Borneo | thewanderingdamsel

Something needed to be done. I was growing noticeably irritable, something I contribute to the lack of physical exertion I had put my body through in the last couple of weeks. There had been that jungle hike through Bako National Park, outside of Kuching, but that had just scratched the surface of what my body needed, craved. That, and as it turns out, “breakfast included” in this part of the world means a couple of slices of white bread while every other meal is accompanied with white rice. I could feel these simple carbs breaking themselves down into sugars and fats and finding a permanent home on the outer curves of my midsection. The locals were feeling the wrath of my lackadaisical lifestyle as well. Johanna insists I grunted at our waitress when she mistakenly charged Johanna the extra 80 ringgits (equivalent of thirty cents) for a cookie I was meant to buy for her, ironically, as a token of appreciation for putting up with my irritability.

No, walking around in aimless circles in cities unknown was no longer cutting it as daily exercise. What I needed was the kind of physical assertion that made my quads burn, my knees shake; the kind that leaves my fingers stiff and swollen and my heart beating so hard that if feels as though it’s going to explode through my ears. Arriving on Borneo, our most obvious choice to combat our physical needs was Mount Kinabalu. At over 4,000 meters high, some would say Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in southeast Asia. We knew this was our chance to make our bodies suffer. So we swallowed our budget pride (the excursion cost over $200) and teamed up with a pair of Swedish girls. The last member of our group was Samila, our guide. This mother of four does the climb at least a couple of times a week and is seemingly unbothered by the physical strain, always following behind with a look of content, a pocketful of mysterious snacks that she doesn’t seem to run low on, and a never ending curiosity of the flora that surrounds the trails.

On day one, we climbed six kilometers with a 1,040 meter elevation gain in four hours. We arrived to the overnight hut tired and cold, but pressed ourselves to fend off sleep long enough for dinner. Instead, we grabbed a Guinness and watched other climbers complete the arduous task of the day. One group in particular intrigued us; a group of Irish 50 and 60-somethings climbing for their charity, MS Ireland. Our Guinness must’ve grabbed their attention as we began talking to a few of them, and it wasn’t too long before we witnessed a debate between two Irishmen over who is the better U.S. candidate and not too long after that when another one handed us a water bottle filled with Jameson, his solution to a sound sleep on a cold night. And so not much later we made it to our bunk and shut of the lights at 8pm.

2am the next morning, the alarm went off and after hot coffee and eggs we started our ascent to the top of the mountain. When the ground beneath us formed steeped slants of granite that led to the mountainous terrain below, we grabbed onto the ropes to help us get along. My fear of heights kicked in and my legs stopped moving. While I held up the line behind me, I found myself asking where did I go, although to no one in particular. Fortunately, Robby the Guide came from somewhere behind me, saying ‘darling, this way darling’ until we were on elevated terrain once again.

At 1,800 meters, I had found a steady pace, and before long I found myself away from anyone else, surrounded by the outlines of nearby peaks, the stars shining their constellations down on me, a steady line of flashlights behind me in the distance. Despite the loss of feeling that was slowly growing over my extremities, I felt a sense of peace that surrounded me, and it was quite surreal to cover this mountainous landscape that created an otherworldly experience in the early hours of the morning.

At the summit, the sun rose up from behind the peaks and cast its golden hues over the clouds that lay below. We quickly documented our presence with a handful of photos and made our way down in an effort to stop our teeth from chattering. Now that it was light, we could see the valleys of green earth below as the clouds dispersed.

It took eight hours to descend Kinabalu. As I neared the end I was moving at a snail’s pace and had lost most feeling and coordination in my legs, at times landing on a knee rather than a foot. The trek took two days total, and recovery another four. But my mind and body are now at ease, for the benefit of myself and those around me.