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Published: August 2nd 2010
Mt Kinabalu
Viewed the day before the climb. The mountain was Frances friend at this stageSabah’s #1 attraction, apparently, is Mt Kinabalu. Standing almost alone, to a height of 4095 m (OK just over 13,435 feet for easier reference) this is a mountain higher than our own Mt Cook. However, in this climate, snow and ice are missing and the climb is accomplished with determination, not skill.
Aunty Julia takes over the kids for a day and a half, while FJ and BP taste freedom after 100 days! The system is well oiled and. despite our frustration and protestations at the monopoly climbing costs, we turn up, collect our allocated guide, our packed lunches, a clutch of meal vouchers and off we go - fortunately in a taxi for the first 4.5 km’s! It’s 6.5 km’s straight uphill on day 1 and we achieve this easily, arriving at Laban Rata at 3.00 pm. Here is a collection of around 160 beds, in a few buildings constructed by the army. Despite sympathy towards running an accommodation business at 3,000 metres, the outcomes of a monopoly are all too evident in the sleeping quarters. It feels like the back houses of Slalom Ski Lodge, only with even less TLC and with another 20 years of decay set in.
0230 hrs
Commencing the summit climb The torrential rain sets in, it is cold, and we are huddle under the blankets with no heating or hot water. And that is before dinner!
Real bed was at 8pm but difficult for the body to accept. Even harder is the 0120 hrs wake up, as the incessant early risers feel the need to get a head start. We luxuriate a little longer in the warmth of our bedding and breakfast/supper at 0230 hrs!
For the 2.5 km to the summit, completed all in early morning darkness, the path is marked by an almost continuous line of climbers and a white rope to both follow and, at times, to haul yourself up on. We arrive right on time to see the sunrise and share the space with maybe 50 others, the other 100 surprisingly still struggling uphill despite their earlier starts.
It is stunning, and we share a view that was worth every step. In a way, it feels fraudulent to be at 13,000 feet, in a tee shirt, merino top and wind jacket. Yes it’s cold, and yes the last 100 metres was a struggle for FJ, but really this is an easy climb and I get soft
0525 hrs
Arrival at 4095 metres. The mountain is not Frances's friend at this stage. and actually feel an appreciation of why such a monopoly exists. A Japanese party we dine with tell me they booked 5 years ago. Others speak of 1 year delays in getting a place. We managed to pay the day before we climbed! It’s a confusing thing this Asian capitalism!!!!!!
Despite the magnificent views to the coast, despite the amazing towering cumulus clouds, the incredible shadow cast over a whole city (see our photos) and the serenity of it all, we don’t linger longer than 40 minutes. The wind is chilly, the descent long and the temperature rising. Our guide says little for the trip and is a delight with both hands in his pocket almost the whole way and his cell phone chirping away every 20 to 30 minutes. He climbs once a week (over 300 times to date) and farms rice and vegetables the rest of the time. I can’t help wonder what it is that keeps his cell phone so busy for 2 days. It seems incongruous that a person in this simple life, in such a small community, should have to deal with more text messages in a day than I receive in a month (
One for the flyers
"Towering Cumulous" build up as the sun rises. - or maybe that’s not so strange- ED…). He seems to have been impressed with our climbing ability. He predicts an 11.00am arrival back at the car park at Park HQ - if we skip breakfast! We let him down badly. Maybe the flurry of texts on day 2 were his wagers on our descent time all falling apart and him having to cover his bets with some of the overtaking parties. We make it at 1.15pm with ankles, knees and hamstrings reminding both of us that young in mind is not the same as young in body. We hobble along, step after step, all unrelenting in their punishment of our soft bodies. How the Japanese, and others still ascending as we came down, ever made it down to cash in their lunch voucher is beyond me. Shame really, it was quite nice!
We navigate back to a hotel in KK and say goodbye to Aunty Julia, fly to Kuala Lumpur, and welcome Frances’s Mum, who joins us for 10 days. We stay in the main shopping street of Chinatown in KL and arrive at lunchtime. Molly is ecstatic. Who cares how many stars a hotel is, imagine having all
One from the bible
A camel train and 3 wise men? Use your imagination please. the markets open all day every day at your front door! I move to another level of boundary setting and let her out alone (albeit briefly), secure in the knowledge a hotel card is tucked into her pocket. Like a reverse yo-yo, each trip gets longer and further away as she explores alone. Within the day, there is not a DVD store unexplored for the latest release of Eclipse.
