2nd May 2012

Our Borneo adventure began with a scenic, if rather soggy, Sunday drive to Heathrow. The rain came down in sheets for most of the journey, but in a show of comic sympathy, the skies cleared just as we checked into the Holiday Inn Heathrow. After finding our room, we wandered the nearby High Street before retreating to the hotel for sandwiches and some downtime. I headed for the bar to watch football, while Sue stayed in the room to catch Antiques Roadshow. We then indulged in a binge of Homeland episodes until sleep finally claimed us.

The next morning was bright and sunny, setting a deceptively cheerful tone for the long travel day ahead. We checked out at noon, parked the car in a nearby multi-storey, and hopped on the bus to the terminal. With hours to spare, we lunched on sandwiches, killed some time in the pub, and browsed the duty-free aisles until, at last, our 10 pm flight to Borneo began boarding.

On the plane, we were fed twice, plied with a steady stream of drinks, and each picked a film. Sue chose We Bought a Zoo, and I went for Hugo. In true long-haul style, we both fell asleep before the credits rolled. Eleven hours and forty-five minutes later, we landed in Kuala Lumpur.

KL Airport is vast but impressively well organised. We sailed through the transfer process, catching the train to our next gate in time for the two-hour, twenty-minute hop to Sabah. The meal service was pleasant enough, though the lack of wine felt like a personal slight.

At 9:20 pm, we landed in Sabah, breezed through immigration, and even had our luggage appear early, only to be promptly selected for a random security check. A cursory rummage later, we were on our way. Our driver beamed when we emerged first from the terminal, claiming it had won him a bet with his taxi-rank mates. The prize remains a mystery, but he was clearly chuffed.

The 45-minute transfer to the hotel passed without incident, and on arrival, we were treated to a gong ceremony and welcome drinks before checking in. Jet-lagged though we were, the lure of the warm night air proved irresistible, so we wandered the grounds. White sand, a warm sea, and a starry sky made for the perfect tropical lullaby.

We started the next day with coffee and bananas in our room before meeting the hotel representative in the foyer. While the other couples quickly drifted off mid-briefing, Sue and I stayed to hear his recommendations. It turned out the hotel sat right next to a conservation park, home to orangutans. Within minutes, we’d booked a visit for that very afternoon, another for Monday (with a treetop walk thrown in), and, somewhat questionably, a Saturday night jungle trek that Sue looked at with the enthusiasm of someone handed a live tarantula.

The orangutans were every bit as captivating as we’d hoped. A short documentary set the scene before we trekked through the rainforest to the feeding platform, where two three-year-olds descended from the canopy for their lunch. For the next ninety minutes, we photographed, filmed, and quietly marvelled at these gentle, playful creatures. It took considerable willpower not to try and smuggle one back to our room.

Later, in a smaller group, we visited the baby orangutan at the centre, who delighted in putting on a show for his audience. By late afternoon, we found ourselves trudging along the beach in the sticky heat towards the river and mangrove swamp, a beautiful but exhausting detour. Back at the hotel, a cold shower felt less like a luxury and more like a survival necessity.