Mount Kinabalu, Borneo: I’ve reached my peak

Now I know I’ve already done a mountain climb post, but we can now officially call Mount Batur the warm up. Bear with me on this one, I promise it won’t feel like Déjà vu…

After my animal themed time in Sandakan, I hopped on a plane to the other side of Borneo, Kota Kinabalu. Fresh from London, my friend Graham arrives armed with a suitcase filled with cold weather clothes. My 35 page itinerary says we’re going up Mount Kinabalu, so obviously this is what we have to do – no questions asked.

To say that we were beyond excited for this expedition is an understatement. Shopping for the sugary treats to keep us going, headlamps for the summit climb, walking poles for the way down…we felt fully prepared for the 48 hours ahead. How this makes me laugh now!

Mount Kinabalu stands at 4095.2m tall. This is almost half the height of Mount Everest. The tallest mountain in Southeast Asia. I know this now.

We arrived at Kinabalu Park raring to go. Admin sorted, guide booked, group joined, we were off. Day 1 involved trekking 6km up the mountain at a very steady pace. I, on a regular basis, vocally appreciated how well etched out the path was. At times there were hand rails, lots of sturdy steps, good width for 2 way traffic…healthy signs for someone with a fear of heights. 

Now here’s an ironic moment when I thought having to climb on all fours was me being dramatic…

We appreciated the fauna and flora, the stunning views, getting to know other climbers with our shared mission on the way up. With bouts of torrential rain, moments of altitude sickness, and feeling cold to the bone, this day was by far the most physically challenging I’ve ever experienced. But we got our heads down and just felt more proud for overcoming the elements when we reached base camp Sutera Sanctuary Lodge for the night 5 hours later. And to top the night off beautifully we witnessed the most magical sunset. All in all, an amazing and very memorable day. 

3am the following morning we were up, fuelled, and ready to meet Low’s Peak for sunrise. We began the 2.7km very steep ascent in unison, a line of headlamps bobbing up the mountain. 

When I noticed several people turning back to base camp an hour or so into the climb, alarm bells did begin to ring. But I was determined to conquer this mountain, so on I ploughed with bells suppressed.

Then came the vertical rock climb with one shared rope bit, with a sheer drop whichever way you looked. The parts where we had to haul ourselves up rock boulders, wedging our hands and feet in crevices that began to get slippery when rain threatened, unharnessed. The howling wind and what felt like subzero temperatures. This bit went on for a good 2 hours and for me was my biggest mental challenge. I could physically get myself up the mountain, I knew this, as in the darkness I was blissfully ignorant to the extent of the drop below us. My panic came from the thought of getting back down this vertical cliff face. Of the trust you have to put in the people above you, as if one slips surely we all go. I’ve lost my team at this point, and probably too deep in thought I lose focus for a split second and I slip. Badly. A stranger grabs my ankle and pulls me back to a rock where I plant myself and decide that’s enough now. I couldn’t have thanked him enough but when this stranger offered to climb the rest of the summit with me I gratefully declined and explained that I wasn’t going up any further. With just 300m to go I was admitting defeat, sat on a rock trying so hard not to cry. Defeat is not in my nature.

I spotted my team passing through and gave them a speech about how reaching this point was my victory, I’ve conquered this mountain as far as I’m concerned, and there’s no weakness in not going any further. Scott’s response, which now makes me chuckle, but at the time was not what I wanted to hear at all was “but you haven’t conquered it though have you, there’s 300m to go”. Right…

Up I got and with my teams encouragement I reached the summit slowly but surely, and experienced possibly one of the proudest moments of my life. I honestly couldn’t have done it without the people I had just met not even 24 hours before (and of course Graham). We didn’t get a clear sunset, but this made it all the more evident to me that this was about the journey, not the destination. 

The descent was actually enjoyable after all. Tino, our guide, literally talked me through every hand and foot placement for the safest way down. All whilst he walked backwards without even using the rope! We were above the clouds at this point and I felt on top of the world. 

The thought of a massage and KFC (Graham’s choice…) when we reached the bottom kept us going. I stormed ahead of Graham who thankfully took the time to document the experience. I just had to get down that mountain! And the post climb pain we felt for the couple days after was just a reminder of our achievement. It kept the moment very much alive. A sacred mountain gave us a very sacred experience.

Back at Kota Kinabalu now I messaged home these exact words “I’m hanging up my climbing shoes, my hearts just not cut out for it. I’m not an adrenaline junkie.” But I fear it’s a bit like childbirth, I’m already forgetting the terrifying bits and just remembering how proud and elated I felt when I conquered the mountain and my fears. Perhaps one day…

Have you ever signed yourself up for a challenge that wasn’t what you expected? What fears have you conquered? Friends of Graham, did you think he had a mountain climb in him?! Feel free to share, like, comment X