Chasing bats deep in Mulu caves

"OK, Suri, I've got four days in Mulu; what do you suggest?" I asked the receptionist at Park HQ. Brimming with enthusiasm, she planned out my visit.

"And don't miss the bats, flying out of Deer Cave," she advised, "and watch out for tarsiers on the night walk."

A cute, big-eyed tarsier starred out from the cover of my Borneo guide book; would this be the closest I'd get to that celebrity animal?

Staff at Mulu were informative and helpful; and park buildings harmonised with the jungle: the HQ featured Mulu's biodiversity; river-side Café Mulu was open-air; and accommodation nestled amongst the trees.

I stowed my gear in the bunk house and joined my group for a 2pm start. Brooke Butterflies tumbled about, extravagant in their iridescent green and coal-black livery surely, they could stay still for a photo?

Two hours later, I arrived at the exquisite Lang's Cave. "Please don't touch the formations," advised our guide. This was a small cameo-cave with enchanting limestone. Such delicacy in stone, such finesse; as if some divinity had sculpted the grotto in an instant of ecstasy. Or had the Italian Master himself, hewn the stone?

Delicate curtains of limestone hung down from the ceiling, appearing as if the slightest draft would send them rippling. The colourings were in cream and caramel.

Angular stalagmites thrust up from the floor, whilst serrated stalactites adorned the roof. Elsewhere, white limestone seemed to drip down the walls, like rivulets of molten candle wax. Other formations looked like layered wedding cakes, oozing icing; hmmm.delicious.

In contrast, the adjacent Deer Cave (Gua Rusa) was vast: two kilometres in length and the world's largest cave passage.

In that gargantuan cavern, a column of water descended 174 metres from roof to floor. Gaps in the ceiling admitted slender shafts of light, diluting the gloom; and the air was pungent with guano.

The towering walls were a gallery of muted hues: greens and browns, chalky white, slate-grey, charcoal, orange and ochre. And all-the-while, the slow drip drip drip of water droplets, depositing limestone over millennia, throughout the caves.

"Whose famous face can you see silhouetted in stone?" quizzed our guide. Looking back, we saw the rocky outline of a familiar face. "Abraham Lincoln!" we burst out.

The likeness was uncanny. Tactfully, nature had omitted a Nixonian profile. "Time to view the bats from outside," guide Armah advised.

From a jungle clearing, we watched millions of fruit bats, streaming from the cave to forage in the jungle. They formed a long continuous line, flexing and coiling like a serpent.

Back at Café Mulu, staff were sweeping armies of ants off the floor. I ordered a root-beer and beef rendang; and then joined my multi-nationed group for dinner.

"That's a bat, isn't it?" gasped Katsumi. "Hmmm, don't worry; just a harmless fruit bat," reassured Pierre. "Maybe it's hungry and wants my kuey teow," laughed Mira.

"So tomorrow we do the canopy-walk?" suggested Diego. "Sure, I'm already booked in," I responded. Moths blundered round the candles while we dined and debated 'till late. "So why don't those moths get burnt?" queried Katsumi.

"One at a time," instructed our guide on the tree-top walk. I grasped the wire cables and tentatively placed my right foot on the plank and then the other. With each footfall, the aerial walkway swayed. "Don't look down," called Diego. I looked at my feet; and then, below, 20 metres to the jungle floor. A gap in the canopy framed a distant cliff.

With springy step, I moonwalked along flexing boards, until I reached the next tree and its stable deck. And so on for 480 metres of elevated walk-way. Serpentine vines coiled through the canopy; aerial roots dropped from tree limbs; epiphytes perched precariously; and slender lianas twined around branches. I loped along the aerial track, which looped back to the start. Back at the Café we mulled over our next mission. "The Racer Cave sounds good,' noted Pierre, "and we're sure to see racer snakes".

"Helmets are compulsory and there are fixed ropes," Jeremy advised. "Hmmm sounds like fun," I added.

After boating up-river, we trekked to the Racer Cave. Through its stygian, black entrance we entered the underworld. The light from our headlamps sliced the sepulchral gloom. We found the first wall and hauled ourselves up using a fixed rope; then, squeezed through a gap in the wet limestone.

I almost put my hand on a racer snake, but recoiled just in time. That pallid serpent remained coiled and immobile, more interested in preying on passing bats. We went deeper into the murk, descending and ascending via more fixed ropes.

"Turn off your lights," Suhari, our guide, instructed. It was total black-out. "Which way is out?" he grinned. We had no idea. Even with our lights on, we would have been lost; there were so many tunnels, each one leading to another and another; a potential no exit maze.

"Some local cavers got lost for days and were lucky to be rescued." Suhari noted sombrely. Overhead, bats streamed from a tunnel in the cave roof. "Ok, I guess Count Dracula will appear next," I half joked.

"Time to leave," Suhari advised. We advanced along a head-high tunnel with a deep fissure in the floor. There was no choice but to keep crisscrossing that slippery chasm, carefully planning each hand hold and foot step. We didn't fancy a fall into that dark crevice.

The following night we rambled through the jungle. Ryan, a snake expert from Melbourne, soon spotted a cat-eye snake, which he caught and handled skilfully. Later, he spotted a cute tarsier which sprang deftly from tree to tree, with us in cautious pursuit.

Later, I explored other caves: the Moonmilk, Wind and Clear Water Caves; and visited the Penan Village. And so ended my tour. Back at reception, Suri quizzed me about my visit. "Sure, I enjoyed Mulu immensely," I replied, "but only four days at million-year-old Mulu?"

"Well, Suri, for my return visit, what do you suggest?" The Brunei Times