After partnering with a Brazilian journalist to share the cost of a cab to the main beach, we passed along a newly-built highway straight to Pantai Cenang, which is also the main ‘tourist’ zone of the island. Some three kilometres of pristine coastline have been systematically blocked off by giant resort hotels and the beaches here are divided into tightly boxed sections for guests from each, while the sea itself has been split into small swimming sections and noticeably larger water-sports areas. We were staying at one of the last cheap hostels available within walking distance of a beach on the island, though we had to pretend to be resort guests in order to access the beach itself. With one notable exception, Langkawi was for us the island of disappointments. Back in 1968, the then Malaysian prime minister decided to ‘turn’ Langkawi into a tourist destination and began by granting it duty-free status. As the cheap drinks began to flow, so did the resorts and everything from the Four Seasons to the Hilton has laid claim to a patch. There are many smaller, less developed islands which make up Langkawi as a whole (actually around 99 in total) and we have been told that those to the North East in particular are still relatively secluded but accessing these on a budget can be a bit of a challenge. Our main reason for stopping here was to catch a ferry to Koh Lipe in Thailand where we hoped to cross the border in a relaxed, beach hut environment but even though we knew the main island was ‘touristy’ we weren’t quite prepared for what we had walked into: the hostel we were staying in was something akin to a club 18-30 holiday camp if one were run out of makeshift cabins surrounding a paddling pool full of ducks. The owner would spend all day sitting by the inflatable pool scattering duck seed while listening to the Badminton results on the radio, an activity he’d replace in the evening with poker and loud drum n’ bass until 3 a.m. The ‘beautiful white-sand beach’ we’d read about in the guidebook was actually a jellyfish-infested and oil-polluted stretch of water and litter-covered sand.

After spending a depressing hour or so in our dimly lit cabin questioning why we had come here, we decided to make the best of the situation by making full use of our beach-blocking neighbour’s pool and exploring the lusher inner parts of the island (which thankfully have been granted national park status). The Langkawi that you see when you step off the mainstream tourist trail is actually well worth exploring. We had read about a couple of local Malaysian naturalists who run highly recommended guided nature treks (see Dev’s Adventure Tours or Jungle Walla) and who only observe and never feed or interfere with the wildlife, so we decided that we would go on one of these in an attempt to restore our dented enthusiasm for the island. We opted to go on the early morning hill trek with a view to spotting some of the island’s famous bird residents. We were picked up just before dawn, though our guide had inadvertently woken up the ducks and dogs and subsequently half the hostel while trying to find our cabin. Leaving behind the quacking and barking, we were soon amongst much quieter, misty fields where we stopped to watch the dawn break. The first bird that our guide spotted was a White-throated Kingfisher, which was perched on an electric wire serenely absorbing the first warming rays of the dawn sun. After a brief pause, we continued to drive further up the mountain that makes up the north of the island. The guide stopped and pointed to a distant tree, where we could see a small dark-blue bird with a long hanging tail that looked like a pair of eyes. It was a Drongo, a word meaning idiot in Australian but in reality it is anything but as one of its main functions is to warn other birds and animals of approaching predators in return for the pick of the mid-morning insects. It is also a brilliant mimic: we heard it impersonate three or four other species while standing near by, a little like the Lyre birds we’d heard in Australia.

Our journey carried on up through the rainforest road which was alive with a tropical dawn chorus, courtesy of both birds and monkeys who we could hear cracking branches in the canopies above. Our guide spotted a few other species before we heard the whoosh, whoosh sound of some large wing-beats. It had begun to lightly rain and our guide had a look of intense concentration on his face.
He led us slowly around a corner and there in the canopy of a large forest tree was a Great Hornbill drying its wings in the sun.

