtually untouched rainforest, lush and mountainous. It is one of only two places in the world still inhabited by wild orangutans. It is here, to Kinabalu National Park, that I have come to fulfill a lifelong dream of visiting an orangutan sanctuary. But it is also here, near Poring hot springs on the side of Mount Kinabalu, where I will live one of the most triumphant moments of my personal life. This is my first real encounter with the rainforest. I feel like Alice in Wonderland: I am tiny, and everything around me is absurdly large, a caricature version of the nature I know. Trees soar hundreds of feet above my head; raffia flowers, boasting the world�s largest bloom (up to a meter in diameter) grow nowhere else in the world; insect-devouring pitcher plants hold up to a pint of sweet liquid to lure in their prey. And the insects! They look like they�ve mated with mammals! Stag beetles the size of kiwi-fruit lurk in the kitchen of the hostel; I encounter spiders and butterflies the size of my hand; a fiery orange centipede, over a foot long, zips across the footpath. |
| A 30-minute hike into the forest takes us to the �canopy walk�: a series of rope bridges strung through the branches of the canopy, 40 meters above the forest floor. These drooping, swaying stretches intersect at wooden platforms secured (?) around the trunks of trees. I can�t see from one hub to the next; I must have faith that the next one exists. I am trembling at the prospect, but refuse to consider missing what my travel guide describes as a �must-do� highlight of a visit to the rainforest. The bridges are constructed of one-by-four planks laid end-to-end in a cradle of knotted ropes, slung through the canopy. On either side, two parallel ropes serve as handrails and as attachments for the safety net draped beneath. I�m not sure whether it would catch me and hold me dangling 120 feet above the ground, or merely tip and dump me over like a temperamental hammock. I have no intention of finding out. On my insistence, my companion goes first. The bridge sways and wobbles in response to his every move. Halfway out, he turns back and reminds me that it�s my turn. My belly is in knots, but I feel no panic yet. I can do this. Every ounce of my attention is focussed on the impossibly narrow boards beneath my feet. The side-to-side swaying is scary; the vertical bobbing is terrifying. My feet move forward, but my hands are gripping the rope so hard that my upper body begins to lag behind my legs, and I am certain I will lose my balance and fall. In my mind I can already feel how the net will give as my feet come off the edge of the board. I can see myself entangled and helpless in the net, like the victim of an enormous spider. I will my hands to move, feeling the sting of friction burns on my palms as they slide along the ropes. |
| My tongue is dry and sticks to the roof of my mouth. The pounding of my heart is painful; the rushing-shushing roar of blood in my ears almost drowns out the involuntary �uh-uh-uh-uh� of my ragged breath. The ropes momentarily swim away as my vision blurs: I am very close to fainting, to testing the integrity of those nets. I will my feet to keep going, and a million years later, I reach the first platform. I clutch the enormous tree trunk with my whole body, pressing my chest and face against the rough, welcoming bark. My companion �oooh�s and �aaaah�s at the view around us; I examine the bark and leaves that are inches from my face - that�s as far as I can focus. He bounds off across the next bridge, calling me to follow him: �Come on!� �I can�t,� I squeak. �Sure you can. You�re doing great!� �NO. I. CAN�T. I can�t I can�t I can�t.� Mounting hysteria. I�m stuck here, in the middle of the air. �You�ll make it,� he tosses over his shoulder as he disappears into the greenery. I�m alone. Summoning all my strength and willpower, I manage to get one of my hands from the tree trunk back to the rope; I take a deep breath and pull myself out onto the second bridge. Again, all my energies are concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, dragging my hands along the ropes. Then I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I look for the first time beyond the ropes, into the dense greenery. It�s a little prosimian: lemur-like, but I don�t think lemurs live in this part of the world. It�s flitting around in the leaves only a few feet away from me, and I am enchanted. My �uh-uh-uh� turns into a hushed �ooooh�hello!� as it picks brightly-coloured insects off the bark. It suddenly disappears into green, and as my eyes scan for signs of it, I begin to see what is around me. Up here, there is an entirely different ecosystem and climate than the one we have just trekked through below. Everything clings to something else: huge ferns, vines and creepers; exotic-looking flowers that I can�t begin to name; insects of every fantastical description. Brilliantly-plumed birds chatter and peep and squawk and warble. A cool breeze tempers the dense humidity that hangs in the air down below, and the musty, earthy smells are replaced up here by wafts of different scents carried on the breeze: sweetly fragrant flowers, fresh greenery warmed by the sunshine, maybe even a little salt from the sea. |
| Somehow I have made it to the next platform, with barely a glance at my feet. My companion is waiting, and holds my still-trembling hand as we take in the stunning beauty. My fear is far from gone, but it is no longer controlling me; I am enraptured, and set out onto the next bridge without waiting for my companion. The canopy is dense. Sometimes I am surrounded by green on all sides; sometimes the walkway breaks through into an open space on the hillside, and the panorama spreads before me: endless, rolling verdure and the bluest sky. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of the ground below. The rushing river that we waded across earlier is now a tiny trickle that I can�t even hear. We spend the next hour wandering back and forth along the bridges, trying to count the number of different flowers we can see, trying to find the sources of noises around us. Sometimes we stand very quietly and watch the canopy�s inhabitants wander by, seemingly oblivious to our presence. We spot a couple of macaques lounging in the crook of a branch, lazily slurping on fleshy bits of fruit. As some other trekkers arrive, we finally descend to the ground at the other end of the walk. My legs are like Jell-O, my hands are bleeding, and I�m drenched in sweat from head to toe: I�m on the biggest adrenaline high of my life. It carries me through the afternoon: grinning gleefully, I bound through the jungle, I can�t stop talking. What is merely a �cool� experience for other travelers, has for me been an enormous personal triumph over my inner demons. |