A day at KK Wetland: The jungle (almost) next door

Borneo Post

10 hours ago

A charming 1.5 km boardwalk in KK Wetland.
I have a confession: I've lived long enough to know where to find reasonably good food, better beverages and great company — but somehow, I missed an entire mangrove swamp hidden in plain sight right here in Kota Kinabalu.
Enter Elizabeth Malangkig, a friend and part-time nature whisperer, who invited me and a merry band of ex-government servants (seasoned, not senior!) on a morning adventure to the Kota Kinabalu Wetland Ramsar Site. Spoiler alert: it was like stepping into a David Attenborough documentary — minus the British accent and film crew.
Nature in the City — Literally
Imagine this: You're sipping kopi Tenom in KK, and ten minutes later you're face-to-face with a fiddler crab, watching it waves its oversized claw like it's hailing a Grab ride. That's the magic of KK Wetland. Nestled in Likas, this 24-hectare gem is probably one of the best-kept secrets in the city. If you blink, you might mistake it for a regular patch of abandoned land. But step inside, and you're instantly transported to a world that feels part Avatar, part National Geographic.
A Ramsar … What?
KK Wetland isn't just any soggy forest. It's a Ramsar Site — a globally important wetland, named after a place in Iran (yes, it's a real place, not a brand of mineral water). Ramsar Sites are basically the VIPs of the natural world. Malaysia has seven of them, and guess what? KK Wetland is the only one plopped right inside a city. The only other urban wetland like this? Tokyo. So yes, we're in good company — even if the birds here wear feathers instead of business suits.
Originally called the Kota Kinabalu City Bird Sanctuary (which sounds a bit like a retirement home for egrets), it was upgraded and renamed to reflect its full ecological bling. It's now lovingly maintained by the Sabah Wetlands Conservation Society, and they deserve a big clap — and maybe some funding, too (hint hint).
Left to right: Joseph Tek, Graham Steel, Irene (Mrs. Godipon), Datin Elizabeth Malangkig, Jane (Mrs. Steel), Ms. Liaw Hiew Lian, Lawrence Malim, Datin Faridah, Lawrence Gubud, Datuk Aripen bin Ampong, Jeffrey, Datuk Zaini Aucasa (President, KK Wetland), Raphael Godipon, Patrick Sikodol, and Mohan S. Ramday. Several others, including Tan Sri Simon Sipaun and Datuk Jaswant Singh Kler, joined later in the morning. Photographer: William Wong
A Walk on the Wild
KK Wetland isn't a theme park. You won't find tapirs doing synchronised dances or otters juggling clams. Wildlife doesn't perform on schedule, nor should it. This is the real deal — wild nature doing its thing. So patience, dear visitor, is the name of the game. And maybe a pair of binoculars. And maybe someone in the group with really sharp eyesight.
The highlight is a charming 1.5 km boardwalk — kind of like the red carpet, but for mudskippers, monitor lizards, and clueless tourists. A gentle 45-minute stroll takes you deep into mangrove country, past knobbly roots, sun-dappled waters, and yes, crabs playing peekaboo. We were told almost 80 bird species have been spotted here. That morning, we saw … few. We spotted herons like statues and also tiptoeing gracefully through the mud like ballerinas on a lunch break. Mud crabs scuttled about looking suspicious (they always do), and the trees — oh, the trees — stood tall and strange like old sages, their roots forming tangled works of art that would make Picasso jealous. Apparently, most birds were having their siesta. Next time, we'll come earlier and bring worms.
And those mangrove trees? They stand tall like soldiers on stilts, their roots splayed in perfect bonsai-like elegance. I could stare at them all day. There's something oddly poetic about trees that thrive in mud, salt, and chaos. Kind of like some of us, really.
Even better, most of the area is shaded, so you won't melt like a chocolate bar in a glovebox. Just remember to time your visit with the tides. At low tide, the mudflats are exposed, giving you a front-row seat to the world of crustaceans and critters. At high tide, the swamp fills like a bathtub, and it's a whole different vibe. Either way, you win.
