The Climb
One foot in front of another. Left, right, breathe; left, right, breathe; left, right, breathe, and break. You notice that your thinking is beginning to slow down, just like your steps. It seems like we’ve been walking up these stairs forever, though it’s probably only been a few minutes. When was the last rest stop? You can’t even remember what it looked like – did we get water there, or was it the one before that? No matter now. Only thing to remember is to put one foot in front of the other. Left, right, breathe; left right, breathe. That’s how you get to the top.
I guess we're climbing to the top of the world now.
Of course, what you can remember is how this all came to be. You showed up on this island with no plans whatsoever; you knew what you wanted to do and where you wanted to do it, and figured that you’d get the details sorted out when you arrived. Of course, this kind of backfired on you – as usual, being the somewhat organized person that you are, you realize too late that you should have planned it better so that you didn’t have to spend five days in some one-horse town in the middle of Borneo. What a waste of time. Nice malls, though,
Yeah, yeah, whatever. I guess you missed your calling as a travel agent.
As usual, Rachel pulled us through it and got it figured out. It never ceases to amaze you how she can prod, poke, and cajole you into doing what needs to be done, whether you feel particularly like doing it or not. In this case, you were the one who did the phoning to all the diving schools and mountain guides in Borneo, but she found the numbers for you to call and told you what to ask them. You weren’t all that thrilled about having eighteen different conversations with English-as-a-second-language teleoperators, but after two hours of this you had the entire trip through Borneo completely figured out, so that was great, actually – even if our trip funds had taken a substantial hit. Guess these ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ experiences (or so the travel agents will tell you) are only available to folks with means, eh?
But regardless of the cost of it, after a brief, windy, and sickening car ride in the back of a minibus with no suspension to speak of (and a bus driver who had two speeds: pedal to the medal or brakes to the mat), you found yourself in a rainforest at 1800 meters, buying pink gloves that look like they were made of tissue paper and warm wishes, for the freezing temperatures that you were assured you would encounter on the peak of Mount Kinabalu.
Ah, Mount Kinabalu. Why were we doing this, again? I mean, sure, you like hiking as much as the next guy, but the whole ‘getting-up-at-6-and-then-hiking-up-5-kilometers-straight-uphill-and-then-sleeping-and-then-getting-up-at-2-am-to-hike-the-remaining-3-still-straight-uphill-to-get-to-the-top-of-a-freezing-mountain-so-we-can-hike-back-down-again-all-while-battling-altitude-sickness’ thing doesn’t exactly sound like a hoot, does it?
No, it really doesn’t. But still, there are only like three things to do in Borneo, and this is definitely one of those ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ things that the travel agencies talk about, so you put one foot in front of the other. Left, right, breathe; left, right, breathe.
Like, who does did this guy think he was impressing as he ran past me carrying a door? Certainly not me. I could definitely do that twice a day. For sure.
Maybe you’re just a little butthurt because every once in a while on this climb, you see Malaysian porters passing you while carrying all sorts of bonkers shit like solid wood doors, aluminum framing, or tanks of diesel. Our guide tells us that these guys make around 6-7 Malaysian Ringgits (around $1.50 USD) per kilogram. So, if one of those doors weighs around 20 kilos (45 lbs), these poor bastards are making around $28 dollars US for a day’s work. Or at least, that’s what you’ve calculated in your head to see if your brain still works at this altitude. You check on your calculator, just to be sure. Yep, still good, guess most of the brain cells are still intact!
Admittedly, the clouds were pretty cool.
Left, right, breathe; left, right breathe; left, right, breathe; on and on it goes, up the mountain. At first you didn’t feel the altitude much – after all, 1800 meters still feels quite a bit like sea level. But now you’re approaching the 3200-meter point and the slowness in your breathing and your mind is becoming noticeable. You know this not because of any critical thinking on your part, but because the morning crowds who were climbing down the mountain from the night before have now dispersed and you’ve passed through a litany of rainforest, cloud forest, and now an evident thinning of foliage. You want to slow down, to stop, but every time you do that it’s so much harder to get started again that it makes it completely not worth it. So you keep pressing ahead – left, right, breathe.
