Poring

Poring occupies a quiet corner of Sabah’s eastern rainforests, some forty kilometres southeast of the Kinabalu National Park Headquarters. At an elevation of roughly four to five hundred metres above sea level, it rests on the lower slopes of Mount Kinabalu, where lowland dipterocarp forest gives way to the cloud-forested ridges above. This setting contrasts sharply with the higher montane and submontane ecosystems found deeper within the park, offering visitors a rare opportunity to experience two distinct rainforest zones within a short distance. The resort lies close to the Sungai Sugut River and is reached by a winding road that departs from the main highway north of Kota Kinabalu, threading through villages and bamboo groves before arriving at the park boundary.

The name “Poring” derives from the term in the Kadazandusun language for a bamboo species native to this area. This linguistic connection underlines the deep roots local communities have with the land—an enduring relationship that predates colonial mapping and modern tourism. Though Poring today caters to international visitors, it remains anchored in the traditions of Sabah’s indigenous peoples. Every grove of bamboo and stand of rattan speaks to centuries of knowledge about the forest’s flora and fauna, woven into folklore and everyday life.

Poring first entered broader awareness during the Second World War, when the occupying Imperial Japanese Army uncovered its bubbling springs. To the locals—who had no custom of bathing in heated waters—the site was unsettling: a place “where boiling water erupts.” With the army’s departure at war’s end, the springs fell into neglect until development efforts began in the 1970s. Those early efforts, spearheaded by Sabah Parks under the Kinabalu Nature Resorts banner, favoured a minimalist approach: simple chalets, a handful of bathing pools, and rustic trails. In this form, Poring became an annex to the larger Kinabalu Nature Park, its hot springs available to visitors seeking respite after ascending the mountain or exploring the lowland forests.

Central to Poring’s appeal are its thermal springs, whose waters seep from depths warmed by subterranean heat. Rich in sulphuric minerals, the springs are said to ease aching muscles and soothe weariness. The bathing complex itself adopts a garden‑style layout: an open‑air pool divided into several small tubs, each reserved for a group; indoor private baths; and even a swimming pool fed by cooler spring water. Visitors adjust the temperature by mixing hot and cold flows to their preference, bathing in swimsuits under rustling palms. Returning climbers from Mount Kinabalu often make their way here, finding that the heat soaks deep into tired limbs and invites quiet reflection on the day’s exertions. Nearby campsites and lodges cater to trekkers, who build Poring into their mountain‑climbing itinerary as a place to recover.

Beyond the pools, Poring offers a series of attractions that speak both to the spectacle of Borneo’s biodiversity and to the region’s growing commitment to conservation and research. Borneo’s first butterfly farm introduces visitors to the deafening silence of a tropical aviary alive with iridescent wings. Within its fenced garden, a shaded nursery, and a climate‑controlled hatchery, endangered species are bred and studied. Educational displays explain life cycles in precise detail—how caterpillars spin chrysalises and how emerging adults pump blood into their wings. This living laboratory was conceived as much for scientific inquiry as for visitor delight, forging a link between tourism and the protection of fragile insect populations.

A short distance away stands the Poring Orchid Conservation Centre, home to Sabah’s most extensive assembly of these floral marvels. Among the some 1,200 orchid species recorded in Kinabalu Park, the centre curates those endemic to the region—varieties found nowhere else on Earth. Each plant is labelled with its Latin and local names, its habitat noted in meticulous records. Visitors wander boardwalks shaded by towering trees, pausing to admire blossoms streaked with crimson or patterns of pale gold. The centre’s efforts underscore how fragile orchids can be, threatened by habitat loss even as their diversity enriches the forest understory.

For those seeking to leave the boardwalks, several trails fan outward from the resort. A thirty‑minute footpath leads to Kipungit Waterfall, where a slender stream plunges over moss‑covered rocks into a shallow pool. The falls, smaller than the more distant Langanan but no less serene, reward a modest effort with a place to rest feet in cool water and listen to cicadas trilling. Langanan Waterfall lies nearly ninety minutes on foot and demands a tougher ascent; in exchange, it offers a higher drop and deeper basin. Each trail traces slopes of hardwood and palm, where monkeys sometimes chatter overhead and wild ginger scents the air.

Within the resort’s fenced Tropical Garden, another facet of Sabah’s fauna is on exhibit. Mousedeer—small, shy ungulates—dart among ferns, while larger deer graze in open glades. A large aviary shelters parrots, doves, and hornbills, their calls echoing against bamboo walls. This curated tableau brings visitors face to face with species seldom glimpsed by the casual traveller, fostering appreciation for creatures that otherwise stay hidden in dense foliage.

Perhaps the most exhilarating feature is the canopy walkway, a cable‑and‑wood platform suspended forty‑one metres above the forest floor. Spanning 157.8 metres, the walkway threads among the soaring branches of the Menggaris tree—locally titled “King of the Forest.” On still mornings, shafts of light pierce the mist, illuminating fly‑by birds and the occasional squirrel as they flit from bole to branch. The view extends across sea‑level valleys to ranges beyond, reminding visitors of the immense scale of Borneo’s forested interior.

Accommodation around Poring has evolved alongside these offerings. Under Sabah Parks’ original management, lodges adhered to lean design—wooden cabins with bench beds, open eaves for airflow, and rainwater‑harvest systems. In recent years, Sutera Sanctuary Lodges assumed oversight, investing in renovations that introduced private balconies, tiled bathrooms, and upgraded dining halls. While these changes have raised tariffs—especially for refurbished units—they also ensure a higher standard of comfort amid the jungle. The balance between accessibility and enhanced facilities remains a topic of discussion among local stakeholders, many of whom hope to preserve Poring’s unpretentious character even as it modernizes.

Throughout this evolution, sustainable tourism practices have been woven into Poring’s operation. Visitor numbers are regulated during peak seasons to prevent trail erosion and overcrowding at baths. Research programmes at the butterfly farm and orchid centre contribute data to regional conservation initiatives. Even in the resort’s culinary offerings, ingredients are sourced locally—river fish, mountain herbs, and garden vegetables feature on menus, reducing reliance on imported goods. These measures reflect a wider commitment within Sabah to steward natural assets without excluding those who seek to enjoy them.

When viewed in its entirety, Poring presents a layered experience that transcends simple recreation. The ebb and flow of the hot springs, the hush of the butterfly enclosure, the riot of orchids in bloom, and the soaring silence atop the canopy all speak to the untamed complexity of Borneo’s ecosystems. Yet these same attractions rest on human care—scientific oversight, infrastructural planning, and the hospitality of resort staff. For the visitor, Poring offers a momentary reprieve from urban life; for Sabah, it serves as a model of how ecotourism can intertwine with conservation.

In the quiet hours before sunrise, when mist coils among the tree boles and distant calls reverberate across valleys, one senses why this site drew Japanese engineers and later Sabah Parks planners to harness its geothermal promise. Today, Poring stands as more than a tourist waypoint. It is a living classroom, inviting guests to reflect on the wonders of lowland rainforest and the delicate balance that sustains them. As each generation of visitors passes through its trails and pools, they carry away memories of warm waters and draping vines—and perhaps a deeper resolve to protect the green heart of Borneo for years yet to come.