Langkawi, Malaysia: A trip for Nature-Lovers
Malaysia’s extraordinary Langkawi islands are a beautiful and dramatic visit for any nature-lover.
A Karst Existence
Langkawi is an archipelago of 104 islands off of Peninsular Malaysia’s west coast, just a stone’s throw from Thailand. The entire island chain has been designated a UNESCO Geopark. Rightly so—the islands are visually dramatic, with a varied geological history spanning 550 million years. They rise out of a sedimentary sequence dating to the Paleozoic, and the most striking formations are the massive karsts: towering bedrock cliffs that jut up from the earth, pockmarked by sea water dissolution. They dot the island and form epic caves, hidden freshwater lakes and cenotes (cave pools). The geologic reality of our existence on earth is ever-present, with giant karsts that seem to teeter precariously, as if ready to tumble at any moment.
The best way to introduce yourself to the geology is through a visit to Kilim Karst Geoforest, a mangrove-lined reserve on the northeast of the islands consisting of Karst formations that create a network of hidden caves. The park is navigated by boat, and aside from the rocks, there are also actual living things to see, including roaming bands of alert macaques, dozens of crab species, and the iconic Brahminy kite that is Langkawi’s namesake—“Langkawi” being the Malay word for the bird.
In fact, if you’re more into ecosystems than geology, Langkawi also has you covered with a wide range of habitats: rainforests, mangroves, tidal flats, beaches, estuaries and coral reefs are all home to spectacular tropical wildlife. The birdwatching here is top of the world, drawing pilgrimages from dedicated “twitchers.” I saw Red-wattled lapwings and Brown-winged kingfishers, and other less feathery but just as charismatic inhabitants of the park: the smooth-coated otter, monitor lizards and the adorable little dusky leaf langur monkeys.
Sustaining Life
My tour of Kilim was led by the veteran naturalist Aidi Abdullah of the Four Seasons, a colorful local personality who is so familiar with the park that he claims to have memorized the daily habits of individual mudskippers and fiddler crabs. “This guy has been getting fat,” he points out, spotting a crustacean the size of a HK$5 coin. (He kindly lent us photographs for this story.) “We are blessed to be in the midst of one of the world’s most incredible geological and ecological environments,” he tells us, “Yet so few tourists realize the extent of the nature beyond Langkawi’s beaches.”
During the tour, Abdullah was upfront about the downsides that come with increased tourism. He pointed out ambush points where the macaques sometimes spring onto boats to nab snacks, and was especially critical of unlicensed tour operators using powerful engines in the delicate mangroves.
It’s better than it was, he explains. We passed an abandoned coal kiln on the tour and Abdullah pointed out how the mangroves are only recently recovering from deforestation that was rampant in the 80s. He said that so far the local government has been balanced and engaged in developing the tourism industry here, and the local businesses have an active dialog about sustainability. Nevertheless, on the way out, we pass a giant recently erected Hollywood-style sign on a karst proclaiming “Kilim Geopark.” Abdullah jokes about vandalizing it to say the “Kill-it Geopark.”
A Place to Last
It was time for a hike. Having done even the nastiest bits of the Hong Kong Geopark trail, I wanted something a bit more rustic. So I had a guide take me to Pulau Langgun, an uninhabited island off the coast of Kilim. There we went on a mildly arduous hike through a lush tropical environment straight out of “Cast Away.” We stopped to inspect the flora, consisting primarily of buttress roots ringed in colorful cauliflory blooms (I’m just namedropping now). We crested the peak and then descended down the backside of the jungle to discover a freshwater lake nestled in the middle of the island, a hidden oasis. It was so serenely beautiful, and so serendipitously punctuated by a sudden appearance of the iconic Langkawi kite, that I thought the whole thing might be an elaborate setup by the Malaysian Tourism Board. But it was real, and entirely worth the hike.