One week after returning from the northern tip of Borneo that is Sabah, I write these memoirs, of the trip to reach its peak...We looked at the tins of canned food and cups of instant noodles before us. We looked at each other. And then we decided that we would all have breakfast in bed.
Yes we cooked the stuff in the dorm, with boiled water from a kettle, and then proceeded to slip under the sheets again, slurping away at the curly coils of carbohydrate and preserved meat protein we had lugged along for the climb. Finishing with a hot cup of Milo each, we packed up our things, and then took a walk in the drizzle, arriving at the Park Operations Centre at nine where we met our guide Jo.
Jo couldn't speak much
Inggreesh. And we suspected that the Rangers were trying to be funny with us for lying the day before. Well we were supposed to understand Jo's brand of Malay, Borneo twang and all, if we were really Malaysians. As it turned out, I had to play interpreter and give him the sorry excuse that we were all schooled in Singapore from young and so sucked big-time in the
Bahasa department. The diminutive, weathered, Dusun tribesman in yellow fishmonger work-boots gave me a conspiratorial grin, and then herded all 5 of us into a mini-van bound for Timpohon Gate, one of 2 gateways (the easier one) up the mighty Gunung.
At the gate, we flashed our climbing permits, hanging by lanyards on our necks, to the ranger who dutifully marked our attendance on the namelist for the day. And then we were off, into the misty, white yonder. By now, the drizzle had increased in its intensity but under the cover of the lush forest canopy, we still remained relatively dry. But only just. The time, 10am.
It was a 6.5km hike up to the 3/4 mark that is Laban Rata. There, we would spend the night and begin our assault on the summit at 3am the next morning. But before we could even think about the peak, we had to actually get to the warm comfort of the hostel first in one piece. On paper, it didn't look that difficult. With a
pondok (rest-hut) at every 1km or so during the ascend, we used those as markers and milestones to track our progress. There were 7
pondoks in all before Laban Rata and the first 3 were easy enough. But by the time we reached the 4th, the heavy drizzle had turned into a full-fledged downpour. And with the thinning foliage of wind-bent shrubs as we climbed higher and higher, we found ourselves more and more exposed to the wind and rain.
Yesterday's climbers were on their way down from the summit. And we met many of them who told us to be prepared for the tougher conditions as we moved higher. Some of the long flights of steps, it seems, made up of tree roots and rock, had been turned into mini waterfalls in view of the incessant rain, making climbing difficult and slippery. They were right. Sometimes, it seemed as though we were trying to negotiate a
Kota Tinggi on the way up, and the fast-moving streams of water made getting a proper foothold tough. Many of the returning climbers also told us that they never made it to the summit from Laban Rata in the morning. Infact only 20 out of the 100 or so climbers from yesterday's batch actually reached the peak. The conditions up there were just too bad and the guides had advised against being too foolhardy to even attempt a climb.
By the time we arrived at
Pondok 6, we were drenched from head to toe. And coupled with the howling winds at about 3100m elevation, freezing our butts off as well. Ironically, we didn't want to sit around at the
Pondoks too much although we were tired because you started shivering once you stopped walking. The girls were starting to look alittle pale and I knew the onset of mild hypothermia had set in. Their thin ponchos were no match for these gusty, wet conditions. My teeth were chattering but I had to control the involuntary jaw spasms and urge everyone to push on. It wasn't easy because at this height, the thin mountain air also made breathing slightly difficult. We were panting.
The flights of steps were also just endless. And everytime you reached a sort of plateau in the terrain, another evil flight awaited around the corner that would run up and dissappear into the misty distance. But we were thankful Kinabalu at least had steps and there were no need for ropes and carabinas. Plus the Summit Trail was well trodden and clearly marked. Clear enough for Jo to keep a very respectful distance behind us all the time. In fact for most of the climb, he was nowhere to be seen and only when we reached the
Pondoks would he suddenly appear from the bushes like an
Orang Asli hunter back from a day's kill.
At about 2pm in the afternoon, the final stretch of a rocky ascent brought us to within view of Laban Rata. We took off our wet hoods, did a little dance swimming in our boots, and said a soft ThankYou prayer to the Mountain God (if there was one) for having reached warmth and dryness. The temperature gauge outside the Guesthouse read 6.6 degrees. But with the wind and wet, I think the thermometer should have read more like 4.
No matter, we stripped out of our wet clothes, poured the water out of our boots, wringed our socks and enjoyed 8 pots of hot Milo between the 5 of us. Under those chilly circumstances, the Chocolatey Malt never tasted so good.
By 6pm, sunset was upon us. We were all shoo-ed to bed by 8pm as Jo wanted to set off at 3am the next morning. Darren, KZ and Mitch all came down with fever. And it seemed that only Ricky and me were going to drag ourselves out of bed for the final peak assault in the ungodly morning.
Labels: Travel