This is an excerpt from my upcoming, as yet unnamed, travel memoires.
Backstory: Myself and four friends are in Borneo. We are completely out of our depth. The group has temporarily split up with two members going to climb Mount Kinabalu and the remaining three journeying to a camp in a remote corner of Sabah.
We were headed to a jungle camp I’d heard about called ‘Uncle Tan’s’. It sold itself as a ‘genuine’ wildlife experience located in the lower Kinabatangan valley.
‘Genuine’ is one of the words that strikes fear into the seasoned traveller (which I wasn’t at this stage).
It either means a tourist trap which has been so over-visited that it ceased to be authentic years ago, or a really, really basic, no frills, edging on crappy, possibly poorly-run destination, where you’ll probably catch malaria or worse.
Uncle Tan’s fell into the second category.
I don’t recall doing much research into the camp. Had I done so, I might have picked up the following red flags.
This is from Uncle Tan’s biography on the company website, which, to be fair on me, probably wasn’t in existence in 1999.
‘… he left the company and set up his own bookshop. The venture failed (RED FLAG). Uncle Tan left for Sabah. Uncle Tan tried many things in Sabah. He was a noodle seller in a coffee shop, he ran a small restaurant. He tried his luck as a small weeding and felling contractor, opened a provisions shop, he reared chickens and pigs. He even gave English tuition and attempted to venture again in the book business. All of his early ventures in Sabah were short lived as he got tired of them (FLAG).’
Uncle Tan is also described as ‘Legendary’. I’m not quite sure who gave him this moniker though I suspect it was his mum.
Here are a few more gems from the website.
‘We do however wish to remind visitors that set in such a natural environment, facilities are not of a FIVE STAR Resort & SPA and are in fact Spartan in nature (FLAG) – but we do our best under “circumstances of wilderness” (The apostrophes are theirs. FLAG) to make your visit enjoyable and comfortable.’
And in bold.
Staying at Uncle Tan’s Wildlife Camp is a roughing out experience! (FLAG)
Plus.
‘Often, it rains in a Rain Forest and a Wetland isn’t exactly dry.’
Then, under the charming heading: PESTS IN YOUR HUT (FLAG).
‘…rats and squirrels will bite through your pack to get at the food. Rodents also love aspirin, paracetamol and toothpaste.’
Good to know the furry little guys are concerned about their dental hygiene. (FLAG).
And finally; my personal favourite. In caps this time.
DO NOT SWIM OR WASH IN THE RIVER! Big crocodiles have been spotted on River Safaris. Crocodiles have been seen taking wild pigs during River Safaris. (FLAGGITY, FLAG, FLAG).
All of this would have been good to know at the time. But we didn’t.
The first clue that we wouldn’t be staying in a ‘five star resort and spa’ came at the end of our journey up an extremely muddy river, where we found the sign for UNCLE TAN’S WILDLIFE CAMP.
It looked it had been recently charged by a rhinoceros, run over by a 4X4, thrown in a swamp, attacked by moneys and then nailed to a tree by a drunk person.
It looked it had been recently charged by a rhinoceros, run over by a 4X4, thrown in a swamp, attacked by moneys and then nailed to a tree by a drunk person.
Not exactly reassuring.
From there on in it was all downhill.
The accommodations were run-down huts, and when I say run-down, I’m not kidding. They looked like they’d literally been run down.
A tree had fallen on my hut and it had caved in the roof.
This didn’t improve the already questionable water-tightness of the structure and the mattress I was expected to sleep on was wet and lumpy.
The main ‘chill-out’ area at the front of the camp was an ugly, muddy, debris-strewn patch of bare ground.
I was less than impressed.
The only thing Uncle Tan’s had going for it was that the area was rich in wildlife.
Monkeys could be seen swinging in the trees, wild pigs sauntered through the camp (probably trying to avoid the crocodiles) and a monitor lizard was in residence.
I was less keen on other camp inhabitants – spiders the size of my fist.
I’m not sure what type of arachnid they were, I think it was the genus ‘Bigscaryhairyfuckers’.
I avoided them like the plague.
Photo by Andre Tan on Unsplash
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