The proverbial deed is done.
A mighty mountain scaled, scampered and subdued. With the battle scars to show for it ; bleeding blisters, wonky feet and a sunburn the deep orange-cinnamon of Kinabalu's ultramafic soil ubiquitous above 8, 865ft.
As far as Mother Earth's peaks go, Borneo's Pride and Joy is Mountaineering 101. An inclined walk in the park with no need for fancy ropes and restraints, canisters or carabinas. Its 13, 465ft is less than half of Everest's 29, 029, with none of the grisly finds of icy corpses left in a Hades of Bitter Cold.
Still, Gunung Kinabalu was mine to climb. A little test as it were, of my somewhat petulant resolve to meet obstacles head-on from now on. Everyone faces a mountain at some point of their lives. And for me, that mountain is now.
We reached Kinabalu Park HQ on my Birthday. Timed such that we would have enough rest and acclimatisation for the 8.7km trudge up the gnarled tree roots and rock-steps the next day, crawling the bare-faced granite leading up to the summit the day after. And it was perhaps a trifle symbolic that on the 1st day of my 34th year of existence, I prepared to meet a new challenge.
It was a quiet Sep 11 for me, and so my young, 20-something companions would tell you. A day spent in abstract deliberation and reflection, gradually pervaded by a personal ethos of embracing change. Change, you see, is my Mountain. And Change never did come easy for someone involved in too much silly sentimentality.
One step forward, two steps back. You know how it goes. Plagued by memories, feelings, places. Even tastes and odors.
So when I finally stood up on the summit that is Low's Peak, head and shoulders truly above the clouds, gazing upon the surreal barren plateau before me.
I said a silent goodbye...again..
Labels: Musings