By Wayne Johnson

With only 60 Javanese rhinos left in the world, the chances of seeing one are pretty slim, but that wasn't going to stop me from trying. These giant beasts are confined to a remote corner of west Java in the Unesco-listed Ujung Kulon National Park.

Located a good six hours by car from the teeming metropolis of Jakarta, Ujung Kulon can only be entered via foot or boat. This remoteness offers a welcome respite from the teeming bustle of humanity which exists on much of the island of Java, and especially in its chaotic capital city, Jakarta.

The two entry points to Ujung Kulon are by boat from the resort town of Labuan or by foot from the more remote kampung of Tamunjaya.

I chose the latter route, as I, perhaps foolishly, wanted to test myself against the elements and have a full-on trekking experience.

So with backpack and tent in hand, two colleagues and I braved West Java's back-roads and turned up at a small homestay which organised guides into the reserve.

Despite the battered sign hanging above the door stating that it was endorsed by the WWF, it gave the impression that it saw very few visitors.

Goat & wildebeest

After the lengthy car ride, we spent the first night in the village where we were the objects of fascination for many of the locals. They didn't have too long to be curious, though, as the next day we set off bright and early with our party of three accompanied by two guides, who thankfully helped carry some of the heavier gear as well as our food and water supplies.

The park entrance is about 90-minute's walk from the village, and it was a pleasant experience to traipse past bright green padi fields and busy villages lined alongside the road, which often seemed to be inhabited by nothing but chickens and children, with the adults either sleeping or working the fields.

Upon entering the park, we quickly nicknamed our guide Mountain Goat because of the way he never seemed to slip or stumble despite only wearing a pair of flip flops.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for myself, whose nickname would be along the lines of Clumsy Wildebeest. Despite my expensive hiking boots, I managed to kick, trip and stumble upon every upturned branch or tree stump.

Ambushed

The first day's walking is quite difficult and requires a reasonable level of fitness, as a combination of uneven terrain and high humidity takes its toll.

Also, you need to be careful when you choose to go, as there are many streams which need to be waded over or crossed on precarious log bridges. In the dry season, these become a trickle or non-existent, but in the wet season you may find yourself chest-deep in water, carrying your back-pack above your head.

After four hours of sweating and the shock of being ambushed by a group of wild pigs (which sadly paralysed me with fear), we arrived at the gutted remains of what was once a park ranger station.

The jungle had cleared and given way to an expanse of grassland stretching down to a dramatic beach and turquoise sea. This was to be our campsite for the night. I say campsite loosely, because despite achieving World Heritage status, the park is still relatively un-used and the rest-huts have fallen into disrepair, which is why it is highly recommended that you bring a tent.

Roughing it

After pitching our tents, we went down to explore the beach and enjoyed the liberating feeling of knowing that there was nobody around and that we had the whole beach to ourselves.

Unfortunately, it is now almost impossible to escape man's ravages on the environment and there were areas where the waves had deposited a large amount of plastic trash on the shore.

However, it wasn't enough to detract from the beauty of the place and the exhilaration of running into the ocean to wash away the grime and sweat of the previous hike. As refreshing as the Sunda Strait is, you also have to be careful. These waters are famous for their powerful waves and strong undertow, so it is advisable to stay within your depth.

Now that I was feeling revitalised from the ocean, it suddenly felt good to get back to nature, even if my body was still in a state of shock at the thought of spending a night under canvas with a towel as a pillow and only the waves and wildlife for company.

However, I had come to "rough it" and it felt immensely satisfying to sit around a fire prodding at the flames with a stick while chatting and drinking a hot coffee - all the while keeping one eye open for the wild pigs.

After a fitful sleep due to heavy rainfall and my irrational fear of pigs, I dragged my aching body for a shampoo rinse in the ocean before devouring some noodles, rice and corned beef (if you rely on the guides, this is all you will get. So it may be advisable to bring some varied food of your own).

I then had to convince my tired limbs to begin the walk to our next campsite, which we were promised would be much more pristine than the first.

Thankfully, the hike, although still gruelling due to the blazing heat, was easier on the body as it traversed many kilometres of unspoilt beaches.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending hours collecting seashells in various hues of pink, white, yellow and purple. A definite benefit of deserted beaches is that you can find brightly coloured intact conch shells and such, which you usually only ever find in tacky tourist shops.

Another interesting feature of the coastline are the petrified lava flows that jut out into the ocean - a legacy of the numerous eruptions which have taken place in this part of Java. The most notable among them - the legendary Krakatoa - can be viewed looming menacingly out in the Sunda Strait.

Showering in the sea

Our next was campsite nestled in the shade of some tall swaying palm trees accompanied by the sounds of crashing waves in the foreground.

While I warily kept a lookout for dangerous animals, as leopards had been spotted in the area, the biggest threat to my safety seemed to come from falling coconuts, which every so often would drop to the ground with a loud thud.

Although the Rangers house was again derelict, the second location was much more serene and tranquil.

A curved crescent of white sand glistened in the sun as huge waves crashed upon it.

After a few hours playing in the waves, we pitched the tents well away from the falling coconut bombs and relaxed around the fire while sipping hot chocolates. It was a time to relax and reflect on the beauty of the surroundings.

Despite the undoubted hard-going of walking through thick primary forest and mangrove swamps it was definitely worth it to escape the madness of the city and appreciate the planet's wild places, if only for a long weekend.

Alone in my tent and serenaded by the waves' rhythmic pounding and the whoops of monkeys emanating from the forest's inky blackness, I slept as soundly as I have ever in my life.

After watching the sun pop over the horizon while again showering in the sea, we had only four hours of a tiring but fulfilling walk through the dense green undergrowth followed by a trek along the coastline as it meandered in and out of bays and inlets.

Eventually, tired but triumphant, we emerged into a gaggle of curious, screaming kids in the closest village to the reserve. They followed us back to the homestay and our ride back to the big city.

Despite having a rewarding and invigorating experience, I realised that as much as I will fight tooth and nail to preserve the world's eco-systems and national parks, my body prefers to be pampered in a nice hotel room.

And thankfully, many others think like me, as the park's relative inaccessibility and lack of development, coupled with most Indonesians' reluctance to walk anywhere or stay outside luxury hotels, is what has helped preserve the fabulous flora and fauna of Ujung Kulon.

For the adventurous among you though, the place is highly recommended. The unspoilt rainforest and spectacular coastline give a rare glimpse of what most of the island of Java would have looked like at the time of Krakatoa's eruption. Just don't expect to see the elusive rhino - they learned a long time ago that humans spell trouble.

-The Star/Asia News Network