So, that's that for Borneo. I've learnt stacks, but not enough. I'll be back. There's just one last thing to share: how to get the hell out of here.

You may recall that I'd long since departed from The Original Plan. The Ryanair-style flight on Air Asia from Kota Kinabalu "International" Airport to Tawau had left me needing to leave 90% of my stuff in Left Luggage, flummoxing the staff, who seemingly had not expected to do anything with Left Luggage at any stage of their careers.

Then I had gone by 'executive coach' from Semporna to Sandakan, witnessing 300km of unbroken plantation, previously entirely rainforest.

Now this third and final leg was going to be the hairy one. There was only way to make the diary match up so that I would get back to Kota Kinabalu ("KK") in time for my flight to Kuala Lumpur. This was for the ever loyal Geoff to drive me in pitch blackness straight from the River Cruise to an unmarked junction in the middle of nowhere, through which the Sandakan to KK bus would pass. Out of a 2 hour drive there was a tolerance of around 15 minutes. Any later and I would be screwed.

Before setting off to see the birds nest cave earlier in the day, I had talked through the plan one last time with Geoff. Nafice (please excuse me, I'm unsure of the correct spelling), the lady who owns the hotel had listened in too.

Unusually, they then spoke to each other in front of me, but not in English. They called over a couple of the other staff closed their eyes and held a prayer meeting, offering up prayers for me, and for my safe travel.

Islamaphobes, please take note. Can you imagine the staff of a Holiday Inn in Preston, hearing that a guest was under pressure with his travel plans, and holding an impromptu prayer meeting?

This was only one of the many courtesies Nafice and Geoff extended to me during my stay, all without charge. Laundry needs doing? You missed a meal? Need hints and suggestions on what to see or do or where to go or how much to pay?

As it happened Nafice's prayers may have been crucial. The provincial roads of Sabah are terrifying. Pot holes the size of an entire car are common, dorcing you to drive intothe face of the oncoming traffic, but that was not the biggest risk.

Imagine what the opposite of a sleeping policeman might do to your car, doing 60mph, i.e a trough in the Tarmac . These are very common and unmarked. The only telltale you can see ar a distance is a slight kink in the single white line at the side of the road. Other than that they are invisible until you are too close to brake. Bad enough during the day, when you are driving with time to spare. Terrifying at night on unlit roads, under time pressure to meet your guest's next ride with the cars coming at you with headlights on full beam so you can't even see that white line.

Geoff played this high-stakes computer game, without a break, for an hour and fifty minutes to get me to the rendezvous in time. (Mate - I owe you big time. Best wishes to your wife and children)

Needless to say, the bus was then late, so we then stood in the darkness for half an hour, not knowing whether we had missed it. But the fun wasn't over yet.

All the delays meant I would now get to KK at 3am, four hours before needing to get back out to fight Left Luggage for my bag and then catch my flight. Not the best time of day to find a backpacker outfit with a bed space for the night...

Well, I write this whilst sitting on that flight, having slept in a bed, not on a park bench, with my bags all intact.

Those prayers, eh? Makes you think.

P.S.

A provincial Malay service station is a wonderful, if frightening thing to behold. The loos only aspire to reach the standards of a French campsite, for example.

But the sheer genius is in the English names they are given. Last night's was call Desa Vjew Restoran.

If the penny hasn't dropped why that's funny, let me ask you how keen you'd be to eat food in a place called "Deja Vu".

Who wants to see their food twice?