Scattered Seeds

If there was anything I learned since Merdeka Day last year, it is to have a plan. This year, it was trying to get a bunch of people to scream “Merdeka” at the summit of Gunung Kinabalu.

And so it was that I was in Sabah with 15 others—some of whom I love like my own kids, some of whom I find hard to love—enjoyed the sights, smells and sounds as I walked the Masilau trail, reached Laban Rata faster than my previous attempt, and felt a whole lot better at high altitude with no headaches or difficulty breathing.

I reached Laban Rata as I had intended. And I went no higher than Gunting Lagadan on this trip to Sabah.

There are, of course many tales to tell—like the tale of the tortoise at the summit of Gunung Kinabalu, how the giant squids came about, hot mushroom soups, dancing ballerinas in the forest, and the casual walk to the Wetlands Centre—but, I am sure, many would want to hear my tale of why the mountain got the better of me on summit day.

• • • • • • •

I hadn’t planned of going up Gunung Kinabalu until a few days before I hopped on the plane. My early enthusiasm had waned over the months since May. Chief among the series of events that brought about my decision of not wanting to be on the summit (or even starting the journey) was the bad bout of backache. There were other reasons, of course.

But the thought of not finishing what I started was to much to bear. Somehow, I felt that being on the mountain would be an encouragement to the others whom I have led since the time I started planning for the trek. Plus, on a more personal front, I liked the thought of being on another trek with Tet Leon, Suyin and Mei Fong.

On August 31, 2008, fourteen team members stood on the summit of Gunung Kinabalu. I was not one of them. I’d have joined them but a series of unfortunate events rendered me rather helpless and all I could do was go to bed and sleep.

I had gone to bed at about 9:30 p.m. the night before after escorting Mei Fong up to Gunting Lagadan. The two of us were the last two remaining from our group to leave the Laban Rata Resthouse. Everyone else had finished dinner, settled down after a long day’s hike and retired for the night—in Panar Laban and Gunting Lagadan—much earlier. The time we spent chatting, sending messages to various ones from our phones, and using tissue to dry our shoes was rather like a father-daughter bonding session that’s quite hard to come by these days. By the time we decided to walk in the cold night air (about 8°C) to our respective rooms to hit the sack it was about 9 p.m.

But at about 11 p.m., I woke up to a sudden tummy ache caused by a sudden hunger pang. I stuffed myself with a few cookies and slices of dried meat, but the pain didn’t go away. Fearing that it might be the onset of altitude sickness, I quickly put on my boots, strapped on Nee On’s faulty headlamp, and took off from Panar Laban down to Laban Rata. The height difference wasn’t much, but the fresh air did me some good. I slumped into a chair in Laban Rata and tried to sleep. By then, I had a nauseous feeling that didn’t seem to go away. I eventually let everything out; and that made me tired. All I could do was rest my head in my arms on a table, and sleep.

When I woke up, it was 2:30 a.m. and I wanted to get to the summit—a decision I made when I felt really good having walked the Masilau trail some hours earlier. I was still feeling a little weak, but I rushed up to Panar Laban only to find out that I had been locked out of my own room. I have no one to blame but myself for this predicament. Now, I was not only feeling a little sick, weak and tired, I had no access to extra clothing, my camera and Irau, the blue elephant. I could still go up in whatever clothes I had on, but weakness got the better of me. Rather than struggle up the mountain in thin layers of clothing, a faulty headlamp and a tired body, I only made my way up to Gunting Lagadan. Knowing that one other team member was sick and in no shape to go up the mountain, I had a warm room I could get into. And that was where I stayed for the next few hours until Jenn and Suyin returned from the summit trek at about 8:30 a.m.

I didn’t go to the summit that day. But hearing Suyin tell me about the trek and the summit made my day. To know that the the fourteen who attempted to reach the summit had succeeded meant as much to me as being at the top myself.

