3. My First Steps in Kubah
The Journey Begins: Entering Into the Heart of Kubah’s Rainforest
The ticket, once securely in my pocket, I passed through the gate, and thus my adventure to the very depths of the rainforest had begun. The air shifted at once — colder, heavier, thick with rich aroma of wet leaves, moss, and ancient trees. With every step on the soft, wet trail came a dull crunch of dirt and interknit roots, a hidden warning I was leaving the safety of the known and crossing into an area controlled by one force only: nature.
The trail wound slowly on, through great tree trunks shrouded in moss and thin vines. Gaps in the canopy above allowed slivers of sunlight to come through in ragged columns of gold, reaching down to caress at ferns, orchids, and small shrubs blanketing the ground. Minute droplets of dew clung to leaves, gleaming as tiny crystals, and minute insects shone in the light, dancing gently. Far out of hearing, a cicada trilled its sharp, rhythmic note, merging in an effortless segue to the distant thrum of water over rocks.
Wherever I would go, life was rich in layers. Ants marched in columns down thin dirt trails, lizards darted across shadows, and birds flashed through branches, leaves hissing in whispering passes as their wings whooshed by. The occasional movement implied there were larger animals — a jumping squirrel in one tree, the sudden flapping as one of the flying birds was caught in mid-air, or the guarded peeking of some hidden mammal.
Dinomyrmex gigas (semut gergasi) is the most commonly encountered ant in this forest.
(Picture from Google because I couldn’t take a photo myself due to the rain.)
(And if you’re lucky, you might see a hornbill. I only heard its call that day. At night, you can see various species of frogs).
The path grew narrower and wider, alternating between gloomy tunnels of foliage and small clairières in which patches of sunlight reflected upon the earth. The trail was crossed by an icy stream whose water foamed over rocks, and I walked warily lest I slide. The air was heavy with an incalculable number of odors: earthy moisture, wild flowers’ faint smells, and sweet, woody leaf rot — witness to the forest’s incessant cycle of life and re-birth.
Though the legendary waterfall was around 1.6 kilometers down the road, this preliminary section of trail was an experience unto itself. Every sound, every creak, every moment of sunlight through leaves demanded my attention. Time was put on pause; the forest closed in upon me as a breathing, living entity. Every step was effort and meditation, holding me in the moment and creating desire for what lay ahead.
Every sense amplified: the roughness of bark under my touch, the cooling spray of mist from hidden streams, the rich tapestry of life all around me. It wasn't just walking anymore. It was an immersion — slow submission to the wild — and I knew there was still, at the end of this trail, in promise, the waterfall and its cold, descending waters. But even before one reached it, the forest had, one step, one sound, one breath at a time, started to tell its tale.
At 900 feet, I knew I was almost at the start of the waterfall trail. I stopped, letting my body settle into a five-minute rest. The rainforest hummed busily around me, every note magnified in the stillness of the forest. Leaves shivered softly in the little breeze, droplets of dew clung to ferns sparkled like tiny jewels, and the earthy smell of wet ground and moss floated into my nostrils, mixing with the sweet honey note of hidden wildflowers. Above me, one cicada sang in unbroken rhythm, its bright song trilled through the canopy, intermixing with the far, lulled thrum of water falling over hidden rocks.
I closed my eyes, and my senses stretched out. The crunch of dead leaves under my boots broke the silence, a stick snapped somewher as a lizard darted into cover, and wings flickered at the periphery of my awareness as a small bird vanished into the green fabric above. Every noise seemed amplified, every movement richer, as if just the very forest was whispering secrets in my ear directly. Even the hum of insects belonged to an ordered symphony, and I could sense life thumping underfoot.
I walked on, reinvigorated, in preparation to begin the waterfall trail. Only 1,000 feet to go, and every step an exploration. Light struggled through the heavy leaf canopy in fitful golden beams, illuminating small patches of mossy rock and delicate ferns, and shadowed recesses hid secret life — a fleeting flicker of iridescent wing, the sheen of tiny reptile disappearing into cover, and an occasional rustling of leaves as an invisible forest creature moves by.
