Field notes: Borneo – into the jungle and beyond

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Think of Borneo and you might think orangutans, flesh eating plants (!) and deep jungle. And you would be right. But Borneo is as culturally rich as it is ecologically – and that’s exactly what my recent two-week research trip reminded me of. As I travelled from Sandakan to Sepilok, across to Gaya Island and onto Kuching , I was struck by just how much Borneo can offer.

Sepilok: Where orangutans rule

Malaysian Borneo is split into two states: Sabah and Sarawak. My trip began just outside of Sabah’s second city of Sandakan, in Sepilok – the gateway to Borneo’s storied wildlife and ecosystems. My first night staying in a forest-fringed lodge felt surprisingly luxurious for tree-based lodging, complete with aircon, a swimming pool and high-speed WiFi. Yet I felt deep in the jungle already.

Stepping out onto my veranda, I took a breath and shook off my journey. Orange orangutans blurred, swinging and crashing, through the trees. Cobalt blue kingfishers chilled down by the lake, posing as if they’d been waiting for me.

The boundary between people and animals here felt thin. So thin, that the lodge owner told me to lock my door as I went out. “Orangutans let themselves into a guest’s lodge just a few weeks ago,” he shrugged. “They threw their belongings around and generally made themselves at home.” If I needed a reminder about whose home I was really visiting, I had it.

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The Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre, just minutes from my lodge door, reintroduces displaced apes into semi-wild habitats. Their decades long success is obvious from the moment you arrive. As two teenage orangutans approached the feeding platform, appearing from further up and out into the trees, I assumed they had grown up here. “No”, my guide corrected me, “but their parents did. These guys are just paying a visit”. After sourcing some sliced fruit snacks (swiping bananas and chopped pineapple up first), they disappeared back into the jungle.

At the centre’s nursery, the tiniest baby orangutans are kept away from the public until they’ve grown and learnt the basics: tree climbing, nest building and foraging. Once they’re a little bigger, you can watch them hang from ropes and swing around playfully. It’s a set up ultimately designed to prepare them for a life back in the jungle – but it also happens to be impossibly cute, almost beyond words.

Leaving the centre, a slow boat eastward down the Kinabatangan River reminded me of the very obvious: it’s not just orangutans in Borneo. Proboscis monkeys leap from branch to branch, high in the canopy. Rhinoceros hornbills – my personal favourites, with their mango-coloured quiffs – cruise and flash through the skyways. Sitting back and scanning the riverbanks, trees and skies for wildlife, I knew I was incredibly lucky to be here.

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Tabin: Where the forest reaches the sea

Leaving the orangutans behind, the road to Tabin is a bone-jarring journey, flanked by palm oil plantations until finally the green surges back. A tangled wall of mangroves and forest hides the open sea – just a five-minute boat trip away, despite being this deep in the jungle.

Tabin Wildlife Reserve isn’t close to anything or anywhere else. And that’s partly the point. You travel long hours by rough road to get there (there’s no flight), and its remote and rural nature is the reward. For that reason, Tabin is one of the few places where birders and marine biologists find themselves equally distracted.

By day, flying foxes spread their wings over the river – cute and prehistoric in equal measure. My guide and I listened out for the stomp of pygmy elephants – nowhere to be seen, but I was assured they were there. By night, I sat in a Jeep under the stars, scanning the undergrowth for glowing eyes. One evening, we saw bats massing at the mangroves. Another, Irrawaddy dolphins, one of Borneo’s 50+ endangered species, more petite and expressive than their bottlenose cousins, swam just off the coast. With only 300 left in the wild, it’s hard to express how seeing them felt.

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Gaya Island: coral reef conservation

You often hear stories of doom for coral reefs. But on Gaya Island, the island’s own marine biologist, Scott Mayback, leads an education and outreach programme. His team of conservationists grow coral fragments in a ‘coral nursery’, returning them to the sea once they’re strong enough.

In Gaya’s wildlife centre, naturalists have compiled their own physical field guides of the island’s snakes, birds, and mammals. Here, you can become an intrepid explorer for the day. Take photos, note sightings, and compare them later – not with Google (good luck finding signal), but with laminated books and local knowledge. This isn’t an island you come simply to observe – you become part of the wildlife team while you’re here.

Absorbed for hours in my own ecological investigations, I rushed to catch the coral reef at sunset, passing fishing villages that haven’t moved in generations, accompanied by twilight fireflies and giant flying red squirrels. On the other side of the island, the forest still swallows its paths after a week of disuse: a reminder that Gaya, at its heart, is still wild.

