The world below was just starting to shake off its Monday morning lethargy, but deep within the folds of Serian, the jungle was already wide awake. I looked at my wife, a silhouette against the creeping morning light, and decided today wouldn’t be spent under the sterile glare of office lights. Instead, we were chasing a ghost on a hill, an abandoned church sitting quietly on the peak of Bung Mako.
Into the Overgrowth
The moment our boots hit the trail, the cinematic illusion of a serene nature walk vanished. The jungle here doesn't welcome visitors; it tolerates them.
Years without maintenance had turned the path into a wild obstacle course. Vines hung like tangled wires from the canopy, and bamboo groves leaned heavily over the track, forcing us to duck and weave. The ground was heavily carpeted in dead bamboo leaves, masking the uneven terrain beneath. Every few minutes, we had to swat away the relentless mosquitoes that swarmed us the moment we slowed down.
Along the way, the jungle offered small, sharp macro details, shelf fungi blooming like coral reefs on rotting logs, and massive bamboo shoots erupting from the earth like primitive spears. It felt less like a public hiking trail and more like an untamed wilderness reclaiming its territory.
The Chapel in the Woods
After a steady, humid grind, the dense foliage finally yielded to a clearing. There it stood: the abandoned church.
The silence here was heavy, almost sacred. A large blue water tank sat outside, catching rainwater under a fallen tree trunk. Inside, row after row of rough-hewn wooden logs served as pews, resting on the orange, packed earth. A statue of the Virgin Mary and a framed image of Christ kept watch over an empty altar. It was a hauntingly beautiful, rustic sanctuary swallowed by the green tide of the mountain.
Rewards of the Summit
We didn't stay in the shadows of the chapel for long. Pushing slightly past the clearing, the jungle parted completely, opening up to a spectacular, panoramic vista.
My wife stood at the edge of the viewpoint, leaning on her makeshift hiking stick, looking out over the valley. From this vantage point, all the mosquito bites, the suffocating humidity, and the overgrown brush faded into the background. The town looked peaceful, tiny, and far away.
It was exactly what we needed. A raw, sweaty, unpolished Monday morning hike that traded the routine of daily life for a breath of fresh air and a breathtaking view.
