SABAH - MALYSIAN BORNEO

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Driving into Kota Kinabalu two things struck us most, the silence...no car horns, and the greenery. Even outside the airport the potted plants and roadside bushes looked aggresively healthy, vines and fan shaped ferns sprouted out the joints of trees. KK is a small city, very long but seems only a few blocks deep before giving way to riotous green forested hills. We had a great few days planning onward tickets, reservations and the like and enjoyed the good eateries. Stayed in a chinese hotel over a packed cafe or kedai, called Ang's. After traveling with only one pair of pants and one pair of shorts figured i'd better stock up on a waterproof, Green binbag looking poncho, and a spare pair of trousers..which I got altered in a no fuss fashion at Pretty Good Tailors. It was great to be in the multicultural atmosphere of Malaysia and enjoying curries served on bannana leaves, noodle soups and fish n chips.

Off to Kinabalu park headquarters, three hours on the bus and 1,300 meters above sea level we suddenly went from tropics to a cold misty spring in Wales. Couldn't see our planned challenge, Mt Kinabalu, as all was wrapped in mist and low clouds but had scheduled in a couple of days hiking the rainforest trails around Park HQ. These trails turned out to be an adventure in themselves, just a hundred meters along the trail and you felt the presence of being surrounded by primary forrest slowly trudging along slender trails and ducking and diving roots, vines and craning our necks to look up at the huge trees, the vaulted canopy anywhere from twenty meters above. Although there was no wildlife to come across there were enough creepycrawlies to keep you on your toes. Trilobyte Beatles, stick insects, the odd snake and the ever present mosquitoes. On the second day we tried a longer hike and found oursleves lost between the interconnecting trails on our crappy photocopied map, a little line intersecting a harmless grey wiggle indicating a stream turned out to be vertical descent on rotting planks to be faced with a white waterfall and inpassable broiling river. No worries, all paths are marked (except the ones that aren't) and all trails eventually take you out (except the ones that take you back in)....anyhow, after our two hour jaunt turned into a five hour epic you got a sense of perspective...if thats the Bornean equivalent of a picnic stroll whats it like 'out in the woods'.

To climb Mt Kinabalu takes two days, day one you climb up two thousand meters in elevation over a six KM trail then rest at the summit base camp, Laban Rata.Then you set off again at 3 am for the final and hardest bit, the last 1,000 meters in elvation over a two and a half KM trail. The summit is 4,100 meters above sea level...the highest mountain in Asia between the Himalayas and Papua New Guinea. The night before we set off to climb Mt Kinabalu all the reports coming back from the base camp weren't great. Met exhausted looking climbers who had to turn back at Laban Rata, it'd been raining continually for two days with up to 120 km winds, some had just sat waiting for a gap in the weather with no luck. So no one got to the summit? Not quite, met a lad from Birmingham who got there with an Australian he met. Said they got up at 2 am and found his guide drinking beer and mumbling 'no way mate' so they both went and did it themselves, "There's guide ropes all the way up to the summit, got a bit hardcore at times,it was raining sideways. Great though, you'll have no problems. Take a lot of chocolate with you."

Our guide, Rowdi, was from the local town, a Dusun Malay, he was a young guy, the strong silent type. Throughout our two days together he hardly said a word except "Go slowly. Slow but not slow like a snake. That's a pitcher plant.It's five more kilometers...It's four more kilometers..it's three..." We liked Rowdi, he did the whole climb in jeans, sweatshirt and pumps, never broke a sweat and only carried a bumbag. At his most talkative, the first twenty meters, he told us he'd been guiding people up the mountain for four years, three times a week !!...a strole in the park then.

The first three kilometers are just endless, steep up-hill steps and we realised quickly that we were in for a slog. The jungle around us was beautiful and in the cloads and mist of morning the view was a looming mass of giant silhouetted trees. After that the path becomes more rocky, small irregular boulders made the trail that became steeper, the tress got small and soon we were walking through a stunted rhododendron forest and what looked like giant twisting Bonzai trees. You could really feel the wind up there and imagined if the clouds dispersed there'd be great views. This landscape took us up to Laban Rata, you could feel the air thinning around you (or was that just my lungs giving up). Six kilometers in five hours, a stirling performance, and crashed into the lodge to gulp down three consecutive cups of hot, sweet tea like it was water.

