Shmidts do South East Asia

Climbing South East Asia’s highest mountain: Mount Kinabalu

Tuesday 22nd:

We got up at 6am to head to the bus station, which was just a stretch of road next to a playing field. Strangely enough, there weren’t any buses, nor could anyone tell us when, or if, one would come. We ended up having to catch a minibus, the 2 hours or so to the mountain. We shared this with 2 Malaysian girls, taking a break from uni to climb the mountain, which is the highest in South East Asia I have you know. During our very bumpy, windy slow journey, we received a puncture to the front passenger tyre. Our driver just hopped out and headed for the bushes. He shortly returned with a number of large rocks, fair sized ones, not the sort kids would throw at each other. He placed them under the van, under the wheel, and simply reversed and reversed, until the rocks were under the axle. This lifted the wheel off the ground, enough to fit the new tyre. With the bald spare attached and reasonably secure, we were on the road again, to the ironic cheers of the loutish British tourist. The whole textbook procedure had only taken less than 5 mins, not bad I thought, as he had had to find the rocks. Looking back, I had never seen a spanner or wrench at all, how strange. I even think a fully laden paddle steamer could have overtaken us, but we finally arrived. We headed straight to the reception. We checked our large packs into the store and headed to the tourist office. Here we had to pay for: a guide (I use this in it’s loosest term), insurance, conservation fee, permit to travel up the mountain. It must be “create a job for jobs sake” month across Malaysia. There was someone for this, someone for that, see them, see her. Shame there wasn’t someone to clean the human excrement from the male facilities…..they were probably too busy playing with the rubber stamp or photocopier, or they were just waiting for the pair, one of which was holding the dustpan, and the other the brush, to move onto the more complex mop and bucket, maybe a third person was required? Next we headed to the transportation department, to quench our transportation needs. We must have spoken to the CEO, as not only could he achieve this task on his own, but he was also wearing shoes. Funnily enough, there were two others dealing with another tourist. The charade was not over yet, as we had to go to another building to collect our packed lunch. Armed with our day packs we boarded the van to the start which was 2 minutes away (I told you, jobs for jobs sake).
We were travelling up as a group of 4, the 2 Malaysian girls and us. We would be travelling 6KM’s today, to the Laban Rata rest stop. 6KM doesn’t sound much, but I forgot to mention, it was vertical, in jungle heat and humidity. The paths were a variety of rock, mud, timber walkways and steps. Where it had been raining it was very slippery. The plan was for the guide (not sure of his name, as I had never been introduced to him, to be at the back, and to move us along at the required rate. So I thought I’d go point man and set the pace. I chose a pace knowing what Sarah’s like, and thought that the 2 young Malaysian girls, untouched by the evils of Grandad’s medicine and prescription drugs (in some peoples cases at the same time) would easily cope. I was wrong. Unknown to me one had asthma, and the other an old field hockey injury from private school in Germany. I was off, packed lunch in tow. It didn’t take long before I peered inside the luncheon presentation box, my first mistake. My second soon followed, I ate the lot within the first 15-20 mins. This was a near fatal mistake, as it would take me 5 hours to do the first 6KM to the overnight rest stop. I pushed on, unaware of the consequences, and was ticking off the rest stations as they came and went. It was very hard going, a lot harder than I ever thought. Mount Kinabalu is rated 7 out of 10 on the hardness scale, below the dark destroyer Nigel Ben.
Around the 4KM mark, I thought I was delusional and started seeing things. I thought I was at the battle of Kawagoe. It was October, yes that’s right, October 1545. There was a 85,000 strong Japanese army marching up a steep hill to attack Kawagoe Garrison. There was a distinctive chatter of the General to his troops, and the click, click, click of metal on a hard surface. As soon as I had come out of my trance, and back into the real-ish World again, I found out it was much worse……there was an 8-10 man crack-hardened tourist unit, from the Japanese P.H.O.T.O company light inventory. Very well trained in the art of surprising. They would use a high powered flash distraction system, to render their subject useless, then with the upper hand, summon the rest of their troop / tourists, to finish the job. Poor little birdie, just the wrong branch at the wrong time. After stepping to one side and letting the commander unit through, I made my way slower and slower upwards. I reached my destination around 3pm, just 5 hours after starting, I was wiped out. Sarah popped in about half an hour later. We had a look at the drinks menu and saw that a small can of beer was 25 thingy’s, which is £5 in proper money. T-Total it was that evening. A meal, buffer style, and free tea and coffee were the evening’s entertainment, before sharing a 4 person dorm with a pleasant Australian couple on their honeymoon. We offered to leave the room, bu they were having none of it.

