As we, my two best friends (Shown and his wife, Kheng) and I, were driving down the road in their trusty old Trooper to Tembila in the late afternoon on Christmas day 2007, we could not help but feel elated and yet a little sad. Elated, because we were finally going to do what we had always talked about but never got down to actually doing – camp overnight on top of Bukit Dendong, one of the hills in Tembila, a beautiful stretch of beach that has it all – white coral sand, crystal clear sea, hills, freshwater river teeming with fish… Yet sad because so much has changed since we first discovered it, and much for the worse. The tall grasses and low scrubs and bushes that used to line the road and where eagles glide over are no more, replaced by tobacco fields and barren land. The solitude and serenity that kept drawing us back like bees to pollen are tarnished by ongoing development projects (resorts, water reservoir) which, when completed, will destroy those completely. So we were there to enjoy as much of Tembila as we can before it is too late. We parked, unloaded and somehow, among the three of us, managed to carry all our stuff, including deck-chairs (hey, we camp in a little style nowadays!) and firewood (there are precious few trees on top of the hill to yield naturally dead wood for our campfire) in a single trip to the foot of the hill, a half-km walk along the beach. Lugging them up the hill was another matter as that involved climbing up a short but narrow trail between trees and rocks, usually a two-handed procedure for mere mortals. But mere mortals we were not – we were Scouts! - Shown and I took only 2 trips each to carry everything up to the top. We pitched tent over the flattest piece of real estate we could find and stacked the wood in readiness for our campfire. Then we went downhill to reward and cool ourselves with a swim in the sea, followed by a refreshing dip in the river to rinse off the lingering saltiness. There must be very few places on God’s good Earth where we can enjoy the best of both worlds (sea and river) together in such a lovely setting. How extremely blessed we were to be in one of them!
Refreshed and with eager anticipation of a night of comfortable closeness and camaraderie, we climbed back up the hill. As Kheng busied herself making dinner for us, Shown and I collected whatever wood we could find to shore up the supply we had carried up from home so that we could have the warm company of fire throughout the night. As twilight fell, we started the campfire and watched as the initially tentative flames gradually took on a life of its own, basking in its light and warmth and in our own private memories. Nothing like the sight of a blazing campfire and the smell of woodsmoke to evoke nostalgic reminiscences of our scouting days. As we ate our dinner around the campfire, we noticed ominous clouds on the horizon, gathering speed and size as they were blown in by the sea breeze. Rain seemed imminent and we braced ourselves for the inevitable. As I felt a few drops of rain, I quickly whispered a prayer to God to stay the monsoon for just another day. In His wonderful grace, not only were those the last raindrops to fall on me, but He also blessed us with one of the most beautiful moonlit night I have ever experienced. So full and bright was the moon that it cast shadows making our torches redundant and unused in our bags. The moon and the stars above, their reflections in the sea below, the music of the pounding waves, the salty wind in my face, the fragrance of woodsmoke all combined to form The Perfect Storm which assailed my senses and brought me close to tears as I sat on the grass at the cliff’s edge, my two best friends at my side. Surely, heaven on earth. My cup runneth over. As I sat there, a song from my Scouting days kept playing through my mind: “On the shore beyond the tropical sea You will stand to welcome me On the shore beneath this sky so blue All my dreams at last will come true…O Malaysia, land of glory Where I found my heart’s true love In the night so warm and tender With the moon and stars above…” Emerging from the sanctuary of his own thoughts, Shown turned to me and said: “I feel sorry for those worshipping within the four walls of a church tonight.” Me too. There we were, worshipping in God’s own cathedral – the eternal heavens the roof, the rustling wind and the rhythmic waves the choir. Worshipping God “…in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout The Universe displayed…Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee: How great Thou art, How great Thou art!” Yes, our souls sang, our spirits soared. We raised our glasses (of coffee – alas, we forgot the wine!) high and toasted, one from each of us: “To God!”, “To Friendship!”, “To Us – long may we love!” We talked, we laughed, we argued, or just sat silent when we ran out of words, long into the night. Of God. Of life, and death, and love. Of good old days and bad new ones. Then we slept, I beside the fire, lulled by the crackling of the embers and the flames in the wind.
