Golden Green

We sit in the car, tired, as we slowly climb through mountains and valleys from the palm-lined beauty of the Indian Ocean and the Sumatran west coast. E., not being a huge fan of driving long distances on bumpy roads, has long given up on the views and resorted to a sleep-like state, made possible by a colorful mix of prescription-free medications against travel sickness and other ailments. This is our first trip together, and she has already endured many uncomfortable and at times very wet days in search of all kinds of animals. While we shared the excitement for our upcoming destination, it was something that I wanted to do much more desperately than she did. As part of my childhood quest of finding a tiger in the wild, we were headed to the slopes of Mt. Kerinci. At 3800 meters, the highest peak of Sumatra, it is home to the greatest wilderness of the island and its largest population of Sumatran Tigers and the mysterious Orang Pendek.

We traverse a stunning landscape, with wild rivers lined by rice paddies against a backdrop of steep volcanic walls covered in rainforest. The fields are full of coffee, chilies, and cinnamon trees, and the air smells of spices. The houses resemble the horns of the water bulls so central to the Minangkabau culture in Western Sumatra. Our journey is punctuated with stops for Kopi and Soto Ayam, enriching our experience with local flavors. The peak of Mt. Kerinci appears in the distance as we slowly climb towards it. Our destination for the night, amidst endless tea fields, brings a realization - we underestimated the altitude.

The next morning, we pack our bags and, together with two guides, make our way into the forest. First on motorbike and later through steep agricultural lands, we finally make it to the edge of the forest. We cross a small stream and are immediately immersed in a beautiful montane rainforest. Well, almost. First, E. slips while climbing the steep walls of the riverbed. Slightly hurt, very wet, and not at all happy about the situation. It would not be the last accident of the day. Luckily, we are quickly distracted by a Siamang pacing through the canopy above our heads. Siamangs are much larger than other gibbons, part of the clade of Hominoidea or apes that is closely related to hominids such as Orangutans or Humans - and speculatively also the Orang Pendek. They are majestic, smart, and mysterious creatures and, doing all of these attributes justice, it disappeared in a matter of seconds. Lichens cover the trees and break the light. Kerinci is an active volcano, and its slopes are dotted with fumaroles and hot springs. We cross many clear mountain streams and head deeper into the forest, with leaf monkeys crossing our path occasionally, but other than that, little signs of the many creatures supposedly roaming this wilderness. Then we find the first pug marks, scratched and overgrown into the bark; this is a sure sign that we are in tiger territory.

Coming here to see a tiger is a pretty hopeless endeavor. It was just the idea of understanding and seeing this creature's intact habitat that motivated us. We were both enthusiastic and a tad tense. Being in a group of four would likely deter a tiger. Or would it? And while their habitat is huge, this territory belonged to a tiger, and it likely took note of our presence. During our trip, we heard many stories from locals that, while they never saw a tiger, very often they would find traces of its presence close to their camp after a night in the forest. At this point, I was also pretty indifferent to the chances of seeing a tiger. While it would have been a dream come true, I would have liked to live on to tell the tale for a little while. And so we wandered through the forest in a mix of admiration and anxiousness before setting up camp on the fringe of a large swamp covered in high grass and surrounded by forested steep hills.

The rainforests of Kerinci Seblat National Park are considered to be among the remotest in Asia and, while being a stronghold for critically endangered species such as the Sumatran Rhino, they are believed to be home to a large number of undocumented species still. Among them is allegedly the Orang Pendek - which translates as “Short Person” from Bahasa Indonesia. The Orang Pendek is described from many encounters as a bipedal ape with very human-like behavior. While many have set out to find scientific evidence for its existence, none has ever been produced. The story, however, highlights just how unexplored, vast, and in many places, untouched the forests of Kerinci are. And how much they deserve more research, international recognition, and protection.

Immersed in these thoughts, we spend freezing nights in the forest, huddling around a small fire while a tiger roars in the distance. The next morning, we are woken by the call of Siamang Gibbons before heading out for more explorations. After hours of walking off-track through thickets and brushes, we reach an opening in the forest. The volcanic activity of Kerinci brings hot, sulfur-rich water to the surface where it forms a landscape right out of a fairytale. Mossy, overgrown bridges, yellow-crested from the fumes, emerge from small sources of steaming, boiling water. I carelessly walk closer to the edges, and it is not long before the ground beneath my right foot gives in. My leg drops knee-deep into a boiling, previously underground pond. I panic and quickly pull my leg out while praying that the remaining mud that I am grabbing will not crumble under the weight. Luckily, my leech-socks mostly kept the water out and, while my pants are steaming hot, pouring most of our drinking water into my pants means that I escape the situation shaken but unharmed. At least I would not have to deal with ever-present leeches on my right leg for the next 20 minutes or so, with many having found their early demise in the hot water.

Later that day, we make our way back to civilization. I am torn between relief and reluctance as we leave the jungle. We could only get a glimpse of the biodiversity and elusive creatures of Kerinci, and at the same time were made aware of just how wild this place still is. A place where the earth's primal forces define, where every creature is fighting for its niche, and the all-mighty tiger still reigns. While Kerinci has been the home of many ethnic groups for eons, it still is a place where we are merely part of an ecosystem.

On our last night, Luke, the founder of Wild Sumatra, an ecotourism pioneer of the area, picks us up to go road cruising for animals in the National Park along a road where he himself is fairly sure to have encountered a tiger sometime before. We enjoy Soto Ayam on a ridge overlooking the rice before heading deeper into the forest. We see Black Crested Langurs, their yellow-brownish fur glistening in the last rays of sunlight. But then, just as we stop for a short break, much further away, hundreds of meters across the valley, there is a different hue of gold moving through an opening. It is big, and my mind races as I try to make out what it is, browsing through all the large animals that could explain what I am seeing. Elegantly, the golden shape moves through an opening in the forest, moving around small trees hiking towards the ridge of a steep valley. Everything tells me that what I am seeing simply cannot be what I want it to be. Too small the odds, too rare the animal. I alert the rest of our group and try to grab the binoculars before it is gone. But before anyone else can see it, or I am able to confirm just what I saw, the shape disappears into the bushes. A memory to be etched into my mind, years later I still have no idea of what, if not a Tiger, I could have seen that afternoon.

This day, the wildlife of Kerinci showed itself in all its glory. Just minutes later, we see the first of many Slow Lorises that night; it feels like there is a Civet in every tree, and the elusive, highly venomous, and rarely seen Red-Headed Krait slowly passes the road in front of us. This evening, we get a taste of the diversity and beauty of life in Kerinci.

As we slowly make our way down the hills and back into the lush valley of Sungai Penuh, my mind is racing. With the things we saw, the wonders that remained unseen deep in the jungle, and the times we can hardly make sense of what we see. My quest to see a wild tiger surely did not end this evening, even if that golden shape were to be a tiger and not the more likely Orang Pendek or just a well-coordinated group of Black-Crested Sumatran Langurs. But it felt closer than ever before, and there is a piece of me that is grateful for this short and obscure encounter. I want the journey to continue in hope of it bringing me to more places such as Kerinci, one of the last true wildernesses in Sumatra.