Scattered Seeds

Since my Gunung Tahan trek, I’ve decided to do different takes on some of mountains I frequent. While I still enjoy the company of people on treks, I have been thinking of heading up the mountains alone.

It can be dangerous, I know. It’s not like I’m walking through a sanctuary where I’d be protected from elements of danger. I’d be passing through the curtains of a civilized world into the Malaysia tropical forest. I’ve been warned that there might be beasts–tigers, bears, snakes, wild boars. When I said I’d want to go up Nuang solo, Amos reminded me of the black furry creature that Ian Wikarski saw years ago. I’ve been warned of slippery muddy paths and hidden ledges. I’ve been told about sprightly spirits roaming in the night. I’ve read of stories of faeries stealing human bodies.

Despite all these, the idea of being alone, in solitude, to take in and appreciate the beauty of what Nature has to offer is very attractive. To walk on paths I know rather well all by myself is something new and fresh altogether. I am sure the first few times I will walk with some trepidation and caution. But I am sure I’d be really excited, too. As such, I hope my forays into the jungles and up mountains will yield many merry memories.

I wanted to begin with Nuang. But unable to find a car to get myself to the foothill, I kept on postponing the trek. Without a group of people to manage, I could simply change the date and time to whenever was convenient to me. Two weeks back, I asked Amir to hike up the mountain together (on condition that he wasn’t supposed to talk to me). If I couldn’t do it alone, having one other person wouldn’t be too bad, I thought. That outing didn’t turn out too well when I was forced to turn back because I was falling ill (Thus I didn’t think it warranted a blog entry by itself). All the while, I was afraid that I’d hurt my knee. There’s something about this mountain that grips me in fear. But I was careful, and I came out all right. I did not reach the peak, and I do not mind that at all. I consider that a six hour exercise session. If I had reached the peak and returned, it wasn’t really a solo effort. Since then, I’ve been thinking of going back to Nuang again. Not once, but twice. Yes, call me mad. But it’s something I want to do.

Last weekend, I went for a walk up Bukit Tabur (Klang Gates) alone, and I found walking alone therapeutic. I went out early in the morning, and hit the trail fairly quickly. Without company, I was moving at a steady pace, and before long I was at the cave. But I didn’t bother to climb down the rope. Instead, I just balanced myself on the rocks and stretched to the other side. Then I sat down for breakfast–a muesli bar–on my favourite spot. As I munched, I kept the expanse of the lake and rolling hills on the far side in view the entire time. It was such a peaceful moment, and I loved it.

But Klang Gates isn’t really a mountain. The encroaching development of concrete structures in the surrounding valleys is robbing the place of it’s mystical feel. The eroding and crumbling crystals pains me. Today, I saw that others have forged new trails right next to badly eroded paths of old. In time, both paths will only merge and be a cause for concerns. I see myself not ever returning to save myself the pain of seeing a place I love lost in the progress of time. But that is perhaps some ten years away; I still harbour hope that this place can be saved from the ravages of human activities. For this time, I could still focus on the trail, and felt that hiking the circuit was too short a journey. My mind hasn’t tapped the core that would let my thoughts drift and rekindle memories. I only thought of few people and the other mountains I wanted to scale. I want so much more.

I can’t wait to go up Datuk, Kutu, Pine Tree Hill, Irau or Nuang. Solo.

27 October 2007: Stocking Up
Seems like I am piling up some books, and I have no idea when I will get to dig into them.

Upon the recommendation of Nee On and the curiosity of Anatoli Boukreev’s response to Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air, my interest in The Climb grew. Although I have heard that this book contain certain inconsistencies and unchecked facts. That has steered me away from The Climb thus far. But it may still provide some insight (and perhaps a more comprehensive perspective) into the May 1996 disaster on Everest. So it was when I was at a Pay Less Books outlet and so happen to see a hardcover copy (not in the best of condition–having a chipped corner, and some pages bearing the mark of having some kind of liquid spilled on it), I simply bought it.

Another person that piqued my interest is Elizabeth Hawley. I didn’t know of such a person until I came across her name in Ed Viesturs’ No Shortcuts to the Top. I find it really surprising and interesting why a person, a female no less, would choose to be in Kathmandu. And over the years that she has been there, she has been keeping track of who climbs up the mountains in the Himalayas. There’s even a database based on her records, so it seems that she’s a pretty reliable source of information. When I found out there a book about her was published, I thought that it might be worth reading. But I always seem to buy other books instead of I’ll Call You in Kathmandu: The Elizabeth Hawley Story. I saw a really cheap used copy online at US$0.99, so I purchased it. The shipping costs a whole lot more, but it’s still cheaper buying a new copy. I just hope that it’s a good clean copy.

I guess these two books (or at least one of them) could be good reading materials for when I am on a mountain in December (if I can muster the strength to carry reading materials up a mountain).

23 October 2007: Book Buying Again
I finished Boukreev’s Above the Clouds a few days ago, and I went straight onto Messner’s The Naked Mountain. That’s not all I’m reading. Two books are on my office bookshelf. I’m one-third through Jim Wickwire’s Addicted to Danger; just about to read about his famous (among climbing circles) overnight bivouac about 150 m below the summit of Earth’s second highest mountain, K2 (28,250 feet). Once I’m done with that book, I’ll probably dip right into Breaking Trail: A Climbing Life, by Arlene Blum, the first American woman to attempt Mt. Everest.

