Down Mt. Kinabalu

The descent of Mt. Kinabalu was made easier by our newfound sense of accomplishment and the presence of the sun. After an otherworldly journey to the summit in total darkness, an extended moment to revel in the waking landscape would have been preferable had it not been for the biting cold and looming impressions of an arduous downward battle before us.

The sky turned too quickly from purple to crimson, orange, and increasingly pale shades of pink before blue. The inevitable birth and death and blending of colors created a continuously changing energy, and I couldn’t help but snap a picture with each clumsy step.

All told, I must have taken 200 pictures between sunrise at the top and breakfast at the lodge. Sami tried to keep me focused on my feet instead of the digital screen, but to no avail. I stumbled and smashed my knee into the cold hard granite, bloodying the girly gray tights she had lent me. Instead of bracing for the fall, I chose to cradle our cheap camera, shielding it from destruction.

Despite the fact that most of the pictures I took that morning are either redundant, off-centered, or littered with fellow climbers, I cannot bring myself to erase even one. It is hard to describe the sense of ownership we felt on the mountain that day. Sure, nearly every sunrise below Mt. Kinabalu is breathtaking, but this one was ours. We labored to the top, conquered the mountain, sidestepped the rain and we’ll remember every second of changing light- thanks to the camera.