Even though I wouldn't admit, getting picked up by a minibus at the front porch of the hostel, taking a leisurely bus-drive and hopping on to a taxi for drop-off at the next hostel; it does feel good not too overtly exert myself today. A few ringgit is not the end of the world and I am helping the local economy :)
Having arrived at Sandakan I am just going with the flow. This travelling without plans, schedules, fixed sights-to-see is really starting to grow on me. Endless freedom, no frustration when something fails. Like today. Just as we start to agree on how cool it would be to see the giant turtles lay their eggs at the Turtle Islands National Parks, but sadly accommodation is very, very limited and just as Gunung Kinabalu booked up far in advance, a girl next to us butts in "I have a spare bed if anyone wants to come". After minutes of fierce fighting, kicking, hair-pulling, biting I emerge as the victor - sorry guys, but this sounds much better than us agreeing on that it's either too expensive or most of you have fixed plans - and decide to watch these sea-faring giants instead of tree-jumping giant-nosed monkeys. Some told me I have been incredibly lucky to do both climb the mountain and the turtles. I tend to agree.


Sandakan itself is a smaller version of Kota Kinabalu. Located on the east coast in the middle of Borneo it is a filthy little town, nothing more than as a stop-over. Options are the dense jungle in the west for some proboscis monkey sight-seeing, river-cruises or trekking or out to the clear, warm, tropical sea to the east. About an hour by boat to the north-east, the three islands of Turtle Islands National Parks are home to the famous Hawksbill and Green turtles. Crawling onto the beaches after sunset they lay their eggs into the sand, from which hundreds of hatchlings will race to the sea and start a new life. And I get to see this! Awesome!
If possible, the people are even nicer than in KK. We are even greeted randomly by people with phrases like "Welcome to our beautiful island Sabah", which is probably really meant well, but becomes just something to be made fun of by westerners long detached from such friendliness. My grand theory is that the smaller the place, the further away from tourist areas, the nicer people are. I know, I'm a genius :p

Let me tell you another example and then I'll get back to the turtles; I promise. after returning from Turtle Island I spend another night in Sandakan. Julia goes outside on her own to the waterfront to get a drink and just enjoy the cool evening breeze. Me and Alice decide some time later to get some authentic Asian food while the others munch on their beloved pizza. We pass Julia but she's seemingly in a deep conversion with an older lady. Probably not understanding a word from what she says, judging from the great smile on her face. It turns out the lady is running errands for a secret admirer, handing over a cute little note saying: "You are nice girl. Join us for karaoke now" and a phone number. Hihi. As we sit down next to Julia, Romeo's heart probably sinks into his boots now that her friend and husband / boyfriend - who else could it be in Malaysia? - join her. The waitress comes back, apparently waiting for an answer, so a "Thank you, we'd love to!" - note the exclamation mark! - is sent back. A few minutes later she rushes back again amid rapid excuses... we have been given the wrong telephone number. So cute, who would do anything like this in Europe?


Once again getting up around seven, way before the generally accepted time during a holiday, me and my roomie, Alicia, make our way to the harbour in the scorching heat. As the islands slowly emerge from the sea, they are really a sight to behold! Exactly like, or perhaps even more beautiful, than any advertisement of a tropical island. The clearest of blue skies, the whitest of sands, palm-trees lining the coast, exactly at the right angle overhanging the beach, and the sea! Well, tropical, clear, sunlight glistening on the surface of the waves, scores of small, colourful tropical fish darting back and forth, enjoying nature, just as we intend to do. The beach looks as it has been shelled by mortar-fire, but it's the ditches dug by turtles. I wonder if they even realise that their hours of hard work of digging these holes, then covering them to hide the precious eggs is totally futile when something with brains bigger than a pea is present. Poor sods...

As nothing really interesting is going to happen until nightfall, we are free to be bored. Some head to their huts and immediately fall asleep. A total waste of time and money if you ask me. We are off to explore the island. I guess I am still lucky, for half-way through I see something floating in the water. Upon closer inspection it turns out to be a small turtle hatchling, and an alive one at that! The poor thing is holding on to a piece of seaweed for dear life, the current throwing and thrashing him around wildly. Not soon thereafter I spot another one. I guess these are one of the about 99% of hatchlings who won't survive until adulthood; he's supposed to be in deep waters by now, not on the surface presenting an easy pick for hungry gulls, lizards, fish or curious tourists. I hope Sammy and John as they were christened will make it through.
The rest of the day is spent sunbathing, swimming, snorkelling, eating. I would call this a good day, even if there wouldn't be any turtles around. Occasionally my eyes drift to the horizon; the small islands over there are a part of the Philippines. A stamp / visa from there would be nice but I doubt they have immigration offices around on the beaches. Maybe next time.

As the sun sets we all flock to the beach to photograph the end of the day. I wonder why we still take these pictures. The sun isn't going anywhere, and hasn't really changed in the past few million years. Nevertheless I also join the crowd, I am just as fascinated with its yellow glow as everyone else is. This is also our last chance to set foot on the sand as after 18:30 we are all herded inside and wait for the turtles to arrive. Now we can be bored for real, there isn't anything to do.
Around nine finally the turtles arrive. We silently speed outside to the beach, see a giant turtle just starting its trek op the coastline, but another specimen is already busy laying the eggs. Forming a circle around the pit, a park ranger shines its light inside and we watch in amazement as eggs pop out in twos, threes. The missus sheds tears from the effort of giving birth, seemingly in a trance and doesn't even seem to realize all the activity around, nor the fact that as soon as the eggs exit, they're immediately removed and put in a bucket, leaving her covering an empty pit. After the mandatory photographs, we make our way with the eggs to the hatchery. Another hole, this time dug by humans, the eggs are counted and put inside. Not really interesting seeing a bunch of golf-sized balls covered in sand but I oooh and aaaah together with the tourists and force my way forward to see them in the hole. You gotta go with the flow :)

Arguably the best part of the whole turtle-spotting is the release of the hatchlings. After sunset the hatchery is a constant buzz of squirming little turtles as they break the egg and make their way to the surface. Making a desperate dash for the ocean they find themselves in a small enclosed area, squirming together with hundreds of fellow buddies, waiting to be picked up again by humans. This time into a shopping basket :) In the pitch dark I see one escaping through a hole in the fence, so I pick him - or is it a her? - up. Really, really cute!
On the beach we have to form a circle, the ranger turns the shopping basket upside down and about a hundred of them just scatter every which way. The ones going the wrong way are turned around by helpful tourists and off they are. Not exactly as on National Geographic, but still very nice to see.


Well, that's it. 27 "landings", 25 pits, 10,763 eggs laid and 1,038 released. Only in the morning light can we see the full damage of the night. The beach is filled with the caterpillar-like tracks of the turtles, like some giant invasion has taken place. I don't really know what to think.
Of course, we love the turtles, no doubt about that. It's great that there is an opportunity for us to see what actually happens, that this interest helps funding their protection and survival, but still, a bitter aftertaste remains. I never really liked zoos. I feel like I'm some kind of a giant circus watching a performance, intruding into a sacred ceremony... and for what? Just to satisfy my curiosity? How can it be normal for forty grown-up humans to stand around an animal, the poor thing helpless, exhausted from the effort, unable to move. Probably in shock from the intrusion, the accidental flash of some stupid idiot's camera, the manhandling, etc. Leave them alone, no? Just watch it on TV and be done. I am just as guilty, I know...