After little sleep but lots of food, tea and chocolate we were ready to carry on at 3 am. Laban Rata was buzzing with people getting ready and waiting for the nod from their guides. It hadn't rained all night and the wind wasn't too bad. Sure enough though, it had started to pelt down around two thirty and alot of people were having second thoughts, the problem being, someone explained, that the guides wouldn't take anyone onto the near summit plateau, a giant bowl of granite rock, for fear of you getting washed off the mountain...a reasonable concern for sure so we waited a bit. To be honest I was a bit envious of the other climbers gear...most seemed decked out in sensible foul weather gear, fleeces and breathable Gortex from head to foot while I was making do with wearing all my Philippine clothes at the same time, five T-shirts, both pairs of pants and a sagging windbreaker I'd hired from the Lodge. There was also the poncho/binbag thing I'd bought in KK which was supposed to keep me dry. When I looked at Aya she was wearing Gortex from head to foot too which I'd suggested and persuaded her to buy back in Tokyo only to a have a fit of financial panic myself and forgo the expense. That wasn't the main concern though, we needed hats and gloves for the vertical bits when you need to pull yourself up the ropes and had to fork out for these cheese cloth mitten things that got drenched through with icy water the moment you started to climb..and the hats...horrible balaclava things that would only fit over my head if I wanted to make do without blood circulating to my brain...all nicely topped off with a fluffy bobble. Still this was no fashion contest and I couldn't imagine ever needing it again in South EastAsia.

Groups started to set off despite the rain, and after a bit we persuaded a slightly reluctant Rowdi to give it a try. The next couple of kilometers were the longest in my life, in the dark and rain we worked our way up steep rocky slopes and had to pull ourselves up and over rock faces using the ropes. It was kind off like reverse absailing having to lean back, brace your legs wide apart and pull/walk your way up. After what seemed like hours we'd covered this single kilometer of trail and took a rest in the final shelter just below the Summit plateau. It was small and seemed packed with people undecided to stay, go on or turn back. The rain was still coming down and the ever informative Rowdi simply said "Rest. Eat chocolate." before sitting in the corner, putting his head down and not moving for the next twenty minutes. It was a strange twenty minutes standing in a tiny space crammed with climbers, mostly silent, cold and mumbling a bit. There was a couple stretched out under some emergency thermal blanket thing and we were thinking of joining them. Standing around made us colder by the minute. My windbraker had soaked in the water like a treat and I felt like I had wrapped myself in a drenched blanket and then put on a bin bag. Some guide asked us who we were with and we pointed at Rodey in the corner (sleeping? hung over? bored? praying to the gods?), he informed us promptly that he was taking his group back down and the only thing I could think of saying was "Oh,"

In no time we were freezing so asked Rowdi to make a move he just said "Come on then. One thousand seven hundred and fifty meters." and strolled ahead. Over the next kilometer a few things happened all at once, light came, the dawn broke and we could see through a break in the cloads a brief view on golden sunlight the the valley floor impossibly far below, the rain stopped and the wind picked up, and also that we couldn't breath normally. We were reduced to stopping for breath every ten steps, then eight, then five. We shuffled along the granite floor and I remember thinking that this should have been the easiest part by far...just a walk up the slight slope of the basin, no steps, boulders or ropes. After an hour we realised we were half way from the hut to the summit and I was fighting off this urge to be sick. I didn't mention it to Aya as i thought if I said it i'd throw up. Then she said it and I thought "Christ were both gonna chunder on the roof of South East Asia." After another hour we reached the back of the basin and could see Lowes Peak, the summit named after the first european to embark on this mad adventure. Lowes Peak is a bit of a kick in teeth, after getting into a four step shuffle then rest routine across the plateau you faced with a final sharp ascent, climbing over boulders and rocks to reach your goal. And this we did, in a trance like, oxygen-starved state. The very summit is a tiny plinth, wide enough for two bums and a look across the heavens, way above the cloads that morning without rain or mist to spoil the view...just the wind trying to push you off. We sat there for a while...you can't really say just admiring the view as your way up above the clouds, watching them form and dissolve at high speed at your feet, whole blankets of white pouring over the outer edges and rocky peaks of the summit then breaking into whispy strands flying past. Aya's expression had gone beyond tiredness or pain to some weird mask-like look of utter exhaustion and I was thinking I was glad I couldn't see what I looked like. Taking cameras out of bags involved moving muscles and touching freezing metal, far too much effort, so we just sat there and watch it all.Rowdi strolled up after us, he'd now donned a bin bag too and just nodded smiled and lit a cigarette. First smoke of the day at 4,100 meters...still looking like we were all just taking a pleasant stroll through the woods.

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Photos

Mount Kinabalu
Granit Plateau, 4000m

Rafflesia
Big parasitic flowers

Mount Kinabalu
View from the Kinabalu Park Headquarters