KL to Cameron Highlands

This is rough. I knew it would be, but still, little can prepare you for it.  I made it to Batu Caves. Wasn’t particularly impressed. Didn’t feel like stashing the bike and exploring the actual site so I took a rushed photo and kept going, eager to put the highway madness of Kuala Lumpur behind me. The slightly cooler morning temperatures were already giving way to scorching afternoon heat. The one thing that made me happy was discovering I could buy a cup of fresh cut fruit at the gas station. India didn’t have nice gas station convenience stores with fruit and air conditioning, so Malaysia was definitely providing for me in that department. They also have a delectable and refreshing electrolyte drink called 100 Plus that I am using to keep myself hydrated. But the heat. Lord the heat. It was unbearable. It was a relief to get out of the sprawl, and then there was nothing and I climbed. The city stops dramatically as it comes against the spines of the mountains running up and down Malaysia’s Western side. The climbing itself was pretty easy but the heat made it a wretched affair. I still didn’t feel used to the bike, it was like a foreign object to me, it felt like I was starting all over again. I have a natural tendency not to trust my own mechanic work once I’ve reassembled the bike so  it always feels a little sketchy during those first days. So I wobbled and panted and schvitzed through the thick moist air of midday. There were no shops or anything on the road and I had no water because I hadn’t realized the small hill would be bereft of commerce. In India I always had shops. But eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, I made it over the pass and down the other side and found a small town with a Chinese restaurant and collapsed on a chair and drank a fresh coconut about it. God I was exhausted. I wasn’t far from my destination though, and I knew I wanted to arrive before the evening rain, so I got back on to push through the final kilometers to the campsite that my host had recommended. I made it to the palm plantation within the hour and took a trail along a stream to find a perfectly maintained camp area on the banks with wood platforms and sheltered by large tarps. A perfect camping spot for a rainforest, protected on the top and bottom. This would end up being the only time I camped in Malaysia, but it was nice. Pretty much the second I arrived, it started to drizzle. This was a bummer as I had planned to go on a little walk and find the waterfall, and had even changed into my bathing suit. I hoped it would remain a drizzle and set up my tent and put everything under the protection of the tarp hurriedly so I could profit from the couple hours of sunlight left me. But no sooner had I set a few steps on trail than a torrential downpour broke out. I retreated to shelter and sat on the platform to read my kindle, hoping it would be a brief one, as the rain pummeled down, thankful for the strong tarp. The rain, however, was persistent and continued until dark, not stopping until early in the morning. So much for predictable short bursts of rain every evening, that was a biblical rain for me. I’d have been really screwed without the platform and tarp.

I got up the next day and was not really feeling it. Just a general malaise. Maybe that’s why they call it Malaysia. You really have to break through it. And for that only caffeine will do the trick. Luckily, unlike in India, they believe in coffee here in Malaysia, and I don’t have much trouble finding it, albeit in varying quality. The Chinese enjoy lacing the stuff with heaps of sugary condensed milk, but I’m not above it. I’ll take it any way I can get it. It’s ramadan so I’m mostly frequenting Indian and Chinese places of business. It’s weird, as the majority of this country is Malay, but I’m hardly seeing them anywhere. I don’t mind the Chinese and Indians though, they’re nice and familiar and their food is good. Cycling is miserable here. I think I’ve gone 50km when really I’ve done 5. Every meter is a struggle in the hot soup of Southeast Asia’s atmosphere. I’m making slow progress. But it’s fine. I decided immediately that I wouldn’t be taking the recommended route up to Frazer Hill. There was no reason to go all the way up a hill and then just go back down, if I’d be going up to Cameron Highlands later anyway. I secured a volunteer position at a hostel there and was excited to kick my feet up in some cooler weather. And work, I guess… if I really have to. I spent a night in a shipping container hotel and got to try some Malay food at a Ramadan market across the street. Some of it was good, all of it was unhealthy. The air was a little cooler from the rain and I slept well. Every hotel in Malaysia has air conditioning, a rare luxury in India. The next day I crawled up to the town just before the ascent to Cameron and rested up for the big 50KM climb I was dreading. 

But I was wrong to dread it. The next day was one of the best cycling days I’d had in a long long time. God, I love the mountains. These long flat stretches in the heat had turned cycling into a slog for me, the mountains woke something up in my heart again. The road was beautiful, enveloped by old growth jungle towering above me. The weather was perfect, clouds in the sky. I was alive and happy, I didn’t pay heed to the pain in my butt. It was a heavenly day for cycling. At one point it poured rain and I found a cozy little shelter where I ate snacks and read my kindle. I climbed for maybe 30 kilometers, and then I climbed some more and arrived at night to the town of Tanah Rata where I got a hostel for the night and ate really bad Indian food. The next day I polished off the remaining 20 kilometers to Troji’s hostel in Kampung Raja where I would spend two weeks volunteering.