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Six Degrees and Four Continents of Separation
CAMP LEAKEY, Kalimantan — Six degrees of separation might sound like a clichéd and bloated term nowadays, but 12,000 miles from home in one of the most isolated locations on this planet; I had a chance meeting with a fellow traveler. A meeting I would not fully come to understand until almost another year would pass.
Camp Leaky, and the Orangutan Research Center run by Dr. Birute Galdikas, is a three-day journey up the Sekonyer River on a remote part of the island of Borneo. Natural tannins from the soil make the river run black as oil, and with a towering wall of mangroves on each bank of the river, wind cannot penetrate, turning the surface of the water into a natural mirror.
Fires raged uncontrollably throughout Borneo’s rainforests that year from such a long dry season. Compounded by farmer’s clearing their rice fields by slash and burn, resulted in painting a dull grey blanket over much of the sky, drifting as far west as Singapore. There were no starry nights, no crystal blue days, just a dull haze and a constant smell of burning brush while hiking through jungles of ash.
Our means of transportation up the Sekonyer River was a local boat known as a Klotok. Essentially a floating kitchen, sleeping quarters, dance hall and bathroom all rolled into one.
The ?putt-putt? of the diesel engine echoed throughout the narrow channels. Proboscis monkey leaped from tree to tree high in the jungle growth during their sunset feedings, probably wondering who was making that racket during their evening meal. When the motor was put to rest, it was soon replaced by the shrill of Hornbills, ever present around us, but nowhere to be seen.
Docking at the first inlet outside the Tan Jung Puting Reserve, it wasn't long before the drone of another oncoming boat broke the night silence. A flashlight in the distance swished back and forth looking for floating obstructions on the river surface. As the other Klotok neared, our sea of candles along the rooftop of our floating palace was inviting enough that they decided to dock along side and tie on for the night.
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The group who joined us hailed from all corners of the globe. Sweden, Australia, Britain and the United States. Conversation was brisk among the sea of accents. The first question usually began with, "where are you from and what do you do?" Introducing myself, as an animator from Canada, Ian, a native of Britain, immediately spouted, "Oh my sister Jane, she works at a London animation studio.”
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Our Klotok on the Sekonyer River
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I was aghast. My first inclination was to see how many crocodiles would appear if I tossed this lad into the river, but I was now curious and wanted to know more.
Travel is the way I escape my career. The very fact that several colleagues of mine were employed at the same studio his sister was working at, simply was a reminder that the world we live in is indeed growing smaller.
The next morning the group shared a full breakfast before the two Klotoks continued on their way in opposite directions on the river. But the story for me doesn’t end here.
Jump ahead twelve months almost to the very day. It is now the fall of 1995 and I am no longer living in Toronto, but Los Angeles, working at a motion picture studio called DreamWorks in Hollywood — a different kind of jungle.
Animators working here hailed from all over the world relocating from many European countries, evident from countless accents heard in the hallways of the building. I felt like I was traveling once again with all these foreigners in my midst.
One afternoon on a break, walking through the hallways seeing all the wonderful nationalities screaming through text on office door plaques, I stumbled across one name in particular and wondered.
I knocked on the door where a British woman named Jane, fresh from London, let me regale her with a tale about my trek in Borneo and how I met this fellow named Ian traveling up river to see the orangutans.
Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. To my amazement this fellow I met while traveling was none other than her brother.
It wasn't soon after that Ian came to California to visit his sister. So my initial journey from Canada to Borneo had come full circle in the United States. Separated by tens of thousands of miles a small circle had been formed and we reunited to relive our wonderful adventure on the Sekonyer River in Kalimantan when two boats docked and strangers became friends.
—- October 1995
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