That was when I realized that I didn’t have to be at the top—not this time anyway. It’s not always about being at the top. Yes, it would have been nice, but not necessary.

• • • • • • •

I don’t know what hit me on the mountain. But throwing up on one of South East Asia’s highest mountain on Merdeka Day isn’t all that fun. Whether it was a bout of food poisoning, which I suspect it was, or altitude sickness that got the better of me this time around, I don’t feel bad about not standing on the summit. Unlike the first time I did not succeed, there are no regrets at all this time around.

Instead, my resolve is to attempt Gunung Kinabalu again (and again and again if I have to). Trekking up the mountain seems to get easier each time I am there. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’d like to be walking up the mountain with my favourite kakis.

And also to meet the friends I have made and to eat bowls after bowls of yummy laksa and ngau chap in Kedai Kopi Yee Fung in Kota Kinabalu.

With Suyin and Mei Fong in Kedai Kopi Yee Fung. © 2008 Soh Chui May

———————
Related Links About Kinabalu 2008:
There are some blog entries that give detailed accounts of the trek. While they are not my thoughts and my writing that contain some happenings that would have been part of my unwritten tale of “The Misfits of Kinabalu”, they do provide glimpses of a successful trip.

• Mei Fong’s Blog Entry
• Gabby’s Entry, Part 1
• Gabby’s Entry, Part 2
• nadia’s Account (includes her lost baggage story)
• Jessin’s detailed account of the Mesilau Trail trek

Related “What Not To Do On Merdeka Day” Links:
• What Not To Do On Merdeka Day (The one that started it all)
• Things Hasn’t Changed On Merdeka Day (the sequel)
• What Not To Do On Merdeka Day Part 3

The Green Croc’s Third Mountain Peak

When I got to the summit of Gunung Kinabalu, I didn’t get the kind of exhilarating sense of awe nor was I swept away immediately by the breathtaking view. I did not feel the satisfaction that comes with scaling such a mountain, too. It’s not that I do not appreciate being at the top of Gunung Kinabalu. I admit I was indeed standing on one of the most beautiful places on the Earth. But at the same time, I couldn’t help feeling like I was finally coming home–a few years too late–to a place I know so well. It was like I’ve heard so many stories from family and friends—like Chee Hoong, Su Ming, Don, Quin Jean, Ying Oon—that I saw what I expected to see. To me, I was merely doing what I should have done many many years ago; I’ve finally completed an unfinished business. Eleven years, that’s how long it has been. I could should have gone to Kinabalu five years ago, but I chose to let that pass. Kinabalu has, in a way, haunted me. But now, all that is in the past.

I’ve always wanted to go back to Kinabalu, but I’ve never put much thought into it. But having summited Gunung Tahan in June, I was compelled to try Kinabalu. Sure, there were urgings, nudges and temptation before Tahan, but I never felt the urgency to return. When I decided to go, I went with the idea at the spur of the moment; knowing quite sure that the time has finally come. While most people made plans well ahead of time—some more than three months in advance because of the difficulty of securing a place to stay at Laban Rata—I flew into Kota Kinabalu not having a place booked at all. All I had was the word from Dallius that he had reserved us five spots. If I was traveling alone (like Leon Varga did in 2006) I may have been able to get a room, but things were different when I had to plan for a company of four or five. Still, I went in faith that things would sort themselves out eventually. And it did.

One of the reason that has kept me away from Kinabalu is the Timpohon trail. Having trekked along that path years ago, I was determined to try something different. Thus, I opted for the Masilau trail even though there are more kilometers to walk, takes more time to get to Laban Rata, is situated further away from Kota Kinabalu and costs more. It was the only way to go. Having walked the trail, I can safely say that I made the right choice. The Masilau trail is so much more scenic and enjoyable! When the journey begins, one is already at an elevation above 1900m. The bonsai trees, greens and plants, rivers and bridges, stones and walkways were simply beautiful. As I walked, I kept thinking of thought of people I know—especially the people I usually trek with—and how much they would enjoy this trek. Even if one is just to do the Masilau–Layang-Layang–Timpohon Gate trek (and not have intentions to summit), it would have been a lovely outing.

