Mount Kinabalu

Getting out of Brunei proved to be nearly as difficult as getting in and we arrived in Sabah's capital, Kota Kinabalu, late in the day. Anxious to get a place to climb Mount Kinabalu the next day we headed straight for the offices of Sutera Sanctuary Lodges. They control the only accommodation on the mountain, without a reservation at which you cannot get a permit to climb. We'd being trying for months to get a reservation, but many places are sold to travel agents a long way in advance, making securing independent reservations difficult. We had been told that just turning up may be our best hope, but Sutera informed us once more that no places were available. Instead they suggested we try some of the adjoining travel agents, many of whom were happy to sell us a place for a three fold mark-up (and in one case that was to sleep on the floor of the restaurant).

A little disappointed we headed for a hostel, only to bump into some other travelers we had already gotten friendly with. The evening was a merry one, if you get my gist.

Once again we arose early (though this time with a little more difficulty than previously) with the aim of getting to Mount Kinabalu park headquarters and trying our luck once more for a place. For once the trip was shorter than expected and we arrived a little after nine to find five other people begging for a place. So we sat in the office listening to a Belgian guy ask every ten minutes if there was a place. Remarkably this tactic seemed to pay off, and despite the fact nothing actually seemed to have transpired to create a vacancy, all of a sudden the staff announced they had six places. A little more persuasion and it was agreed that Erin and I could share a bed and all seven of us could climb (though we were still rather rudely charged for two beds!).

After shelling out more cash for permits, a guide (who we only saw for about 10 minutes in two days), bus transfer, etc. we were finally climbing. Starting from where the road ends at 1800m above sea level (ASL) we spent the afternoon walking the 6.5km to Laban Rata, which is 1500m higher at 3300m ASL. After an early dinner we headed for bed as soon as it was dark. Not so lucky was a fellow climber we got chatting to named Bart. Bart was organised enough to book months and months in advance for his climb. As such he had prepaid accommodation at Laban Rata and incurred none of the associated headaches we'd encountered. Unfortunately Bart arrived at Laban Rata to discover that they had failed to reserve him a bed, so he spent a sleepless night on the floor of the restaurant.

En-route to Laban Rata, the altitude (and too much beer) made for slow going.

Our hut 'Gunting Lagadan' with a couple of Mount Kinabulu's spires as a backdrop.

The next 'morning' we had the mother of all early starts, up at 2am and walking by 2:45. With around 150 people a day attempting to climb the mountain, many of whom appear to have done no exercise for quite some time, we started off trapped in a large group of people walking very slowly. After about an hour we had managed to pass the group and made good time first though alpine forest and then over exposed granite to the summit. The top of Mount Kinabalu is 4095m ASL, making it the highest mountain between the Himalayan foothills in Myanmar (Burma) and Irian Jaya. From here we might let the pictures do the talking for a bit:

We might have been stinking hot for weeks, but it was freezing (or pretty close to it) on the summit. Whilst it was peaceful being some of the first up, the wait for sunrise was rather bone-chilling.

Despite not appearing remotely pyramid shaped from beneath, the mountain casts a pyramid shaped shadow at sunrise (much like Volcan Tajumulco).

It's not so lonely at the top after all.

Gradually thawing out on the way down.

One for Erin's work colleagues, it's a Pitcher Plant - it eats bugs.

On the way down Bart passed us once more, lack of sleep left him looking a little worse for wear. The trip down took us almost as long as the trip up and upon arrival at the park headquarters we and a few fellow climbers decided we'd earned a trip to nearby Poring Hot Springs. Built by the Japanese in the Second World War these springs are not quite as idyllic as you may be imagining. Nonetheless a soak in one of the many concrete tubs followed by dip in the rather liberally named 'rock pool' did help to refresh our weary bodies.