| The Forgotten Forest |
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| Written by Tallulah Bygraves | |
| Wednesday, 16 January 2008 | |
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Ten years ago Sumatra was the next big thing on the backpacker circuit conjuring up images of untamed beauty; never-ending rainforests, muddy mangrove estuaries and smouldering volcanoes. The island promised unrivalled adventure through dense jungle canopies, where, amongst the rare and vulnerable exotic creatures, lurked untold danger. Guesthouses, internet cafes, trekking companies and touts sprung up faster than you could say Lonely Planet and it seemed that the fruit shake and banana pancake mountains would last forever. Then it all started to go horribly wrong for the up and coming tourist industry: In early 2003 the UK foreign office issued an official warning following a string of disasters, both manmade and natural. Economic collapse, civil unrest, outbreaks of malaria, visa restrictions and a series of devastating local floods, not to mention the media hyped Bali bombings and the infamous SARS virus all conspired to chip away at the island’s previously irrepressible allure. Then, on 26th December 2004, a devastating earthquake just 100 miles off the north western coast triggered the now infamous Boxing Day Tsunami and in a singular tidal movement Sumatra was finally wiped off the tourist map. The Orang-utan Health Project was founded five years ago by Dr Ivona Foitova a Veterinary Doctor from the Czech Republic with a PhD in Animal Diseases. Based in North Sumatra, one of the world’s two last remaining refuges of the orang-utan, her research focuses on the special behaviours and ecological conditions necessary to maintain health in wild orangutans and, in particular, the ape’s ability to self-medicate in the wild. Her studies, apart from benefiting captive orang-utan programmes, may hold the key to future detection of as yet undiscovered medicinal sources within the ecosystem. Since current statistics indicate that we are losing an estimated 20,000 to 100,000 species of rainforest plant a year worldwide such research is vital to highlight the forests importance and to prevent further destruction of this ever-diminishing resource. I had found out about the project one gloomy Monday whilst scouring the web from the stuffy confines of the undergraduate computer room. It had stood out from the other ‘gap-style’ getaways partly for its affordable fee; but also due to its genuine ecological and scientific basis. I immediately decided this was the escape I needed. Adjusting from the November chill I had left behind to the muggy Indonesian heat that greeted me I stepped off the tinny plane and on to the runway. I was quickly bustled through customs by a smiling man and taken to the baggage carousel to collect my rather ambitiously small backpack, now bulging at the seams. Outside the airport I was met by a sea of people all vying for my attention and calling out After searching around for a few minutes I was approached by the project assistant, a Canadian guy named Eric, and the other four volunteers; Chiara, from Italy; Karen, from Holland, Eric from France and Rohanna, from New Zealand. We were piled into a tiny cramped minibus which bumped and jostled its way along the city’s cracked and dusty roads before turning down a pot-holed dirt track that ran through the heart of the bordering jungle. And so began the five hour drive to the tiny town of Bukit Lawang where the project’s office was based. Our accommodation was about a mile inland from the River Bohorok in a stilted wooden shack, raised above the waters of the paddy fields. There we spent a week carrying out much needed field and data analysis before we could embark on the eagerly anticipated trek into the Sumatran jungle where we would sleep for five nights and complete vital fieldwork to aid Dr Foitova in her research. Finally the day arrived. Carrying little more than a sleeping bag and a change of clothes we waited eagerly by the roadside for our transportation to arrive. At last the guides came into view precariously balancing on top of the roof rack of an incredibly bruised and battered old jeep. The vehicle jerked to a halt leaning drunkenly over its bald tyres; patches of original khaki paintwork peeling from every corner of its crudely welded metal framework. The journey seemed to last forever as we watched the landscape change from palm oil plantation to rubber plantation and finally to lush green rainforest. Following the five guides through the dense vegetation we entered the jungle and began to trek through the uncompromising terrain. Through lianas and buttress roots, over fallen trees and down steep ravines we negotiated slippery inclines and muddy marshlands, wading through rivers that ran waist high and trudging under canopies that reached to the skies. Surrounded by the sounds of calling gibbons, chuckling Thomas Leaf monkeys and chirping cicadas, and constantly invaded by