Bako National Park

Listen first. Somewhere behind the beach, a branch cracks under real weight. Then comes a low, nasal honk from the trees. The sand under your feet is pale and damp, and the air smells of salt, wet leaves and warm mud from the mangroves. Behind you, the boat that brought you here is already turning back across the bay. There is no road into this place. You arrived the way almost everyone does, by water, and that first quiet moment on the shore is part of the experience.

You are standing in Bako National Park, on a headland where the Bako and Kuching rivers meet the South China Sea. It is the oldest national park in Sarawak, the Malaysian state on the island of Borneo, and it was protected in 1957. By Bornean standards it is small. You can cross much of it on foot in a single long day. But that small size holds a surprising amount, and that is what makes Bako special.

Here is the first surprise. Within a few hours of walking, you can pass through almost every major type of vegetation found in Borneo. There is mangrove swamp along the estuaries and beach forest just behind the sand. There are plants that cling to the cliff faces. There is tall rainforest in the sheltered valleys, and a strange open heathland on the plateau above. Scientists value Bako because these very different worlds sit so close together, like a whole island in miniature.

Now look up into the trees near the mangroves, especially in the early morning or late afternoon. You may see a large reddish monkey with a pale belly and a long, drooping nose. This is the proboscis monkey, and it lives only on Borneo. The males have the largest noses, which hang down over the mouth. Researchers believe the nose helps to make their calls louder. That honking sound you may hear is a male talking to his group.

Proboscis monkeys have pot bellies for a practical reason. They eat mostly leaves, and their stomachs hold bacteria that slowly break down tough plant material. The process is a lot like the way a cow digests grass. They are also strong swimmers, with partly webbed feet, and sometimes they cross channels by leaping into the water. Bako is one of the most reliable places in Borneo to see them in the wild. Move slowly and speak softly, and they will often stay in view.

They are not the only residents. On the beach and around the park headquarters, you may meet bearded pigs. These are wild pigs with a tufted, whiskery snout, and they wander between the buildings without much concern for people. Long-tailed macaques are here too, and they are bold. They have learned that visitors carry food. They will open bags, grab plastic packets and even walk into rooms. Keep your snacks sealed, and never feed them.

The forest also holds quieter animals. Silvered langurs move gently through the canopy. These are slender grey monkeys, and their babies are born a bright orange colour. Monitor lizards walk along the mud. On a guided night walk, rangers often find sleeping birds, tree frogs, stick insects, and green pit vipers coiled on branches at head height. If you are lucky, you may see a colugo, sometimes called a flying lemur. It is not a lemur, and it does not truly fly. It glides from tree to tree on a wide sheet of skin.

Now turn toward the sea and look at the rock. Bako is built on sandstone, laid down long ago as layers of sand and then lifted and worn by the sea. The cliffs carry bands of cream, rust and deep red, where iron minerals stain the stone. In places the surface forms patterns like honeycomb, or ripples, or the scales of an animal. Wind, salt and waves have carved these shapes slowly, grain by grain.

The sea has also cut the coast into small coves and pillars. The most photographed is a sea stack, a tall column of rock standing alone in the water just offshore. Many people say it looks like the raised head of a cobra. Boat operators often pass close to it on the way in or out, when the tide allows. Look at the narrow neck where the waves strike hardest. Over time, the sea will wear it through, and the shape will change.

Climb up onto the plateau and the landscape changes completely. The tall trees disappear. Instead you walk through low, open scrub on white sand, under a strong sun. This is kerangas forest, or heath forest. The name is commonly explained as a word from the Iban language for land that cannot grow rice. The soil here is so poor and acidic that only tough, specialised plants survive. It feels almost like a different country, only a short walk from the beach.

In this poor soil, some plants have found another way to feed. Look closely at the ground and the low shrubs for pitcher plants. Their leaves end in small hanging cups, often green, red or speckled. Insects slip on the smooth rim and fall into the liquid inside, where they slowly dissolve. The plant takes up the nutrients it cannot get from the sand. Several kinds grow here, and there are sundews too, with sticky, glistening hairs.

A few practical words before you go further. The trails are marked with coloured paint on trees and rocks, so watch for the marks and stay on the path. Register your route at the park office. Carry more water than you think you will need, because the heath is hot and exposed. Saltwater crocodiles live in these waters, so do not swim near river mouths or the mangroves. Remember that your boat back depends on the tide, so plan your return time with the boatman.

Before you leave, stand still for a minute on the sand. Look at the line where the mangroves meet the beach, and the red cliffs above the water. Listen for the honk of a proboscis monkey, or the rustle of a pig in the leaves. This small headland has stayed protected for decades, and it is still a working home for its animals. As your boat pulls away, watch the forest close behind you, quiet and green, exactly as you found it.