7/10 - To Kapit
 
There are no roads to Kapit, the only way is by boat. There are a lot of boats available throughout the day. However at just before 8.30am, there seemed to be only one departing, so we got tickets and proceeded to find a space for our bags inside the cabin rather than on the top!
 
The express boats look like jet planes with the wings cut off, and they go nearly as fast and sound nearly as loud. Nicknamed 'flying coffins' - originally due to their appearance, but the increase in accidents does make you wonder!
 
The journey took nearly 4 hours, much longer than the advertised 2 to 3. There was nothing to see and a crap film playing on the tv which we couldn't hear, so I'm glad it seemed to pass quickly.
 
Getting a permit

After lunch in Kapit, we headed out to the residents office to obtain a permit needed to head up river. 
 
This was fun, as they seemed unable to decipher the stamp in our passports and insisted on calling the immigration office to check our visas were still valid. 
 
The guy signing off on the permit was nice enough about it, but really didn't seem confident that he knew what he was doing. We both thought he had never dealt with a permit issue before otherwise he would have understood the Sarawak visa stamp. Maybe he was new or maybe visitors don't bother with the permit and take the risk, after all I read that they don't check them and we could just plead ignorant. But I did want something for my scrapbook so it was worth getting. 
 
After about half an hour waiting and 2 women busying themselves at a computer, the forms were stamped and the permit issued. 
 
Getting from the residents office back to town was n't likely to be easy as we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere with no buses or minivans passing by. The security guy told us to wait outside, pointing at the step which was in direct sunlight. 
 
We expected a long wait, so I sat myself down and reached for my tablet for some quality blog time. As soon as I did that, a woman appeared, waving us over to an official looking car with a Malaysian flag on the roof. There were 4 other people, plus her and she still insisted that both of us could also fit into the back seat. I just laughed and jumped in, sitting forward to allow enough space. The other two ladies in the back of the car laughed too as we all tried to squeze in. I was just surprised that travelling like sardines with 6 in a car was acceptable in Malaysia, although I would expect it in Thailand.
 
Update: we have since met 3 other backpackers, at our next destination, and all of them had obtained the permit. Everyone agreed this was unnecessary as no one was asked for it during their visit to the Belaga area. Recommendation: save yourself the transport cost and time of getting one. If anyone asks for it, plead ignorant or say you arrived into Belaga from Bintulu for which it is not required.
 
8/10 - To Belaga
 
Despite being informed by a number of websites and locals that the only boat to Belaga, departed around 8.30/9/9.30am, we didn't want to risk missing it and end up stuck in Kapit. So, we headed out to the jetty around 7.30am, after stocking up on supplies at the bakery. Turns out this is a very busy jetty, although I couldn't determine where everyone else was headed with their provisions. 
 
After a long wait hanging out with the locals in the square opposite, where we could at least have a seat and avoid the live chickens and baskets of fruit, we braved the chaos and headed down the steps to the rivers edge. 
 
We asked everyone that looked our way, which boat was for Belaga. The express boat, had just torpedoed in. 
 
The boats moor side by side and the only way to reach the most recent arrival is to cross all the other boats. I carefully shuffled my way along the metal skirt, that acts as a loading platform round the edge of each boat, desperately holding onto my bag at fear of dropping it into the river. One of the boats, moored in the middle, chose to depart without much warning, but fortunately I looked up in time to avoid overloading the boat next to it, and waited until it was safe to continue. The adjacent boat quickly shifted to fill the gap and we all headed across, without incident, and down into the hold of our coffin for the next 5 hours.
 
Sadly the windows inside the boat are perspex and some what sun bleached, so it's not possible to see outside, adding to the coffin like effect. A couple of them, at the front, had been more recently replaced, so from time to time I caught a glimpse of the passing view.
 
I wanted to venture outside, up onto the roof, to enjoy the scenery. But the warning bells were going off after having read an article about an accident back in May. A boat had capsized just outside our destination. Perhaps that is why we have yet to see our meet any other backpackers on this route?

Interesting locals
 
Normally I would take the opportunity to catch up on my journal, but it was interesting to sit and people watch for a bit. 
 
This part of Sarawak seems to have a lesser number of English speakers and so, any communication seems to consist of smiles and giggles, which we took as eaning they thought we were funny/draft/odd *delete as applicable. 
 
Phill made friends with an old guy at the back of the boat, who offered him a beer and then went on to gloat about how much cheaper his ticket was, all without words. 
 
Those under the age of 30, were dressed in Levis and t-shirts with logos, while the older generation, most likely travelling back to their longhouse communities, were distinguishable from the ethnic Chinese and Malays by their elongated earlobes. 
 
There was a short moment of laughing and muttering, with gestures being made towards us, as a food hawker clambered past, offering barbequed meats and other snacks on sticks. Clearly they didn't think that we would want any, indicating that there was no point asking us. If it hadn't been for the baked goods we had stocked up on, I might have delved into the basket of offerings and surprised them... Maybe!
 
There's some potential for a bit of excitement, about an hour upstream. I'd read about the Pelagus rapids, which in the past, was almost impossible to pass. 
 
In the 1960s, British Army engineers used explosives to create a channel through the rapids. But it seems that in the dry season this stretch still causes problems, with only shallow bottomed boats or those with reinforced hulls being able to make the trip. Even then it' a bit of a challenge and wild experience.
 
There were a few minutes where the engine seemed to go into overdrive, revving hard, despite the boat being almost at a standstill. No doubt this was an indication of a more challenging, or rocky spot. But with crap windows, I wasn't able to get sight of the rapids themselves.
 
I was left on bag guarding duty for a bit whilst Phill went to make more friends with the huddle at the front of the boat, who were enjoying the view out the doorway.
 
We decided to brave the journey up on top in the end and were really glad we did. There's so much to watch as every 15 minutes or so, the boat crashes up a muddy bank and drops off/picks up villagers. Plus you can't beat sharing a roof with a fridge and a bunch of chickens!
 
The hot sun was burning, but the breeze created by the speed of the boat disguised this until I realised later how red I had become.
 
We arrived into Belaga in good time, and were greeted by the guy I had emailed a couple of days before, although he wasn't specifically expecting us, he was just touting for tourists.