The mugger was short, agile and covered in thick red hair. As he sidled
towards my guide, Zacky, and me in the depths of the Tanjung Puting National
Park, in southern Borneo, I realised we were about to become the latest
hapless victims of a mischievous orang-utan called Pan.
“Don’t worry,” said Zacky, a zoologist with the Orangutan Foundation
International, “I can handle him. You go on.” With his arms outstretched,
Zacky valiantly tried to shield me from Pan as he passed us by, but our
assailant was too fast. Pan lunged to nab my bag of supplies, and I watched
in awe as he sat down, examined the contents and took a long drink of my
water. Then he let out a satisfied burp, had a quick pick of his nose and
wandered off towards the river in search of more loot.
Pan had heard us coming. The wily local often hangs around near the 200-metre
iron boardwalk that runs between a river landing jetty and the Camp Leakey
research and conservation centre in the park. When a boat arrives, he heads
down to the river to see if the new arrivals have anything worth pinching.
Pan was not, I was soon to discover, the only orang-utan in Tanjung Puting
with a streak of kleptomania.
The mugging was an unexpected but refreshing welcome to the park, a vast
expanse of forest and coastal swamp stuffed with wildlife. I was visiting
the Indonesian region of southern Borneo, on the second leg of a trip around
the equator with a series of crack BBC film crews, and we had feared that a
close encounter with wild primates would require hours of fruitless tracking
through thick rainforest.
But Tanjung Puting has become the best place in the world to see wild
orang-utans, the largest arboreal animals on earth and the only great apes
found outside Africa. The chances of a meeting are high simply because most
of their habitat outside the park has been destroyed, and thousands of
threatened orang-utans are now crammed inside the protected sanctuary.
Destruction is everywhere in southern Borneo. After arriving on the island by
plane, I drove for six hours in the direction of Tanjung Puting without
seeing much more than a small copse. The area used to be a verdant paradise
and one of the most biodiverse regions of the planet. While there are just
over 30 native species of trees in the UK, Borneo has at least 5,000. But
vast tracts of forest have completely vanished. Over the past few decades,
Indonesia as a whole has lost about 80% of its original forest habitat.
Illegal logging for lumber is still partly to blame, but expanding plantations
producing palm oil, a wonder crop found in 1 in 10 western consumer goods,
are now the main culprits. Roads across Borneo are lined by the remnants of
once mighty rainforests. By the time the BBC crew and I arrived for an
overnight stop in the town of Pangkalan Bun, close to the national park, the
devastation had become thoroughly depressing.
FORTUNATELY, there was some light relief in the bar of the Blue Kecubung
hotel, where the local singer — nicknamed Camp Freddy — gave a stellar
performance that raised our spirits. Stroking his thin moustache and
strutting the stage in leather trousers, Freddy gave a unique Indonesian
interpretation of Queen’s greatest hits. I doubt Simon Cowell would have
been impressed, but what Freddy lacked in talent, he compensated for with
bags of enthusiasm.
The next morning, Zacky whisked us towards Tanjung Puting in a couple of
speedboats, and we skirted the park boundary on the Sungai Sekonyer river.
On our right was the protected national park, with thick forest containing
some 220 bird species, 17 kinds of reptile and 29 types of mammal, including
orang-utans and proboscis monkeys with six-inch bulbous hooters. On the left
was a 20- to 50-metre patch of trees, then endless acres of deforested land.
Zacky had assured us that we would see orang-utans inside the park, and we
were not disappointed. After watching Pan disappearing towards the river, we
walked to the research centre at Camp Leakey as the rainforest on either
side squawked and screeched. “You’re in luck,” said Zacky. “The King is
here!”
The King, a huge dominant male orang-utan called Kusasi, was sprawled on the
grass within the Camp, fiddling with his dark cheek pads and watching to see
if workers would leave the kitchen door open long enough for him to grab a
free lunch. As we slipped inside the kitchen hut for a welcome chat and bowl
of rice, Kusasi leapt towards the closing door, trapping us in the kitchen
while his black leathery fingers curled through the mesh over the windows.
But there was no sense of aggression. The King was just trying his luck.
Doors to the large huts that comprise Camp Leakey have a series of ingenious
latches and locks designed to prevent burglary by inquisitive orang-utans.
The primates will pinch almost anything not nailed to the ground. Watches
have been snatched from wrists and pockets have been picked. Pan uses his
speed, Kusasi uses his size and strength, and Princess, another local
resident, uses her brains, pinching boats at Camp Leakey and paddling
downriver to get to her favourite riverbank foods. When workers submerge
canoes to discourage joyrides, Princess works with other orang-utans to tip
the water out and right the boats.
Solitary, thoughtful and immensely strong, orang-utans are quite simply some
of the most extraordinary animals roaming the planet. Their declining
numbers are a tragedy, caused largely by our desire for palm oil and
consumer goods. A large tree from the Borneo rainforest can be worth more
than £5,000 in finished products when shipped to China and converted into
venetian blinds or a sofa frame. Some of the loggers are villagers using a
shared chain saw, others are international firms with vast factories,
expensive machinery and better road-building equipment than the government.