Refreshed and with eager anticipation of a night of comfortable closeness and camaraderie, we climbed back up the hill. As Kheng busied herself making dinner for us, Shown and I collected whatever wood we could find to shore up the supply we had carried up from home so that we could have the warm company of fire throughout the night. As twilight fell, we started the campfire and watched as the initially tentative flames gradually took on a life of its own, basking in its light and warmth and in our own private memories. Nothing like the sight of a blazing campfire and the smell of woodsmoke to evoke nostalgic reminiscences of our scouting days. As we ate our dinner around the campfire, we noticed ominous clouds on the horizon, gathering speed and size as they were blown in by the sea breeze. Rain seemed imminent and we braced ourselves for the inevitable. As I felt a few drops of rain, I quickly whispered a prayer to God to stay the monsoon for just another day. In His wonderful grace, not only were those the last raindrops to fall on me, but He also blessed us with one of the most beautiful moonlit night I have ever experienced. So full and bright was the moon that it cast shadows making our torches redundant and unused in our bags. The moon and the stars above, their reflections in the sea below, the music of the pounding waves, the salty wind in my face, the fragrance of woodsmoke all combined to form The Perfect Storm which assailed my senses and brought me close to tears as I sat on the grass at the cliff’s edge, my two best friends at my side. Surely, heaven on earth. My cup runneth over. As I sat there, a song from my Scouting days kept playing through my mind: “On the shore beyond the tropical sea You will stand to welcome me On the shore beneath this sky so blue All my dreams at last will come true…O Malaysia, land of glory Where I found my heart’s true love In the night so warm and tender With the moon and stars above…” Emerging from the sanctuary of his own thoughts, Shown turned to me and said: “I feel sorry for those worshipping within the four walls of a church tonight.” Me too. There we were, worshipping in God’s own cathedral – the eternal heavens the roof, the rustling wind and the rhythmic waves the choir. Worshipping God “…in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout The Universe displayed…Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee: How great Thou art, How great Thou art!” Yes, our souls sang, our spirits soared. We raised our glasses (of coffee – alas, we forgot the wine!) high and toasted, one from each of us: “To God!”, “To Friendship!”, “To Us – long may we love!” We talked, we laughed, we argued, or just sat silent when we ran out of words, long into the night. Of God. Of life, and death, and love. Of good old days and bad new ones. Then we slept, I beside the fire, lulled by the crackling of the embers and the flames in the wind.
Tembila. Bukit Dendong is the grassy hillock on the far right.
View of Tembila beach from top of Bukit Dendong
View of Tembila beach looking down from cliff’s edge
Shown and I at the top of Bukit Dendong, Tembila
My best pals, Shown and Kheng
16th Lunar moon at Tembila, Christmas 2007
“On the shore beyond the tropical sea
You will stand to welcome me…
On the shore beneath this sky so blue
All my dreams at last will come true…”
“O Malaysia, Land of Glory
Where I found my heart’s true love
In the night so warm and tender
With the moon and stars above…”
Shown has also written an account of our Christmas together, penned in his own inimitable style:
A Page in My Diary 30.12.07
WE went camping on the grassy hillock on Tembila called Bukit Dendong on Christmas Day. Just Kheng, Simon and I. It was like the old days when the three of us camped on Takun’s summit; only now we are much older, less energetic and more subdued. Despite this we were still excited over it. Why would anyone want to camp out on an exposed hilltop in the midst of the raging monsoon? - Unless that someone be me of course! Every year I do it and bring reluctant friends and relatives along – they who find themselves terrified, smitten with unbelief, only to end up as firm believers that the monsoon is a time of great beauty, joy and celebration – a celebration of the power, wonder and beneficence of nature; a celebration of wind, water, life.
Tembila is slowly dying, as it appears all pristine areas must, in the inexorable advancing onslaught of development. Half of nearby Bukit Bubus has been carved out for a reservoir and its supporting elements and a brand new redundant white elephant of a university is extending its sprawl over the remaining acres of Gelam, Randa and Bris forests. So we go to celebrate and grieve over Tembila; we went to celebrate our friendship and grieve at our own impending mortality.
