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The Johnson's Base Camp in Borneo


 

A Junk sails past the river camp
Note: Hanger with windsock and S-39 in background.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

A Junk and the S-39 alongside the riverbank.
Note: People in shadow of wing.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The S-39 alongside the riverbank.
Note: People in shadow of wing.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The Spirit of Africa and Borneo on dry land.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The S-39 with engine running.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The S-39 parked on the ramp.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

A proud pilot points at the Pratt and Whitney Eagle
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

Jim Laneri and Helpers repair the S-39 after the ramp collapsed.
Note: Float has been removed.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

Fueling the S-39.
Note: Shammy cloth filter inside funnel.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

Fueling the S-39.
Note: The labels on the fuel cans always seem to face the
camera. Also, note the right side nose art.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The S-39, Osa and a pet inside the hanger.
Note: Cover on engine.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The Johnson's with another pet and the S-39 inside the hanger.
Note: Oil Cooler Installation and open cabin door.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The Johnson's, ground crew and Muruts pose inside the Hanger.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The Johnson's pose with Muruts and the S-39 inside the Hanger.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The S-39's nose art.
Note: Pin Striping around letters.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The "Spirit of Africa and Boreneo" alongside Camp Abai.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

An aerial view of Camp Abai
Borneo 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The "Spirit of Africa and Borneo" flies over Camp Abai.
Note: Houseboat under construction in foreground.
Camp Abai, Borneo - 1935/36
Photo: Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

The Johnson's often refered to their base camp for the filming of "Borneo" as "Johnsonville." The village was located on the Kinbatangan near the village of Abai. The following excerpt from an unpublished work by Joe Tilton tells the story of the day the ramp collapsed at the camp. Joe Tilton was the soundman for the 1935/36 Borneo Safari and it's associated movie. Joe wrote this text shortly after the expedition.

Short Stories and High Adventure
an unpublished manuscript by Joe Tilton
Courtesy of the Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum

It was eight-three miles down river and seven miles across the bay, by the way the toucan flies from Camp Abai to the harbor town of Sandakan, North Borneo. The same distance was traveled by Jim in the plane when he met the inter-island steamer to start the photographic film on its way to NY. Our camp was in the rain country, which receives 250 inches annually. Since heat and high humidity can ruin exposed film in a short time, Martin tried to get it into the refrigerator of the island hopping steamer as quickly as possible. Occasionally the trip back to camp was delayed due to unbelievably heavy rains, so like hangers were built in town and camp, the one at camp demanded a ramp as well. Everything worked well as the plane entered the hanger the first evening and again when it reentered the water the next morning. Later the day, however, as it was to go back in again, the ramp crumpled like a soda cracker, dropping the plane back in the water, with damage to a float and the loss of part of the landing gear. Every board looked sound, but when 1/32nd of an inch was removed, the real cause of the collapse was evident. Marine worms had completely ruined the wood by eating holes honeycomb fashion in every plank. The holes were about ¼ inch in diameter and were as close together as they could be without running into each other. How the entrance were made, how the worms knew to stop their ravishing attack within 1/32 of an inch from the surface, and how the perfectly round enclosures were highly polished, are among the thousands of unanswered questions of the jungle. A new ramp was started at once, but this time poison ironwood timber, like used on the bow of the native ships, was used and it survived our stay. Jim though never really got passed the incident and fearing more damage to the small plane tried not to hanger it at camp unless downright necessary.

The missing landing gear part was something else, and Martin offered a bonus to any river man who would dive for the piece. Not one single native could be talked into trying to retrieve it. The reason, of course, was the well-founded fear of crocodiles. It is my unscientific theory that when the population of crocodiles is as great as it was on the Kinabatangan, food becomes a problem and therefore, people are added to the hungry reptile’s diet. A swish of the tail and open jaws easily makes a meal of a careless native. It takes a gun to dispatch the most dangerous animal on the river. The native’s only weapon is his spear or his long knife, so most encounters end with a missing native and a smile on the face of the crocodile.

Utar finally came forward and said he would dive tomorrow. The next morning, without fuss or ceremony, he went to the spot where we thought the missing part would be, dove in, and in seconds came up with the broken piece. He was most reluctant about telling me why he would dive one day and not the other day before. He finally sheepishly admitted he needed “ubat” (medicine) to protect him from the crocodiles. The ubat consisted of incantations recited by the Haji, religious leader of the river people. A Haji is one who has made the religious pilgrimage to Mecca. After Utar was assured that Allah would not want to take him when he was doing such a good deed for the Tuan (Martin), he went about the job with no fear. Faith may not move mountains, but almost surely, it can remove the fear of the crocodiles in the fear of the believer---and return much needed landing gear!

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