Now, you might be thinking, 'Can't I just see mangroves elsewhere?' Sure, but not this close to a Starbucks. This urban oasis is just minutes from the heart of KK city, making it possibly the most accessible mangrove forest in Borneo — if not the entire multiverse.
During the visit to KK Wetland, a vibrant array of wildlife — including a host of birds, colourful crabs, and mudskipper — was observed. (Photographer William Wong)
Keeping It Real (And Safe)
Not everything was picture-perfect. Parts of the boardwalk were a little … adventurous (a.k.a. wobbly). But I hear repairs are in the pipeline (thanks Dewan Bandaraya Kota Kinabalu) — because even nature lovers appreciate not falling into crab-infested mud.
There was also the issue of trash, mostly washed in by the tides. Bottles, cups, styrofoam. I believe the site team there is doing what they can, but the ocean seems determined to share its rubbish. Maybe one day we'll invent a device that filters out the trash and leaves the fish alone. Until then, we do what we can. Pack your empathy and maybe a garbage bag, too.
So Why Should We Care?
Well, wetland do a lot more than look pretty. They buffer against floods, trap carbon, shelter wildlife, and serve as nurseries for fish (and metaphors for resilience). Mangroves, in particular, are superstars of the ecosystem. Lose them, and we're not just losing trees — we're losing entire support systems for biodiversity.
Places like KK Wetland remind us that conservation isn't about locking nature behind glass. It's about letting people walk into it, breathe it in, and go, 'Whoa. I had no idea this was here.'
I've seen plenty of mangroves before — especially in my days with IJM Plantations, cruising the Sugut tributaries and waving at crabs like an old friend. But there's something about seeing this landscape tucked right inside a bustling city that stirs the soul. It's like nature whispering, 'I'm still here. Come visit.'
Wetland enthusiast Datuk Aripen bin Ampong presented a souvenir to Datuk Zaini Aucasa, while Mohan Ramday looked on.
Now, if our morning walk through the mangroves wasn't enough to make me feel like David Attenborough on a budget, the post-walk session sealed the deal. We were treated to a live briefing by none other than Datuk Hj Zainie Abdul Aucosa, the passionate President of the Sabah Wetlands Conservation Society. And when I say passionate, I mean full-on, eyes-sparkling, 'I-would-marry-a-mangrove-if-it-was-legal' kind of passion. The man radiates dedication the way a mangrove radiates roots.
He wasn't just delivering a speech; he was sharing his heart, his dreams and a few war stories about trying to keep the Wetland afloat during Covid-19. Imagine managing a nature park when humans aren't allowed outside — it's like running a cinema for squirrels. Still, against all odds and budget cuts, the team persevered. Mangrove roots? Resilient. Even more so.
He reminded us that many people still don't 'get' why conserving places like these matters. 'Some folks think once it's gazetted and given a fancy international title, that's the end of the story,' he said. 'But it's really just the beginning. Conservation is like gardening — it never ends. Except with more mud and fewer flowers.'
He also spoke of the early days — the 'mangrove dark ages' of the late 1990s — when this wetland was, quite frankly, a bit of a dump. Old squatter houses, ramshackle boardwalks, and signboards with red-painted names marked territories long gone. Then, it looked less like a conservation site and more like the set of a pirate-themed reality show. Yet through sheer grit, science and the help of dedicated volunteers (and many mosquito bites), the wetland rose from the swampy ashes.
Fast-forward to today, and this place is no longer an ecological underdog. It's a model of restoration — home to over 80 bird species, countless crabs, shy mudskippers, and trees that seem to strike yoga poses at low tide. If mangroves had social media, this park would be verified on Instagram. It's that photogenic.
