We woke up early, beating the alarm clock we set at 6:00 a.m., so excited were we at the prospect of climbing Mt. Kinabalu. We made use of the extra time to pack our stuff into two sets, separating the ones we need for the two-day trek and the rest we'd leave behind at the Park Headquarters locker room. We were advised to travel light. Still, my backpack weighed over 25 kilos.
Aissa and I met our guide, Maiken, outside the Visitors' Centre, as arranged by our travel agency, the Borneo Eco-Tours. Park rules require mountain climbers to be accompanied by a registered guide. Each of us were also insured, another Park regulation. From the Visitors Centre Maiken's companion drove us to the starting point. We officially began our climb at 8:30 a.m. at the altitude of 5,000 ft. - Aissa, Maiken and I.
Just a few hundred meters from our starting point we came upon Carson's falls. It was pretty. Unfortunately my photo standing beside this waterfall was underexposed. Rainforests are really dark and humid because the thick canopy practically blocks the sunlight. There were ferns, mosses and orchids everywhere we looked - around the tree trunks, branches, on the roots, and on some dead rotting logs. Aissa and I had a ball taking each other's photo against this wild nature backdrop.
As we walked further the trail became steeper. This proved to be difficult for Aissa's stubby legs. In many ways it was like climbing a steep staircase, and occasionally a ladder. The trails were well made out. There were railings to hold on to, the steps were secured by wooden planks and steel pitons. There were also shelters or waiting sheds every half kilometer along the way where climbers can rest and replenish their water bottles from the water tanks. They also have toilets alongside these shelters. Directional signs and location markers informed us where we were.
Our new friend Takeshi and his guide, who started their climb at 9:00 a.m. caught up with us before we got to Km. 2. They hanged around us briefly then moved on. Other climbers, mainly Caucasians with much longer legs, also passed us. I found it hard to believe we were in a forest because we met so many climbers of various nationalities going up or down. Everybody was so friendly and we exchanged hellos as they came and went. There were Malaysians, Koreans, Japanese, Hong Kees, Singaporeans, Austrians, Britons, Australians, Americans, and whathaveyou's.
Our guide, a Dusun and native to these parts, is the quiet and shy type, but he becomes alive and animated whenever we meet a group accompanied by his fellow guides and porters. Dusuns in Sabah are the equivalent of our Ifugaos in the Mountain Province. They are the largest indigenous group here and regard the mountain as sacred. A lot of them work in the Park as mountain guides and porters, including their old women. They look over 50, have skinny, wiry frames but I've seen them carrying backpacks twice their size as if it were just dirty laundry.
We found Takeshi and the other climbers having lunch at a hut in Km. 4 at 8,400 ft. It was past one already when the three of us opened our packed lunch. By then Aissa and I were already too tired to talk, and it was with great effort that we willed ourselves to stand up and resume our trek. Maiken can be makulit (persistent) when it comes to bugging us to get going.
From the misty cloud forest and mossy forest we reached the bamboo forest. Here bamboo vines replaced the moss hanging from the tree branches. I saw my first pitcher plant growing beside a flowering orchid. Pitcher plants are rare and unique. They eat insects. I walk faster than Aissa so I took advantage of my 10-minute and 15-minute lead to rest while waiting for her to catch up. But if she saw me stopping, she'd sit and rest too, so I rested only when I'm out of her sight. It made a nice diversion, our little cat-and-mouse game.
At past 4:00 p.m. we were already at 9,500 ft. A group of Japanese joined us. When they learned we left the Park at eight that morning they all laughed, because they only started their climb after lunch. God, we're the laughing stock here cause everybody's faster than us. We made it to the last shelter just when it started to rain. The Japanese were there, huddled with three Malaysians and Sri Lankans who were on their way down. At 10,000 ft. we still had one kilometer to go to reach the Laban Rata Resthouse. We had to wait for 30 minutes for the shower to stop. I was secretly relieved for this chance to rest my sore legs. While waiting we chatted, shared our snacks and compared our climbing get-up. The Japanese had fitted raincoats for their backpacks. One of them was wearing the most colorful tights I've ever seen. To this he added and put on his red waterproof jacket and trousers. "Now you look like a fireman," I told him. One Malaysian noted the red parka I was wearing and exclaimed, "and what do you look like?" The rest chorused, "Little Red Riding Hood, of course."
