Hope for Nigal's Hometown

“Wait, Giant Hairy Beasts Attract Tourists?

KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia (AP) — Reported sightings of a "Bigfoot" in southern Malaysia's jungles could be used as a tourist draw, officials said, as they planned another expedition to track the mythical beast.

Malaysian media have been gripped by "Bigfoot" fever ever since some fish farm workers reported seeing three giant human-like hairy beasts in November at the edge of the Endau Rompin National Park forest.

The workers also claim to have seen a gigantic footprint, which they photographed and gave to local newspapers.

No plans have been made yet on how the story could be used to attract tourists to the state, said Abdul Jabar Tahir, general manager of the Johor Tourism Action Council. But the purported sightings could benefit Malaysia's tourism industry, he said.

"The national parks officials must do more fact finding, but like the Loch Ness monster, this can bring some good for our country," he told The Associated Press recently.

A team from the Johor National Parks Corporation — which manages the Endau Rompin reserve — conducted a one-day expedition last month to survey the area where the beasts allegedly were sighted. A second expedition was planned for February.

Last story”

“I got dibs on being the first to shoot Nigal with a tranquilizer dart.”

“When I was on Mt. Kinabalu in Malaysian Borneo back in 2001, we saw some sort of weird yeti creature (actually a pair of them) at a height way above what any indigenous primate is supposed to go to. The beasts easily stood 4ft tall at the shoulder and walked somewhat like an ape. The following an a excerpt I wrote that was posted to webexpedition.net:

After escaping from the so-called "Valley of Death", we have been (suprise, suprise) carrying heavy loads up and down Kinabalu. We had left some ropes and gear down the gully at about 6,000 feet that we couldn't retreive at the time becuase of the torrential rains and flooding... Aaron and I were elected to make an attempt at "rescuing" our equipment. After making our way back up to Panar Laban, physically exhausted and mentally fatigued from the previous 6 weeks of climbing, load carrying, and jungle bushwhacking, we were hit by inclement weather. Rain, rain, rain, and more rain -- the locals of Borneo claim that there are two seasons in their country: The rainy season and the VERY rainy season... and having spent nearly two months here, I can fully attest to this statement. We had a very small window of opportunity to retreive our gear (about 6 days), that left a very slim margin for foul weather and mistakes. The first day, after carrying our 40 lb. packs up to Sayat Sayat, a persistent foggy mist and drizzle rolled in around 11 am. Now fairly well in tune with the weather (well as much as one can be), we realized that rain was on the horizon... and if it's raining on this side of the mountain, then Low's Gully is surely getting pummeled. In truth, I don't think we really had it in us to attempt the gear rescue -- we were sick of the persistent cold, wet, and rain, as well as beat from our previous 10 day stint in the jungle and boulder choked gully. Heather and Brent were up on the west summit conducting a climbing class for some Sabah Parks rangers and OBS staff -- they got the opportunity to climb and have a nice warm and dry hut to return to at night, while we were left to slog through rain and mud carrying heinous loads. Besides our small time window, Aaron and I also realized that we would be completely fubar'ed if one of us got injured down in the gully. Without the other team members to support us, it would most likely require a helicopter evacuation for anything but the most trivial of injuries. Both of us were will to risk life and limb for fortune and glory (e.g. completeing a first ascent, bagging some peak, and completely descending the gully), but to do so for a dozen pitons, a set of nuts, and some static line seems ludicrous at best. Loaded with a fistfull of reasons of why not to repeat our previous epic, we descended back down to Laban Rata.

The next day, after the constant rains of the day before, it appeared as if the weather would be somewhat more agreeable -- somewhere still deep down in the backs of our heads, we wanted to rescue our gear -- so we decided to head back up. Soon, however, the mists and fogs moved back in and we realized that the weather was going to get nasty by afternoon. We cached what gear and food we had off to the side of the trail, and decided at least to retreive the equipment we had left in the upper portion of the gully. We continued huffing our way up the col above Easy Valley and then back down the other side to our Low's Gully base camp. Finding our tent and equipment wet and in puddles, we realized we were correct in our surmise that it had been raining down in the gully. We packed up what gear and equipment we had, and headed back up towards the col. It was then, when we realized how ridiculous a gear rescue in the lower gully would have been. We were completely and utterly bagged carrying these relatively small loads -- we had to stop and test about every 250 meters... I guess the constant toil and small rations over the past weeks had definitely taken their toll. Coming back down the other side, Aaron cut off towards Sayat Sayat to fill up our water bags as we had decided to make camp on the Bowen's Route spur trail. I found the promising camp site we had spotted 5 weeks earlier after our time on the Mesilau Pinnacle and the east plateau, and promtly pitched the tarp. No sooner had I finished tieing off the final guyline, when it started dumping rain -- a cats and dogs sort of rain one can only find in the tropics. Well at least one of us is dry, even if Aaron is getting drenched, I thought. About half and hour later, in walks a VERY wet and bedraggled Aaron, and I quickly boiled some water and brewed us a rejuvinating concotion of Milo (a kind of malt-based hot cocoa the locals drink like it is going out of style), brown sugar, pure cream milk powder and a few tablespoons of margarine -- it probably sounds completely heinous to the civilized man, but to us, it was the nectar of the gods.

