The man who disappeared: tea and intrigue in Malaysia

This said, I'd never considered submersing myself in the stuff. Biscuits, not people, are for dunking, right?

But here I am at the Cameron Highlands Resort spa; a happy human teabag, neck deep in a grand clawfoot bath filled with an aromatic, earth-hued brew grown in plantations close by. For this tea believer, it's a baptism.

Strawberries bob, there's sugar and slices of lime for exfoliating elbows and knees, plus honey and tea leaves to nourish my face.

And ah, the aroma. It's like breathing pure nostalgia. Mugs hugged in Mum's kitchen. Kindness and comfort. Tea and sympathy.

The spa's menu rivals the restaurants upstairs for fresh local ingredients, thanks to the Cameron Highlands' famously fertile ground. Tea, the region's most prolific crop, is the centrepiece and every spa treatment here is preceded by this glorious bath.

It's as beneficial as it feels, says spa therapist Arika. Used topically, tea's antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties soothe your skin and muscles while delivering a detoxifying cleanse.

Afterwards I'm slathered in a strawberry, yoghurt and oatmeal body wrap - a breakfast bowl combo to refine and soften the skin before a strong massage.

It smells delicious enough to eat and at the end my wish is granted with a dainty tray of oatmeal biscuits, strawberry jam and of course, a cup of tea.

The Cameron Highlands' lush peaks rise to 1500 metres above sea level in the central Malaysian state of Pahang, transcending the tropical humidity down below.

Temperatures up here rarely top 25 degrees and in the early 20th century, heat-weary British colonists came to cool off in fresh breezes and abundant rains.

Amid ancient jungles and rainforests, they carved out landscapes as familiar to them as the weather: English country gardens, Swiss chalets, mock-Tudor cottages.

Today, rose beds and manicured lawns still coexist with rare tropical orchids, giant ferns and 200-million-year-old cloud forest - unlikely botanical bedfellows, but the Cameron Highlands' generous climate nurtures natives and newcomers alike.

Malaysia's first tea shrubs were planted here in 1929, and now the crop covers more than 12,000 hectares, producing 70 per cent of the country's tea.

Plantations cloak the slopes and valleys with undulating, radiant emerald, wreathed in skeins of silvery mountain mist. Tea-picking crews dot horizons that seem to roll into infinity.

We discover another kind of tea bathing; soaking up the verdant vistas from a lofty bluff, in a picnic tent with all the trappings of a tearoom.

Cameron Highlands Resort butlers in their immaculate white uniforms serve delicate sandwiches and pastries, scones with strawberry jam and cream, salads brimming with local greens. There's silver cutlery and crisp linen, pots of tea - and that other great medicine, Champagne.

As the mists clear and sunlight drenches the slopes, we munch and sip and play at naming the myriad greens: pea, parrot, apple, spinach, moss, mint, summer cricket pitch, billiard table baize.

All are shades of tea, we learn on a tour at tea producer Boh's original factory in Ringlet, surrounded by the company's oldest tea gardens. Darker greens are older leaves, ready for harvest, while lighter swathes are younger shoots.

Boh is Malaysia's biggest and first tea producer and at the 1930s factory, enveloped again in those intoxicating aromas, we chart tea's progress from green to brown, through rolling, fermenting, drying, sorting and packing before transport down the winding, precarious road to sea level.

The tour ends with a cup of fragrant Palas Supreme in Boh's cafe, cantilevered above the plantations, the factory and kitchens housed in two Nissen huts originally used for troop supplies during the Malayan Emergency.

I prefer their new purpose: making tea, not war.

The tea gardens are the Cameron Highlands' landscape at its most decorous; a bucolic backdrop for picnics and polite society. But there's a wilder side, and next day we seek it out with Madi, the hotel's resident naturalist.

Born here, an adept tracker and friend to the local Indigenous Orang Asli people, this seasoned wildlife expert knows the jungle like his own countenance. He can tell you when tigers pass through, where rare orchids bloom and how to find nooks that shelter tiny, wondrous creatures.

We follow a narrow trail he's hewn beneath the dense canopy, through elephant ferns, banana trees and long tangles of liana creepers straight from a Tarzan movie.

Madi points out yellow rhododendrons, the carnivorous pitcher plant with its insect-trapping lid, and amber-bodied copper flies, all glimpses of this ecosystem's extraordinary biodiversity.

Like the plantations, the jungle is endlessly green - but nothing like those pastoral scenes. Sunlight barely penetrates here. The Cameron Highlands' original landscape is untamed, otherworldly, chaotic to the untrained eye. Its luxuriance defies restraint and jostles the boundaries of those neat European gardens.

