On August 20th my cousin Lara and I set off to climb Mount Kinabalu in Borneo, carrying with us all we would need for our adventure, plus a heavy load of apprehension. We woke up at 5.30am for a two hour drive from Sabah to the National Park gate, where we met our guide Damson and registered for the climb. At 9am, we began to walk up uneven steps through the rainforest, already counting down the minutes until we would be allowed to stop. There was a rest stop every couple of kilometres where tree shrews and ground squirrels would try to steal our snacks. One even savagely scratched me in an effort to eat my precious snickers bar. Thankfully, Lara fended it off and we continued on our way, relatively unharmed.
After about 5 hours of climbing the vegetation began to thin out, and we were able to look down to Sabah from the lofty heights of Mount Kinabalu, realising how far from civilisation we had come. At this daunting moment, the heavens opened and it started to rain. Finding no shelter, we had no choice but to carry on through the elements.
At 4.30 pm we finally reached the Laban Rata basecamp hostel where we met our roommates – a chinese malay girl called Denise with her English friend Julia, a chinese man named Chin, and a mystery man who was asleep the whole time. We had our pot noodles in the dining room, having been warned by relatives that the hostel food would give us food poisoning! Despite this, we couldn’t avoid illness altogether and Lara came down with altitude sickness. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and feverish, and decided not to make the summit ascent.
As there was no hot water, we climbed straight into our bunks to pass out, wearing all the clothes we had brought for warmth. Lara had a rough night and was even cared for by an Australian lady she met in the toilets whilst I slept soundly.
At 2 am alarms started going off on phones across the hostel – our rest was over. I said goodbye to feverish Lara and met Damson downstairs after ‘early supper’. We set off at around 2.30 along with all the other climbers in what resembled a silent funeral procession through the darkness. I found a nice rhythm and actually felt my energy growing as we climbed higher. We finally reached the top at 6am as the light began to rise, and although the clouds blocked out the sunrise, we did get to see some stunning views on the way down. I felt a huge sense of achievement and relief.
Back at the base camp around 8.30, we met Lara who was rested and feeling better. I’d thought the worst was over – but I was wrong. The descent proved to be far harder than the way up, and with every step my legs became more and more like overcooked string beans. A thunderstorm started during the last 2km, washing us home in biblical style. We were glad to have reached the bottom but also felt a sense of sadness in saying goodbye to the beautiful mountain. It was an incredible experience!
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