The Biggest Nose in Borneo (No, Not Mine!)

Fuelled with verve for the outdoors and wildlifey stuff, we jumped off the jetty from the turtle islands and made our way to the offices of Uncle Tan's Wildlife Tours, to dabble in a river safari and spend a little time in the jungle.
With mile upon mile of palm tree plantation where once was forest, the remnants of the primary rain forest and jungle that once covered Borneo is now a few protected pockets and a thin strip along the Kinabatangan River in the centre of the island, and it was here that we forayed to brave snakes, mossies and crocs for a glimpse of the proboscis monkey. The brochure said it wasn't luxury, and it certainly wasn't the Shera-Tan; in break back from the river, all on raised walkway the camp had a communal living and eating area and biological loos with some muddy-looking water taps if your really needed a wash. The rooms were on stilts and caged off to protect us from monkeys, though we all felt like we were living in a human zoo, furnished with a mattress on the floor and a mossie net. Roll on Xmas and the Shangri-La!
Electing to stay one night instead of 2, Rach and I missed the jungle walks and (importantly) the spiders so for us the tour consisted of 3 river safaris; morning, afternoon and night. Our first tour was sponsored by Carlsberg, where our guide pulled up the boat every minute to point out something new; a wild orang, proboscis monkeys and macaques by the treeful, kingfishers and hornbills, crocodiles large and small; at one point we were all frozen with the dilemma of filming the monitor lizard on the bank, the croc in the water or the hornbill in the tree above them! As fickle humans this made us greedy of course, and after that we would only be content with a Sumatran rhino playing the trumpet with a croc, with an orang on its back conducting...
After supper, we all trooped to the boats for the night tour where the strategy changed; strong searchlights sought out the poor sleeping critters and we roared over to every pair of reflected eyes to see a couple of python, more crocs and innumerable helpless kingfisher, proboscis and macaque as they sat on their perches trying to get some kip; surprising they don't move houses really!
After a sweaty night with the cacophony of the jungle around us and hundreds of nocturnal visitors (but no mossies thank God) we tried for more with a dawn safari, but the animals got their revenge for a disturbed night; not a single monkey to be seen and, despite my Steve Irwin impressions, none of the crocs would hang around to be photoed and lectured about "Conservation, mate".
Feeling a little disconsolate, I was huffed that we would be missing out by leaving the tour early, but someone must have been listening. Just as we were putting our bags on to leave, one of the guides spotted an orang right behind the camp! A live, wild, mature male orang with a splendid ginger beard! We dashed to see him and spent some 30 minutes filming him as he hung, watched us, made his noises, got angry, peed on us, shook the trees, threw a log at me and a dead branch at Rach before swinging back into the trees. As the man would say, "What a beauty!"

Well, enough of this "goin bush". It's off to the coast again for some supposedly excellent diving. Let's be quite clear though; less than a hammerhead shark just won't cut it!