Small streams crisscrossed the path, their cold, clear water babbling over smooth stones. I carefully navigated each crossing, the chill of the water brushing against my boots, making the experience feel alive in a tactile way. The trail twisted and turned, hugging ancient tree roots that snaked along the ground like sleeping giants. The air grew cooler, heavier, and more fragrant as I progressed, carrying the distant promise of the waterfall — a secret cascade waiting patiently at the end of the path.
With every step, exhilaration surged. The world alive around me pulsed with life: the gentle sway of trees, the faint shimmer of insects in flight, the rustle of undergrowth, the drumbeat pulse of unseen animals. It was not a walk — it was a surrender, a complete immersion in the wild. Every breath I drew was richer, sharper, scented with earth and life. Each step was measured, slow, yet eager, as though the forest itself was bringing me closer to its hidden treasure.
The waterfall was just behind the last turn, its sound muted but growing, teasing me with images of cool, descending waters. And even though I hadn't yet seen it whole, the trail — this thousand-foot stretch of green, vibrant wilderness — had started to reveal its magic, priming me for the ultimate reward that was concealed at the trail's end. Every step was a bridge between the known and the unknown, each a personal meeting with the heart of the rainforest.
Before we reached the start of the waterfall trail, we passed through some fascinating spots, which made every step wonderful. The first place we came to was Frog Pond, a small clearing of greenery and wet plants. It's a spot usually visited in the evening, and it's famous for the chorus of frogs who emerge to sing and explore. Even though we went there in the daytime, the atmosphere remained calm and captivating, its clear water pond shone in the sunlight, tiny insects swirled on its surface, and the damp air was filled with the soothing scent of moist earth and moss. It was no difficulty to imagine the evening concert of frogs, a minute but beguiling performance by the wild. We journeyed from Frog Pond to Rayu Trail, a sinuous trail that merges with the direction of the Matang Wildlife Centre.
After leaving Frog Pond, the path led us to Rayu Trail, a winding trail that connects to the Matang Wildlife Centre. This trail is flanked by towering trees, their canopy filtering sunlight into golden and green patterns across the forest floor. Every step produced the soft crunch of dry leaves beneath my boots, while subtle rustlings from the underbrush hinted at hidden life — birds darting between branches, shimmering insects in flight, and occasionally, a quick flash of a lizard or squirrel.
Rayu Trail was more than just a connector; it was an experience in itself. The fresh air, the scent of moist earth and thriving vegetation, and the lively chorus of the forest made every step feel like a journey deeper into a world untouched. Each bend and nook offered glimpses of flora and fauna, inviting me to pause, observe, and let my senses fully absorb the rhythms of the forest. The trail gradually led us closer to the start of the waterfall, preparing us with a full immersion into the beauty and life of the surrounding jungle.
After winding through Rayu Trail, we soon reached the first junction leading to the waterfall, marked by a quaint rest hut inviting hikers to pause and catch their breath. From here, the trail branched: a straight path promised the challenging ascent to the summit of Mount Serapi, while a turn led along a gentler route directly to the waterfall. As we followed the path, the rhythmic sound of flowing water grew louder, mingling with the rustle of leaves, the calls of hidden birds, and the rich scent of damp earth. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dancing patterns on the trail, while glimpses of vibrant plants and occasional glimpses of forest creatures made each step an intimate encounter with the jungle. With every bend, the waterfall drew nearer, promising a refreshing reward at the heart of this thriving forest.
(Entrance trail to the waterfall)
Soon, a wave of excitement washed over me — just a few meters more to go, while the rain continued to drizzle, adding the fresh, earthy scent of the forest to the air. I remembered that every trail had a blue mark painted on the trees, guiding hikers so they wouldn’t get lost. Some sections, however, were tricky, forcing me to watch carefully for each marker while navigating slippery roots and moss-covered rocks.
