Up Mt. Kinabalu- Part 1

We were the only two on a spaciously cramped cargo van bound for Mt. Kinabalu. Three rows of bench seats in the back left zero room for lounging and I sat with knees tucked to chest as our driver, an Indian-Malaysian mustachioed man rattled off rapid fire climb details in a brilliant accent. He gave us the rundown of what to expect: what time meals were (seemingly every half hour), the quality of the water (not good), what altitude sickness feels like (mostly just a headache), where we should meet our guide, what our guide's name was, where we could leave our bags etc. etc. etc.

Outside of Kota Kinabalu, we were let out to walk over a suspension bridge covering a green river lined with vegetation. I am sure the driver explained the importance of the bridge and its relevance to the nearby village, but I had given up listening and just enjoyed the stroll. The jungle lined river reminded me of something out of Conrad's "Heart of Darkness," but this is probably only because I haven't seen too many jungle lined rivers.

During the remainder of the drive up to higher altitude, I was careful to take in the views of the jungle forest. Green as far as I could see with a smattering of beaten up, stilted houses, dogs and chickens in gravel driveways. I wanted to keep those images with me, and be able to recall them years from now driving across a barren desert or walking amongst towering high rise apartments. The sky was gray and still before the rain started to fall. Just spit at first and then a violent downpour. Somehow, the driver was able to navigate through the wet, gray curtain of rain. I took a video of the rain while inside the van. I am sure I will never watch it, but I must have felt moved enough to document the experience.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and we were let out to browse an outdoor market near the entrance of the state park. I wanted to find dragon fruit, but there was none. Sami wanted me to a buy a hat. I don't really wear hats because I feel like my head is too small, but I bought it anyway as another piece of armor in a potential rain battle.

We got to the complex and received our meal tickets and room key. Our lodge was located about a half mile from the main office, restaurant and souvenir shop. The restaurant wasn't open yet so we walked the wood planked walkway down to the lodge to drop off our bags. Our room featured two sets of metal railed bunk beds. We were pleasantly surprised to find that we had the room to ourselves.

We were the first ones to enter the restaurant when it opened at six. We had our run of the buffet and went directly to work removing lids and scooping heaps of salty carbs like fried rice. chow mein noodles and pasta along with fruit and lots of meat. They even had shrimp with the heads on the way I like them. I felt like a pig, but soon the rest of the climbers- mostly Chinese and Euros dug in just as heartily.

The dining room. As you can see, we were the first to arrive.

No, this wasn't the only plate I ran through. I am a pig when it comes to buffets.

On the walk back the moon shone over the forming rainclouds, illuminating plants and flowers that appeared to come from FernGully. A full moon was scheduled for the early morning of our summit.

The rain came down hard and furious one more time that night as I lay in top bunk reading David McCullough's biography of Harry Truman. The war raged on in a Korea very unlike the one I reside in today and the general was pushing for increased aggression into China. I fell asleep to the sound of rainfall against the window pane and dreamt of a sloppy and soaked battlefield. Our march up the mountain would start early.

In the morning we packed our big bags and left them at the front desk for a small price. We would only be taking small backpacks up to the top. Breakfast was at the same restaurant and consisted mainly of leftovers from the night before. I couldn't resist the fried rice again and also found some baked beans which I put on burnt toast. I scraped most of the black off of it before applying the beans. These food items would contribute heavily to the subsequent constipation and general fartyness I would experience later on up the mountain. For now though, I was content to ascend with a happy mouth.

After breakfast we had a little scare. We thought our driver from the day before had told us to meet our guide, a petite but mountain strong woman, out in front of the main lodge at 7:15. By 7:30 no one was there. Eventually, we found another guide a quiet older gentleman who said that he climbs up to the top once or twice a week. Hearing him say that took the wind out of my sails a bit, but we pressed on anyway. We were ushered into an empty school bus and purchased walking sticks for the equivalent of about a buck. It wasn't very far to the main entrance. We took one last look behind us and then the gate to the park swung open. The day of our climb had finally come.