Day one had been a hot and humbling day, but in real terms out ride, and the tale of the marches had only just reached the opening chapter. This is where the going starts to get tough, seriously hilly and hot, and through dense and humid jungles.
We were heading for Tampias, a small village used as a stop off point during the marches. The scenery is truly spectacular, especially during early morning, when the mist rises from the jungle, like a magic carpet, The noises of the jungle can be deafening when you chose to listen, although the climbing ensured we had little time to do anything but concentrate on getting through the day. 
We eventually came out above the Tovud River, a major crossing point during the marches. Bellow us I could see the river, during the war this was a serious torrent, and the weakened solders were forced to try and cross, many were too weak and were swept away to their deaths. Those that survived were faced with a 2 hour dense jungle scramble out of the gorge, while Japanese soldiers kicked them back down the gorge, shooting those who did not have the strength to try and climb again, for us it was time to rest up and contemplate what had happened.Our final day dawned, and we were headed for Ranau, the ending point of the marches, where those that did survive were finally slaughtered. Many locals also risked, and lost their lives trying to aid the prisoners. There was a little old lady living in one village we passed through who is known as the ring lady; when she was a young girl she used to sneak the waste food for the pigs and feed the prisoners. It started with one, and became six – then one morning she returned to feed them and found 7 rings in a tin, wedding rings belonging to the soldiers, they had gone, and had left a small thank you for her.
That last day in the saddle was long, hard, and hot. As we drew closer and closer to our destination so the riding got tougher, and the heat seemingly hotter. Crossing in towards Ranau we entered the final section, and an evil climb over from Muruk to Ranau, passing through numerous paddy fields. This 30km out and back slog is where the surviving prisoners were forced to carry sacks of rice from camp to camp, until they finally died. For us it was just a hard day in the saddle, nothing by comparison.
The undoubted local experts are Borneo Bikers. Check out www.borneobikers.com for small group options or for a longer option that covers Sabah in more detail with set dates check out www.skedaddle.co.uk