I went prepared for the uneven stony windswept ground on the summit; for the unrelenting rain and wind, prepared only to retreat under the onset of lightning. But rain there was none! Neither lightning but clouds, clear skies, stars and a benign luminous full moon that brought a soft light to our faces, tinseled the sea and cast Tembila in a soft white glowing light.
We carried up the deckchairs, the pail and flour bag stuffed with Pulai firewood and thus sat warmed, comfortable, cozy – gazing and talking many hours into the night and morning. We watched the sea – crashing and sighing in unison under and all around us, and watched the smoke from the campfire played about by the wind – defining its direction, strength and capriciousness. We talked a lot about Simon and his current difficulties in his life – mine is so much more settled and contented compared to his - Old friends explaining, dissecting ourselves like seers and explorers planning our future. I wonder if we will come up here again. Such a lovely place – we should – at every full moon night and bring all our other friends to come and enjoy and feel the beauty of a place such as this too.
My friends and I had seen Tembila just a few days earlier in all its full monsoon glory. We saw our own Spirit Island just holding its head above the vast expanse of water – just the way it was last year when we had camped there, almost literally on water, with the children. But all the water had disappeared by the time we camped again on Dendong. Man had drained it!! And now flotsam and debris remained for us to clean up. It was tough to do so in the hot sun and after carrying heavy camping loads but this we did. Always we give something back for something good received.
A Page in My Diary 30.12.07
WE went camping on the grassy hillock on Tembila called Bukit Dendong on Christmas Day. Just Kheng, Simon and I. It was like the old days when the three of us camped on Takun’s summit; only now we are much older, less energetic and more subdued. Despite this we were still excited over it. Why would anyone want to camp out on an exposed hilltop in the midst of the raging monsoon? - Unless that someone be me of course! Every year I do it and bring reluctant friends and relatives along – they who find themselves terrified, smitten with unbelief, only to end up as firm believers that the monsoon is a time of great beauty, joy and celebration – a celebration of the power, wonder and beneficence of nature; a celebration of wind, water, life.
Tembila is slowly dying, as it appears all pristine areas must, in the inexorable advancing onslaught of development. Half of nearby Bukit Bubus has been carved out for a reservoir and its supporting elements and a brand new redundant white elephant of a university is extending its sprawl over the remaining acres of Gelam, Randa and Bris forests. So we go to celebrate and grieve over Tembila; we went to celebrate our friendship and grieve at our own impending mortality.
I went prepared for the uneven stony windswept ground on the summit; for the unrelenting rain and wind, prepared only to retreat under the onset of lightning. But rain there was none! Neither lightning but clouds, clear skies, stars and a benign luminous full moon that brought a soft light to our faces, tinseled the sea and cast Tembila in a soft white glowing light.
We carried up the deckchairs, the pail and flour bag stuffed with Pulai firewood and thus sat warmed, comfortable, cozy – gazing and talking many hours into the night and morning. We watched the sea – crashing and sighing in unison under and all around us, and watched the smoke from the campfire played about by the wind – defining its direction, strength and capriciousness. We talked a lot about Simon and his current difficulties in his life – mine is so much more settled and contented compared to his - Old friends explaining, dissecting ourselves like seers and explorers planning our future. I wonder if we will come up here again. Such a lovely place – we should – at every full moon night and bring all our other friends to come and enjoy and feel the beauty of a place such as this too.
My friends and I had seen Tembila just a few days earlier in all its full monsoon glory. We saw our own Spirit Island just holding its head above the vast expanse of water – just the way it was last year when we had camped there, almost literally on water, with the children. But all the water had disappeared by the time we camped again on Dendong. Man had drained it!! And now flotsam and debris remained for us to clean up. It was tough to do so in the hot sun and after carrying heavy camping loads but this we did. Always we give something back for something good received.
3 comments:
that's way too cool.
Katon, Goukakyu no jutsu.
Hello Berto, Lottery numbers and Lotto tickets. hey, its great you visitied this blog. do drop by more often, we welcome your comments and feedback. :)
Personally, i feel it's a beautifully written article. Makes me wish i could have been there. hey hey, who knows maybe soon .......
Anna Koh
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