On our way to the Kinabalu Park HQ. Would be lying if I said I wasn’t a teensy weensy bit worried. Yeah, I read lots of blogs about Mount Kinabalu but hey, you never know okay. Worried about being up there in the mountain, vulnerable to the elements, at the mercy of the spirits. We didn’t have an appropriate sacrifice to appease the gods of the mountains either – no chicken wings or ribs or anything, so yeah, I was worried.
After registering at the HQ, we met our guide who was apparently also going to be our porter. He was incredibly shy and TINY. I wondered how in the world he was going to be able to lug our three humongous bags, which must’ve weighed close to 20kgs in total … plus his own bag some more. Oh my god.
Took a bus from the HQ to Timpohon Gate. Registered and got our tags (you know, so they can identify us in case they find a body or something) and off we went!
In all honesty, the hike was pretty easy. The crudely constructed ‘stairs’ can be a little steep at times but as long as you paced yourself, you were fine. We pretty much ate throughout the whole way. Apples. Cheese sandwiches. Fried chicken. Really expensive energy bars. Really gross energy gels. You name it, we ate it. I drank a lot too. And so, had to make a stop at every pondok. I also took pictures at every pondok. Haha. I believe in celebrating achievements no matter how lame.
This was Pondok Nombor Satu …
… Pondok Nombor Dua …
… Pondok Nombor Tiga … Empat, Lima, Enam …
… um, you get the picture …
The higher you go, the landscape starts to gradually change and the temperature drops.
The air is fresh, pleasantly chilly and it gets all misty, which was really beautiful because it was almost like you were entering another world.
There were some parts which were all muddy and rocky, but they were still manageable. We thanked our lucky stars that the weather was fine all morning. In fact, it was absolutely gorgeous weather, which made the climb so much more fun.
We passed many other climbers (or rather, they passed us) and guides and porters (okay okay, so they passed us – whoosh) … it’s amazing how much stuff these porters can carry and they’re all tiny! Like a third of the size of a typical Big Mac guzzling angmoh. The porter in the above picture is a woman who looked about fifty (!!!) and there were a number of little kids – no older than 13 – who were lugging huge fancy-schmancy backpacks at RM7 per kg. Wow.
Along the way, we had to make way for some guides who were carrying a guy down on a stretcher (!!!!!!!!). Apparently, he had been up on the summit that morning when he slipped, fell, whacked his head real hard on the rocks and broke his leg. He was bandaged up and in real bad shape. Gulp. We looked at each other and plodded on. Don’t. Say. Anything. Very pantang one.
While the trail itself wasn’t terribly difficult, non-stop ascending does eventually take a toll on you as the hours go by.
Our legs began to feel a little sore as we approached the fifth hour of climbing. But the scenery was transforming before our very eyes and I guess that kinda distracted us from the fact that our legs were starting to sorta feel like they were going to detach themselves at the knees.
At one point, the trees began to turn all black, dried up and gnarly; it was like being surrounded by an army of skinny old (evil) men. It was quite surreal. A veritable jungle of horrors … and speaking of horrors. That was when things started to unravel.
I felt a … (cue scary chainsaw-massacre-type music) … RAINDROP. My heart sank into my hiking shoes. The last thing we wanted was rain (!!!!) … I quickly pulled on my Lafuma wind-resistant, water-resistant, everything-resistant rain jacket whatchamacallit and tucked my camera right into the pocket. And then, IT POURED. It poured fierce.
Needless to say, I didn’t take any pics at that point because I was trying hard not to slip on the rocks, fall off the mountain and die. I also didn’t want to get my camera wet (duh). It was then that I learned how important it was to waterproof EVERYTHING. Everything’s gotta be waterproof – your jacket, your pants, your bag, your socks, your shoes (are there such things as waterproof socks and shoes?). We were all soaked to the bone!!! And freezing half to death. We climbed and climbed and there seemed to be no end in sight. I swear my legs were going to fall off and roll down the mountain right into the gnarly trees.
After climbing for what seemed like FOREVER, I spotted the tip of what looked like a roof from a distance. Oh my god!!! Laban Rata!!!!! Finally!!! Infused with a sudden newfound energy, I dragged my sorry ass up the rocks … ah, in a few moments, I’ll be out of these drenched clothes and snuggled up in a nice, heated guesthouse and … argh!!! It wasn’t Laban Rata but $#%@#^%!@# Waris Hut. I knew because I saw the sign which said in big bold yellow letters: WARIS HUT. #%#@$#@%!!!! Another pondok!! Obviously, I wanted to kill myself right there and then. Unfortunately, my fingers were so frozen from the cold that I could hardly wrap them around my chocolate bar, let alone around my neck.