blood-thirsty leeches that made their hungry way towards us across the jungle floor. The whole place was alive with sights and sounds and somehow made you feel the size of a clumsy giant and yet pathetically insignificant all at once. Wanda our guide put us all to shame with his wisdom, seemingly endless knowledge of the native rainforest and amazing trekking ability; skipping through the jungle barefoot. BAREFOOT! Have I mentioned the leeches, the deadly scorpions, the giant venomous millipedes, the fatal spiders or the poisonous plants? Whilst we were all kitted out in full ‘jungle’ attire; T shirts, waterproof army trousers and hardcore multi-terrain walking boots - which were pulled over three pairs of socks yanked up to our knees and doused in tobacco juice in our futile attempts to ward off the leeches - this man clambered through the dangerous undergrowth in little more than boxer shorts happily singing ‘Gonna go into the jungle, gonna get eaten by a lot of leeches’ to the tune of the Presidents of the USA’s ‘Peaches’ without a care in the world. On the third day, whilst following our allocated transect; searching for the yellow ribbons tied to trees along the way, Wanda stopped dead in his tracks and made a series of deep throat noises. We waited and listened in silence. Suddenly the noise was returned and Wanda pointed to a tree in the distance where I could just about make out a tiny orange blob glowing in the sunlight. We followed Wanda at pace as he skilfully charged through lianas and vines and there high above us looking inquisitively down from the tree top canopy was an adult female orangutan with a small baby clamped to her side. Eric had brought binoculars and so we took it in turns to get a closer look at the magnificent creatures. It was truly breathtaking to look up and see your gaze returned in the eyes of another clearly intelligent anthropoid. Their expressions were disconcertingly human; the mother’s eyes seemed sage and perhaps a little disdainful as she looked down at her strangely hairless pursuers. In the days that passed we saw five more wild orang-utans; two more mother and child pairs and a sub-adult male, who was less amicable than the females breaking huge branches off the trees and throwing them down at us whilst we frantically ran for cover from each enormous log hurled in our direction. The jungle trek was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip but there were so many more unforgettable memories: Climbing Mount Beristagi to clamber inside a volcano with its bright yellow sulphur pools and hot, steaming crevices; the heady profusion of colours and aromas on display at the local markets; visiting beautifully ornate temples and mosques; not to mention the outstanding party on our last night drinking home-made whisky and palm wine with Ivona, the guides and the crew at Coconut island as they passed around a guitar and sang Jack Johnson tunes – the stories are endless! It is now over a year since I visited Sumatra and the memories are as vivid as the day I left. Unfortunately, despite the wealth of experiences on offer tourists are understandably wary of visiting the island, imagining images of widespread destruction. The torrent of post tsunami photographs and news reports that followed the tragic event have left most westerners with the impression that the country is awash with broken buildings, filth and rubble, and that the people are ravaged by grief, death and disease. In fact the area affected in Banda Aceh, whilst desperately in need of aid and funds, is only a small district which has been long removed from the backpacker trail. The rest of the country is as beautiful and inviting as ever and the island’s irrepressibly friendly people and astounding views remain undiminished. It is vital that travellers continue to visit the region as the country has come to depend on tourism as an important source of income. Whilst it is clear that some projects are advantageous to indigenous populations, be it in protecting their biodiversity or creating local business for the community, others exhaust resources and erode local culture and the surrounding environment. If you are planning to compliment your degree with research abroad, or simply need a well deserved break from the library and want to experience a real adventure, I highly recommend Sumatra. Eco-tourism is one option in the promotion of sustainable tourism, but sadly there are many false packages on the market. In a world where it has become increasingly difficult to attain balance between sustainability and exploitation it may be wise to research the location and venture carefully to be confident about the integrity of the package. Take advantage of the fact that this amazing country won’t be over run with tourists or backpackers for once and experience Sumatra for yourself, you definitely won’t regret it.        |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 16 January 2008 ) |
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