When the guides came around to rouse everyone at 2am, I was quite convinced that I had not slept for one second. God knows why. The snoring wasn’t so bad as to keep anyone awake, the room certainly wasn’t cold, the sleeping bags were barely necessary, and although almost everyone went to the loo at least once in the night, it really wasn’t that intrusive. And yet still I didn’t sleep. I went to the loo once just to break the boredom of lying there not sleeping. I was willing the wake-up call to come just to end the tedium.
Then it was breakfast, and kit on, and it was rather chilly. But up there chilly is good. During last night’s briefing it was explained that if it was raining too hard then no one would be allowed to climb, which would be hugely disappointing. The chill meant there was no cloud cover, and no clouds meant no rain. The thermal long johns weren’t required but trousers were, as was a t-shirt, a long-sleeved top, a fleece, and of course a beanie.
From Laban Rata, the climb to the summit is 2.7 km, a vertical ascent of 800 metres. And the first 700 metres of that is all steep stairs and steps. And it was not as cold as it first seemed – a layer or two was shed as my body warmed up from the exertion. As it was a clear night, the stars were clearly visible, and looking back the way we came there was a mesmerising view down the mountain of the lights of the villages in the foothills and valleys. Also twinkling away in a snake up the mountainside were the headlights of the 135 people climbing Kinabalu that morning. On and on. Up and up.
At some stage the steps disappeared, smooth rock faces emerged, and guide ropes were required to both mark the way and haul yourself up. Then the terrain flattened out even further and then there’s a 2km walk across the granite, where the effects of chemical weathering, heating, and cooling have transformed the mountain’s surface. Thin layers of rock flaking off the outer shell of granite give the summit a unique tiled appearance.
We were still in darkness as the route veered off to the right and after a short scramble up some rocks, the peak emerged. Once again, we’d made very good time and were among the first to summit, so we got the photos done before the hordes arrived. The downside of making such good time was that we were at least an hour early for sunrise, and once you’d stopped moving, it was cold. Really cold. Freezing cold. So cold that we sought sanctuary in a sheltered spot amongst the rocks and hunkered down trying to keep warm. We even resorted to huddling together like king penguins in order to stave off the cold. It was the first and only time in my life I’d snuggled up with Toby and Kevin.
It may have been chilly but ultimately we’d been very lucky with the weather. Thick mist can apparently reduce visibility to just three metres and rainstorms and winds of up to 120 km per hour can occur. But as Callum, Will and Flora caught up with us, the sun began to poke itself up over the horizon, showering us in a gorgeous orange glow, and illuminating the ethereal landscape of the mountain, with the donkey-eared peaks, and the smooth, weathered plateau. Not to mention an enormous gulley beside us – a gulley which splits the mountain in two, and creates a U-shape, which had led people to believe Kinabalu was a volcano until someone determined it was a pluton. (Don’t you just love Wikipedia?)
And then it was time to go. We had clear instructions to be at a particular meeting point by a particular time. And then there was a decision to be made. To via ferrata or not to via ferrata?
And when the time came, there actually seemed to be little hesitation. We walked over to meet the guides just to have a look at what we would be required to do, and before you knew it we were harnessed up and ready to go. I don’t recall any collective or even individual decisions to go ahead – we just seemed to sleepwalk into it. Which is a rather scary thought as we then effectively sleepwalked off the side of the mountain. When we’re back in Pendant Hut a few hours later we’ll look back and trace the route the via ferrata takes. And it was a good job we only did it afterwards. Had I seen it from down below before we went, there is no way I would have stepped over that cliff face.
There were two options for via ferrata on Kinabalu, and naturally we were on the more extreme of the two. Low’s Peak Circuit started at 3,776 metres and “is designed for adventure seekers with climbing experience and above-average fitness levels”.
As it was, we split into two groups of three, each with one guide, and for the next three hours, clambered around the rungs, cables and rope-bridges attached to the rock face, alternately praying to every known deity to get us out of here alive and then marvelling at the gobsmacking views as the sun got higher and the day brighter. The views would have been magnificent under any circumstances but when you’re hanging off a rock face over 3,700 metres in the air, you kinda feel you’ve earned this. No one else had the same view because no one else was right there, right then (except Callum, Cormac, Barry, Kevin, Toby and two guides of course).
There was a lengthy period of descent, sometimes going straight down and at others negotiating bluffs and crevices in the rock face, including traversing deep chasms by way of wobbly rope bridges; followed by a trek through the jungle. Then came a point at which we were forced to go back up rather than continue downwards. Although we could see the hut at Laban Rata just across the way, the old route was no longer navigable due to a landslide caused by last year’s earthquake, the earthquake which claimed the lives of eighteen people. It is incomprehensible to think how frightening it must have been to have been on the mountain, near the peak, when the ground began to shake.
The route should have taken 4-6 hours, and whether it was fear and anxiety or whether we genuinely are adventure seekers, we whipped through it under three hours. We’d covered 1.2 km in distance, and a vertical height traverse of 365 metres. And despite waxing lyrical about the views, quite frankly, I was glad it was all over. There were times when I quite simply was not enjoying it, almost waiting for the moment when I’d freeze and be unable to move, and wishing I’d had the courage of my own convictions and given the whole thing a miss. Why didn’t I just join Will and Flora for the straightforward walk down? Climbing Kinabalu is a significant undertaking in itself without adding on an extra physically and mentally demanding three or four hours. But, hey, we’d done it and it was all over.
After stopping to marvel at some more stunning views, we found ourselves back at Pendant Hut for a spot of breakfast but we still had a lengthy walk back down the mountain, so it was a short respite before we were off again, retracing our steps all the way down. Will and Flora had gone on ahead, and Toby set the usual fast pace for the rest of us. Bollocks to that, I quite simply could not keep up and allowed Toby, Kevin, Cormac and Barry to forge ahead, slowing down and giving myself time to recover and recuperate a bit. I caught up with Barry at some stage and he was wobbling all over the place, his legs having turned to jelly. He had to sit down and take a breather but after a few minutes rest he was find and marched on.
There was one dispiriting moment when you turn a corner and see some steps going up. At that stage we’d been hiking and climbing for over twelve hours at breakneck pace and were completely, genuinely, indescribably knackered. I was ready to sit down and rest for a while until I realized that the steps were actually the end, and at the top was that familiar sign welcoming you back as a successful climber.
And they didn’t even have any beer for sale.
By my reckoning we did that last five hour descent in about three hours. So excluding the via ferrata, we’d done what is estimated to be 14-15 hours of walking in something like 9-10 hours. My thighs would recover quite quickly but the pain in my calves continued for another three or four days, although by that time I was lying on a remote beach in southern Thailand, and the highs and lows of Kinabalu already seemed some way distant.
Matt Seager had said that he preferred Kinabalu to Kilimanjaro, even though the latter is far more of a feather in one’s cap. And I think I can understand Matt’s point. The walking on Kinabalu is more intense, more demanding, more knackering. You really know you’ve done something significant. The aches and pains that you’ll carry for a few days are testament to that achievement.
There’s a beauty about the mountain – from the thick lowland forest to the sparse granite of the peak, the unique shapes nature has wrought from the rock, the majestic views and clear blue skies. There’s a mysticism to it; the myths, the legends and the reverence in which the locals hold the mountain. And of course there’s the history; the long distant romanticism of exploration and discovery, the two-decades old history of under-estimation and misjudgement; and the very recent history of earthquake and tragedy. And now we’d climbed it.
And we’d all kept our clothes on.
Go to Chapter 18: Mongibello