As I pressed forward, the rhythm of rain pattering on leaves and the soft splash of water along the trail blended with distant bird calls and the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth. Each step brought me closer to the waterfall, and my excitement grew as the sound of rushing water became louder, hinting at the reward ahead.
Finally, I reached the signboard announcing that the waterfall was just ahead. My heart raced with anticipation, and despite the rain making the path slippery, I felt energized. Each careful step over wet rocks and winding roots brought me nearer, while the scent of wet earth and the lush greenery enveloped me completely. The forest seemed to welcome me with every drip, rustle, and call, guiding me toward its hidden gem. And there it was, glimpsed through the trees: the waterfall, cascading into a crystal-clear pool, surrounded by vibrant ferns and moss — a breathtaking reward after a challenging yet enchanting journey through the jungle.
(This is at the base of the waterfall — after arriving here, you need to climb up a little more before the full view of the waterfall comes into sight.)
Just 50 meters to go… and finally, the waterfall appeared before me in all its glory! My heart leapt with excitement, and a wave of pure happiness washed over me. After the long, challenging trail, the sight of water cascading down into a crystal-clear pool was simply mesmerizing. Mist rose gently from the pool, lightly brushing my face and carrying the fresh, earthy scent of the surrounding jungle.
(Waterfall)
I sat down at the edge, dipping my hands into the cool, refreshing water, letting it trickle between my fingers. Tiny droplets sparkled in the filtered sunlight that managed to peek through the dense canopy above. Birds called from nearby trees, and the subtle rustle of leaves in the breeze added a soothing rhythm to the scene. I took a deep breath, letting the tranquility of the place wash over me, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Every detail of the waterfall captivated me — the way the water tumbled over moss-covered rocks, the way ferns and lush vegetation framed the pool, and the soft roar of water blending with the symphony of forest sounds. I spent around 20 minutes here, exploring small pools, gently splashing water, and simply soaking in the beauty and serenity of the place. It felt like the jungle itself was celebrating my arrival, rewarding every careful step, every slip on mossy roots, and every moment of anticipation along the trail.
By the time I finally stood up, I felt a sense of accomplishment and deep connection with the forest. The waterfall wasn’t just a destination; it was the culmination of a journey filled with challenges, surprises, and unforgettable encounters with nature at its purest.
With the waterfall mission successfully completed, I felt a mixture of satisfaction and longing — I had secretly hoped to continue onward to Mount Serapi, to conquer its summit and take in the panoramic views. But the heavy rain had other plans. The trail ahead was officially closed for safety, and we had no choice but to turn back. Reluctantly, I began retracing my steps along the muddy, slippery path, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on leaves blending with the distant roar of the waterfall I had just left behind.
I found this image on Google, and it made me feel a little sad that I couldn’t reach the summit this time. But another day, I will definitely go back and conquer it!!
As I carefully navigated through the trail, my attention was suddenly caught by a large fallen tree lying across the path. It was a surprising obstacle in the midst of an already challenging trail. To my relief, the Kubah staff quickly appeared, working efficiently to clear the blockage and ensure the safety of all visitors. Watching them handle the situation gave me a sense of reassurance and admiration for the team maintaining the park.
(Fallen Tree)
I continued my descent, each step deliberate on the slick roots and mossy rocks, feeling both tired and exhilarated from the morning’s adventure. The forest around me was alive with the sound of rain dripping from leaves, birds calling softly in the distance, and the occasional rustle of small animals scurrying through the undergrowth. Every detail reminded me of the wild, untamed beauty of Kubah, even on the way back.
Finally, I reached the park exit at 12:10 p.m. Before leaving, we scanned the QR code at the checkpoint — a small but important step to ensure that every visitor had safely exited the park. Standing there, looking back at the dense greenery and the trails I had navigated, I felt a deep sense of gratitude and fulfillment.
My trip to Kubah National Park had come to an end, but the memories of lush trails, cascading waterfalls, elusive hornbills, and the sheer serenity of the jungle would linger long after I left. Every slip, every careful step, and every moment of awe had made the journey unforgettable. Thank you so much for reading and joining me on this adventure!
