Tanjong Bunga, Penang.
leaping cascade at its far end, has been utilised to give Penang and all world-travellers a gem of scenery.
The beginning of the ascent to the Crag Hotel (one hour, carried in a chair) is at the Garden. The hill is 2,066 feet high, and gives a magnificent view of the whole spreading prospect between Penang and the mainland. Coolies and chairs are always in waiting at the foot of the hill. The hotel belongs to the Federated Malay States Railways.
In this direction, the pass leading to Bal k Pulau is within easy reach by motor car, and the scenery, with its glimpses of the sea down well-wooded Jong ravines, is unsurpassed.
For other drives there are Relau Police Station (ten miles) and Bagan Lepas (twelve miles), through coconuts, padi and open country, and these motorists will discover for themselves.
But the incomparable beauty of the drive along the coast towards Tanjong Bunga, past the Swimming Club (six miles), must have special mention. Before the road starts to skirt the sea it passes through a collection of Malay houses at Bagan Jermal, which the artista s eye will call picturesque and the ordinary person will label queer. Once these are left behind (they are at about the fifth mile) there begins and there continues along this, the Corniche of Malaya, an unrivalled succession of
beautiful views. If you go along this road in the bright morning, and most mornings in Penang are bright, you will lay up in memory for ever those sweet glimpses through the palms of the delicious blues and greens which are that summer sea. On the gold of the sand to which you look down from the red banks of the road lie splashes of black granite boulder, lapped by the waves. Gazing outwards you shall see, a little way off, Tiny Mouse Island (Pulau Tikus Kechil) floating like a flower, with its white lighthouse for a centre. At a bend of the road a bold headland juts out bravely, tree-crowned. At another bend the coast recedes and curves to form a sweeping beach, palm-fringed, dotted with boats. Out to sea are the sepia sails of junks, and beyond them; framing all, loom in the far distance the violet shadows of the Kedah hills.
The Chinese temple at Ayer Itam is approached through an unprepossessing collection of squalid huts, and the granite stairway alone leads the traveller to suppose that to follow its massive steps
Tanjong Bunga, Penang.