johnsunter.com >> outdoor >> mountains >> salt route 1

Jungle Trekking along the Salt Route in the Crocker Ranges, Borneo (1/2).

We arrive at the start of the Salt Route, a trek through the Crocker Ranges.

The gates weren't due to open until a certain time in the morning but we found a way to squeeze between them and set off.

We had to walk up this enormous hill to get to the ranger station and register.

Permits are required for most National Parks in Borneo.

This is a good idea, as the money is used to police the park, keep them clean and pay towards the education of the children who live in the villages.

Looking out from the Balcony we could see back to the ocean.

The view was spectacular but sadly my camera couldn't fully capture it.

The Crocker Ranges National park is twice the size of Singapore.

We wandered up hill through the Jungle.

An inevitable part of traversing a Jungle is crossing a rope bridge (they aren't made of hemp anymore, so cable bridge would perhaps be a better name).

Memory's of Indiana Jones were awakened, and I was reminded that you should only cross one at a time, no matter how secure the bridge looks.

This picture shows a cross section of the bridge, giving some idea of its length.

This picture shows the height.

The water bellow is pretty fast flowing in the middle.

If you fell in you could be some way own the river before you the drag of the water stopped pulling you. You would also have been molested by the various parasites that live in the river.

On other occasions, it was necessary to do more basic river crossings.

There are some sophisticated ways to do this, including using a pole, 3 people holding onto each other, and various stuff involving ropes, or using your rucksack as a flotation device.

In this instance, we just walked quickly through the water being careful about where we put our feet.

Dan starts to cross.

We stop at one of the simple shelters along the route (some of them had been built by the Rotary club). On the left of this picture is the excellent Mr Mickey.

Although friendly, formalities were always adhered to. He called me Mr John and I called him Mr Mickey.

In the background, is one of Mr Mickey's porters, and on the right, our own indigenous guide of the West Midlands, JK.

Our first night. We have accommodation at the village hall. It was built by the Government, and belongs to the people of the village.

It was very comfortable and set the right balance (the villagers do get trekkers parading through their village occasionally, but they see the benefit from it in rent and the availability of a meeting hall).

Along the left, ar the traditional chimes that Dan and I had seen in the Sabah Museum, early that week.

As I set up my bed for the night I regretted not bringing my thermarest. Since the hut was so warm, I didn't actually need to sleep in my sleeping bag, so used that as an improvised mattress instead.

At the back of the room, is the Kitchen.

I hadn't realised, that all our cooking would be done by the "lads".

It was humbling to see them carry 3 times the weight of my rucksack, and when we finally arrive at our destination, their first thought was to make us a cup of tea and begin preparing our dinner.

One thing I hadn't realised, was just how isolated we were.

It wasn't possible to buy water, it had to be pumped from the river.

It was then I found out, where the Trek takes its name.

Just about everything the villagers needed was provided by the Jungle.

The only exception to this was Salt which in times gone by, had to be carried in on the backs of porters.

I had heard a lot about Leeches in the JUngle.

They never actually "got" me, but Dan agreed to pose for this picture so that you can see what one looks like.

The following day we hit the trail again.

We wander downhill through dense jungle.

Down again (this time through fallen bamboo).

And then back to the flat.

I didn't see a lot of birds perched on this tree !.

A pond next to the path with a sort of weeping willow tree overhanging.

It looked very serene and peaceful, but I was told that the water in the pond was so dirty, it would give you dysentery just from contact with your eye's.

The highest point on the trail, is marked with this sort of triangular "thing".

Never mind, it was more about the celebration than the "monument".

We knew at this point, that the path wouldn't go any higher.