Malaysia´s Hauntingly Beautiful Tropical Island - I first visited and fell in love with Tioman in 1987. As the flight approached the island the sight of Dragon Horn Hill’s twin peaks disappearing into the flat base of towering cumulus cloud stirred layers of memory. Forested slopes disentangled from cloud and fell to the coastline where I could make out the stilt houses of a kampong and then the blue rectangle of the resort’s pool. Losing height we followed the rugged coastline but I could see nowhere safe to land - minutes later, we were making for a narrow strip lying parallel to the beach and touched down.

There are a number of well-developed resorts on the west coast but if you want to get away from it all then Juara, on the less accessible east coast and facing the South China Sea, is the place to head for. This was my destination. A forty minute boat ride later we were approaching the perfect curve of Baruk Beach and tucked behind a fringe of coconut palms, with a backdrop of dark green forest was Bushman Bar, recommended for the excellence of its cuisine. The sun was out, the air clean and bright. Trees laden with fruit: mango, papaya, banana and flamboyant flowering shrubs grew between chalets on stilts, each with a verandah facing the sea. One of these was to be my home for the next ten days.

Dawn arrived in fiery glory. Apart from the shushing of waves, the occasional throbbing of a boat’s engine and the rustling of wind through coconut leaves the only sound was the cry of the Tiong bird. Legend has it that a visitor to the island met a local man who had a bird perched on his shoulder. The visitor approached the man to ask the name of the island. The man, who thought the visitor was referring to the bird, replied ‘Tioman’ (meaning my tio bird). Thus the island received its name. Unique to this island, the haunting ‘ tio, tio’ cry of the bird echoes across the sky adding to the sense of magic.

Swimming, snorkelling and diving from the beach or boat are daily activities. However, Tioman offers the visitor more than the sea to explore. One expedition, a mountain trek through primary rainforest, lead to a waterfall on the Mentawak River. The start of the journey was an aerobic bicycle ride through Juara kampong, along jungle tracks and over rattling wooden bridges with no sides to the river´s estuary. Ferried to the opposite side in a red canoe we prepared to begin the first stage of our ascent.

Trees struggled for light, some soaring hundreds of metres from the valley sides. An eagle was lazily riding thermals overhead while dancing round us huge butterflies opened and closed like bright turquoise and orange flowers. Great clumps of bamboo lined the track, giant creepers strangled plants and clothed trees with waterfalls of leaves. We could hear the rush and tumble of water long before we reached the falls, then we came upon the cluster of empty mineral bottles, upside down on sticks like forgotten fireworks, that mark the entrance. Swallowed by surrounding jungle it was a dark, damp and eerie place transformed when intermittent bursts of sunlight sliced through curtains of leaves. In spite of the noise the falls were not very high but separated from a series of smaller falls by a tumble of rocks and pools suitable for an ice-cold dip before our picnic lunch. Strange colourless fish darted in shadowy water.

While we were enjoying our picnic and listening to birdcalls and rustlings against the rush of water we were startled by the strident sound of a telephone ringing. Remembering that telephones had been recently installed in Juara we concluded that a bird had learnt to mimic the sound.

One of my most vivid memories is a trip to Coral Island. The pure white sands of this uninhabited island and the offshore rocky outcrops make it a priority for a visit. It was late afternoon when the two dive boats of tourists had departed and quiet returned that we decided to explore. We knew that monitor lizards lived on the island. Before long we found large prints in the sand skirting the central crown of rocks and jungle. Then we caught sight of a lizard, perfectly still, apart from sensing our presence with its flicking tongue - then another, some two metres long, making its way over the sand.

Our final mission was a hunt for a huge coiled python that sleeps on a branch overhanging the river. We didn´t see the python but we did experience the incredible silence of a jungle river broken only by exotic bird-song, the sound of breeze sifting through leaves and the rasping of the saw-edges of bamboo like falling rain. We saw ancient rainforest reflected in dark water. We kept perfectly still and wondered when the air was suddenly filled with the most exquisite perfume and watched the undergrowth move into place when an unseen creature retreated at our passing.

Evening is my favourite time of day and on Tioman this is especially true. I can imagine no setting as beautiful as the open verandah of Bushman Bar. We watched the sky grow a deeper shade of blue, shadows lengthen and the copper glow of Mars lift from the horizon in a sky heavy with stars. As darkness thickened we heard the wild screeching of fruit bats, then their huge silhouettes were flung against the streaked evening sky and they retreated into the mystical silence of the natural world.