P.S. If you’re wondering, the 85,000 strong Japanese failed in their attempt to overcome the 3,000 strong force at the Garrison. It was May 1546 when they gave up. See, it’s not the size that counts, it’s how you use it.

Wednesday 23rd:

After going to bed at 8pm the night before, we were up early, 2am to be correct. We had the remaining 2.5KM’s to the summit. This was much harder, as the rain during the previous night made everything wet and slippery. We were heading up so early, so we would be there for sunrise at about 6.30ish. Head-torch’s on, we headed out into the cold and dark. You knew you were near the top, as not only could you see it, but it was freezing. I managed to get to the top about 6am, after leaving about 3.15am, fuelled by local coffee and rice from the previous nights’ dinner plates. I was frozen by the time my wonderful girlfriend arrived about 30 minutes later, just in time for the sunrise. What a shame it was too clouded over to see anything! Someone else’s guide told us to count ourselves luck it wasn’t windy or rainy. Our descent was a lot tougher. It’s alright pulling yourself up wet rock face on a rope, but going down it would prove interesting. Eddy the Eagle would have loved it, but I was hanging on for dear life. Although I do think we would have had something in common, we would have both let go, but my hands would be firmly on the rope. Back to the relative safety of the Laban Rata resthouse, I say relative safety as breakfast was being served. Our morning meander up to the summit and back had taken us almost 5 hours, and we were certainly awake by now. My breakfast consisted of rice and noodles (the same as earlier) plus hard scrambled eggs, fake sausage and some eggy bread. Several cups of local coffee would lubricate the roughage. Heartburn in tow, me and my ever-struggling explorer headed the 6KM back down. With the 5 hour trek already under our armpits and cascading down our backs, we headed off. We had already said goodbye to our Malaysian chums, so we were on our own. It was very warm, even at 8.39am, so we were taking things slowly. It wasn’t long before we heard the unison marching of the crack commanding unit of P.H.O.T.O company Japanese light inventory tourists. We could see in their faces their objectives were achieved in wrecking people’s holidays, and wildlife’s lives with their light pollution. Once they had passed, it strangely enough went quiet. That was until the distinctive shrill of an Australian woman was heard. She was with her husband and son. It was nice really, as they were at our pace, and just wanted a lazy wander down. The 4 hour journey raced by with the stories of their travels, work and shit. I even found out her oldest son has size 10 feet, and her daughter (of which she only has one) has a four inch gash…….to her leg. At the bottom, once we had finally made it, we collapsed. We got our taxi back to the HQ of the charity “Give someone a job and bring your friend to give you a hand”. With five people fetching our large packs, we headed to the bus stop. We were both extremely tired after our 9 hour trek. 100 meters from the bus stop, a coach pulled in and people were boarding. Sarah enquired to me whether that was our bus to Sepilok? I looked at her and said “How am I meant to ****ing know?!” Fearing we would have to wait hours for another bus if this was ours, I was off like a whippet after it’s morning ablutions. I reached the guy in time, but was so exhausted that no words came out. He said to me “Sepilok”? I nodded. He said “30 thingys”. I nodded. He said “ Just the one of you”? I nodded. Then I heard Sarah shouting that she was coming, then slapped me and told me to stop being so dramatic. Wedged into the last two seats available, we headed the 4 hours to Sepilok. We were dropped off on the corner of the main road and our bags handed to us. After the coach moved off, we looked around, there was nothing, apart from a random man who shouted from across the road. “You want taxi, you want taxi ride?” This may be one of the most famous places in the World to repair broken down orang-utans, but there is nothing here. We counted maybe 4 or 5 hotels / hostels / resorts, and no restaurants or bars. We asked the guy to take us to the cheapest place and ended up at “Sepilok B & B”, probably the cheapest as it didn’t end in hotel or resort. There was no-one in any other rooms, or Sepilok itself. We chose Sepilok over Sandakan as it was closest to the airport, and we would be flying out on Friday. Tomorrow we are heading to see the orang-utans.

Source: http://www.getjealous.com/thrillerinmanila/journal/1882404/climbing-south-east-asia039s-highest-mou.html

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Bldg 6460 Clark Observatory Building
Manuel A. Roxas Highway corner A Bonifacio Ave,
Angeles Clark Freeport Zone, Pampanga 2023
0922-870-5173 0917-826-8790 (ask for Ana Fe)

Wine@Yats-International.com

YATS Wine Cellars
Manila Sales Office
3003C East Tower, Phil Stock Exchange Center,
Exchange Rd Ortigas Metro Manila, Philippines 1605
(632) 637-5019 0917-520-4393 ask for Rea or Chay

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