Borneo. Part 2: Danum Valley – Into One of the World’s Oldest Forests
- clementpoumeyrol
- Aug 16
- 7 min read
Day 5 – A Road to the Ancient World
At dawn, the humidity of Sabah already weighed on the road. After two hours of driving from Sukau, I reached Lahad Datu, a small port town that serves as the gateway to one of Borneo’s most preserved and mysterious regions: the Danum Valley. There is no asphalt road leading straight to a five-star hotel here; to enter this green cathedral, more than 130 million years old, patience is required.
In Lahad Datu, I finalized my check-in before boarding a minibus. For more than two hours, the vehicle crawled along a bumpy track, jolted by every rut. A nearly impenetrable green wall gradually rose around us. The giant trunks of dipterocarps towered like ancient pillars, and above them, a tangled vault of lianas and epiphytes blocked most of the light. This forest shelters more than 340 species of birds, over a hundred mammals, and still conceals species unknown to science.
My destination: the Danum Valley Field Center. Neither luxury resort nor rustic hut, but a scientific research hub also open to nature lovers. Accommodation ranges from a simple outdoor cot to an air-conditioned room, but here, electricity stops from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. Not far away lies an alternative: the famous Borneo Rainforest Lodge, with canopy walkways and premium services — but at a far higher price. For this exploratory trip, the Field Center was perfect.
First Steps in the Jungle
Barely arrived, I met my local guide. Together we discussed about my goals and the rhythm for the coming explorations. Even within the camp’s surroundings, wildlife appeared quickly: Sambar deer (Rusa unicolor), unafraid, grazed openly, while bulbuls flitted nervously among the low branches.
But only a few dozen meters into the jungle, a low rumble rolled from the horizon: a storm. In minutes the sky tore open, releasing torrents of tropical rain. We turned back, taking shelter under a building. A massive branch crashed to the ground just meters from us — a brutal reminder that this forest punishes carelessness.
When the rain eased, we resumed our walk, treading carefully on the soaked ground. Light, filtered through the canopy, bathed everything in deep green. The animals remained discreet, but one Bornean temple pit viper (Tropidolaemus subannulatus) revealed itself, coiled at eye level on a branch, motionless like a living sculpture.
Back at camp for a short pause before the night outing, I noticed a leech had slipped under my shirt. They would be my daily companions here, especially after rain.
These little annelids, though harmless, possess anticoagulant saliva: their bite is painless, but the bleeding may last long. Leech socks are nearly essential here, and can be bought in Lahad Datu before departure. Every return to camp became a ritual: patiently removing these stowaways from my shoes and trousers.
The Night of the Pangolin
After dinner, I joined my guide for a night walk. Tropical darkness falls quickly, engulfing the jungle in total blackness. By the beam of our lamps, the forest revealed another face: scorpions with glistening pincers, tarantulas crouched in burrows, freshwater crabs, frogs, and birds asleep on frail branches.
Then my guide’s radio crackled: one of his colleagues had found fresh tracks of a pangolin and believed he had located it. We hurried through the trails to join him. Minutes later, there it was: a young Sunda pangolin (Manis javanica), its armor of interlocking scales gleaming under our lamps.
Nocturnal and elusive, the pangolin is one of the most heavily trafficked mammals in the world, hunted for its scales used in traditional medicine. In twenty years of guiding, mine had only seen one other. To watch such a rare creature in the wild was an absolute privilege. We stayed, spellbound by each of its movements, until it climbed away into the canopy.
Day 6 - Misty Dawn and the Red Langurs
At daybreak, the jungle awoke in a chorus of bird calls. Even before rejoining my guide, I was already photographing, drawn into this surreal atmosphere. Soon we came upon a young Buffy fish owl (Ketupa ketupu), perched above a stream, and one of the world’s smallest tree-dwelling mammals: the Bornean pygmy squirrel (Exilisciurus exilis), barely longer than a finger.
Then, at a bend above a stream, a troop of Red langurs (Presbytis rubicunda) appeared. Their russet coats flamed in the diffuse light, contrasting with the deep green foliage. I watched them at length, capturing their graceful leaps from branch to branch. Later that morning, I was lucky enough to see two playing less than five meters from me, utterly indifferent to my presence.
After a solid breakfast, we set out on a more demanding hike. Carrying a 500 mm telephoto lens in this humid climate, on slippery trails, is a physical challenge. But the f/4 aperture was precious in a forest where light barely filters through.
The effort was rewarded with several encounters: a Bornean yellow muntjac (Muntiacus atherodes), an endemic species; a Rufous-backed kingfisher (Ceyx rufidorsa), flashing violet along the river; and a Borneo forest dragon (Gonocephalus borneensis), motionless on a mossy trunk.