One of the Many Bridges Along the Masilau Trail

When I arrived at Laban Rata, I came in one hour after Ying Oon, Marc-Andre and Jenn. But I wasn’t slow because I was slogging up the mountain. I was just enjoying my stroll in a park–at least until Layang-Layang, the junction that led one back to the Timpohon trail. Another reason that made me move slowly was that I was afraid I’d get altitude sickness if I rushed up the mountain. I had no such problems this time. However, what alarmed me was the amount of food I ate. I ordered a plate of fried rice and the serving wasn’t all that small. As I ate, I also dug into Marc-Andre’s serving of lemon chicken and beef (from a buffet lunch so there was sort of an endless supply). I don’t think I was all that hungry, but I just couldn’t resist stuffing food into my mouth. I literally had to force myself to stop–thinking that I might be ill for eating so much–by insisting I needed to get to Gunting Lagadan to sleep.

At around 3:30 a.m. Ying Oon, Marc-Andre, Jenn, and I left the hut for our summit push. Our guide, Hali Nasim, was surprised to see me. He had asked me to join the earliest group I saw heading for the summit. That would have been 2am! But I figured that I wasn’t affected by altitude and I actually wouldn’t be too far behind the rest. I was, after all, having the advantage to doing night walking and it’s really cool out in the open. I seem to function better in the cold and in the dark. For the entire week I’ve been pestering everyone to do some night walking. Finally, on the last day of the 6D5N mountains trip I got my wish. Almost every one heading up the mountain was following the fixed rope line and using some form of lighting device-a headlamp or torchlight. I turned off the headlamp I borrowed from Ying Oon (my torchlight didn’t work!) and walked quite a long way in the moonlight. Every once in a while, I’d veer off the line on purpose. But I kept the Donkey Ears peaks as my point of focus. Although walking the plateau was a long and arduous one, I found it interesting for a number of reasons. For instance, I was thrilled to see two shooting stars. But Hali expressed some concern. As in many different cultures, falling stars were often regarded as harbingers of ill fate. That night, a shooting star meant nothing more than a shooting star. As I walked in the moonlit darkness, I was also amazed by the play between the moonlight and the shadows upon the peaks and the nearby surrounding rock-face structures. And for that, I no longer question why the Donkey Ears peaks are so named. Because those peaks were my point of focus, I constantly looked at them. And at one particular angle, the play of light and darkness created the illusion of a very precise image of a donkey. It’s really amazing what Nature can do!

When I reached the peak, I was only ten minutes behind the rest. And I could have been faster had I not chosen to silently trail accompany this old German man, whom I met along the way, for the last three hundred steps or so. When I first met him, I asked him for the time. He told me it was 5:30 a.m. From where I was, I could see the summit or, rather, see the gathering headlamps and torchlights at one spot. I knew I wasn’t very far away from my destination. Two choices ran in my head. I could push on ahead of the German, move on at my speed and get to the top earlier and sit in the cold as my body warmed down. Alternatively, I could follow the German, who was doing sixty steps, followed by a minute rest. I chose the latter; this way, I would reach the peak just before sunrise, and would still be relatively warm from the prolonged walk up the summit.

True enough, I got to the summit some five minutes before sunrise. And as I looked far into the horizon, I kinda knew I had to make another trip up Kinabalu in the future. I didn’t get the kind of spectacular sunrise Quin Jean always spoke about, or the kind of sunrise like it looked on Don’s stitched photo. Part of the risk of going up mountains in the monsoon is the possibility of not getting to the peak if torrential rains fell. And if it didn’t rain, there is the possibility of overly cloudy skies. That was what I got. The sun didn’t burst forth into brilliance. I got a muted sunrise that slowly lit the surrounding areas.

