4 days, 2 showers, 2 plaster changes, one splitting headache and a big seafood meal later, I was sitting at the waiting hall, waiting for the gates to open, together with my mates. No one seems to show any signs that we just climbed the third highest peak in South East Asia barely 24 hours ago. That is, until the time came to board, and I can hear disgruntled moans from them as their thighs complained for having to move again.
It all started with Aaron discovering the cheap tickets last October.
"Hey guys, only 90 bucks to Kota Kinabalu!"
What started off as a friendly challenge to climb Mount Kinabalu became a cause for staircase climbing instead of taking the lift, and running around the hilly grounds of NUS for a change.
On the day of departure, with everything packed inside our backpacks, we met at Terminal 2 of Changi airport. Poncho, winter wear, quick bites, camera, checked. Liong Koon, Aaron and I had our breakfast at McDonald’s, possibly our last one in such comfort. Cheeks was to join us later.
A day checking out the quiet little town of Kota Kinabalu revealed a seaside town with low rise buildings, slow moving traffic, but not without its fair share of local delicacies. We bought head lamps to be used during our pre-dawn climb up to the summit and got ripped off, for it would have cost SGD8.90 at departmental stores, but it went to MYR30 (SGD12.50) for the same 15-LED lamp.
We had dinner, met up with Cheeks at the hostel, and went out with his senior to have supper before the long climb ahead.
The next day, our transportation arrived at 7am to pick us up to Kinabalu National Park, where we would start the ascent from the park towards the halfway rest house. We booked a package that would include a guide, certificates of completion, insurance, lodging at the Laban Rata, food for the two days one night and transport to and from the park. It cost less for Malaysians and more for foreigners.
Our last piece of equipment was purchased – the tongkat, or walking stick – at the last pit stop, and we were ready to go!
Andrew, our experienced guide, would take us past 7 checkpoints to the halfway rest house. The climb took us at least 5 hours. Starting at 10.30am, we reached the place not without a great amount of huffing and puffing. At close to 4pm we arrived at the rest house level, a house among the clouds. There was a sepak takraw net at the level ground which greeted us as we climbed the last few steps.
Exhausted from carrying our backpacks past 7 checkpoints, we waited at the restaurant for 5pm when dinner was served. One thing about the package was that you won’t want to miss the meal timings because when the restaurant closes, you’re on your own granola bars and diminishing water. The highlight of the trip was perhaps the comforting cup of Sabah tea after the climb. It was uniquely flavoured, somewhat like the Korean tea which has a wheaty flavour to it. Sabah tea quenches thirst and made the feeling of giddiness from altitude seem more bearable.
We took our time snapping pictures of the sunset from the café, playing Monopoly Deal (courtesy of Liong Koon), and underestimated the time needed to reach our lodge. By the time we reached, the sun had set, we needed our headlamps to find our way, and there was no more hot water for shower.
Learning a painful lesson that the hot water shuts off at 7.30pm, we proceeded to sleep. Aaron and I shared a room with a couple from Bristol. It was rather amusing to hear people shout while I was brushing my teeth “eh, no more water!”. They were probably stark naked and stuck inside the shower with the temperature fast dropping below 10 degress Celsius. Not to gloat in others’ misfortunes, I decided against bathing while we were up in Laban Rata, lest I get caught in a similar predicament.
Sleeping at 8.15pm, we knew we had a long climb ahead for the last 2 km to the summit.
At 1.30am, the couple’s alarm rang, and I remember waking up with a throbbing headache. Throughout disrupted sleep, I could hear footsteps outside, I could feel my feet getting stiff from the cold, and I sensed a slight pressure towards the top of my skull. When I sat up in bed, it took a while to figure out it’s probably altitude sickness that made my head throb, and the lack of water made it hard to swallow even my own saliva.
After a hearty breakfast, followed by the customary cup of Sabah tea, the final journey began.
Though we were one of the last teams to leave the restaurant, we caught up with enough people to see much more trails of white lights coming from the tops of other climbers’ heads later on. Fortunately, we did not have to carry the same load as we had up the first half, as the rest of the items could be left in the lodge.
However, I had with me my house keys all the same, to remind myself that I had to reach the summit and go home to tell my folks about it.
In the pitch darkness, all we really needed was the head lamp so we won’t fall into a hidden pothole or off the track, thick clothes because the temperature difference from the base to the half way point was remarkable, and water because there was no checkpoints with dispensers of spring water unlike the first half of the climb. Above all, a certain amount of courage, or recklessness as some may have it, was required for one to step into the path lit up only by the next three steps ahead. On top of the above, I had with me my trusty Canon EOS, to capture our triumphant moment, a pair of shades so that I would look cool in the pictures, and the tongkat that has bonded metaphorically with my being over the 2 days.
