The Sumatran rhino is one of the rarest and most
endangered animals on Earth. In the forests of Sabah,
Borneo, Iain Fletcher joins a group of volunteers
in search of a creature on the brink of extinction.
A team from SOS Rhino fords a river in their quest for signs of the Sumatran rhino
Deep in the jungle of Sabah, northeastern Borneo, I stop at the top of a ravine to get my breath back. We have been hacking through dense, steaming rainforest for two days in search of the elusive Sumatran rhino and this climb, about the twentieth of the day, had been both draining and fruitless.
It is not surprising. Best guesses put the numbers of the creature, the smallest of the five rhino species, as low as 30 – so any glimpse, however fleeting, would be a moment to savour.
My journey to the top of this hill is the culmination of a series of hop-on, hop-off plane journeys from peninsular Malaysia involving visits to such exotically named places as Kota Kinabalu on the west coast and Lahad Datu on the east.
In the meantime, a four-wheel-drive has taken me down rutted tracks carved between green oceans of palm oil trees, I have trekked on foot into barely touched virgin jungle and camped overnight by a stream in the rainforest, falling asleep to the sounds of a jungle alive with animal life.
For all that, I have little wider concept of my surroundings at this moment than the ground immediately ahead and the backpack of the local tracker in front. Above me is a huge canopy of green punctured with occasional patches of blue where the sun and daylight penetrate, and surrounding me are tree trunks, the tangible origins of the leafy roof above.
The ground is littered with leaves, leeches and a rapidly increasing pool of my sweat. It is 25°C and humid, fetid even. I feel as though I am sweating constantly, only managing to replace lost fluid by consuming each day 12 litres of water, sterilised the night before over a campfire. As I suck in the humid air and listen to the distant thunderclaps, the prelude to the usual afternoon storm, I glance towards the lead tracker of our group. He is staring intently ahead and motioning me to silence with an urgent swat of his hand. My pulse quickens. In an instant the crushing fatigue born of sliding through mud, crashing into branches, crossing swollen rivers and hacking through undergrowth that at first glance looks impenetrable is gone and in its place appear elation and excitement.
Some large animal is just ahead of us, hidden in the foliage behind a tiny incline. It could be a rhino. I slowly wave to alert the rest of the seven-strong group, not sure yet where the focus of our attention is going to be. They react as one, freezing in stride, observing total silence and scanning the surrounding vegetation. The only noises are the distant barking of a sambar deer and the muffled rumble of the approaching storm.
Minute stretches into silent minute before the tracker slowly motions us forward. Like a stealth of assassins we edge towards a large, fallen tree, taking cover behind it and peering ahead. Between the leaves we see our quarry – a group of seven large, hairy, barrel-chested wild boars. They are 20 metres distant and digging around a mud wallow, the kind of bath favoured by elephants and rhino.
It is not what we had hoped for, but it is a magnificent sight. The boars continue their meal for a short while before they sense our presence. In an instant they are gone, bolting at speed into the undergrowth, seven low-slung prop-forwards making a dash for it.
I exchange excited, whispered conversations with the other volunteers, delighted by our close encounter. We are here with the aim of helping with the research programme of SOS Rhino, a worldwide foundation determined to help preserve the dwindling rhino species, so seeing large mammals is very much part of the plan.
In Borneo, SOS Rhino is a joint WWF/Sabah Wildlife Department project based in Tabin Wildlife Reserve, a government-created protected zone that has existed since 1984. It has two major roles – research in the field and an education campaign aimed at local schools and villages. Its ultimate goal is rhino protection. Seventeen trackers and guides, mostly local men and boys, form the Rhino Protection Unit patrols to prevent illegal poaching. Then there are the surveys, ongoing and in-depth studies of the remaining habitat of the rhino, documentation of any sightings, evidence of dung and footprints. he truth is sightings are rare. The Sumatran rhino is extremely endangered, at risk from poaching and habitat loss, and the few individuals that survive have an understandable fear of mankind. This is proved by the fact that one of the RPU’s proudest achievements of recent years is the capture of some grainy footage of a rhino, now proudly displayed on its website. Once, this part of Malaysia offered kilometre after kilometre of virgin forest.
But logging and the planting of palm oil plantations have taken their toll and today, despite seemingly strict government action, illegal logging still threatens not only the Sumatran rhino but also other endangered species such as the pygmy elephant and orang utan. The WWF believes that, in the past 30 years, over 40 per cent of Borneo has been logged or converted to plantations. Much of the remaining forest is in isolated pockets, reducing the territories of individual animals. All is not lost, however, a set of baby rhino prints was found last year and it was to this wallow that we set off the next morning.
‘Rhinos are creatures of habit,’ says Fadzilawati Hamdan, the project coordinator, ‘they tend to stay in an area for a month and then move on. We have to keep checking all the wallows, though, searching for footprints and signs of the animals rubbing against trees. This wallow is special. We know the baby and its mother have used it in the past.’
Hamdan’s instincts are soon proved right. Reaching the wallow we are confronted by a perfectly formed adult rhino print, the shape of each toe clearly visible. It is photographed and recorded and, despite the fact it may be several weeks old, studied intently.
For the members of SOS Rhino such evidence is proof that their work is not in vain. For me, it was the closest I was to get to these rare giants of the forest – but there was no feeling of disappointment. Other wild animals provided compensation for the absence of the star turn.
I was able to marvel at the manual dexterity of gibbons as they swung through the canopy high above our heads, to see bird species almost too numerous to name and feast my eyes on more wild boar snuffling amid the roots and leaves.
Then there was the experience of living rough in the jungle. For three nights we camped next to a river, harvesting its contents at mealtimes. Collecting wild ferns and mangoes from the forest floor appealed to the hunter-gatherer instinct and our only real concern was the nightly battle with millions of aggressive fire ants.
I left the jungle with a mixture of regret and joy, travelling to the Tabin Wildlife Lodge for a couple of days’ luxuriating with hot water, soft towels and the occasional cold beer. The lodge sits on a river and provides a great viewing platform for wild animals, but without the thrill of jungle living, the excitement of jungle tracking and the adrenalin-pumping rush of seeing wild animals one-to-one in their natural habitat.
For all the creature comforts, however, we were deep in the rainforest and danger was still present. This was brought home to me one morning, following my guide near the beautiful Lipad waterfall, a wonderful natural pool ideal for swimming. Coming around a corner he suddenly leapt backwards, crashing into me and whispering loudly, ‘No! Snake.’
In the underbrush, about two metres down the trail and so well hidden that it took me seconds to find it, was a king cobra, its head raised. Had we taken one more step we would have come in range of its potentially lethal bite. For all its menace, it was beautiful creature, three metres in length, dark brown and thick-bodied. I may have missed out on the Sumatran rhino, but I had come face to face with one of the most dramatic predators in Asia – an incredible encounter I shall never forget.
As we came around the corner he suddenly leapt backwards, crashing into me and whispering loudly, ‘No! Snake.’
HOW TO GET THERE
Fly from Kuala Lumpur or any other major Asian hub to Kota Kinabalu. From here, take a connecting flight to the east coast town of Lahad Datu. Tabin Wildlife Lodge will pick you up and return you to the airport. It is around a 90-minute drive, mostly through plantations.
Rhino research
SOS Rhino uses volunteers to help it with its surveys. You must be able to eat rice and be prepared to forage for food – fish, snails, wild mushrooms – in the jungle. Tours leave from the Tabin lodge, which provides luxurious accommodation after several nights spent out in the jungle.
www.sosrhino.org
www.tabinwildlife.com.my
