Up Mt. Kinabalu- Part 3

The "night" before the climb was agonizing. I put "night" in quotation marks because the plan was to rise at two in the morning for breakfast before beginning our march to the top. I tried to fall sleep at 7 p.m. and took a natural sleep aid to ensure that I did, but missed my window of opportunity. Its effect wore off before I had a chance to doze. I was experiencing constipation- most likely due to the combination of high altitude and four buffet meals in two days. I rolled from side to side with each fart, hoping that the squeak of metal bed frame would cover the sound of any audible released gas. Sami, sleeping in the bunk below, later informed me that my ploy fooled no one- not her, the Irish girl three feet away, or the young Chinese couple at my feet. My ruse did not take the accompanying odor into consideration.

I was uncomfortable. The headstrap of my sleep mask was too loose and tickled my ear. I could feel a slight cold coming on. One nostril was completely dry and stuffed so that I couldn't breathe through it. The other leaked warm salty nose tears down my lips and chin. I hated being on the top bunk and was scared to death of a rollover. I tossed and turned and farted through the night with a bloated stomach and achy legs that I knew were only going to get worse. I twice frequented the men's room and put up one my most pathetic performances ever. I pushed and pushed and grunted and pushed for half an hour and each time came out with something no bigger than a Cheeto puff.

Eventually, I got a few hours of shut-eye, which I think was more than Sami experienced. Someones alarm clock went off at 2 am and we made our way downstairs for yet another buffet breakfast. Before we departed I outfitted myself in a pair of Sami's tights (yes they fit) to go under my hiking pants. I also wore cheesy hiking socks that we received as a Korean "service" at Columbia Outfitters and a giant blue poncho which came in handy more as an extra layer than to shield against non-existent rain.

Men in Tights

At 3 a.m. we slipped on hiking gloves and switched on our headlamps. Many hikers departed before we did and we soon passed them going up a steep set of stairs in the pitch dark. The hiking was more arduous than the day before. It was much steeper and above us headlamps glistened like eerie stars. I soon left Sami and the guide and took off at warp speed- exactly what I said I didn't want to do. I just couldn't stand climbing so slow in the cold behind fat people. I wanted to get out and move. Unbeknown to me at the time, I had all of our water bottles in my backpack, leaving Sami without any.

I took stone steps two at a time and easily passed dozens of climbers. I caught up to the lead group of about seven or eight young twentysomethings as we passed a checkpoint where a man at a desk made sure we were accounted for. The lead crew sat and rested as the guide commented on how early they were. Not wanting to go ahead on my own. I sat down as well with the intention of waiting for Sami, but when others bypassed the rest area and chugged ahead, my competitive juices started flowing. I waited for probably no more than ten minutes before bounding off on my own again.

The terrain past the check point changed quite drastically. It was all granite, no vegetation and no more steps. There was a rope attached to the ground that you could hold onto and I found myself pulling on the rope with my arms instead of using my legs. I passed all of the bouncing headlamps ahead except for two Frenchman who must be part mountain goat.

Soon I could see no more headlamps. It was cold and dark, but with the full moon I would see the tops of famous peaks above- the rhinoceros horn and the donkey's ears. If it wasn't for the rope and the orange lights of a village miles below, I could have sworn I was on another planet.

The volume of my heavy breathing was deafening against the dead calm atmosphere. My head ached from moving so fast and my stomach (still bloated) stretched against the tight belt of my poncho. At one point I stopped to adjust it and ended up just standing there, unable to move, forgetting what it was I was supposed to be doing. I wished my wife was there. I had never felt so alone.

Out of muscle memory I pressed on and passed the 7.5 km mark, then eventually the 8 km. Lowe's Peak- the highest point in Southeast Asia was just up above. I could see the Frenchmen's respective lamps.

The peak came with a whimper, not a bang. I was relieved to reach the top, but it felt strange having nothing to do. I was still at least an hour away from sunrise. I sat on a rock and stared at the unearthly terrain. A few guides reached the top after me and found a spot to lay down. Having made the trip on hundreds of occasions, they knew all of the best spots.

I found a decent rock to sit on and then shrieked in horror as something big and black scurried below. Rats. They moved quickly from person to person in search of dropped food. They must know that 4:00 a.m. every morning is when feeding begins. One even perched itself so close to a guide's

Oh my God! A rat almost touched his ear!

I hate rats and I cannot tell you why. I think it has something to do with the fact that they move around so fast, but I like other rodents with speed. It must be the tail. All I know is that I was shrieking like a girl the entire time at the top.

During one of my shrieks Sami approached with the intent of acting hopping mad. I think that she was more proud of herself for making it to the top than she was angry, so she didn't scold me to bad for taking off with the water. Also, she was laughing at my girlish cries every time I saw a rat. Serves me right for leaving her behind.

Finally day broke and offered us a panoramic that more than lives up to the hype.

 We'd made it, and despite my overall disinterest in hiking, this journey left us with a sense of accomplishment few activities can provide. Now all that was left, was to turn and go back.