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Mari Mari cultural village – an introduction to tribal living

People say that when it comes to Borneo, Sabah has nature and Sarawak has culture – but that is reductive. Known collectively as Dayak, there are more than 50 groups indigenous to Borneo, with over 170 different languages and dialects. Each tribe has its own laws, territory, and culture – and in the Sabah-based Mari Mari cultural village, I learnt about five of them.

On arrival, I was greeted by a tribal leader the way visitors would have been years ago: with suspicion and power. The chief questioned me, asking where I was from and why I was here – a hark back to times when they would decide if visitors were safe or not.

Permission to enter granted, I was shown into a traditional longhouse – standing over 10 metres tall and built to house over 100 families under one roof. Once inside, I was struck by the fact that, despite being a cultural village, the longhouse was nothing like visiting a museum: there are no glass panes or explainer panels. And that’s because it wasn't a tour of a bygone way of life. Although some families now live in their own homes, lots of the tribal community still use spaces like this day to day.

In the large, main room, where I was told the whole tribe congregates regularly, my gaze lingered on some rather macabre decorations – skulls. In response to my nervous glance, my guide proudly explained that, back when headhunting was a literal, bloody term (rather than a recruitment one), “the Marut tribe were the greatest headhunters of them all.” In fact, he said with a wink, “they were the last tribe to denounce headhunting – only in the 1960s”.

Without pausing too much for effect, he gestured to the centre of the room: “But, some of the old traditions still stand today.” Unsure what to expect, I looked in the direction he was pointing – at an old-fashioned trampoline, built with wood, fraying from enthusiastic use. “We still use it for competitions today,” he said. “Now, who can bounce the highest?!”

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Kuching: laksa and tattoos

The Sarawak state is harder to access than Sabah. Fewer lodges and longer roads. But capital Kuching – famous for some of the best cuisine on the island, thanks to a true melting pot of cultures – was where I knew I’d eat some of my best meals.

In a previous life, I worked in a Malaysian restaurant, and ever since, I’ve given myself a bit of a challenge: find each and every dish on that menu and eat it in its place of origin. I even have a copy of the menu I carry with me. First off, I was on the lookout for the best kolo mee I could find. The pork and noodle dish wasn’t in short supply, but my favourite dish turned out to be Sarawak laksa – a herby broth layered with tamarind, coriander, prawns and chicken.

Noodles aside, Kuching was my launchpad for further exploration.

Bako National Park is reachable only by boat, and once there, you can traverse five distinct forest types in a single day: mixed dipterocarp forest, kerangas, mangrove, beach vegetation and peat swamp.

The orangutans here live deeper into the forest than visitors venture. I was told I’d be unlikely to seem them – but, with eyes now trained to spot their movements, I was lucky to catch a glimpse. More obvious were the emerald green vipers, coiled around tree trunks, and the ever-ubiquitous proboscis monkeys, with their prominent noses and pot bellies giving away their locations.

Chatting with my guide, Batangai, along the way, I learnt that he was from the Iban tribe (who were pretty keen on headhunting, too) and proud of it. He showed me his tattoos – “real ones,” he told me, “not tourist imitations”. Rooted in Iban customs, each design signifies life accomplishments and links to ancestors. Inked across the back of his hands and arms, they definitely suited him.

Together, we visited another longhouse, this time with a wire cage suspended in the centre. This one, too, was packed full with a skull collection. Not placed for effect; they were simply there – sharing space alongside the tribe’s WiFi router.

I was curious to dig a bit deeper into the headhunting traditions.

“It wasn’t about killing just anyone” said Bantangai. “Some tribes believed that taking a person's head takes their power – so they went after tribe leaders. Others believed they accrued power through the sheer number of heads they claimed.”

As an Iban man himself, he smiled “it was just part of everyday life for us. Even after it was banned, the skulls remained – so we were never short of footballs.”

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Borneo isn’t just one story; it’s many

Borneo isn't easily categorised. Yes, orangutans could well drop into your jungle lodge, and you’ll likely see hornbills soaring above mangrove forests. But you could also find yourself bouncing on a tribal trampoline or learning about the tattoos that trace the story of one man’s heritage. This island refuses to let you separate the wild from the human, the ancient from the modern. And that’s what I love about it.

Rhys used the Best of Borneo itinerary to start planning this trip, customising it to make sure he saw what mattered most. If you’d like to talk about crafting your own cultural adventure, we’d love to hear from you.