There’s something magical about starting a hike with a kid. You’re never sure whether you’ll end up at the summit… or at the nearest snack stall. For me and my boy, this time, it was Bukit Tama in Serian, Kuching, Sarawak. And let me tell you — it turned out to be a little mountain full of big stories.
The trail began like most jungle hikes in Sarawak — narrow, earthy, and lined with leaves that stick to your shoes like unwanted hitchhikers. My boy, armed with a walking stick that looked more like a wizard’s staff, marched ahead with all the seriousness of a seasoned trekker.
Behind us, the rest of the hikers snaked up the trail, their backpacks bobbing like colorful beetles.
“Are we there yet?” came the classic line, barely five minutes in. Ah yes, the soundtrack of every family adventure.
As we climbed higher, the trees parted to reveal sprawling valleys and mist-draped peaks. Some of the mountains in the distance looked like they’d been sculpted by giants — towering cliffs, odd head-shaped profiles, and ridges fading into layers of blue.
Every so often, my boy would stop, plant his stick like a surveyor, and announce, “This is my land now.” Who was I to argue? Sarawak is big enough for both of us.
Bukit Tama isn’t just jungle. Midway up, the trail cut through paddy field and pepper farms, rows upon rows of vines tied neatly to stakes. Farmers were already at work, while our little group of sweaty hikers puffed and huffed our way through their backyard.
At one point, the path became so steep it felt like climbing an escalator that had broken down. Some of us tried to look heroic. Most of us just looked like we badly needed teh c peng.
Then came the open hillside, where the jungle gave way to bare earth. A bamboo lookout stood like a skeleton against the sky, half-built but standing proud. The wind carried the smell of earth and rain, while the valley below stretched endlessly — ridges, forests, pepper gardens, all the way to where the horizon dissolved into mist.
My boy, shirt damp with sweat, stood there gazing out. For a moment, he looked like a miniature explorer staring down his kingdom.
And finally, there it was: the signboard declaring Puncak Gunung Tama, 478 meter, Kampung Mawang Tahup, Serian, Sarawak. Flags of Sarawak and Malaysia flapped proudly beside it.
We took the obligatory summit selfie, of course. Mine with a half-proud, half-exhausted look. His with that face of “Dad, we better get ice cream after this.”
On the bamboo viewing platform, the two of us stood shoulder to shoulder. The valley rolled out beneath us like a green ocean, and the flags waved above our heads.
This, I thought, is why I bring him along. It’s not just about the mountain. It’s about standing together at the top, no matter how many “are we there yets” it took to get here.
On the way down, he stopped to blow on a dandelion-like flower, sending its white fluff dancing into the breeze. A small thing, but it reminded me adventures aren’t measured only in meters climbed or views conquered. They’re found in those playful pauses, the laughter, the wonder in a child’s eyes when the jungle whispers something new.
We re-entered the bamboo groves, the cool shade wrapping around us like a reward for the sweaty climb. The ground was soft with fallen leaves, and the forest hummed with life. Step after step, we retraced our path, tired but happy.