Mount Kinabalu

I hurt. All over. The kind of hurt where you accompany every step with some variation of “Oo, Ee, Ahh”,  where you put off going to the loo to avoid having to sit down and stand up again, and where you constantly adjust your actions to minimise the number of steps/slopes etc you have to encounter to get from A to B. But my god it was worth it!

We climbed Mount Kinabalu and this was undoubtably one of the hardest things I’ve done, but one of the best experiences too!

When we were planning what to do when Claire was visiting, we all stumbled across climbing Mount Kinabalu. It was very expensive, especially on our limited budget, but everyone seemed to rave about it and it looked like one of those things you’d do and you wouldn’t forget it any time soon. Couple that with a bit of birthday money to offset the guilt and we’d booked ourselves onto the trek!

When you arrive at the Park HQ it’s all very organised and official. We met our guide, the very fabulous Robbie (“Robbie, like Robbie Williams”) and were given our fancy passes which meant they knew who we were (and as Bro pointed out, meant they could identify us if we died).

Then we set off about 9am. The first day’s walk is just over 6km. I agree, this doesn’t sound much, but when you consider that every single step you take (apart from a glorious section of about 10yards at about the 1.5km mark) is uphill, this makes you think again. Some of the terrain is rocky and you scramble up, other parts have steps, some of which are about half a meter high! After the first half an hour of walking upwards, we were about ready to collapse and couldn’t fathom how on Earth we’d keep ourselves going for two days! This was a thigh-burner of epic proportions. 

They start you off early as sprightly things like us get there early/mid afternoon (we got there 2 hours faster than the ‘average’, god knows how), but some people literally take all day. Robbie told us the longest anyone had ever taken under his guidance was a Chinese girl who arrived at the rest station at 7am the FOLLOWING MORNING!! That’s insane.

To add to the challenge, it started raining about an hour in. And I mean proper, drenching rain. I was fine as I’d cleverly purchased a ridiculously huge poncho at the last minute, so this acted like a kind of (very stylish) tent over me and my backpack. Claire on the other hand got soaking, and if it gives you an indication of the kind of rain we’re talking about, her kindle and ipod were inside a plastic bag, inside her backpack and they were saturated with water by the time we reached the rest point.

The rest point is at 3272m. To give you a sense of perspective, Snowdon is 1,085m above sea level, so we’re talking high. Despite being practically on the equator this altitude means the temperature here is cold, and you’re pushing into potential altitude sickness territory. That said the only affects any of us had so far was a spot of light-headedness, so all good. The issue was that we were soaked through and freezing cold, so the first thing we did was snuggle up into our droopy bunks and try and warm ourselves up. No chance of anything drying out though.

After an early (and hearty!) feed, and one of the best sunsets I’ve ever seen, everyone headed to bed about 7pm to try and grab a few winks before our super early start, trying not to think about the soggy shoes they'd have to put on when they woke up.

When I say super early start, I’m talking about the kind of hour you’d normally be heading to bed after a night out. I’m talking alarm set for 2am!! In the pitch black. And the freezing cold. 

Robbie had said as we’d gone at such a quick pace the previous day that we didn’t need to leave as early as everyone else. So we set off at 2.45am after most people had left and Robbie led the way. I tell you, this man is a machine. He is absolutely tiny (I’d say about 5'2"), but is an absolute engine. We just zoomed up that mountain, over-taking one person after the other. We weren't being competitive, we were just keeping up with Super Rob. 

The first half hour was more steps, but the next bit I hadn’t anticipated at all. At this point you’re so high up there’s no more vegetation, just sheer rock...and you have to climb up it. I was actually petrified. The thing that was scaring me and reassuring me in equal measure was the fact that I could only see the small sphere of light cast by my head torch which meant that I had no concept of how big a drop we were next to at any point. At this point there is a rope to help you, which perhaps might give you some idea of what we were dealing with. After each scramble, I felt a funny mixture of relief that I had passed another point, and horror that anything I was going up, I would also have to come down later on.

It was at this point that I kicked a rat. Not a gentle kick, it was a whopping great kick that sent it flying off the rock on which it's head and my toe had just collided. What on Earth a rat was doing up there I don't know, but it was one of those weird moments where your brain takes about 5 seconds to process what actually just happened. 

After about half an hour of scrambling the rock plateaued more. We zig-zagged up the face at a pretty hefty pace, spurred on by reassurances from Robbie that we were almost there (you have no concept of distance for yourself as you can’t see anything).

And then the rocks just stopped. There was nothing above us-we were at the top, a whopping 4,095m above sea level. It was very surreal as we were expecting a crowd, but instead, it was just Robbie, Brodie, Claire and me. We were the first ones up! Out of 250 people we’d somehow just ploughed on through them all and made it to the top. Such an overwhelming mix of emotions totally over-riding any feelings of exhaustion we might have had 5 minutes before…relief, disbelief, pride, excitement…

This also meant we were there an hour before the bloody sunrise, so we had to just sit on the top of a freezing cold mountain a wait. Euphoria rapidly gave way to cold and we all huddled together like penguins, each with all of our 100 layers of clothes zipped up to the max, as the rest of the climbers started to arrive.

But oh my wow was it worth it. I don’t think I will ever experience anything like that again. First the slightest hint of light on the horizon, creeping, creeping slowly…then a touch of red, growing into hot flames of red which licked the top of the clouds on the horizon like the world was on fire. And as the light grew, gradually the world around us was revealed slowly slowly. First in silhouette, then incrementally in more detail. It was so surreal…even though I’d been acutely aware of every painstaking step that I’d taken up that entire mountain, it still felt as though I’d suddenly been picked up and plonked on the top of it as the entire landscape was unfamiliar. It was magical.

And then came the sun. And with it a disco of colours and lights and a hum of excitement from the weary climbers all perched on the top of this mountain. It’s funny how you’ve only met these people 24 hours before, but you suddenly feel this tremendous sense of comradery and shared accomplishment. For a few moments there is this overwhelming feeling that you are on top of the world. Truly an emotional experience and I was so lucky to share it with two of my favourite people in the world.

And then came the going down part. 

It hurt it hurt it hurt.

It’s true when they say that the going down is as hard as going up. Less hoicking-my-entire-body-up-a-giant-mountain kind of exhaustion, more ow-my-knees-are-going-to-implode-and-my-quads-are-going-to-burst kind of blistery pain. We made it though! We were the second group to get back, which meant first to the buffet cart, and plenty of time for second helpings! 

Definitely not an experience I'm going to forget in a hurry.

Photos are Bro's as I didn't carry my camera up...so thank you darling, for lugging that hulk of a camera up an entire mountain...x

Enjoy...