When we resumed our climb the trail appeared more like a brook with all the rainwater gurgling down. At first I was worried that we might slip over the wet stones, but I realized their rough granite surface was slip-proof. We soon reached the alpine forest. In some parts where the strong winds blow the trees were stunted. Though they are a hundred years old poor soil made these dwarf trees looking more like bonsai and shrubs.
We finally made it to Laban Rata at Km 6 and 11,000 ft. at 5:30 p.m. We were the last to arrive. Several climbers who recognized us applauded our arrival. I felt like a conquering though badly battered champion as I waved both arms to everyone, "thank you, thank you." It took us eight hours to accomplish what everybody else did in six hours or less!
There were about 50 climbers at the dormitory, which happens to be the maximum capacity of Laban Rata. We were all sitting at the dining hall with its fantastic view of the summit, chatting, waiting for our food to be served, minding our own business when all of a sudden everybody dropped what they were doing, rushed upstairs to their rooms then scampered to the veranda with their cameras. A glorious sunset was slowly unfolding right before our very eyes and pretty soon we could only hear the clicking of cameras punctuated by ooohhhs and aaahhhs. I took three good shots myself with my mom's idiot camera using an ASA 400 film.
Takeshi joined us for dinner and the three of us had a good laugh when supper turned out to be the same menu we've been having for the past two days: sweet corn soup, vegetables in oyster sauce, chicken in oyster sauce and mixed seafood in oyster sauce. Takeshi was so hungry he managed to clean up everything, including our portions.
We shared our room with an Austrian couple in their 40s who don't talk much English. I couldn't sleep that night. First, it was freezing cold at about 10 degrees Celsius, and one of the Japanese in the next room made the strangest snoring sounds all night, morag gidaman nga gihubak (it seemed as if he was having a nightmare and an asthma fit at the same time).
We woke up at 2:00 a.m. for the earliest breakfast I ever had. Everybody else was already up, getting ready to resume the climb to the summit. The Japanese were fascinating to look at with their complete gear from ski masks to thick gloves and flashlights attached to headbands. Following the advice of the travel brochures, I put on warm layers. First, a t-shirt, then a sweater, then my photographer's vest and finally my red parka. For my legs I wore aerobics lycra tights underneath thick baggy pants plus two layers of thick socks. Unfortunately, the only gloves we could find in Kota Kinabalu were the Michael Jackson type where the fingertips were exposed. For my head, I wrapped a t-shirt around my face and secured it with a batik baseball cap. I learned this from my kid brother who likes to dress up as a ninja. I caught the Japanese teenagers snickering at me.
So up we go at 2:30 a.m. We were all in high spirits. Aissa, who doesn't smoke, even reminded me to bring cigarettes so she can light up a stick when we reach the summit. But minutes later her resolve weakened and she backed out when she saw the steep climb up ahead. Gosh, the trail changed from stairs to ladders. How are we supposed to manage that while holding our flashlight in one hand? So she went back to Laban Rata with Maiken. I had to continue the climb all by myself. One of the guides, Maiken's friend, was concerned about me and would stop each each time I paused to catch my breath. I urged him and his climbers not to mind me. "Anyway I'm insured." They laughed, "can we collect it?" one of them asked.
So there I was at 3:00 a.m., alone in the dark forest, working my way up at my own slow pace. I put away my flashlight to free both hands and was only relying on the light from the moon and stars. At least I'm not afraid of the dark or about being alone. Like everything else I do, it took me a while to get warmed up and get going. I was laboring and panting at the start of the climb but when my muscles got warm enough my movements came easier and faster. After one kilometer I caught up with the rest of the climbers. At this point the forest disappeared, replaced by an almost vertical rockwall which we had to climb using a thick rope. Maiken caught up with me here. Because the Japanese contingent had many women and senior citizens it took them a while to make this climb, I decided to leave them behind. The trail is literally gone, instead we have to follow the ropes laid out for the climbers. The moon was still in the crescent phase. It was eerie hiking on a big gray concrete valley in the glow of pale yellow light under a navy blue velvet sky studded with stars. I felt like I was half-consciously sleepwalking in someone else's dream.
Even though I can see the glimmer of lights of the Japanese behind me and of the others up ahead, I felt so alone up there. I joined a small group of Malaysians that included an 11-year old boy. Nobody spoke. Everybody was reluctant to disturb this dark stillness. To me it felt like we were climbing with no end in sight. Each time we approached a mound believing I am closer to the summit I find out another mound to cover and so on. This is because the actual summit can't be seen until one gets right there. Standing on an irregular slope it was easy to mistake the highest point for the summit. I imagine this is how one is deceived by a mirage in the dessert when anywhere I look around this rock plateau all I see were gray surfaces and dark shadows. I psyched myself by walking alongside the boy, thinking "If this boy can make it, so can I."