The next few days pretty much blurred together as not much happened on our end of the expedition. Aaron and I huddled under our big, blue tarp most of the time and watched the rain pour down. We rigged a short line to the peak of the tarp to help purge the water the water that collected. Whenever we were bored or alarmed at the pooled rain water, we would pull down on the line, and a swell of water would rush down the tarp and cascade off the far end. We also discovered a game called "Bat the Rat" which is undoubtedly the primitive predecessor to the popular arcade version known as "Whack-a-Mole". In this game, instead of waiting for moles to pop their heads out of holes and then whacking them with a rubber mallet, you wait patiently in your sleeping bag or bivy sack. At night, when a rat scurries across you, you attempt to bat it up into the air. Points are scored by how many feet into the air you can launch your rat. Bonus points are awarded if you can make the rat land on your opponent's sleeping bag or face. Other entertainment included eating, napping, the occassional off-hand game of chess, and reading the oh-so-enthralling "Mimicry in Plants and Animals", one of only two english books I found in Poring. Definitely not my first choice in reading material, but when you're on an expedition, straved of things to read, almost anything will suffice (e.g. Heather spent about an hour reading a 4-color pamphlet from KFC entitled "All About the Chicken", that even included a chapter entitled "The Chicken in the Cyber Age"). While waiting out the deluge, we made a wonderful discovery one evening. I caught a faint hint of movement out of the corner of my eye, and glanced up the grainte slabs above me. There, perhaps 300 meters away, were two Yetis -- They had orange-ish, brown hair covering their bodies and must have stood 4 feet tall. Now there is supposed to be some type of primate that lives on Kinabalu's lower flanks, but it is extremely rare and never travels above 10,000 feet. The creatures we saw were easily over 12,000 feet and were roughly man-sized... definitely the famed Low's Gully yeti making yet another trip to Sayat Sayat to dig through tourists' trash... believe it or not.

I'm often amazed at the turmoil and dangers one will willingly go through while on an expedition. Who in their right mind would hike 25+ miles a day for months on end? Who would want to carry 80 pounds up thousands of vertical feet? Who but a mad man would spend a week going down a gully hacking through jungle, rappelling down waterfalls, and swimming through freezing pools (and then spend another week doing the same thing in reverse)? Sometimes, however, I'm even more amazed at one will go through while on an expedition for even the simplest of pleasures. Back in '94, while hiking through Oregon along the Pacific Crest Trail, I remember hiking an additional 14 miles round trip, just to take a luke warm shower at a KOA Kampground. On my one "rest day" while on the west plateau, I went up and down 5,000 vertical feet over 6 kilometers for a few chocolate bars and a 6-pack of beer. My boss and friend Dano, once placed his television set on the second floor of his house. He figured that at least he would get some excercise going up and down the steps to watch the TV... instead, he discovered that he no longer watches TV. Aaron and I, however, were so bored of watching the rain pour off our tarp, that a couple times we made the 1 kilometer 1,000 foot descent down to Laban Rata just to watch satellite TV with the cooking and wait staff -- and this wasn't even marginally good programming... I'm talking stuff like "Benji goes to Athens" and that atrocious Bette Midler flick "Beaches" (and to protect my reputation as a hard mountain man, please don't tell anyone I actually watched that movie).

Anyway, the rain eventually let up one evening, and we were greeted the next day with most beautiful sunny day we had seen in weeks. Not wanting to pass up this wonderful opportunity to soak up the rays, I stripped down to my shorts and lay down on my foam pad in the small moss covered clearing next to our campsite. An hour later, Aaron appears and joins me in my tanning session. As the sun beats down, we sip lemonade, dry our soaking wet climning gear, and chat. Supposedly Aaron met one of the wait staff down at Laban Rata, and actually has a date to climb Low's Peak with her. After an other hour of so enjoying the sun, we realize that we are getting quite pink. Up here at 12,000 feet above sea level, just a few degrees north of the equator, the sun is very powerful -- we were burnt to lobster level. This normally doesn't bother much, but I was soon to regret my decision, the next day when we headed down with 40-50 lb. backpacks. Every step down that vertical mile was pure torture as the straps on our packs would bite into sunburnt shoulders, back, and chest. The path we took down is called the Summit Trail (a.k.a the Tourist Trail), and is to Kinabalu what interstate 5 is the Los Angeles. Imagine a trail about 4 feet wide that climbs 7,500 feet over 8.5 kilometers... basically a 45 degree "staircase" that starts in dense jungle at about 6,000 feet above sea level and winds a steep path to it's termination at Low's peak -- that's the Tourist Trail, and every day upwards of 200 Japanese, Malaysiam, Chinese, and Europeans make the "climb" to the summit. It annoys to hear of people "climbing" Kinabalu, when all they did was make what is admitedly a strenuous hike -- lucky for us, however, the tourists stick to their trail, never wandering from its' well-defined path. What remains is a wonderfully huge granite playground that might see a dozen feet over the course of the year. It is truely a climbers paradise: for mountaineers, there soaring ridge lines and pinnacle traverses; for trad climbers, there are thousands of never-ascended routes up beautiful crack and flake systems; for sport climbers, there are short 40 foot overhanging walls to 200 meter long slab routes; and for the big wall climber, the east ridge and Low's Gully will keep even the most jaded wall rat occupied for years.