Sunrise at the Summit of Mount Kinabalu

So it seemed that the mountain played it’s hands on me. Again. Initially, I was hoping I didn’t have to come back again. I had come to Kinabalu wanting to lay a ghost to sleep. I had come to Kinabalu for various other reasons, too. On my descent, I found the reassurances I sought. It’s not that I pay particular attention to little rocks and stones, but I somehow caught a glimpse of a heart-shaped stone. Well, it was rather big, and it had a rough blackened surface. And I kinda scoffed at it. Then not a minute later, at a particular angle, and with the play of light and shadows, I saw another heart-shaped stone. This one had a more reddish hue. I picked it up and had a closer look. It was just like any other stone. But at a particular angle, just like the Donkey Ears, it revealed a shape to those who look carefully. I was happy to see the stone. It was like, I was being told that though late I have not lost the mountain’s love; that I should continue doing what I like to do, and to love all that I love even if I was going to be hurt; that I need not fear losing all the things I hold most dear in life; that I had to come back to Kinabalu again in the future. Kinabalu has allowed me to reach the summit this time, and it was telling me that though I thought it’d be my last, it wasn’t.

All the way down, I kept thinking of when I’d make the trip to Kinabalu again. During my ascent on the Masilau trail, my guide kept telling me about this other route—a 5-day camping trek—to the summit. I was very interested. If I had enjoyed the Masilau trail, here was the opportunity to spend days in natural wilderness to the highest peak in South-East Asia! Getting on the trail also meant I could go up other lower peaks on Kinabalu. Yet, I resisted. But the sunrise I saw that morning was such a disappointment that I am sure I want to go up Kinabalu again. Someday. And perhaps, then, I will be awed by the brilliance that is Kinabalu. It’s what I long for. It’s what I live for!

—————–
Related Links:
• “Trekking Trip to Mount Kinabalu, Sabah, East Malaysia; Friday, March 29 to Saturday, April 6, 2002″ by Don Mah
• Photos I took during the Kinabalu Trek (one new photo to appear from 25 December 2007 to 3 January 2008. Come back daily!)

Gunung Kinabalu Overview
Elevation (feet): 13,450
Elevation (meter): 4,095
Latitude: 6.0833333
Longitude: 116.55
My First Summit: December 2007
My First Attempt: April 1996 unsuccessful

First God punished us at Tambuyukon, then rewarded us at Kinabalu.

–Marc-Andre Plouffe

First it was Nepal, but that didn’t work out. So I chose somewhere closer to home–Sabah. The plan was to attempt two mountains–Gunung Tambuyukon and Gunung Kinabalu–from 17 to 23 December, 2007. Doing a double has been done by others before me (some have even tried and succeeded in doing the triple Kinabalu-Trusmadi-Tambuyukon!), but I am after no records. I have no need to prove anything; I simply needed and wanted to be just up on the mountains.

Ying Oon, Marc-Andre and I trekked some 50 km to reach the summits of Gunung Tambuyukon and Gunung Kinabalu during the monsoon season (it rained every day when we were in the mountains). Isabelle was with us for 4 days 3 nights on Tambuyukon, but decided to skip Kinabalu. Jenn joined us for Kinabalu.

The journey–from when I first applied for the permit to coming down Kinabalu–is documented in “Stepping on Sacred Soils.”

At the Peak of Tambuyukon

At the Peak of Kinabalu

* * * * * * *

Gunung Kinabalu Overview
Elevation (feet): 13,450
Elevation (meter): 4,095
Latitude: 6.0833333
Longitude: 116.55
My First Summit: December 2007
My First Attempt: April 1996 unsuccessful

Gunung Tambuyukon Overview
Elevation (feet): 8,462
Elevation (meter): 2,579
Latitude: 6.2166667
Longitude: 116.65
My First Attempt: December 2007