Green Smarties

Near Kota Tinggi we stopped to visit some water falls and break our journey. In the shade of the jungle, people splashed happily in the water and walked across the rickety wooden bridge that was hanging precariously over a deep pool at the foot of the falls.

However we could not stay long in this oasis of refreshment. There was still a considerable way to go. After a brief relaxed moment in the shade of the trees with the spray from the water cooling us we reluctantly returned to the red hot metal box that was our car and started off once more. Consulting the map, we changed direction and headed to the north east.

The countryside had transformed from rubber plantations to that of bleak red soil, scarred and pitched like a moonscape and dotted with the grey metal shacks which straddled the entrance to tin mines. The hot sun’s rays flashed off these little huts reflecting dazzling light.

During mid afternoon we reached the next town of Jemaluang where we rested briefly once more, and then set off on the final leg of the journey toward the coast and our final destination – Mersing.

This small fishing town however did not offer the accommodation we had hoped for. We discovered with some disappointment that the Government rest house was fully booked. It was situated high up on a grassy hill and surrounded by a golf course and looked very inviting, but we decided that even if they had no spare rooms, at least we could return for a meal there later after we had found somewhere else to stay.

In the centre of Mersing we finally settled for a ramshackle hotel on the main road which led to the quay. ‘This will do for a couple of nights.’ said Peter ‘At least it’s cheap.’

Leaving our cases in the room, we then set off to explore the local mosque situated on a hill. It was highly decorative and far more elaborate than any other building in the town. It was while we were investigating the mosque that we met some young Malay teachers. They were very friendly and wanted to know all about England and then told us where we could find a beach that overlooked the islands. They told us that one of the islands had been used in the filming of South Pacific.

The beach was not far from an old deserted airfield, and was disappointing and very dirty. It was covered in litter and had patches of oil running through the sand and the back drop of scrubby greenery behind threatened to overtake what little beach there was and engulf it with insect laden bushes. However, we found some interesting pieces of coral and seaweed amongst the rubbish.

Off the coast, the islands hovered in the misty heat like mirages. In the distance, the twin granite pinnacles of Pulau Tiomin disappeared into cloud. The Malays believed it to be a petrified dragon. Looking out at this island while the sun seemed to hang suspended in the sky above as if deciding whether to set or not, I suddenly shivered as I became aware of the memory of a strange premonition experienced as a child when watching the film South Pacific at our local cinema in Bournemouth.

Leaving the cinema all those years before, I suddenly had the most clear and somewhat disturbing conviction that one day I would really see those islands myself, and now that premonition had come true, even though at the time with the limited travel opportunities available it seemed an impossible dream. I remember clearly it had left me with an uncomfortable feeling, a mixture of excitement and fear of change, where my longing for adventure was being held back by my love of home – a dichotomy that was to last my entire life.

Amongst the debris of plastic bottles, bits of fishing net and other distasteful odds and ends that surrounded us as we sat hand in hand, I found a large piece of fossilised coral, which I kept as a souvenir.

Other things I kept as souvenirs were less pleasant. I had been plagued by little black insects which swarmed over me leaving me covered in bites. I did not realise they were sand flies, or the significance of the bright red bites with the black centres they kindly left behind.