I had an impression that Malaysia was “tame”. But tame, suggests boring and devoid of life. Far from it, Malaysia sideswipes me and says that this is actually a great place to be. Penang is fantastic, Sabah has provided some trip highlights, KL is dynamic and welcoming, and soon we will sit on a coastal island, in paradise again. It would be easy to be derisive of this country, but it seems to work. Everything is more developed and more prosperous than we have seen in our other Asian experiences. This is close to a first world country at times, if those measures really mean much. The place is staunchly Islamic. That’s fundamentally worrying and probably sums up the piety angle and some of the political issues. However it is a
One of my favourites
Kotu Kinabalu is about 100 kms away. Its in the middle of this stunning shadow cast by the mountain out over the city, coast and sea. Extraordinary to stand at 13,000 ft, and see a shadow extend over 100 kms. delight to read in the paper each morning that another couple of murderers have been sentenced to the death penalty, this scores highly in Bernards country approval rating. The people are worldly and understand domestic and international issues with a clarity not always seen elsewhere. It is quintessential Asia as well: hot, indolent, a corrupt police force, politicians on the take, over-shopped, heaving, accepting of one’s destiny, and in your face. That word “tame” I realise is just a preconception. It sits there, for 3 long weeks, trying to rebut the defensive evidence presented by eyes, ears and tongue. This is a pretty cool place. By week four, I am a convert, not to Islam, but to a small country of 24 million, sandwiched between fundamentalist Indonesia, and wacky Thailand.
However, it is not all perfect. As we leave KL in our rental car (this time without Molly who has taken a 10 day break with her mother), with some loose plans, we suffer a serious lapse of focus. Three days of frustration attach to us, and no, it’s not the presence of the MIL. We head to Ipoh, apparently the third largest city in Malaysia. It’s Friday, accommodation everywhere
On the descent
We were heading down, many still going up, despite the sun having well risen on this trip has been cheap and plentiful. Here, in this unattractive horrid place, we spend 3 hours driving and searching for a tolerable room. We drive by some and refuse to leave the car, others want $200 to stay in squalor, at one I find the perfect family room; but the hot pants and skimpy tops at reception indicate “family” is not the target market, tolerable places are full, intolerable continue to appear. We suffer 3 hours of agony, before settling on the trip’s most expensive room. The Grand View Hotel, Ipoh, over $100 for a room. And yes, the view was of a car park.
Frustrated and tired, Bernard turns right across a lane to finally park for the day, and a towel head scooter driver going the same way decides to ignore my indicator and to overtake. Unlike all other scooter drivers in Malaysia, who contentedly undertake with no use of the horn or fear for their safety, this woman appears to have given herself both options. Boom, she clips the front guard and continues forward 50 metres in a valiant struggle to remain upright. I am so tired and pissed off, she has no chance to
Mt Kinabalu
OK, so Johan the guide had to take his hands out from his pockets occasionally apportion blame to me. Eventually, after the police make a visit, we retreat to our respective hovels and I repair the damage with some elbow grease.
Dinner turns into a disaster, as I find the only wok kitchen in Asia that has a 30 minute wait list.
The next day is worse. We cannot wait to get out of Ipoh, we hate the place, and a magnetic force appears to disorientate our sense of direction. An hour late, we hit the road for the Cameron Highlands after umpteen wrong turns. The temperature increases in the car. We underestimate time and distance and when we reach Cameron Highlands we are at boiling point as a lunchtime arrival becomes 3.00pm. Here is Asian tourism at its very worst. Stall after stall sells strawberry paraphernalia: cushions, toys, magnets, drinks, ice creams, flags, swizzle sticks, balloons, anything at all, all proudly overpriced and completely goddamned useless. I am depressed and feel we have made a mistake coming here.
A deep breath, find a hotel, have a lovely bottle of NZ Pinot Noir (thanks to the MIL) and time to restrategise for the next few days. We soon have a new plan, and it involves
Kellys Castle
Just outside of Ipoh. If only we could have stayed here and missed Ipoh altogether. Built in the 1920s by a rubber baron. Now surrounded by Palm Oil trees. catching a ferry at 4.00 pm tomorrow to a tropical Island. But sure enough, for the third day in a row, it all falls apart. We are delayed by a painfully slow breakfast, the roads are slow and tortuous, Lauren vomits in the back seat, the map’s inadequate and unclear, we know we are getting tight, but we are on target for a 3.45 arrival. Then, 3 cement trucks in convoy appear from above and clog the road for at least 20 km’s. Even the normally suicidal Malaysians can’t get past, even reluctant to use the unique Malaysian method of undertaking for some reason, leaving no hope for Bernard. Once clear, an ancient Palm plantation lorry swings out to block our path. Five km’s away, the heavens open, we arrive at 1556 hrs to farewell the only boat in Asian history to even leave early.