We huddled in the miserable little pondok while the sky thundered and continued to pour torrents of rain down on us. It was merciless. I began to wonder if we’d wind up sleeping here in Waris Hut that night. We willed the rain to stop but obviously, our will was pathetic because it rained even harder. After a long while, we decided oh heck it, we’ll continue in the rain. Who cares. We were all wet anyway.
And so we did. And it took us a grand total of … (drum roll please) … two minutes to reach Laban Rata. Finally! We were there!!! We were so happy, we took all these nice pictures.
This was the amazing view from the balcony. It was so cold I could stay out long enough only to snap a couple of shots before we dashed in to fill our famished tummies.
Laban Rata was no five-star joint but it was cosy enough. I guess anything that even remotely resembled civilisation would’ve looked grand after 6 hours of climbing … in the freezing rain.
This is a pic of us in our room. Okay, here’s the truth:
1. There are three double-decker beds and you’ll wind up bunking in with other people (whoever the girl at reception feels like pairing you with, I guess)
2. The heater is only turned on at 8pm. Problem was, we hardly noticed it when 8pm lolled around because the heater hardly worked! We continued to freeze.
3. They told us there’s heated water – they lied. It was evil. We nearly died in the shower. There are also only two shower stalls so you may have to line up.
4. The mattress was tough, the sheet kept coming off and the pillows were made of cement.
5. There are no cabinets, shelves, hooks, etc so everything goes right on the floor.
THE SUMMIT (NOT)
The pictures you’re about to see were not taken by yours truly, but by my dear friend Siew Fun. Why, you ask? Because unlike her, I didn’t summit. Ya ya, I know, how can? After all the trouble and going all the way, etc etc etc, why not la? In one word: I don’t want to talk about it. Okay, so that was like seven words but hey, this is my blog and I can do whatever I want. Suffice to say that it had something to do with snoring (not mine la aiyo), pounding headache, insomnia, wet, cold, chicken, beanie, ear plugs and a short attempt at sleeping while standing up. Satisfied?
The point isn’t that I didn’t summit. The point is that Siew Fun did and she took lots of pictures and they were all fabulous!
Siew Fun’s climb experience in her own words, “It was freezing!! My fingers nearly fell off!! My gloves were soaked right through!! It was pitch black and I had no idea where I was going!! My headlight wasn’t bright enough!! Thank god the guide was there with his torchlight or I would’ve lost my way!! I should’ve brought a ski mask!! I may’ve looked like some bank robber but at least my face won’t turn to ice!!” [excessive use of exclamation marks all mine]
Once the sun fully rose at 5.30am, it was breathtaking. It was pretty crowded at the peak – coincidentally, it was Merdeka day that day. Siew Fun wasn’t being very patriotic; she didn’t bring her Jalur Gemilang to wave it around in front of all the pendatang asing (I know cos I dug around her bag the night before). After spending a grand five minutes freezing on the fourth highest point in SEA, she made her way down.
At 9.30am that morning, we bade bye-bye to Laban Rata and prepared our knees for the 6 hour hike down the mountain. Down, down, down we went …
… past the gnarly Valley of Death … the trees sneered at me. They taunted me for being a total chicken and not reaching the peak. They laughed at my fancy jacket and said I’d wasted all my money buying all this gear only to fail right when it mattered most. They also said I was a spoilt city girl who couldn’t even climb a tree, let alone the fourth highest peak in SEA. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah, they said. In retaliation, I threw a candy wrapper onto the ground (no la, I didn’t; I never litter. Besides, I was scared the mountain spirits might follow me home).
The hike down wasn’t too bad but it was tough on the knees. Some of the other hikers were surprised we didn’t have walking sticks. I really don’t think walking sticks are all that necessary unless you’re hurt or something. Anyways, I took the two pics above as I was nearing the exit … I liked them because they had such a fairy-like quality to them with the towering trees, thick mossy carpet, roots protruding right out of the orange earth and snaking their way across the path. With sunlight streaming through the trees, it was pretty magical. I half-expected little elves and pixies to appear somewhere …
… and ah, finally, we were out! By this time, our legs had turned to rubber and walking had become unpleasant, to say the least. We could see the Timpohon Gate already… but the crap part was, we had to climb some more stairs to get up to the gate. Aiyo, already climbed for so many hours yesterday and now, climb some more!! I was literally lifting my leg with my arm (try picturing that – haha) to position it on the next step. Left, right, left, right. Argh.
We hobbled into a waiting van and were driven back to HQ. It was nice to sit down. It was nice to stop walking. Once we reached HQ, we hopped into another van that would bring us back to the hotel in the city. And then …
… it POURED. Real fierce. Thank god we were out by that time!!! I’m writing this two weeks after returning from KK and if anyone were to ask me how my trip went, I’d tell them it was great. Sure, I didn’t summit, but it was still a really fantastic experience. I’m now stronger, wiser and have a pair of beautifully sculpted calves!