But Datuk Zainie wasn't just waxing lyrical for nostalgia's sake. He had a point to make. 'The health of our planet is tied to our own health. You can't have a thriving city if the nature that surrounds it is on life support.' And he's right. KK Wetland isn't just about pretty pictures or school field trips — it's a living, breathing shield for Kota Kinabalu. It's a carbon sink, a flood barrier, a fish nursery and a place where stressed-out humans can remember how to breathe.
Let's face it, in this age of concrete jungles and TikTok dances, we all need reminders that we are part of nature — not just spectators. And what better way than to stroll a shady boardwalk through a mangrove forest smack dab in the middle of a bustling city of KK?
Binoculars, by the way, are highly recommended. Either bring your own or sweet-talk your birder friend into lending you a pair. Trust me, it elevates the experience from 'Hmm, is that a bird or a leaf?' to 'Oh my gosh, a bird, a bird on a branch!' And the mudskippers? Let's just say, they're the amphibious acrobats of the mangrove world—tiny fish with big personalities and zero chill.
But alas, not everything was picture-perfect. The boardwalk could use a little TLC (tender loving carpentry), and the occasional tide-borne rubbish reminds us that while the mangroves are working overtime, we humans still need to clean up our act. The team's doing their best with limited resources, but this is where we can all chip in. Volunteer, donate, or at least stop using styrofoam like it's going out of style — because it should.
KK Wetland isn't just an eco-tourism gem — it's a classroom, a therapy session, and a living museum rolled into one. Whether you're a kid on a school trip, a tourist with a camera the size of a baguette, or a retiree like me rediscovering nature with fresh eyes, this place has something to teach you.
So the next time you're tempted to spend your weekend binge-watching nature documentaries on Netflix, consider visiting the real thing. It's in the city, it's affordable, and best of all, the crabs don't charge for autographs.
A Quick Nerdy Recap
KK Wetland or Site 2290 is part of the Ramsar List — a global VIP club for wetland of international importance. It spans 24 hectares, hosts 80 species of birds, 30 mangrove and associated plant species, and over 20 types of fish. Critically endangered Bruguiera hainesii (also known as Bakau Mata Buaya) lives here — think of it as the mangrove version of a snow leopard. It's not just pretty: it's a carbon sink, flood buffer, nursery for marine life, and a green lung for the city. It also plays host to students, researchers, families, photographers, lost joggers, and the occasional mosquito with big dreams.
And while it may look lush and thriving today, don't forget that this place was once severely degraded. The comeback story is thanks to years of elbow grease from pioneering and passionate conservationists, volunteers, school groups, aunties, uncles and the tenacious folks at the Sabah Wetlands Conservation Society who dreams in mangrove green and speaks tree fluently. Heartiest kudos!
So What Can You Do (Besides Reading This)?
Visit. Your entrance fee helps keep the lights (and water pumps) running. Volunteer. Get your hands dirty (literally) and plant a mangrove or two. Donate or become a member. Because nature doesn't run on fairy dust — it runs on funds. Spread the word. Tell your friends or just post a smug Instagram story with the caption, 'Saving the planet, one mangrove at a time.'
Yes, Kota Kinabalu Wetland is a humble patch of green and mud… but in a world of disappearing ecosystems, it's also a bold statement. A declaration that we still care. That we're still listening. That even in a bustling city, nature can thrive — if we let it.
So, teachers, take your students, Parents, take your kids. Singles, take a date. Seniors, take a walk. Bring friends and visitors there. Trust me, it beats another morning at the mall. It's time we trade in shopping trolleys for mangrove trees. So go forth. Bring your curiosity.
Go ahead. Walk the boardwalk. Pause. Breathe. Listen to the rustle of leaves, the call of the herons, the plop of something (hopefully a mudskipper) in the water. Let the mangroves whisper their ancient, muddy wisdom.
And remember: every step you take here is also a small vote for a greener, kinder and slightly less crabby planet.
Go and visit KK Wetland Ramsar Site 2290 located at your doorstep in KK.