UP THE JUNGLE TRAIL FOR HARUANS

This article was published in the March 2003 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

The place where Mong and Azhar were standing will be a haven for sebaraus during the rainy seasons.

Have you ever had the feeling that you were going to get the whopper of your life while on the way to your fishing ground?

Well that how I felt, while sitting next to Khairul Azhar, skidding and sliding our ways along the logging track. Leading the way were Mong and Lai in another 4 wheel. The way we were heading was thick jungle just opened up for logging (more man-eaters will be on the way). All along the way, we kept seeing tractors pushing down trees and clearing up roads for the ‘san tai wongs’ (timber carrying lorries). Any sane fisho would dream of the catch of his life in this type of situation.

Lai was the one who told us about this spot. His stories of jungle ponds, streams and waterlogged valleys fired us up. Due to our busy schedules we had to squirm in our pants for a few more weeks before we could finally put together a trip. Our plan was to have Lai leading us to the fishing ground before leaving for his logging camp to oversee his logging operations, as he was very busy.

Breakfast in Parit was a hurried affair, after which our convoy of two 4X4 would bump and roll slowly up the jungle track. Being in the logging trade for a long, long time, Lai was literally driving his 4 wheeler like a formula 1 in the jungle. Khairul Azhar and I had a tough time keeping up with him.

This jungle river is worth exploring in the rainy seasons. My spinners were not even nudged here.

Every time, after we had maneuvered round a band, we would lose sight of Lai’s vehicle. Many a times Khairul Azhar had to shift gear stick to L4 before we could extricate ourselves out of the mud holes left by those ‘King of the jungle’. Any fallen trees across our track would be cleared in no time by Lai and his trusty parang.

Once in a while struggling up a slope, a ‘san tai wong’ would come bearing down on us. Quick evasive action by my friend saved us from been pushed off the track down the ravine below. That logging truck was just skidding and sliding as though out of control. I did not know about Khairul Azhar, but I detected some dampness in my underwear after that incident.

Somehow we made it to our destination in one piece. Standing there we realized that we were just at the foot of Menglembu Hill of the Kledang Range. The transmission towers and buildings could be seen clearly bathe in the morning sun. This area could only be reached from Parit.

Surprise was written all over our faces for right here in the middle of the jungle was an old abandoned palong. Scattered all over the place were mined out ponds with sparse vegetation. After warning us to be careful as pug marks had been seen around here, Lai left for his logging camp.

Fanning out in different directions, we went looking for our quarries. I headed in the direction of a jungle stream to try my luck. Lady luck was not with me as my spinner and lures was not even nudged. Azhar had just landed a ‘cheroot’ when I met him again. According to him, he had failed to hookup on a few occasions. As the taps were light and the subsequent patch of bubbles that floated up was small, he deduced that the haruans had yet to develop their full sets of dentures. These incidents were played over and over again.

Feeling frustrated, we headed deeper into the jungle where Lai had told us about a few ponds that were much more promising. These two older looking ponds lifted our spirits. The banks were covered with rises and shrubs. The jungle grew right up to the water edges at the far banks.

Out flew three frogs and back came the same amphibians looking as good as new. We were at a lost as to how ponds in the middle of no-man’s land could be so deprived of fish? Chopping my way through the shrubs, I found a promising spot.  When my frog was reeled pass a clump of grass, a dark torpedo shot out and stole the frog right under my nose. If that haruan could understand those #?!+& that I was mumbling under my breath, it would have thought that I lacked proper upbringing. My second legless frog was the downfall of that crafty critter. I nearly yanked its jaws out of its skull. Only 600 gm. and it was such a sly fellow.

We were not the first people here.

The jungle around me was suddenly became conspicuously quiet. My hairs were standing on their ends. Gripping my parang harder, I made a hasty retreat from there. By the time I met up with them, Azhar had caught another haruan of about 500gms. After relating my concern to them, we decided to move to some other ponds where the surrounding was more open. At least we could see what was coming for lunch.

A series of interconnecting ponds were our next hunting ground. There was a jungle stream flowing into one end. Here Mong caught a haruan of almost the same size as Azhar’s. I lost a few more frogs to those hungry creatures. Have to increase my twice weekly session of exercise to sharpen up my reflexes later on, I guessed.

Lai came back to make sure that we did not end up as lunches for some striped monsters. He pointed out to us a place where water was cascading from one pond to another. “Come back during the rainy season and you will catch sebaraus by the dozen,” he said.

According to him, the sebaraus will move upstream against the churning water. “Not big though, but they make up with their numbers,” he explained. We sure pricked up our ears to listen. Accessing this region during the raining seasons has its sets of problems. We have to use off track tires, winches and chains to move up the muddy slopes of those hills and to extricate ourselves in any eventualities. Driving during the wet season will definitely be hardcore 4X4 adventure, testing us and our vehicles to the limit. Before Lai left us again, he made us promise to call him as soon as we emerge from the jungle. We continued to fish for another two hours. Other than the light taps, we did not register any notable catches. By 4.00pm we were already exhausted from the heat and exertion. With open mouths and drooping tongues we crawled our ways under a shady tree to rest. To continue would be pushing our endurances to the limits. In the end it was a unanimous decision to leave. Azhar by now was already a veteran in semi hardcore jungle track driving. In no time we were out onto the comfort of the paved road. While having our meals in Parit, a concerned Lai called inquiring our whereabouts. We embarrassingly apologized for not informing him that we were safe and sound.

Here both my friends were holding up their catches. Not big, but ok lah.

From our inquiries, the Orang Aslis and some locals have known about the ponds for a long, long time (that explained the absence of XXL haruans). As a consolation, we spotted quite a number of marshy patches and waterlogged ravines. Our next trip there will see us chopping our ways down those ravines.