It had been a while since I’d ridden my mountain bike on the hills of Bukit Kiara, here in Kuala Lumpur and involves riding of bicycles off road, enjoyably on narrower trails, over and around rocks and roots and whatever comes in your path.

Back to this ride I was on. By the time we made it up to the first unofficial meeting point aka ‘pondok guard’, all I wanted to do was throw my bike down (gently, gently) and lie down on the grass. It felt exceptionally hot and humid that particular day. And I was exceptionally embarrassed; embarrassed at my lack of Malaysian-ness in dealing with the heat and humidity.

It was my first ride in Bukit Kiara since I returned permanently to Malaysia, after years of studying and working overseas. I had been in the country for only a couple of weeks and still had some residual fitness from living a relatively more active lifestyle overseas.

I wasn’t yet displaying the full symptoms of the dreaded ‘balik Malaysia’ syndrome suffered by returning overseas-residing Malaysians; mind and body lethargy caused by a combination of excessive eating, local food fear of missing out (Fomo), hours of inactivity spent stuck in traffic and mums who spoil you. With this in consideration, it was the consensus of my riding companions that I was being pathetically defeated by the local climate.

So here we are at pondok guard and the place is abuzz. I think if you live in the Klang Valley, you will be aware of how popular Bukit Kiara is as a recreational spot and inner city green lung.

Walkers and joggers march past on the street by the number, a couple of road-cyclists power up and over the hill. Finally, my people; mountain bikers, litter the edges of the street and the forest with our bikes chatting with each other or heading off into the nearby trails.

As a kid, I remember getting hauled out of bed by my mum at 5.45am so the family could go walking up the very same hill. Mountain bikers, back then, were a rarer sight. You’d spot the odd one disappearing into the bushes on skinny, seemingly impossible by bike trail and magically reappear oncompletely different side of the hill.

Times have changed and on that day, pondok guard definitely seemed like the place to be if you were a mountain biker in Kuala Lumpur.

I couldn’t help but make a few observations on my fellow Malaysian mountain bikers, in contrast to our overseas brothers and sisters.

First, we love a good chat. I mean we really love multiple good long chats. I swear on that first ride we spent close to 45 minutes not just catching our breath but catching up with what seemed like every mountain bike owner in the Klang Valley.

I used to ride my bike with a large group of female friends. We often joked about the amount of chattering that went on during our rides. However, the amount of chit-chat back there is no match for what goes on at Kiara. Riding in Australia, despite being laid back and social; still involved being practically on the go for the length of the ride.

Riding in KL, I feel. involves twice the amount of socialising. Cigarette and vape breaks are normal (tsk, tsk, Malaysia). An amusing contradiction is how I’m usually the only person eating on these breaks. We do, however, make up for it, after the ride. And I can tell you about the mid-ride mamak stops another time.

Secondly, it never fails to amaze me how well the community of trail users at Bukit Kiara get along with each other. This small patch of accessible green area is densely used by various user groups both on the access roads and the forest trails. When you have different kinds of people sharing the same narrow trails, user conflict is a major issue.

Having lived in areas with not pleasant turf wars; careening downtrail and met by a bunch of hikers going the opposite way, does not usually end happily.

A bubble of good manners and common sense

Considering all the water cooler conversations regarding the poor manners of KL-ites in particular, the trails of Kiara seem to be a bubble of good manners and common sense. More often than not, encountering hikers going up when you’re going down usually results in quick chat or friendly waves all round. When you overcome an obstacle on an ascent, an ‘Auntie’ on her hike would supportively exclaim, “Waah very strong ah girl”. Auntie, you flatter me.

Politicking and stereotyping between different interest groups can breed a culture of distrust; often resulting in areas being shut out to certain user groups. At times legitimate, other times a no-win situation. Here in Kuala Lumpur, harmonious co-existence between trail users is largely driven by the fact that we have so little green space to squabble over.

Years of cooperation between community groups working together to protect and maintain Bukit Kiara, would no doubt have a hand in this. Why fight with a fellow biker/hiker/local fauna, when there is a constant threat of over-development looming over all of us, slowly taking away what we commonly hold dear?

There is a lot to love about being a mountain biker in Malaysia. What I do love the most though, is how easily we all get along. A mountain biker is a mountain biker. Nobody could care less what race is printed on your I/C or which god you pray to, if at all.

Out on the trails we chat, we laugh, we heckle, we encourage and we look after each other. It is a definite relief from the playing up of racial tensions and politicisation of race relations we are bombarded with. It’s a much-needed and welcome reminder that we are all people, looking to live life in peace and doing the things we love.

It’s been about seven months since I got married, moved into another home, bought a car, travelled to five Malaysian cities and got a cat. My friends from all circles still never fail to ask me different variations of: “So, had enough of Malaysia yet?” “Eh, kau ni tahan ke balik Malaysia?” Every. Single. Time.

I would be lying if I said all is fine and dandy in Malaysia at the moment. I laugh at my arguably poor timing of choosing to return to my home country. Returning home was not a decision I made overnight. I was determined to do it on my own terms and without resentment or regrets. And yes, being able to continue mountain biking played a major role in my decision-making process.

These are challenging times, but also exciting times to be in Malaysia. Life would definitely be much less pleasant without my mountain biking community and my weekend green escapes.

I don’t stress any more about the long breaks on my rides. It makes a lot of sense in our tropical climate. Although long breaks aren’t as long as they used to be, we’ve realised it hasn’t done us too many favours. It also means more to talk about during the post-ride debrief over nasi lemak.

So, my response to questions from my friends, on how I’m coping, “It’s different. But it’s great to be back.” Every. Single. Time.

HAJAR ABU BAKAR is an electrical engineer with an international consultant, currently based in Kuala Lumpur. She is a proud product of her childhood in Petaling Jaya and her adult years studying and working in Australia. She also writes about her interests on the great outdoors, all things bikes, active transport and women in sport on her website http://doowaroda.com/