Penang Hill
Fleck
Thu 21 Oct 2010 03:21
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21st October 2010
Why do I always want to climb the local hill? They
loom over you, the 'challenge' (you have to see it from an elderly persons point
of view!) seeps under your skin. At school I was a champion tree climber. It
cannot have been allowed, but the school grounds were large, and I do
not recall ever being caught or reprimanded. What freedoms we enjoyed. The
backdrop to this great city is the verdant, frequently cloud topped, Pennang
Hill: or 'Flagstaff Hill', or 'Bukit Bendera'. Same difference: 821 metres, but
that is still around 3,000 English feet. And it was the British who cleared the
first path to the top, quickly appreciating that there was a cooling breeze, and
with height, a drop of about 5 degrees C in temperature, at the summit. The
early path is preserved: travel was by foot, packhorse, or sedan chair. Now
however only shank's pony is permitted, and with fairly regular rain the path is
slippery. It was a 5km walk up from the rather splendid Botanical Gardens:
themselves an hour's tortuous bus ride from downtown. I encountered several
groups of middle aged Malay males, sweating in shorts and running shoes, perhaps
enjoying a day's corporate bonding? I slipped once, banging my right thigh, but
was otherwise unscathed as I finally emerged from the rainforest at the top of
the Funicular, built by the Swiss in 1923, but recently closed down for an
overhaul. Breathless and drenched in sweat, I was immediatly attacked
by mossies. So a hasty sasparella and an ice cream from the food stall, a quick
tour of the Mosque and the Hindu temple, and a photo of the indeed spectacular
view accross the city and over to the mainland. Then back down. As it was by now
dusk, I chose the 'jeep track': a metalled road open only to resident's
vehicles. With the funicular out of action a 4wd business has been set up: £20 a
trip to the top, £20 back down. The walk down was agony: hard surface, constant
30% decline, but better scenary than the path up, which was often
hemmed in completely by the forrest. Lots of macaques, in families by the
roadside, but also up in the trees, where they would swing effortlessly,
but with a crashing of twigs and foliage, from the top of a tree one side of the
road to a lesser perch opposite. At the bottom, an hours wait at a roadside
stall for the bus home. When I had extracated myself from the uncomfortable
plastic chair (to which I had become glued by drying sweat), I could barely
hobble: this crazy idea of resting soft tissue injuries!!
Well, that is that then, as T Blair famously said,
and I'm off to Langkowi in a few hours time.
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