A hike through a Chanthaburi national park unveils its hidden attractions.
Rain clouds hung low far in the distance, almost kissing the Sa Baab mountain range. Soon they would break up into curtains of rain _ fresh, cool water that, however, was an annoyance to tourists. Yet, visiting a waterfall in the rainy season allows them to witness the bouncing back to life of various species of fauna and flora laid low by the scorching heat of the summer months.
Just the thought of it was enough to compel myself and a friend to pack our belongings and travel there, even though we harboured some anxiety about the prospect of camping out in the rain and grey skies that would restrict our ability to take pictures.
Leaving Bangkok late in the morning we arrived at Namtok Pliew National Park, the home of Chanthaburi's famous waterfalls, in the afternoon. We had been told that the park was superbly managed, and so did we find it _ clean and elegantly maintained, with an asphalt road running right up to the lodgings and campground. Towering old trees spread out their limbs to provide shade to visitors.
A large lodge nestled against a valley, a beautiful pavilion graced a stream, and a well-decorated restaurant allowed patrons to dine close to nature. What else? The restaurant also offered karaoke for singing buffs in the midst of a verdant forest.
It was as if we had arrived at a five-star holiday resort that catered to the patron's every whim with the rich natural surroundings as its selling point. Indulging here for a few days would have been a memorable experience, but alas we were looking for something else, something more rugged and challenging.
After asking a few questions we settled for Trok Nong Waterfall, 28 kilometres from there, as our destination of choice.
We got on the Chanthaburi-Trat Highway and drove on, passing numerous mangosteen and durian orchards and admiring the sight of the fruits hanging from trees along the way.
In quick time we arrived at the office of Forest Protection Unit 1, the closest of such unit to the Trok Nong Waterfall.
We looked around for a place to pitch our tent. Being a weekday, the park official was kind enough to allow us to erect it on a grassy bank by the stream, an area normally off-limits to campers.
The rain held back which was a bonus. By the time we finished pitching our tent it was almost dark, too late to go out exploring the lush surroundings.
Time flew as darkness fell. The sky was without stars. Lightning flashed and the roar of thunder made for a divine light and sound presentation. Fireflies appeared as tiny dots of lights, while cicadas sang to the accompaniment of sound from the waterfall.
Amid the orchestra of the wild, we felt at peace.
We thought it's odd that man doesn't seem bothered by the sound of running water or insects singing, but agreed that man, despite his increasing distance from nature, was not entirely separated from her. There is a fine line that still connects him to Mother Nature.
The thought gave us a strange kind of warmth. "Indeed, we are but a part of the beautiful nature surrounding us. We are not alone," we concluded.
Rain fell and the sound of raindrops put us to sound sleep.
Dawn broke. It was drizzling but that did not dampen our spirits. Armed with cameras, hats, pha khao ma wrap-arounds, drinking water and herbal mosquito repellent in our backpacks, we started out on foot to our destination two and a half kilometres away _ the top of Trok Nong Fall.
The dirt trail, wide at the beginning, narrowed down as it led deep into the rainforest. Merely 200 metres on the trail, we saw a large Batik Golden Web Spider building its web on a rocky step. Its body had beautiful yellow, black and red stripes. From the spider's appearance it's difficult to believe that this creature's a ferocious hunter from the day it was born.
A closer look revealed a little red spider a short distance from the web-builder. To the untrained eye, it could be mistaken for the Batik Golden Web Spider's young one rather than its mate. The male of this species is 30 times smaller than its female counterpart.
About 500 metres further down the trail appeared the first tier of Mai See Fall. Its large pool and proximity to the park office made it the focal point of visiting tourists.
Dark grey granite rocks broke the fall of cascading water. Deep down the dark green pool, a school of "Pla Phluang" (Neolissochilus soroides) swam back and forth unhinged, as if they were masters of the pool.
By now the rain gods had relented.
The pool reflected the greenery of the rainforest. "Khrai Nam" (Homonoia riparia ) bended at an angle. Vegetation spread like a green rug over rocks softening their grey hue. Ferns showed off new shoots that coiled like a snail. "Kratae Tai Mai" (oak-leaf fern) climbed large trees. If an artist were to paint it all on canvass, he would be hardpressed doing justice to what lay before his eyes.
We pressed on, returning again on nature trail, leaving the thunderous sound of the fall behind to be swallowed by the dense forest.
