The, erm, Mountain
My happiness at driving 5 hours in the opposite direction to sealevel was short lived. We arrived at the town around Mt Kinabalu to a lack of humidity and the first comfortable weather of the trip. We packed day packs for the 400th time for our couple of days on the mountain and chatted endlessly about what was needed for walking for ages and altitude (apparently gas and ladies problems are two things not mentioned in the guidebooks about the affects of altitude.
Our night at the base camp was lullingly comfortable; wide bunks, warm showers, and endless cups of tea. All that was missing was the sauna and fresh Milk (Borneo is a big fan of creamer).
We had a leisurely start to the first day at 9 am and had 8ks to tackle. Piece of cake I thought, I could run that in 40mins. But alas it was not terrain for moving quickly, and my concerns about how my body would react to altitude made me slower than usual. The first 5 ks were pleasant, we chatted and walked and joked with our mountain guides we even stopped each k for a snack and loo break. The trail was exceedingly well marked; even though we had taken the less popular Mesilau trail (and extra 2ks).
At the 5k point it all started to go horribly wrong and I debated going back, crying or just sitting down and waiting to be rescued. First the rain started; we were in the middle of a rather large mountain which turns all paths into waterfalls – my shoes held up for about an hour and then became heavy bathtubs on my feet. A little after that it started getting dark and I sped up, leaving my walking buddies and mountain guides behind in the hope of a warm bed and the end of the trail. But it seemed to go on for forever as it got darker and darker and rained in monsoon like fashion I repeatedly asked myself what the hell was I doing. About 500 metres from the top I started getting dizzy and I realised I couldn’t really see where I was putting my feet. It was the longest 500 metres in the history of 500 metres. And I was only saved by a porter’s Motorola phone light after stacking it in a puddle (don’t worry I was already soaked through).
10 hours after starting the walk I arrived at Laban Rata and proceeded to kiss the ground through tears of joy.
Our night at the base camp was lullingly comfortable; wide bunks, warm showers, and endless cups of tea. All that was missing was the sauna and fresh Milk (Borneo is a big fan of creamer).
We had a leisurely start to the first day at 9 am and had 8ks to tackle. Piece of cake I thought, I could run that in 40mins. But alas it was not terrain for moving quickly, and my concerns about how my body would react to altitude made me slower than usual. The first 5 ks were pleasant, we chatted and walked and joked with our mountain guides we even stopped each k for a snack and loo break. The trail was exceedingly well marked; even though we had taken the less popular Mesilau trail (and extra 2ks).
At the 5k point it all started to go horribly wrong and I debated going back, crying or just sitting down and waiting to be rescued. First the rain started; we were in the middle of a rather large mountain which turns all paths into waterfalls – my shoes held up for about an hour and then became heavy bathtubs on my feet. A little after that it started getting dark and I sped up, leaving my walking buddies and mountain guides behind in the hope of a warm bed and the end of the trail. But it seemed to go on for forever as it got darker and darker and rained in monsoon like fashion I repeatedly asked myself what the hell was I doing. About 500 metres from the top I started getting dizzy and I realised I couldn’t really see where I was putting my feet. It was the longest 500 metres in the history of 500 metres. And I was only saved by a porter’s Motorola phone light after stacking it in a puddle (don’t worry I was already soaked through).
10 hours after starting the walk I arrived at Laban Rata and proceeded to kiss the ground through tears of joy.
posted by Nic000 @ 2:22 pm
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