Although we put up nearly 2 dozen first ascents, I spent way too much time schlepping gear up and down the mountain. We have become somewhat a fixture on the mountain -- guides, porters, and park staff all recognize us. Coming up or down the Tourist Trail, they will often stop and chat, mormally pleasanties of the sort "Ahhh... Low's Gully Expedition", "Where are the others?", and "Yes, very much rain today." Even for those guides and porters who have never seen us before, we immediately stand out from the typical tourist: Normally we are carrying rhinocerous-sized loads, equal to if not exceeding those carried by the porters. If we happen to be going up or down without heavy packs on, we are taken notice of because of our speed. Having spent 6 weeks at 12,000 feet climbing and shuttling loads we are fully acclimatized and in shape -- we might not have the softball-sized calves and bull-like necks of the porters who have spent decades carrying up huge loads in whicker baskets with a tump lines, but we can definitely hold our own. My first time up the trail to Laban Rata, it took me 7 hours carrying up a 75 lb. load. Now without a pack on, I easily make it up in 2 hours, while going dowm we often jog, making it down to Timpohon Gate in just over an hour.

So, here I am, back in Ranau after carrying down another good-sized load. This town is pretty much like every other I've been through during my time in Sabah. Definitely third-world, most towns consist of a few "Bloks" crammed together between dirty, pothole filled streets. A typical block has perhaps 1 hardware store, 1 hair cut place, 4 or 5 restaurants (1 or 2 of which might be Chinese), just as many convenience stores, and living quarters and apartments on the upper story. It amazes me that all the restuarants serve the same exact food at the same exact price as every other (Roti Chanai for .70 RM, Kopi for .90 RM, and Nasi Ayam for 3.00 RM). The convenience and food stores are exactly the same way as well -- they all stock the same goods for the same price -- although one might have a slightly better ice cream selection than another. As an anthropologist and capitalist, it makes we wonder how all these places compete... how does your typical Malaysian decide which grocery store to by his food from? How does he decide which restaurant to eat at when they all serve the same dishes cooked exactly the same way? Why hasn't somebody opened up a place to cater to the Eurpoean tourists... surely they could make bank even in a town as small as Ranau. It's definitely a mystery I will have to investigate further -- in the meantime, however, I will continue to dream of a "very hot" Tex-Mex plate of greasy cheese enchiladas, chalupas, tacos, and refried beans all slathered in picante sauce.

We have only a couple more days on the mountain... just enough time to carry down the rest of our gear and transport it back to Kota Kinabalu. Once there, we have to sort through the piles of equipment, wash rope and gears, and make sense of it all. Aaron, Heather, and Brent will then soon depart back to their native Calgary, while I've given myself an additional 2 weeks to see the sites around Southeast Asia. Although I was considering a solo traverse of Mesilau, I've since decided that I've had enough jungle bushwacking and raining bivouacs to last me a while... so it's off to Thailand for a few days where I can hopefully soak up the sun on white sand beaches while sipping inexpensive "boat drinks" and reading something other than "The Chicken in the Cyber Age."”

“Camelfluffer, What a story! Sounds like you have seen and done things most of us dream about. I see you're not a newby, but I've never seen you post before. How'd you get a name like that?”

“What? WHAT?!

”

“Ruby, I've been hanging out on TrailTalk since '98 (back then I was known as SnakeBoy). I am on again off again on this site, so I tend to post a lot for a couple of months, then disappear for a few years.

I got my new moniker on a 3-month expedition in western china and tibet. I was a base camp manager for a couple of exploratory mountaineering expeditions (including an attempts at the world's 2nd highest unclimbed peak). As the expedition manager, one of my jobs was to arrange transport of all of our gear, food, and equipment. In far western china, you have only a few options, camel being the most suitable. And, well the "fluffer" part, that's a joke ;) If you don't know what a fluffer is, ask around.”

“Better to be the fluffer than the moneyshot.”

“Ruby, Ruby, Ruby....... ;-)

It's a 'porn' term. It's the 'extra' girl that keeps the men 'ready for action' on a movie set.”

“You wouldn’t even think they’d need that. I would think they’d have to have some hairy, naked guy stand there and talk to ya about baseball and your grandmother to keep ya under control.”

“I think I understand now. So fluffer doesn't refer to a fart, huh?”

“no, thats a queef”