It looked almost pterodactyl-like and we weren’t surprised to hear that the Great Hornbill is amongst the largest of its species. It seemed that the light dawn rain was in our favour as we went on to see many more Great Hornbills gather in the trees and whoosh over our heads. We were also lucky enough to spot the significantly smaller Oriental Pied Hornbill, the rare sight of a pair of Wreathed Hornbills who were also drying off in the sun, a Giant Squirrel, some Dusky Langur Monkeys and a few Macaques. After a brief visit to the peak and a pit stop in our guide’s uncle’s restaurant for a Malaysian brunch of omelette pancake and a Teh Tarik, we were taken to some open pastures to spot Kingfishers. Sadly we didn’t see any more but we did spot Green Bee Eaters, Golden Orioles, Bitterns, Snakes, Herons and a Pitcher Plant. We were also shown how to make natural plasters by wetting and rolling the leaves of a local plant until it made a gummy paste, which the locals use to stick over and heal wounds. After this trip, Langkawi suddenly didn’t seem so bad after all and even the ducks and the hostel dogs were slightly more endearing on our return (though this feeling sadly never extended to the post midnight drum n’ bass). We were glad that our stay had ended on a brighter note but were both excited and relieved at the prospect of setting off the next morning with a mission to cross the Thai border by sea.

ÎLE DES PINS

Prior to our scheduled arrival at the capital of New Caledonia, Nouméa, we had a couple of days of rough seas and as we approached the island there was an announcement over the tannoy that our course was to be changed – we were to visit the smaller and less ‘developed’ Île des Pins a day early (small changes like this tend to happen often with sea travel). This tiny island is just fifty miles southeast of its much larger neighbour but it remains in the most part unspoiled, with untouched sandy beaches lapped by turquoise waters. The island gets its name from the blanket of pine trees (with very thin needles to better radiate the heat) that reminded Captain James Cook, who first came across it in 1774, of his native Scotland.

The population of the island is comparable to that of a small village, but is relatively spread out around its outer edges. In the centre is a moderately sized hill, which also makes for an interesting hike and a great viewpoint if you can stand the heat. Most of the houses are situated near the beaches, where fishing and crafts are the main sources of income (though there is also an abundance of time to relax in a place like this). There is a central mooring point, a couple of local crafts sellers housed in an old colonial fort and a hotel modelled on traditional island house design near the south of the island. Luckily, the island is surrounded by reefs which means that larger vessels have to stay a few kilometres away from the shore.

We walked for a kilometre or so up the long beach until we stumbled across an impressive rocky outcrop, which has special significance for the islanders who consider it ‘holy ground’. It is also home to a number of black-and-white striped sea snakes who nap in its small crevices, only emerging as the sun sets when they slither the short distance down the rough rocks to the sea.

NOUMÉA

This is the largest town on the main island of New Caledonia (Grande Terre) and also the island group’s capital city. In contrast to Île des Pins, Nouméa is a working port and is also home to the main shopping and tourist districts – an odd mish-mash of French designer and high street stores with discount outlets, creperies and basic cafés.

We walked around the town in the baking heat for a time, wandering past some interesting French-styled local stores and Francophile chains near the Place des Cocotiers before finding a local tour guide – an old French yachtsman who had recently suffered a heart attack (and the subsequent heart-bypass surgery) and was living on his boat – now unable to sail it out of the harbour. He had been giving tours on the island for two years and had many stories to tell of his adventures at sea. In recent years he had attempted to sail all the way around the world on his yacht, stopping in South America for a short while and living with a French-speaking chief in Venezuela. This chief apparently has a great liking for the French and will host a party for any that find their way to his village (he proudly displays a picture of himself with Jacques Brel, who must have found himself there either by invitation or some happy accident). Our French adventurer guide then sailed through the Panama canal to the Pacific Ocean, where at some point he was arrested and did jail time for flouting some Mariners’ law, apparently related to an inspector finding food – which may or may not have been an apple – illegally aboard his yacht!

On our journey around the island we drove past many mangrove swamps, palm crops and nickel mines. Apparently, because New Caledonia was actually part of the same continent as Australia and New Zealand 60–85 million years ago, unlike most of the volcanic Pacific Islands, the rocks have a high nickel content (2-3%) giving them a unique green tinge and making the bare rock stand out quite strongly from the bush areas. The mines are all owned by foreign companies and hence most of the benefits (aside from jobs) provided by these natural resources end up in the pockets of wealthy foreigners. The locals, we were told, tend to live a very laid back lifestyle, only working when they need some money to get by, which frees them to spend a good portion of their lives engaged in other activities such as fishing, arts and crafts.