I didn't realize it then but the lack of oxygen at high altitude was also affecting our judgement, muscle coordination and concentration. Taking three to five steps at a time required a lot of mental effort. I observed the same lethargic effect on my fellow climbers. We would cover a two-meter distance in slow motion like zombies then flop down or lie on our backs to rest, then will ourselves to get up and get moving again.
Mt. Kinabalu has several peaks. We were supposed to reach the summit of Low's Peak, the highest point, in time to catch the sunrise. By the time I reached Km 8 with only a half kilometer left to go the sun was breaking out of the horizon already. When I did get to the base of Low' Peak all the will and energy were drained from me. I was not only tired physically. I was simply tired of everything. Of having to move, of having to take ten more steps. Maiken kept bugging me. I raised my arms in his direction and pleaded with him to carry me. Pleeeeasse? He just smiled back. I think my legs have gone to sleep because they refused to move with the rest of my body. So I just crawled on my arms and knees one rock, one boulder at a time. I alternated by crawling backwards with my arms and butt dragging my numb legs. Those who already reached the summit and were on their way back also tried to urge me. "C'mon, you can make it, just five more minutes." They all said that, "just five more minutes," when it took me 30 minutes to reach the peak. It was 6:30 a.m. when I finally made it to 13,455 ft, some 2.5 kilometers from Laban Rata where we started. That would be 45 minutes for the first kilometer and over three hours for the remaining 1.5 km.
There was a lot of activity at the peak. There was only a small spot by the summit marker to stand on and there was this long queue of climbers patiently taking turns to have their photo taken with this marker. One Dutch climber was so carried away by his enthusiasm he refused to leave the hallowed spot long after his photos were taken. From the impatient look in his face he looked like he wanted to shove everyone else out of the way so he could savor this moment alone. I don't remember what or how I felt. Numb, tired, drained of all emotion, empty. At one point all I could think of was "I want to go home, I want to go home."
On my way down a cold gust blew in. It was so cold it hurt to move my exposed fingers. I turned over my camera to Maiken after my forefinger froze when I tried to take a shot of the mountain. I pinched my nose and cheeks but it felt as numb as getting a shot of anesthesia by a dentist. I took off my second pair of socks and put these on my hands. Judging by the wrinkled noses and sour expression of the Taiwanese around me I think they found that act disgusting.
Going down was just as difficult, if not more. I prepped my body for this trip for the past two months by using the stairs up to my office in the eight floor several times a day, but failed to do the same going down. Didn't know that this involves a different set of leg muscles, and mine were out of shape. As I negotiated a soft slope or narrow step, my knees buckled under the weight of my body and backpack, while my front thighs and torso contracted to resist the pull of the gravity, lest I stumble forward. It was harder on my feet because the impact on my soles with each step was excruciating. This is what I get for using the elevator going down. Nope, no elevators here in Mt. Kinabalu. "Hey Maiken, what does that insurance cover if I can't move my legs anymore," I asked my guide. "You pay 1,000 ringgit (about P10,000) for the helicopter to get you," he said. "Okay, let's get moving!" I replied hastily.
I was reunited with Aissa at Laban Rata and we didn't waste any moment to hurry back to the Park. We started our descent at 11:15 a.m. Maiken told us it would take us about three hours, perhaps four if we're slow, to reach the Park. We were really sloooow. We made it in six hours and 30 minutes. Each step down was sheer torture as pain shot through my legs like an electric current. It was Aissa's turn to taunt me by walking ahead while I dragged myself. My legs were so numb from the pain I had trouble controlling them. If I go down too fast my legs would run, but if I rest too long they would lock in that position and wouldn't budge when I try to move them. I discovered that the trick is to keep moving, to keep the muscles warm and the circulation going.
I made it to the Park with all pieces of me intact. Tired as I was I did not forget to claim my certificate of accomplishment at the Park HQ. We made it to our cabin with me groaning, bitching and moaning about the pain all the way. We took a hot shower and proceeded to the canteen for dinner. It was another kind of soup with vegetables in oyster sauce, chicken in oyster sauce and mixed seafood in oyster sauce. After that trip Aissa abstained from oyster sauce for the rest of the year.