Madi understands the jungle's hidden harmony. Plants cooperate, he tells us, showing a fallen tree lying between its unharmed neighbours. "They speak via their roots. They never fall onto each other."

Hiking trails criss-cross the jungle. Trekking in the cooler temperatures appealed to those early colonists and still draws tourists and botanists alike.

Others remained in their rose gardens, intimidated by the jungle's fabled dangers: hidden ravines, prowling panthers and tigers, biting insects, unfathomable depths. A place where you could disappear forever.

In 1967, somebody did.

On Easter Sunday that year, the American businessman and silk baron Jim Thompson took an afternoon stroll right here where we're standing and was never seen again.

"That's where he was last spotted," says Madi, indicating a trail leading further into the jungle to Moonlight Cottage, the bungalow where the Jim Thompson Silk Company founder was visiting from Thailand that fateful weekend.

Like us, he'd enjoyed a morning picnic in the tea plantations, then he returned to the cottage with his hosts, who heard him leave as they settled in for a siesta. Thompson enjoyed jungle treks, was a capable walker and knew the area. Nothing seemed amiss until darkness fell, and he still hadn't returned. A massive search over weeks revealed nothing. He'd simply vanished.

Thompson's disappearance is as notorious a Malaysian mystery as MH370 - and attracts just as many conspiracy theories.

It's known that he served in the OSS, precursor to the CIA. Was he spying on the area's communist insurgents? Working with them? Kidnapped or even assassinated? Perhaps he simply wandered off course, fell into a ravine or was eaten by a tiger.

The latter two, reckons Madi, are unlikely. Tigers prefer to avoid humans, he says, and Orang Asli trackers found no trace of Thompson, dead or alive. Nor did sniffer dogs or soldiers.

If anyone knows the truth, I'd bet it would be Madi, who was a young boy here at the time. He has a compelling theory, complete with eyewitnesses and credible details, and he tells it brilliantly. I'll spare you the spoilers, because the tale is at its eerie best when heard at the scene, surrounded by that inscrutable green chamber of secrets.

But for me, there's a telling clue: Thompson left behind a half-drunk cup of tea. Nobody in this tea-topia would ever do that - unless they were in a hurry.

Back at the Cameron Highlands Resort we step again into the genteel world Thompson left behind.

The hotel, which started out as a 1930s bungalow and gradually expanded into today's five-star retreat, oozes nostalgia with tall French doors, timber-beamed ceilings and plantation shutters.

Thompson's spirit inhabits the elegant spaces. The tearoom is named for him, his silks adorn rattan chairs and chaise lounges, and his likeness gazes from walls alongside botanical prints.

As the resident pianist tinkles the baby grand, we relax in planter chairs. It's time for afternoon tea and it arrives with ceremony in rose patterned china and a towering cake stand.

The light is fading, and soon flames will flicker in the Reading Room's grand fireplace. We'll gather there with whisky and cocktails, swapping Jim Thompson theories.

We're cocooned by visions of a bygone age; Persian carpets, antique snooker table, Chinoiserie, deep leather couches and gracious staff, the gentle clink of glasses and murmured conversation. Many guests come just to soak up this old-world ambiance.

Others are beguiled by the unknowable secrets outside the windows, beyond the lamplight's soft reflection. In the thickening dusk, the jungle's outlines loom. You can feel its ancient presence.

Maybe Jim Thompson's ghost still walks there. Or perhaps he wanders these rarefied rooms, where modern-day guests ponder his mystery over scones and jam.

I drain another delicious cuppa and study the leaves left at the bottom. If answers are to be found anywhere in this beautiful, enigmatic place, it's surely in the tea.

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Getting there: The Cameron Highlands are approximately 200 kilometres north of Kuala Lumpur, near the border between Perak and Pahang states, and a three- to four-hour drive. The closest town with an air and rail connection is Ipoh, a 90-minute drive away (the road from there up into the Cameron Highlands is steep and tricky, so it's best hire a local driver, or ask your hotel to arrange a transfer). Budget airline Scoot connects to Ipoh from Singapore or Kuala Lumpur, and several major airlines - including Malaysian Airlines and Singapore Airlines - fly direct to both cities from Sydney and Melbourne several times a week.

Staying there: Cameron Highlands Resort, a member of Small Luxury Hotels of the World, is close to the Cameron Highlands' hub town, Tanah Rata, and offers various nature and Jim Thompson-themed tours of the jungle trails and tea plantations. The spa's Fresh Strawberry Escapade treatment is 600MR ($192). Rooms from $190 per night. cameronhighlandsresort.com

Explore more: malaysia.travel; pahangtourism.com.my

The writer was a guest of YTL Hotels