We were woken by our guide at 5am with the cheery Laos greeting of Sabaidee (hello), and there was a damp chill in the air as the jungle around us clung to the moisture generated by the dense lush vegetation. All was wonderfully still and quiet as we slowly forced ourselves into action rubbing bleary eyes into focus – you never sleep well in the jungle, a combination of unfeasibly boisterous insect noise, mind-fears of creepies in your bed and a hard so-called mattress. It felt like the dead of night as the blackness around us belied the fact it was technically morning in our Tarzan-esque treehouse located 150ft up in the jungle canopy perched on a hillside in the magnificent Bokeo National Park. Yes that’s right 150ft feet up.
So began our serious search on the second morning from our lofty home for the elusive black-crested Gibbon, a rare and endangered species of monkey that has been hunted nearly to extinction. After reading about “The Gibbon Experience” in our guide book I knew it was something I simply had to do. As soon as the words “jungle”, “treehouse” and “ziplines” was mentioned I was in – it sounded like a boyhood heaven, and let’s be honest here, I’ve never really grown up….
We had arrived two days before after traveling north on the overnight bus from Luang Prabang to Huay Xai, a slightly non-descript featureless town situated on the border with Thailand serving mainly as a through-point for a steady stream of travelers. From here we had taken a 2hr journey north before turning off the road on to a jungle mud-track that carved itself, twisting and lolloping through the mass of vegetation around us. An hour and a half later, we arrived in a tiny rural village, surrounded by rice paddies filled with diligent workers stooped and industrious in the fields. This was where we disembarked from our 4×4 pick-up vehicles and briefly spoke with a group waiting to be transferred back to town. They looked tired and weary but in good spirits and gleefully warned us about the leeches – they get everywhere they said, they are small and will worm their way through shoes and socks to get at your flesh.
After a humid 3hrs of trekking, wading through 4 small rivers, following winding trails through jungle seemingly caged with rampant bamboo stalks, we arrived at our day’s destination – Treehouse no.6. Conveniently located right next to a waterfall with enticing plunge pool, we readily dived in to freshen up after the sweaty hike. Afterwards we were shown to the treehouse itself, and given our first chance to use the harness and zip line wheel (complete with rudimentary bicycle tyre brake!). This was the bit I had been waiting for all day. Imagine clipping onto a steel cable from a rickety wooden platform and looking ahead of you as it disappears into a narrow tunnel of foliage with a speck of light at the end before launching yourself off. The zip wheel’s, half buzzing, half whining noise increases in volume as you accelerate away, brushing leaves and branches as they become a blur before finally bursting out into the bright sunlight and suddenly finding yourself suspended 200ft above the valley floor. Looking around as you glide effortlessly across this airy void in the jungle, feet dangling comically high above the ground, you see the sun low in the late afternoon sky illuminating the rows of verdant hills as far as you can see. A truly magic and unforgettable moment – And this was only our first zip!
The treehouse itself was only accessible by zipline too – no stairs or rope ladders here, just glide in, glide out only – and we needed to use our brakes to avoid slamming into the trunk. It was a joy to not be nannied through this and for me certainly added to the “boys own” adventure experience instead of feeling like I was being babysat. Being forced to take responsibility for your own safety and for those around you is something everyone should be forced to do in this overly litigious blame-riddled world we live in. I digress. The treehouse itself was bigger than I expected, constructed out of local dark wood, with two levels it included an open air bathroom with rainwater shower that drained through wooden slats directly into the jungle floor below, a squat toilet and hand basin as well as a small kitchen sink in the main level living/sleeping area. As we learned later, there was to be no cooking in the treehouse to avoid the obvious fire risk but our food was to be delivered meals-on-wheels style with a difference, zipped in by our by our guides carrying food tins of rice and veggies complete with Laos’s very own rice wine.
With the sun setting early at 6pm each day you have a lot of time to entertain yourself in a treehouse lacking all the distractions of modern life. We were fortunate enough to have an awesome bunch of guys and girls in our group of 6 – Andrea and Nadine, 2 German girls taking a year off work and traveling, Regan a newly qualified Architect from the UK, and Tom a Kiwi film editor. We all quickly bonded and they added immeasurably to our experience with great humor and interesting tales. Despite the splendor and majesty of our jungle setting it is still the people that make the party and these guys helped make an already amazing experience even better – if you read this guys, here’s a big thanks to you all and a cheer for TC. (PS there’s always a sofa bed in Vancouver if you need it!)