Seems like I’m setting aside Bonington’s Sepu Kangri expeditions for a long while. I’m sure I’ll finish that before I get my hands on the 1997 edition of American Alpine Journal (which will arrive in a few months time, thanks to surface mail). I’ve been reading a few account of the May 1996 disaster on Everest, and I thought this edition will be a nice addition to what I’ve read.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, I ordered these books some time ago.

Congratulations to Vivien and Anthony. They had the first part of their wedding in Malacca on 13 October, 2007. The wedding in church followed a week after on Saturday 20 October, 2007.

Images from October 13, 2007

Images from October 20, 2007

Click on the images to go to the specially dedicated page. More photos there!

19 October 2007: More Mountain Literature

I know I said I wouldn’t buy any more books. But when I came across these two books, I just had to pick them up. Both of these books were books–especially Messner’s The Naked Mountain– I’ve been looking for after having heard (or read) quite a bit about them.

I could have bought them through amazon.com or eBay.com, but I could only get the paperback versions. The hardcovers are quite expensive (if I could find them at all). When I chanced upon Messner’s book, in hardcover and in a local store, I had to buy it. My copy of Boukreev’s Above the Clouds: The Diaries of a High-Altitude Mountaineer is in paperback. I initially thought it’d make a nice gift for someone, but I decided to start reading the book.

Since I started on it, Bonington’s book on his adventures up Sepu Kangri in Tibet has been put on hold. I’m mid-way through Boukreev’s journals, and in his writing, he is no way near the man Jon Krakauer denigrated in Into Thin Air. If anything, I find the journals a wonderful glimpse of a man’s life, his passion, struggles, philosophies, stance and love for the mountains, country, and life itself. This is quite a wonderful read. Highly recommended.

“Art is not about the obvious. If in a painting there’s there’s a man and a woman, and everyone can see that, what value is there?” — William Teo

It was 10:45pm. I was in Malacca. Nee On was with me. We had just finished a wedding shoot. He wanted to sleep, but I was hungry. I had the car. So what did I do? I got us both to Jonker Street for the night street market.

There was much to see on the lively street. It was after all the first day of Hari Raya, and tourists were in full force in Malacca. I wanted food, but I also wanted to walk along the streets with my camera in my arms. Who knows what wonders my eyes might behold. I decided to eat as I walked along the street–trying out food offered for sale at different stalls. Once I satisfied my hunger, I turned my eyes to items on display: T-shirts and other clothing, antiques, cheap plastic toys, wood work, key chains, earrings, necklaces, bead work, old photographs, kitchenware and clay bowls, and the sort.

Then my eyes caught sight of silver-coloured trinkets spread across a table. A drum set, a grand piano, a saxophone, a spider, a dragon and a scorpion were placed in line behind dozens of keychains in various designs, shapes (of pigs, cows, crosses, hands and feet, dragonflies and many more) and sizes . Though they seem like common items, these were all bent into shape from steel wires. Such items I have seen before, but never really caught my fancy. But on this night, I thought of getting a handmade keychain for a friend I knew who has a keychain collection. So I asked William, the man behind the table, if he could custom make one for me.

William and his Art

William pulled out a wire, and with his pair of pliers he went to work. After a while, I asked to take a look. He showed his work-in-progress to me, and I had a difficult time making out the design. that was when he said, “Art is not about the obvious.” I let him ramble on, but I was thinking that it must be one of his well-rehearsed sales-pitch. I let it be and allowed him continue working on the keychain. After all I wasn’t going to ask him to redo an entirely new one. Plus, I sort of liked the idea he proposed: that true value comes from genuine appreciation; just the sort of meaningful message I’d convey to good friends of mine.

William at Work

But that had gotten us talking. He told me, “I am fifty-five, but my heart is twenty-nine, and that’s why I keep long hair.” He further stressed that, “old people don’t keep long hair.” Pretty soon, we were in a conversation about the pig farms in Malacca, long hair, the baba nyonya heritage, the Chinese, and a little story about his genealogy.

Here’s one of his many stories: William Teo is his name, but his surname should have been a Chong. He traced the history of how the surname got changed all the way back to his great-great-great-great-grandfather who died in 1824. Chong Piang is the name, and according to William, the grave still exists somewhere in Malacca. Coming from the Hakka (Kek) family, the man was a fearless fighter, and was involved in the fightings between the kongsi gelap Gheehin and Haisan. The surname change came about because of troubles of the fighting troubles. In a desperate attempt to escape murder he had run away as far as Terengganu and to protect himself and his family, the surname was changed to Teo. But the fighting past is history now. William is more an artist in the business of making wire-art; he has been selling his wares and art at different places for more than ten years in Malacca. These days, he’s on Jonker Street three times a week.

When his work was done, I gave him the agreed sum. I thought I got more than what I asked for: a keychain for a friend, and a pool of stories (even though I do not know how much of it was true). William was the most interesting person I saw in that one hour on that night on Jonker Street. I would have loved to stay on and talked some more, but I had to stop. Nee On was sitting on a walkway, chimping, and looking really sleepy and bored. Someone had to rescue him. That person was me.