Langkawi (Ep4)
Up to the Sky Bridge, Down to the Mangroves!

This episode starts first thing on Boxing Day morning. I awoke to the call for prayer. I, surprisingly, felt amazingly fresh. Cracked it at long last.

This final day, in Langkawi, proved to be one to remember. We were collected by our driver in the morning, Fendi. First of all he took us for a drive around the area, not the entire island, pointing out places of interest before we got to the Sky Bridge Walk and cable car.

The angle of the cable car ride was quite precipitous. It was much more scary coming down than it was going up. It was also very windy as we went higher and higher. We were swaying about as if we were a small boat on a fairly frisky ocean, crashing into one of the platforms with quite a jolt. It was at this time that the day before had caught up with me a little. The tummy felt a little delicate.

The queue for the cable car was ridiculously long but, fortunately for us, there was an express line which allowed us to board without any real delay.

Once upon a time, in the distant past, Jane and I took our two daughters on the Cog Railway to the summit of Mount Washington, in New Hampshire. We were wearing short-sleeved shirts and, at the ticket office, were advised to get something warmer from the gift-shop. I can’t remember the exact prices but maybe a good fleecy sweatshirt was about $10 at the base station. I said that this was ridiculous as it was the middle of summer and, surely, it would not be that different at the top. It was my decision and solely mine, no-one else to blame. We alighted the carriage at the top and, firstly, were nearly blown away to the same place as Dorothy’s house in “The Wizard of Oz,” and, secondly, the temperature felt as though Lieutenant Lawrence Oates might leave the tent, uttering, “I am just going outside and maybe some time.” Immediately, we made for the gift-shop at the top. The same sweatshirts, I swear, were $100 each up there. I was left with no option but to buy them. I was still wearing mine about twenty years later, full of holes, thin around the elbows and faded to a light pink from the original bright red. I refused to let it go until the overall unit cost dropped to below a penny per day. I think it took me just as long to recover from the cost; that much on clothing? I think it’s a grumpy old bloke thing!

When we disembarked the cable car it was nowhere near as bad as Mount Washington, which I would thoroughly recommend as one to add to your bucket list, but it was bad enough to remind me. It was definitely a coat or two colder at the top and the wind was ruffling my hair! We had a good walk around, but the slightly hazy view made it difficult to see that far for the sighted, let alone the nearly unsighted.

We decided to give the Sky Bridge a miss as there were huge queues and, after all, we had crossed many a bridge in our time. We purchased the obligatory photograph of us making out we were having a good time and started the journey back to base. The attendants, to give them enormous credit, were keeping an eye out for the express passengers, I think we wore some sort of bright sticker to identify us, and would usher us through ahead of the hoi-polloi. On the way down we managed to crash into a few more platforms but, in the end, we made it unscathed. It was a relief to walk out into nice warmth again. It is incredible how cold 20° in cloudy weather feels compared to 32 in the sun.

We then took a pretty long drive to, arguably, the best experience of the trip so far, certainly if you discount battlegrounds and military museums (see previous blogs)! It was a trip around the mangroves in a jet-propelled boat. Incredibly, it lasted for the best part of four hours but felt as though it passed in the blink of an eye. We were right near the border with Thailand as the phone went into message ecstasy informing us one minute we were in Thailand and the next, Malaysia.

We boarded from a pontoon quay onto quite a sleek looking boat. In a way it was like the Norfolk Broads, which we visited for the first time back in July last year, except about 20° warmer. We nudged our way slowly out of the moorings and the minute we were clear the pilot opened the throttle and we flew. I have no idea how fast we were travelling, but it most certainly was not the five mph, or whatever it is, on the Broads.

The mangroves were passing in a blur. When a craft passed us in the other direction, we always had its wake to contend with, and it was like crashing into potholes on the A47 between Swaffham and Norwich. The spine took an enormous pounding. After the massage I felt as though my back had been stretched out so that I was now at my full height of six-two again. By the time I was finished with this trip, my vertebrae colliding with one another like asteroids ploughing into planets, I think I was a tiny five-ten! By the way, I am not actually sure it was jet-propelled, it just felt like it.

The first place we visited on this amazing journey, through this timeless waterscape, were the swirling and diving Sea Eagles. I could, at a lucky moment, when my sight lined up with a swooping bird, just about make them out. There was no way I could tell if they were an eagle or a sparrow, though. They were totally lacking in colour and markings to me, the size not identifiable at all. Nonetheless, I got a terrific feel for it and the sound was, in a way, just as illuminating as seeing them. Of course, they hadn’t just decided to do a display just for us, they had to be bribed, and there was the all-pervading aroma of dead fish being tossed into the sea to attract them.

This really was one of the best experiences I have ever had, and would thoroughly recommend it to anyone. With the throttle opened up again, we blasted our way, bow pointing skywards, to Monkey Island. They hide themselves up a little when boats approach but, once again, bribery plays a part. Bread was tossed onto the shore. One brave little fellow made his way down to the food and, being most vocal in his appreciation, others of the troop soon arrived. There was lots of noise as they raced around trying to grab the easily obtained grub. Some were successful, some were not, and one or two were very dominant and, I am sure, scoffed down a gorilla’s share let alone a tiny little macaque’s. Like humans they came in all shapes and sizes, apparently, some had much larger waists than others, and looked like they bullied their way to the front when it came to getting fed. One little chap, in a bid to show us his appreciation I am sure, stood tall, well as tall as he could anyway, and pissed in our direction. Thank you.

We saw eagles where the eagles fly, monkeys on Monkey Island. Next stop was Crocodile Cave. Crocodiles are probably Jane’s least favourite creature, the stuff of nightmares. I could sense there might be some fun in store at the next stop.