We Breakfasted at 7am the following morning and were treated to teasing glimpses of grey monkeys playing in the canopy, swinging effortlessly from branch to branch as they weaved in and out of the foliage. These may not have been the elusive gibbons that we had come to see but it was still a joy to see these playful creatures from our own lofty perch.
Our second day was an extravaganza of trekking and zipping as we toured through the jungle visiting 3 of the other tree houses in the area. They are all situated in different valleys so there is no danger of sharing your jungle space and it was an entirely satisfying day of mini hikes punctuated by zips through and over the verdent hills, and the sheer thrill of the bonkers nature of our travel in this remote area never once tired on me. By late afternoon we were soon nestled in our second treehouse for the night having still not seen a Gibbon. I asked our guide when and where best it was to see them and he told us that a family had been spotted in the early morning near treehouse no. 3 a few days ago. We made a plan which led to our 5am wake up.
So here we were, head torches on, like modern-day cyclops’s in an early morning stupor, stumbling around in the blackness trying to pack our bags for the day ahead. I was the first person ready and donned my harness before approaching the gate with the exit wire. Looking out, my head torch pitifully illuminated a short length of cable disappearing into the darkness like a string of white cotton threading into the eye of a black hole. I remembered from the previous day the slack in the cable meant you literally felt you were dropping momentarily before it took your full weight. It was not a pleasant feeling and I couldn’t decide whether or not it was better not being able to see the drop to the jungle floor below. I stepped up and clipped my wheel in, held my breath and waited. “OKaaaay!” – the faint eerie shout of our guide echoed through the darkness from somewhere, indicating the line was clear for me to go. I launched tentatively off, the momentary plunge expected but still a mini heart-stopper. As I accelerated away from the treehouse I was enveloped in darkness, my light futilely showing nothing but a 10ft length of cable ahead. I looked down, my shoes appearing oversized in the light set against what seemed like a bottomless black abyss. Accelerating faster, my body was sprayed by an invisible mist, the heavy moisture in the air heightening my senses as I plunged through the gloom, apparently caught helplessly in some ungodly time portal into the underworld. My only gauge of time and space was the building whine of my zip wheel, screaming through the stillness of the jungle, as I listened acutely for any change in pitch to indicate I was slowing and coming to the slack cable at the end. My feet brushed some branches, I sensed I was close only to scream on, pressing through the blurry murk. After what seemed like minutes, I saw a speck of light ahead – was it our guide or the grim reaper at the entrance to Hades? Only moments away I’d find out. I focussed on it, hopelessly trying to judge the distance as it punctuated the blackness. All too late I finally saw the features of the landing platform and braked hard, just managing to slow up before hitting the tree – I had made it!
Within a few minutes we had all landed safely, and set off down the twisting, uneven trail into the jungle, moving silently – partly due to the unsociably early hour, and partly out of reverence for the purpose of our trip, not wishing to disturb any wildlife. After an hour of stealthily making our way, trekking and zipping, we arrived at our viewing treehouse destination and assembled in hushed anticipation. Dawn was just breaking, and we could now appreciate the heavy mist cloying at the canopy around us as we focussed intently, watching for the merest hint of movement that would give away these agile creatures. And then it started. At first I wasn’t sure what it was: a strange unnatural sound, almost electronic, like a wireless radio tuning in and out of signal, coming in bursts from some hidden perch. This was the call of the elusive black crested gibbon – it was tantalizingly close! We watched and listened intently for another hour, that lonely singular call developing into a cacophony of audible radio frequencies bouncing through the branches as the gibbons called and sung to each other conveying the secrets of monkey life. The morning was magnificent too, each passing minute growing warmer and dispersing the layers of mist, revealing a new depth as peak upon peak of hilltops poked through until eventually we had our jungle panorama.
Sadly, we never did get to see one of these shy world-wary creatures but this was no disappointment. The fact that we didn’t only adds to their myth as far as I’m concerned – these are the rarest monkeys on earth and we had heard them so close, wild in their natural habitat not trapped in the compound of a zoo somewhere. This is something I will never forget – the black crested gibbon remains elusive!
For videos of the jungle zipping go to my Facebook page and check them out.
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