There it is! Finally, the lodge looms over the next rise. You thought this was never going to end. You trudge up to the old building, get the key to your (unheated!!) four-person dorm you’re sharing with a pleasant Swiss-French couple, and sit down for a filling dinner and the worst Guinness you’ve ever tasted (honestly, who drinks Extra Stout!?).
They built this lodge completely with stuff that little Malaysian dudes hauled up the mountain.
After bedding down at the completely reasonable hour of about 7:30 PM, you set in for what would be a freezing cold night if it weren’t for the warm body beside you, and your alarm set for 2:30AM. You go to sleep that night not by counting sheep, but instead by counting steps – left, right, breathe.
***********
Up. Left, right, breathe. Bathroom. Toothbrush. GAH! Cold water. Really cold. Wake up. Splash on face OOOOOKAY NOW I’m up!
You slept surprisingly good, despite the cold, and are as ready as you suppose you could be to hike this bitch. You’re wearing literally every layer of clothing that you possess and could fit on at one time, but it’ll have to be enough.
You’ve never really been a fan of this whole hiking in the dark thing. Like, you see the appeal of seeing the sunrise, but fumbling up a mountain in the pre-dawn light, battling fog and wind and whatever else nature decides to throw at you just seems like poor planning, really.
That said, your rhythm is good as you pass all the crowds heading out for the peak, and your group really hits their stride as you get to the 1/3 mark of today’s uphill. From here on up, it’s a bit of a scramble up a sheer, wet, rock face, but you’re in good shape so far and there are guide ropes if you really need them so no worries. The altitude doesn’t seem as bad today as it does yesterday – it’s still omnipresent, but maybe you’re dealing with it better? Or it’s the altitude sickness meds you bought. Or maybe you just killed so many brain cells in yesterday’s hike that you’re just dumber now so you can’t feel it as much anymore. Probably the latter.
Left, right, breathe. The climb up the rock face to the saddle between peaks goes smoothly. Looks like you’d be the first guys up, if it weren’t for some batshit crazy Malaysian climber who basically laps you as you struggle up to the beginning of the final stretch. But that unfortunate little occurrence is nothing next to the wind and the fog you’re encountering now. It was probably a few degrees above freezing down at the lodge, but up here with the wind chill you think we’re flirting with snow, to be honest. Hopefully the clothes you’re wearing will be enough.
Almost there!
Left, right, breathe, shiver. The next part of the climb, the last third of the uphill, is probably the most difficult; traversing rocky plains and boulder fields through the dark fog and mist, with biting wind hitting you at every turn. You’re a little worried about frostbite, but you keep your worries to yourself for now – a little frostnip won’t kill you, and like hell if you’re going to turn around now, with the sun almost up anyway. You’re almost there! Just a few more meters, a few more boulders; left, right, breathe.
The highest I've ever been in my life. Note our pretty pink gloves we bought in the gift shop.
You know when you’re at the top not because of the sign that proudly exclaims “Summit of Mount Kinabalu, 4190.2 meters elevation,” or the aforementioned batshit-crazy Malaysian climber greeting you, but because of the immediate gale-force wind that almost knocks you flat on your ass and sends you back down the trail you just left-right-breathed up. What a glorious peak! Well, you assume anyway – a bit hard to tell in the dark. You’d love to spend more time up there to confirm, but unfortunately you value your fingers and toes, both of which are in danger of falling off. Plus, the fog isn’t making for very good photos anyway.
Well...that's pretty.
You start your descent. It doesn’t take long, maybe only one or two hundred meters (300-600 feet) before the cold from the summit subsides, and you can sit down and marvel at the glorious sunrise unfolding before your eyes. It was difficult to comprehend your accomplishment while your lizard brain was yelling, “left-right-LEAVE,” at you at the peak, but as the sun breaks over this beautiful, barren, alpine vista, you begin to think that maybe this hiking in the dark thing was excellent planning after all.
Done it!
Hasn't hit us that we have to go back down yet.
Of course, after all the high-altitude exertion, you might just be a simpleton now, too. But if pretty light shows and all this natural beauty make you this pleased with yourself, you supposed you can deal with some altitude-induced simplicity.
Now, if only your simple ass could be as tickled about the upcoming 11-kilometer (7 mile) hike back down! Oh, well, you know what they say – what goes up…must go left, right, breathe; left, right, breathe; left, right, breathe.
