There are some marathon trails around Bako which take eight or so hours to complete, but after trying out the shortest trail – a mere 30 minutes – we soon realised that eight-hour treks were just not going to happen in this heat and humidity. Not to mention the steep and rugged terrain - at times reducing the path to tree root steps and creeper handrails, which we had to use to haul ourselves up the near-vertical hill face. Imagine rock climbing in a steam room and you can pretty much get the gist of what we were up against.
The Tajor trail seemed to offer a happy medium – only 2 ½ hours each way, with the promise of plenty of different scenery, including the much awaited Tajor waterfall. (If nothing else I was looking forward to washing my hair in the waterfall since not only was the shower in the chalet cold, but the water pressure was so low that it was a challenge just to get the hair wet).
The trail started much as promised – an exhausting first half hour uphill, fortunately made worthwhile by a sighting of a family of monkeys swinging across the canopy. At the top there was an instant change of scenery as we left the shade of the rainforest behind for the searing heat of open scrub land. Dark rocks and arid white earth beckoned, our path marked out by a sun-bleached boardwalk which intersected the scrub.
Just as I could take the heat no more we were plunged back in to the jungle - the trail lined with pitcher plants of all shapes and sizes, all waiting for unwitting insects to fall into their welcoming nectar. After a final burst of alternating scrub and forest we arrived at the waterfall – quickly realising that it was not quite the excellent bathing and hair washing opportunity anticipated.
Dad collapsed on a bench and announced that he was going no further. But the lure of of the beach - a mere 400 metres away - was too much for the rest of us to resist. Of course, what we didn’t realise is that this would be the hardest 400 metres we had tackled yet. The route was steep downhill with the occasional step but mainly trees trunks and roots for support. As we approached the beach we actually had to abseil down on a knotted rope. Let’s just say I didn’t fancy the return journey.
Still, the beach was worth the visit and it was great to throw myself into the sea and cool off. We didn’t stay long though as the tide was coming in – so rapidly in fact, that within a few minutes our original route had disappeared and we were forced to clamber over the rocks to get back to the rope. Back at the waterfall - with a 2 ½ hour walk still ahead of us - I couldn’t help but wish we could teleport ourselves back to HQ.
Obviously this was not possible, and in any case a more serious problem was now unfolding. Despite taking about four litres of water on the walk, we were running dangerously low. Sensing impending doom, Dom tried to fill one of the water bottles from the waterfall but the water was a rather unappealing brown. Further along saw partial success as the water was somewhat clearer. Now according to the Rough Guide (and I swear I’m not angling to sue them here), water from the streams is drinkable. We had little option anyway as I, for one, was gasping.
http://picasaweb.google.com/dominicherring/TajorWaterfallTrail
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