The afternoon was calmer. We searched long for a female orangutan and her young, reported earlier by another guide, but without success. Wildlife here does not always reveal itself easily — and that is what makes each sighting precious. In the evening, I tried a vehicle safari: few animals this time, apart from a giant flying squirrel (Petaurista petaurista) gliding overhead and a handful of sleeping birds.
Day 7 - Last sightings and first steps in the Rainforest Discovery Center
At 4 a.m. the next morning, I climbed into a vehicle to photograph sunrise from a platform overlooking the jungle. The weather turned against me, but a fleeting apparition transformed the outing: a leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) darted across the track in our headlights. Brief, but unforgettable.
Back at camp, as I was already thinking about packing, the powerful cries of gibbons (Hylobatidae) erupted nearby. Breakfast could wait. My guide and I slipped quietly into position, watching these acrobats sweep across the canopy with astonishing ease. A final gift from the valley.
Leaving this place means leaving behind more than a landscape. It is abandoning an atmosphere, a scent, a vibration almost tangible. Here, every step is a lesson in humility: we do not dominate this jungle, we merely pass through it, discreet visitors in a world older than our civilizations.
The rutted track receded behind us, as though the valley closed its invisible doors. Each bend put more distance between me and those giant trees — but also brought more anticipation for what lay ahead. For at Sepilok, near Sandakan, the forest extends right into the footsteps of visitors. There, in the canopy walkways of the Rainforest Discovery Center, awaited the promise of one last encounter with Sabah’s wildlife, before closing this chapter.
Sepilok – Between the Canopy and the Night Shadows
After several hours’ drive from Lahad Datu, I reached Sepilok in late afternoon. Here, only minutes from Sandakan airport, the forest seems to have found a fragile balance with human presence. My goal was to join a guided night walk at the Rainforest Discovery Center (RDC), one of Sabah’s best sites for wildlife observation by day or night, and a hub destination for birdwatchers. Many spend entire days here, armed with scopes and infinite patience.
We began with a walk along the suspended walkways linking several observation towers some twenty meters above ground. The golden light slowly gave way to blue-grey dusk, and we waited, still, for night to fully claim the forest. Then they appeared: giant flying squirrels (Petaurista petaurista), launching into long glides from trunk to trunk. Dark silhouettes against the twilight sky, they sometimes covered more than 50 meters in a single bound — a silent, almost unreal spectacle.
When the last light faded behind the trees, we descended to explore the forest trails. At the RDC, the paths are perfectly maintained, allowing immersion without difficulty. But at night, the experience becomes enchanting: headlamps reveal a parallel world, invisible by day. Scorpions glowing green under UV light, insects of extravagant forms, snakes hidden in foliage, and a civet slipping across our path.
But the evening’s highlight came suddenly, when our guide spotted two shining eyes at head height, fixed on a branch: a tarsier (Tarsius bancanus). This tiny primate, with oversized eyes and long slender fingers, is a nocturnal insect hunter. Its presence here is relatively common, yet spotting it remains difficult, so discreet are its movements. We had the rare chance to watch it leap from stem to stem, using its tail as a counterweight, before vanishing into the darkness.
At dawn the next morning, determined to make the most of my last day in Borneo, I returned to the observation towers. Despite intermittent rain, the RDC once again proved an extraordinary playground for photography: hornbills gliding above the canopy, drongos calling among the branches, and giant squirrels trotting high in the trees. The rain, far from spoiling the experience, brought a soft, enveloping light — perfect for capturing the saturated greens of the vegetation. The towers, covered, allowed 360° observation while staying dry.
Only one caveat: the Southern pig-tailed macaques (Macaca nemestrina). Some males can turn aggressive, especially if food is carried. At the entrance, sticks are provided to ward them off. I never needed one, but I did see several visitors forced to turn back under the pressure of these opportunistic monkeys.
The Rainforest Discovery Center is, without doubt, an ideal place to begin or end a journey in Sabah. Easily accessible, close to accommodations and Sandakan airport, it guarantees memorable encounters with wildlife — whether you are a curious traveler or a passionate photographer.
Conclusion
This scouting trip was an absolute success. Each place visited, each guide met, confirmed what I had sensed: Borneo, and especially Sabah, is a land of contrasts and wonders. Accommodation options fit all budgets, and itineraries can be adapted to every level of fitness. But above all, the wildlife is of staggering richness — orangutans, hornbills, proboscis monkeys, gibbons, pygmy elephants… species that survive here only thanks to the combined efforts of local communities and responsible tourism.
For us, wildlife photographers, it is an unmatched playground. I now have the first material to feed my book project, but also to prepare future photo workshops. Borneo has not finished calling me — and I intend to return soon, to continue fulfilling the promise I made years ago, through my own images and words.
-Clément Poumeyrol
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