Waiting. But for what? Then, a slight whisper filters back from the front of the line. Look down! And with the total removal of light for the last few moments meaning that our eyes are as accustomed as they will ever be to the darkness, we can just about make it out. A faint luminescent glow from the leaves carpeting the forest floor.



Which our guide tells us, when the torches are eventually switched back on and we can see again, is how the true Orang Asli (the "original people") of the forest of Malaysia's Endau Rompin National Park can track and hunt wild animals through the dense tropical jungle at night without getting lost - by following the trail of light from fallen leaves that manage to retain the tiniest shard of luminescence from the long departed sunshine of the day.

Incidentally, just before being told to look down, both me and my four year old son (to whom I was clinging on VERY tightly) had actually been looking up, following the tracer patterns of the hundreds of fireflies that flitted and pirouetted in flight around our heads.

Our night trek was part of a weekend spent at Kampung Peta, in the middle of the Endau Rompin Park, situated on the border of the states of Johor and Pahang. About two and a half hours drive from Johor Bahru, the southern city at the very tip of Malaysia, the settlement, which is in the middle of the forest and high above the river that actually forms the state border, is something of a schizophrenic entity.

On one hand, we have the land belonging to the National Park itself, on which are built several reasonably appointed and maintained chalets. Just to take one step onto the land owned by the National Park means that you have "entered" the park and therefore incurs a visitor’s fee.

Then, on the other hand, about one kilometre closer to the river is the actual Orang Asli settlement itself, which could not be more different to the visitor’s area if it tried.

Take electricity, for example. The tourist chalets and the visitors centre have power when the generator is turned on from around 6pm to 8am the next day. The Orang Asli settlement has no power at any time, and with the nearest town being some 50 kilometres away, there is not much reflected light lingering in the sky either. Which does, of course, mean that you can see every single star in the sky, as well as those ubiquitous fireflies, which is a rare treat for us city dwellers.

It is possible to arrange a trip like ours by making arrangements with the National Park authorities themselves. However, one of the more resourceful members of our group had managed to establish contact with a city dwelling member of one of the Orang Asli families living by the river, and had arranged that his family would put the whole trip together for us. And what a fantastic job they did of it!

First, the food that the family served us at every meal was stunning - simple but absolutely delicious and more than plentiful. For example, on our Saturday lunchtime arrival, we were served snake head fish caught from the river, and gently broiled to perfection (remember, without electricity). Never tried snake head fish before, and I dare say that, under normal circumstances, the name may well have ensured that I would never try it, but I'm awful glad that I did.

We were shown lots of traditional methods of catching food from the forest, ranging from small wire traps for snaring birds, to cages with wire triggered drop down doors for trapping tigers. We even had a chance to test our accuracy with a traditional blow pipe, which the ten children in the group loved, of course. Incidentally, we were told that traditional "professional" Orang Asli hunters can use such a blowpipe to fire a poisoned dart a stunning 200 meters, apparently with a high degree of accuracy, which I suppose might be quite useful if you have an angry tiger 195 meters away!.

At night, the hardier souls in our group actually stayed with the family in their tiny undecorated concrete breeze block house; everyone sleeping together on the floor in one relatively small room with what seemed like hundreds of village children, some of whom I was later informed were nothing to do with the household at all, and were presumably only there to see what the foreigners did whilst they were asleep!

The more cowardly amongst us (including yours truly) opted for the chalets.

Well, I did forget to mention that the family house had no indoor plumbing either, and that the toilet was a hole in the ground some 50 meters away. Please also bear in mind that this is in the middle of the jungle at night, that the nearest civilization and medical facilities are at least 90 minutes away, and that most of the more dangerous wildlife (tigers, elephants, and wild boars) in these parts are nocturnal! There are simply some things that you do not need to do with two small children in tow, and, anyway, I'd already done one night trek, and had got the leech induced bleeding to prove it!

Next day brought a leisurely motor boat ride down the river, a trek on a jungle pathway dotted with elephant tracks (and droppings), a swim in the river, lunch, and then a far less leisurely row back up river, before a final meal and the drive home.

So, all in all, a very interesting and rewarding adventure weekend, definitely not a run of the mill overnight break, and a chance to actually meet and “live with" some of the real indigenous people of Malaysia (albeit extremely temporarily), still existing pretty much the way that they have for decades, maybe even centuries, far removed from the demands, stresses and strains of the modern world.

To read more interesting story, visit my site at “http://webbiz99.com/asiatravel/"