Back from a few days away in the sweltering jungle, having waded our way through the thickest, slickest and gloopiest clays (eroded granites) I've ever seen. The forest has 100% humidity and is a breezeless sauna once you're beneath the canopy.
Biodiversity wise it is in no way anything like pristine shape (the great teak forests of Northern Thailand and Burma having been one of the attractions for British colonial interests) with logging paths and hunting shelters evident throughout, but for the rushing torrent in the valley it is also eerily quiet.
Great stands of bamboo, I suspect doing well in a disturbed ecosystem, rise 20m overhead and we kept expecting Michelle O or Chow Yun Fat to emerge from a thicket, sword in hand.
But there are large trees remaining, over crowning the dwarf secondary forest by 15m or more. These are all honey trees, fitted with the most daring ladders I've ever seen. Hardwood pegs placed every half metre or so into the trunk, split a single piece of bamboo, which, fitted end to end with similar pieces, rise to the canopy along the entire length of the trunk. It doesn't look like it can even hold itself, let alone a honey hunter at 40m.
Bamboo is impressive, and is pervasive in the hill tribes' agri-tech. Our multi-level hut was placed on a steep slope near a waterfall, and built entirely from bamboo. Sort of like Clifton, but way cooler. And cheaper.
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