Mentally acknowledging the effort of every climber I passed, it got to a point where less and less people were ahead. The distance grew sparse between the next group of climbers who started at different times.
At first it was like the night version of the climb from the previous day – man-made steps in the rocks and physical wooden stairs, between some sharp bends that threw you off course if you did not pay attention to the direction of the track. Eventually, I waited for the rest at the foot of a part where we have to pull ourselves up the steep slope. We have a rope that was fastened to the face of the cliff by means of bolts, and that rope was to hold the weight of full-grown men and women as they attempt to defy the act of gravity. The guide helped us to hold our tongkat, which had hitherto been our best friend, our second spine or knee, while we use both our hands to hoist ourselves up.
The legs also have work to do, as there was traction between the face of the cliff and the soles of our shoes. The walk up with the help of the ropes led in a zig-zag manner to the booth where our names were verified for the certificate of completion. At that point the four of us took a break before the final ascent towards the summit, which could be seen at the end of countless more rope segments. The stars were shimmering brighter than most head lamps that were still snaking their way up towards where we were. There was a grey ring much wider than the width of the moon that circled mysteriously around it, like a force field to protect the frail moon goddess.
After our guide’s customary smoke break at every check point, we start making the climb!
It was encouraging to see the progress with every wooden board that shows the height we have scaled. 6km… 7km… 7.5km… To see those distances in terms of a runner covering it around the track would be to think that the experienced pastry chef would also be able to make a big delicious bowl of XO bee hoon.
It eventually led to the bald face of the mountain Kinabalu. Vegetation was rare, as was soil and even oxygen. I never knew what altitude sickness is until I reflected on the headache upon waking up, and how it could only be minimally assuaged with some Sabah tea during breakfast.
Now, as I look behind me, I see the warm lights of the lodge and they seem very far away. And very small. Maybe the sheer height itself made me light-headed. I felt that no matter how many breaths of air I took in, it did not reach my legs which were working very hard for me. It would be “pant, pant, pant, one step. Pant, pant, pant, another step”.
The exposed surface of the cliff gave the wind no obstruction in trying to freeze the climbers in their own sweat that they worked out while taking baby steps towards the summit.
Maybe it was the wind that was taking away my breathable air. I do not remember how many times I stopped to sit on a protruding piece of igneous rock that resembled a bench on the cold hard surface of the mountain. It helped that Cheeks was with me on this, as the spirit can reassure each other to carry on.
I would have loved to carry on the mundane task of telling my leg to take the next step, while letting my eyelids droop and open them only when my head smacks into the sign that says I’ve reached the summit. But to do that would risk straying off the path marked by the rope, and I could have fallen flat on my face tripping over uneven layers of rock.
You know the tongkat and climber are inseparable when the climber goes through great pains to retrieve it. My tongkat slipped from my hand and slid a few meters down. At first I was worried if it would stop sliding at all! Fortunately for some cracks in the rocky surface, it was lying platitudinous in the crack. Though the thought of back tracking was daunting, especially when looking at the bright lights at the summit and knowing how far more there was to go, it had to be done.
After many more baby steps, and what seemed like a very long time, Cheeks exclaimed “we’ve reached!”It was 6am. We took 3 and a half hours to reach the summit from our starting point at the Laban Rata.
I perched on a rock for a long time, catching my breath. Somehow at the top, the air did not seem so hard to breathe any more. Even though the wind was strongest there, threatening to blow off any one who dared to open a sail in the windward direction, it did not affect the psyche of one who has just summited.
Just in time to see a faint orange line emerge in the distance, from where we stood.
Nature paints beautifully on a million-megapixel canvas. The gentle azure of the sky illuminated by rays of the sun and the cold dark rocky surface of the ground level sandwiched the warm streak of dawn, as if cradling a child in its infancy with great care, making sure it develops into a healthy lifeform.
All the checkpoints, all the altitude-linked dizzy spells, the chilly winds, culminated to this point in our trip. The purpose of us having come to Kota Kinabalu. When Aaron and Liong Koon arrived shortly after, we took our time in basking in the fast emerging sun’s rays, admiring not just the crimson ball of fire that would soon put an end to our battle with the cold, but also the shadow that was formed by the peak blocking the sunlight from the east. It was nature’s pyramid, that even the mighty sun could not reach.
We sat and watched the sunrise in silent admiration, more from the fatigue of the climb than anything. But more so, it was the grim thought that what we spent 2 days doing, we would have to do that and more in our descent from Mount Kinabalu…
Aaron thinks that by conquering this peak, we have gone through a rite of passage. We can call ourselves men! I beg to differ, and argue that unless we become fathers, we will always be boys and proud of it.
Perhaps one day when my child asks me, “Dad, how do I climb a mountain?”, I would answer with a hint of encouragement in my eyes and say, “Why, you do it one step at a time of course, my dear!”
