Part 53: The Summit......
After the huge breakfast of eggs, sausages, pancakes and rice in the lodge, we followed our guide towards the main pathway leading up to the summit - we were amongst the last to leave trying to avoid any congestion on the narrow trail and already way behind our schedule.
My legs were really aching and stiff from the the first part of the climb yesterday, and the cold certainly did not help with that whatsoever - I was feeling more like an old creaking car in the morning, waiting to warm up and it took quite a while to get into a decent rhythm.
Here the steps were far steeper than I'd imagined - each was at least waist height and very treacherous.
I carefully planted my feet to get a good balance then slowly stepping upwards bit by bit. We were warned by our guide that this was a really challenging part, and believe you me he was not kidding.
Even at this particular stage people were turning around, suffering from altitude sickness and exhaustion.
I was just about holding out, but my chest was definitely tightening, once out of breath, it was so much harder to recapture it - all sorts of doubt started creeping into my mind.
There was not a great deal to see at this stage apart from the climber in front - it was pitch black and the moon was covered by thick clouds, stopping it from illuminating the night sky. The freezing cold wind chill was biting any exposed skin as well as my damp sweaty back.
But goodness knows how my climbing buddies were feeling. Looking at Steve, my Tasmanian friend in just his T-shirt was almost to painful. He was now shivering profusely - Tracey and Aaron did not fair much better either.
I found it increasingly difficult to catch my breath, but a bottleneck on another set of steep wooden steps forced us to keep a slow pace climbing in single file, giving us all a much needed respite.
Soon after, I finally find my rhythm once more, and as if in a trance, I steadily climbed the mighty mountain for a further hour or so before the pathway began levelling off slightly to be replaced by a slippery slate rock face.
A fine spray rain was blowing horizontally in my face, making visibility really difficult, and still the temperature continued to plummet - this was fast becoming a struggle now. Seems my prayers for dry weather were ignored as the rain pour worsened.
We reached a point where we had to pull ourselves up with a guide rope and looking over to my right was a sheer drop disappearing behind misty clouds - one slip here and you'd be in serious trouble!
My cheap soaking wet woollen gloves were completely useless so I threw them away.
Barely able to feel my fingers, the soaking wet rope cut into my skin, but I still gripped as tightly as I could.
Kinabalu’s sheer granite face became near vertical as we gained altitude with water streaming down the rocks. Scores of people were turning around and suddenly we were faced with a really tough decision.
Whilst the guides and rangers consulted, we noticed a small wooden hut just ahead, and quickly made our way inside shielding us from the now pouring rain.
Soaked through to my underpants, I counted 22 people crammed inside the damp hut no bigger than a garden shed where we decide to wait, and huddled all around me were cold wet and concerned hikers. Conversations in at least 5 different languages took place with the common subject of what to do - continue? or turn back?
Whatever the decision it would have meant facing the wind and rain either way.
There we all waited, shivering to the bone, before almost one by one everyone seemed to take the decision to turn back. Apart from a tough looking Austrian couple who seemed completely unfazed at the prospect of carrying on and surprisingly, two young Japanese girls who despite looking freezing cold were also in no mood to surrender to the weather.
Aaron my German friend was in agony and could barely move he was so cold, teeth chattering, shoulders hunched, his preference was to turn back.
Tracey once more tried rallying us and persuaded Aaron to continue, suggesting we stick together and endure the cold, whilst reminding us we were at 3800 meters above sea level.
'Come on guys' she shouted in her Canadian accent.
'We are so close'
And with that we reluctantly headed back out. Thankfully the rain had relented slightly but it was still seriously hard work.
The trail was more like a waterfall now and my feet were freezing cold and wet from the rain - it was a slow process taking even more care not to lose our footing.
As if things weren't hard enough Tracey's task was made all the more difficult, with the sole off her shoe coming away. She was one tough cookie and a worthy expedition leader. None of us were experienced climbers but we just kept going, reaching the most dangerous section yet - an angled slippery slate rock face.
I pulled myself up with great effort using ropes still thankful for the darkness concealing the long drop into oblivion.
It was cold, dark, soaking wet - seriously exhausted and began wondering if we would ever reach the summit - every step is excruciating. My legs ached and my heart raced. I looked down to see a line of lights winding below and I'm thankful that at least we were further along than they. appeared to be
At this stage I remember very little, heads bowed we continued upwards, I started zoning out and digging deep.
This wasn't the place or time to really panic and I just started thinking of what ever I could to take my mind off the cold.
The pathway was even more like a waterfall and you had to literally sink your feet in deep to secure your balance, before very carefully taking the next step upwards - I was numb and exhausted.
Sadly we didn't hold out much hope of seeing the sunrise through the dense grey clouds, we were to close to giving up, but having come so far that would have been a bitter pill to swollow!.
Breathlessly, we stumble up the last obstacle of precarious, slippery jagged rocks and arrive at the top in darkness wondering 'is this it?' It was still too dark to be certain.
To be honest I was at my limit now and couldn't take much more.
After verifying with the guide that yes we were finally at the summit on Lows peak, I jostle for a good position, careful not to take a wrong step and fall into the deep canyon and we all perch ourselves on the edge of a rock facing east.
Almost overcome with emotion and sheer relief, I realise that there is another hour until sunrise. Huddling together, we wrap anything that we can find around our legs and shoulders to protect us from the freezing air but, nothing helps and we shiver in the cold.
Finally, good news, the sun rays break out from below the horizon, lighting up the sky through the cloud, making it even more spectacular and warming our chilled bones, then revealing the most magnificent view. Surrounded by the vast mountains of Borneo I look into the plunging valley, full of awe, full of pride and full of hope.
This dwarfed any of the other mountains I'd climbed before, made all the more difficult with the weather and our appallingly unsuitable rag tag equipment and shoddy clothing - I am amazed that we even made it.
Cold, soaking wet, aching, tired and emotional, we snap the obligatory photos of us standing at the summit of Mount Kinabalu – 4895 meters high!!!
We hugged each other, unbelievably we conquered the fabled peak of Borneo and suddenly we realize there us nothing left to do but to walk back down, although we wanted to milk and savour every last second, after what we all went through to get here.
Goodness me I thought that the walk up was difficult, but the walk down is twice as gruelling. Every single step jolted my knees!!
I now fully appreciate why they say that going down is the hardest part. My legs cramp tighter with each step, and the distance seems to be endless. I no longer marvel at the stunning vistas and panoramic views facing us. All I want is to get off of this mountain, and get back to the warmth.
With the final cruelty of painstaking steep steps leading back to the laban rata lodge - I realise that the soaking wet clothes were all I had left until I reached the hostel. Looking back the grey clouds appeared to be chasing us down the mountain so we did our best to quicken our pace.
It was our turn now to see the new nervous and expectant climbers heading up, knowing exactly what awaited them, I understood now why no one spoke to us on the way up.
After what seemed like eternity, we finally come to the end. The sight of our mini van waiting for us brings an overwhelming sense of relief to know that I will soon be sitting down and we all plunge into the seats feeling proud of our accomplishments - It is amazing how quickly the mind forgets pain. We were on the bus back to Kota Kinabalu.
As the mountain vanishes behind us in the distance, I once more spare a moment in thought for the ancient and blessed love the Malays have for Mount Kinabalu.
Rich in history and legend I was proud to have conquered its fabled peak...