The going was rough and we had to detour at several points. Perhaps it was still early in the rainy season and forest rangers had not yet cleared the trail of fallen branches, even trees. Stretches of the trail were also covered with climbing and ground plants such that it was hard to see where the trail led.
But the rough trail had its bonus. New saplings showed themselves as well as wild mushrooms of various shapes and colours. Being one of the first to leave our footprints on the forest floor, we threaded our way through the wild trail amid the dull air, damp forest smell and sounds of the wild. We had the fall and its surroundings to ourselves.
The rain clouds gradually dissipated but little light managed to get through the forest canopy. Eyes continued to feed on all living things on branches, on layers of rain-dampened dead leaves, on rocks, and on decaying logs. Everywhere, life was returning.
Along the trail, we let out sounds of wonder and appreciation at what we saw. Dry lichen and moss grew green on fallen logs. Mushrooms of different varieties proudly display their brightly coloured caps. "Dok Khem Khao Pa," wild white needle flowers (Ixora cibdela), flouted their blooms. Moth caterpillars disguised themselves like little sticks to evade predators. Wild rubber seedlings strew the forest floor, ready to plant their young roots in the soil. Young saplings of wild plants were growing everywhere.
We feasted on every little detail that came before our eyes. Absorbed by our lessons in the wild, we missed the middle tier of the fall, which was a kilometre from Mai See. But our objective was not to reach any waterfall because the falls or streams were but a component of the fascinating surroundings with which we had fallen in love with.
Cameras at the ready, we came across a colony of aphids, their colours ranging from soft white to soft green, perching still on a branch. Alas, they are pitiful insects. In a forest all living things, even aphids, have a valuable role in maintaining the ecological balance. But since the forest cover has reduced forcing them on to farmlands, farmers see them as pests that must be eliminated.
A short distance from where we spotted the aphids, a tree lay fallen, its trunk covered with a large colony of bright orange fungus. Its beauty was almost magical.
By late afternoon, we reached the top of the fall that plunged 20 metres, splashing its content on granite rocks below and onto a series of pools. We chose a place to sit down and relax after the long trek. But no sooner had we laid down our backpacks we realised that we're being preyed upon by insects that abound in this part of the park.
"Leeches!" I screamed on top of the sound made by the waterfall. My screams were so loud that they could have attracted a fine "for disturbing peace" from park officials had they heard me.We couldn't believe we're running into these primitive blood-sucking creatures in a forest that's a short ride from Bangkok.
They were all over our feet and legs. We helped each other getting rid of the creatures before they could do more harm. Actually, they are not capable of doing any real harm but they can certainly scare the living daylights out of trekkers facing them for the first time.
Once we got over the leeches our exploration of the Trok Nong Fall resumed. Krathum (Anthocephalus chinensis), a round, light yellow flower, hid itself behind a leaf near the fall. Hanging from a drooping branch, the flower's beauty would remain fixated in our memory for a long time. It took us quite an effort to take its picture from up close.
We feasted more on nature and became one with it, feeling like being in heaven on earth. We frolicked in the fresh, cool water to our heart's content.
A light drizzle began and we took it as a cue to leave. We departed with a tinge of sadness, but we knew we would be back _ maybe not in the rainy season _ to get close to something that will forever remain a part of us _ Mother Nature.
How to get there
Trok Nong Fall is situated within a trekking distance of Namtok Pliew National Park's Forest Protection Unit 1 at Ban Trok Nong Bon in Tambon Trok Nong, Khlung district of Chanthaburi.
Take Chanthaburi-Trat (Sukhumvit) Highway toward Trat. At kilometre marker 347, you'll come to the entrance to Namtok Pliew National Park. Go straight on Sukhumvit for about 16 km until you reach the intersection to Khlung District. Turn left onto local Highway 3277 (Khung-Makham) for about 10 km. Turn left at Trok Nong Market. This is a village with mom-and-pop stores and small restaurants. Drive on the local road for three kilometres to Trok Nong Fall.
Food and lodgings
There is a small food stall at the entrance to the fall. On weekdays it may be closed. In that case, there are small restaurants in the village at the entrance from Highway 3277 or midway to the fall on the local road.
There are no lodgings inside the fall area, only camp ground. The park authority has tents and beddings for rent. Midway between the village and the fall, there is a small resort, Suan Rom Mai; tel: 09-244-3029.
For more information, call the Namtok Pliew National Park at 01-475-3589.
Bangkok Post September 2005 www.bangkokpost.com