Adult orang-utans who get in their way are usually trapped and clubbed, shot,
stabbed or burnt to death, while baby orang-utans are kept and sold as pets.
The Orangutan Foundation now cares for about 120 young orphans rescued from
villages and animal-traffickers.
ZACKY WAS rightly proud of the large, spotless orphanage. The residents are
given love and plenty of food, but they clearly long for their parents. As
we went on a short tour, arms were thrust out of cages in a hunt for the
touch and warmth of another mammal.
So I was delighted to help Zacky and workers from the orphanage carry a group
of the young orangs on a training trip into the rainforest. Without their
parents, orangs can find the rainforest intimidating, and need to be taught
how to forage in preparation for eventual release into the wild. Osbourne, a
hefty young infant, grabbed me around the neck, while his feet gripped me
tightly around the waist. As we plunged into the forest, he was restless and
glanced around nervously.
“He’s scared,” I said to Zacky, who was struggling with two other youngsters,
“what should I do?”
“Try stroking his head,” came the response. “He’s pretty similar to a human
baby.”
The advice worked. When I stroked his head, Osbourne became calmer, and at one
point even started scratching my chin. Just as I was getting broody, it was
time for him to climb into the forest canopy and start practising a few
essential life skills. I introduced him to a likely tree and lifted him onto
the lower branches. But the poor thing didn’t want to go, and climbed back
into my arms. I tried again, lifting him onto a branch, patting the tree and
making encouraging noises, as if taking the stabilisers off his bicycle.
Osbourne looked up at the tree, looked back at me for reassurance, and began
to climb. It was food for the soul.
Conservationists have battled bravely on behalf of Osbourne and his friends,
but some experts believe orang-utan numbers have fallen by two-thirds since
1990. Wild females have a birthing interval of roughly eight years, the
longest of any animal, which dims their chances of survival, and a palm-oil
plantation half the size of the Isle of Wight is now encroaching on Tanjung
Puting.
As their habitat vanishes, many orangs are unable to find enough fruit. Zacky
took us on a rainforest walk to a feeding platform and cupped his hands to
his mouth to call hungry locals. There were crashing noises in the forest as
20 mouths came swinging down from the trees. I felt a strong, sticky hand
grabbing my arm, and looked down into a young pair of mournful eyes that
melted my heart.
Borneo is a spectacular destination, but much of the rainforest has already
been logged, and the sound of chain saws may soon be heard inside the
national park. Visit before the forest disappears, but don’t complain if an
orang-utan pinches your backpack. After all, humans have been stealing their
land for years, and it’s about time they got their own back.
Simon Reeve’s series Equator starts tonight on BBC2 at
9pm. His journey across Indonesia will be shown at 8pm on September 3
TRAVEL BRIEF
Spotting orang-utans is best organised with a specialist tour operator such as
World Primate Safaris (0870 850 9092, www.worldprimatesafaris.com).
A tailor-made five-day tour of the Tanjung Puting National Park starts at
about £1,300pp, including flights from Jakarta, accommodation and transfers,
but not international flights. Expect to pay about £450 for flights from
Heathrow, Gatwick or Manchester to Jakarta, through Airline Network (0870
700 0543, www.airline-network.co.uk),
or Trailfinders (0845 058 5858, www.trailfinders.com). For more information
on the Tanjung Puting National Park and the work of the Orangutan Foundation
International, visit www.orangutan.org.
FOR GUARANTEED up-close orang-utan encounters, there are four other
rehabilitation centres in the region: Wanariset (also in Kalimantan);
Semenggok (near Kuching) and Sepilok (near Sandakan), both in Malaysian
Borneo; and the Bohorok Centre, a couple of hours’ drive from Medan in
Sumatra, which sees huge numbers of tourists.
The most affordable and accessible all-round experience is the Sepilok Centre:
there are direct flights from Malaysian Borneo’s regional hub, Kota
Kinabalu, and you get the chance to see wild orang-utans in the nearby
forests. With Naturetrek (01962 733051, www.naturetrek.co.uk),
an 11-day tour, visiting the Sepilok Centre and the Danum Valley
Conservation Area, starts at £2,195pp. Accommodation is at the Sukau
Rainforest Lodge (www.sukau.com) and the
Borneo Rainforest Lodge (www.borneorainforestlodge.com),
and the price includes flights from Heathrow, local connecting flights and
transfers.
Other operators include Wildlife Worldwide (0845 130 6982, www.wildlifeworldwide.com),
Explore Worldwide (0870 333 4001, www.explore.co.uk),
Audley Travel (01869 276360, www.audleytravel.com)
and Cox & Kings (020 7873 5000, www.coxandkings.com).