The frustration is palpable; even Lauren is silent. I am offered another boat, in 30 minutes, from another port further south. Hands sweating, wipers straining, Palm plantation truck back in front, cement trucks lined up behind, the sign looms; “Ferry 32 km”. I give up completely. I take a deep series of breaths (Thanks Sven)
Our secret beach
A beachside shack / bungalow off the east coast of Malaysia. Shades of Thailand construction methods here. and kiss goodbye to tonight in paradise. Relaxed and serene, we plan our fabulous night in a Malaysian port town, famed for nothing. But then we experience what St Christopher knew, that travelers must always hope for that next beacon of light and a welcome at the next Inn. Determined or stubborn, Bernard insists on going to the ferry terminal, and there, like our shining beacon, is our 4.30 pm boat, still tied up at 4.45. We scuttle on board, courtesy of that wonderful Malaysian hospitality, and wonder why after 3 days of rotten planning, suddenly it has come together. We even manage, on disembarkation at 7.30 pm, to arrange a 4WD to our chosen beach, a 30 minute trek over a seriously steep mountain road. By 8.30 pm, all is forgotten and terse words forgiven, as we suck on a Tiger and marvel at the water lapping at the foot of our beachside restaurant.
And let me tell you a little more about this little island, to just make you salivate that little bit more. (And by the way, I am not disclosing the name or location……….it’s OURS, and we don’t want you coming along and spoiling this place).
If you are looking for cocktails on the beach, five star dining, nightlife, raked sand and organized watersports stay in Fiji. However if you have been searching for the epitome of laid back Asian tropical paradise, I am happy to supply details, at a price!
Think deep white sand beach, a km of sand, derelict beach shacks mixed with bungalows and restaurants, duty free gin that the hotel allows you to tipple in their restaurant area, and wine, beer for NZ$2.20 served ice cold, toilets that willingly accept paper deposits, no sewage smells (well almost none), genuine attempts to clear the rubbish from public spaces, kids playing on the road and ready to smile and engage at every opportunity, massive coconut trees threatening to rain on anyone’s parade, coral reef snorkeling, uninterrupted sleep, hour after hour of retro music and absolute solitude if you want it. Yes this is the place you have all been looking for. Sadly, we manage only 3 nights.
Malaysia has a series of coastal Islands off the east coast that are all relatively undeveloped. It’s probably like Thailand 20 years ago. The problem is, we are here and that means that, once again, we feel
And the award goes to......
Nearly 4 months, and this HAS to be the winner of the "chinglish" t-shirt bad taste category! part of the problem that will lead to irrevocable damage and change. But hopefully, Malaysia, like China, seems better equipped to exert control and limits. The prices will go up, but if this leads to better management of the resources, then who is to complain?
We leave South East Asia today, and fly for 11 hours, to land in Istanbul, Turkey, figuratively still in Asia. The MIL has flown home, Molly returns to us today and we are looking forward to the new chapter ahead.
It’s been fabulous so far. It is not everyone’s cup of tea and tolerating Bernard 24/7 is a demand on any sane person - particularly when we leave a hotel, turn left, then left again then take the first restaurant that’s open. Sitting by open sewers, on plastic stools, pointing at unknown vegetables and hoping for no chili in the girls’ meals is not for everyone, let alone a family. But both Frances and Bernard demonstrate a similar tolerance for the mysteries and frustrations around here, and we can feel satisfied that we have achieved much of what we wanted, easily, safely and together. “Asia” is of course a geographical concept, but as foreigners, we
Not even a runner up
Sometimes I have no explanation, other than they simply do it on purpose. mistakenly apply the term to ethnology and culture. Nothing could be further from reality. Every border we have crossed, including provincial borders in China, bring fundamental changes. Americans and New Zealanders are more alike that Vietnamese and Thai’s. And that has been one of the trip’s fundamentals. Every country is so vastly different, that the experiences just keep coming, as regular as the ole dodgy taxi driver.
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sian holden
non-member comment
Hi Frances, I just wanted to let you know what a joy it has been reading your blog(s). The quality of the writing is wonderful and so entertaining. There must surely be a book in amongst all this?! Anyway it is a cold wet evening in Nelson and I am struggling to motivate myself to complete some work and have procrastinated even more by taking time out to catch up with your blog. But now I really must apply myself to the task at hand! So do take care and I hope you continue to have a wonderful time. Love from Sian