In significant detail - we returned from the longhouse, had dinner at Top Spot then I did end up catching a boat from Kuching to Sibu (5hrs), a bus to Miri (7hrs) and a plane to Kota Kinabalu (0.83hrs). It seems one man has not one destiny (see previous post).
And here begins the story proper of one man's pursuit..... of that which he was pursuing. Continue reading and you are likely to think of Jules Verne, and you'd be right to do so. But be not fooled - this adventurous, exploratory, dangerous journey into unknown mysterious lands is no fairytale. Against all odds there was one man who dared go where thousands had been before. In doing so he would see further and reach deeper into his soul than he had ever imagined.....
Allow me to introduce myself - I am Sir Col. Charles Charles Esq. Scientist, apothocast and explorer. As I sipped my tea and buttered scones one spring morning I realised these little dough dumplings did not satisfy the thirst for adventure that ran like poison in my veins. I had tried many unorthodox methods but my senses told me to stop. I could'nt stand on the beach anymore - the only cure was expedition.
I had in my time....
- dodged stampeding wilderbeast and brawling elephants in Africa,
- dipped and danced like a goanna with the Aborigine,
- ducked and crawled through the cavernous underbelly of Indonesia &
- dived to the colourful depths of the Great Barrier Reef.
Without a new expedition the poison would surely tear me apart - like swallowing a bag of needles and pins. Obviously it was time to dodge the yellow bellied black snake, pierce the clouds and climb to incredible height - to stand above the world, look down upon it and to call out "CALL ME KING OF THE MOUNTAIN".
I'd heard rumours of such a mountain on the mysterious, little explored, isle of Borneo. So I purchased and gathered the neccessary equipment and provisions and began the expedition.
~~~~~~~~\__^^__/~~~~~~~~
On first sight of the towering mountain I was confident it would drain much of the poison from my body, and probably also my soul. I felt the need to change the undergarment. The local guide (whose services I had employed to accompany me to the summit) let out a little whimper on realising what he had signed on for.
The guide, Joseph, told me the mountain was created by supreme dieties and dragons guarding treasure troves of pearl necklaces. So I named the mountain "Kinabalu", meaning 'spirit resting place'.
Using the sextant, aquired from Debbie's Porn Shoppe, I estimated the highest peak to be at 4095.2m. I named it Low Peak, giggling for quite some time at the irony. Furthermore I applied an accute knowledge of mathematics to identify 4 climatic zones through which we would climb en route to the summit: 1. rich lowland dipterocarp forest, 2. coniferous forest, 3. alpine meadow, 4. stunted summit zone.
After offering a few words of encouragement to Joseph, we took the first step towards Low Peark. We immediately commenced a steep ascent, cutting a path through the dipterocarp. Soon, by exactly 2081m we entered climatic zone #2 and were engulfed by the low lying clouds. Each of the coniferous moss covered tree trunks precipitated out of the fog as we approached........ then dissolved again as we passed.
The atmosphere was eerie...the forest mute..but we were not alone - pitcher plants of the largest size and varying variety hung silently, poised to leach life from the next inquisitive victim. Passive predators. Moisture coalesced on the yellow, white and pink petals of 1200 species of orchids, smattering the forest's limbs. And impressive boquets of rhododendron appeared infrequently.
(Joseph - Sabah)
The long hand of the pocket watch had completed two revolutions and we had stepped a mere 4kms (as measured on the Durawheel, pictured). The pressure differential across my atuned ear drums indicated we were at 2741m elevation. The tall foliage was beggining to thin. Small shrubs characteristic of the alpine meadow climatic zone abounded. Pretty toenail sized flowers bloomed from many branches.
Black eyed wrens and Grey Drongos danced silently in the sparse short bonsaique trees. The cloud had blown by momentarily and I remarked to Joseph "I can see clearly now". After catching his breath he proposed it would be a bright bright sun shiny day for our reaching the summit.
We pushed on past 2900m....30000m.............3068m........................... .... . ..3069m.. The thin air is taxing but it is also an incredible voyage for the thig and calf muscles, with not one step being at the same elveation as the last - the only way is up, baby. The effect of the altitude on Joseph was a concern. At one stage we saw a rainbow coming out of the clouds at the end of which he professed to see a pot of gold! I had to slap him on the cheek a few times before he agreed that, rather than gold, it was actually just some silly looking, unusually caring, bears with various pictures embroided on their stomachs.
Something darted across the track in front of us! We both froze. What dangerous beasts lurked in the dense undergrowth? Hearing a scampering to the right we turned to see a small hutch of squirrels playing and foraging in a twisted system of roots. It was likely that this twisted system of roots was central to their species' survival - we encountered many score more as further we climbed.
Two more revolutions of the time piece and we were at 3300m. Joseph's incapacity to carry on safely was unquestionable. I decided we would rest the afternnoon and night to allow him to recuperate and aclimatise. Reclining high on the mountain we admired the view down the steep bushy valley we had just come up.
Above we could see the vegetation end sharply and above that a granite wasteland leading to a couple of peaks - the highest being our destination - Low Peak. As the sun's rays dimmed I questioned a look of fear on Joseph's face - "Do you have a Fear of the Dark?" His reply was short but clear. "He who upsets spirits of ancestors will die by dragon's breath*". He continued to explain that a gift to the spirits was required for safe passage. A sacrifice was reccomended.
* Old jungle saying
It was a simple request to fulfill and would pass the afternoon. We ceremonially executed a squirrel using the sharpest blunt edge of the sextant (I had brought no cutting utensils). Joseph recited a traditional local prayer then I executed another nine (9) just to be sure. This site I named "Panar Laban" - meaning 'place of sacrifice' in the local dialect. After the busy afternoon we dozed to sleep.
We awoke under a full moon at 2:03am GMT. Howling in excitement we set off hoping to welcome the sun at the summit. Onwards the elevations are approximate as the sextant no longer functioned accurately. 3668m marked the edge of the vegetation and near 7kms of ascent. We were forced to scramble up and along steep faces of onion skin granite. Our heads popped up over above a crest at 3990m. Low Peak was in sight - 800m away through a smooth wide grey granite valley - like another world.
An icy wind ripped at our naked flesh as we arduosly staggered across the moonscape. Legs felt like wet tree trunks and our hearts pounded furiously like a 24cyl Diesel engine at extraordinary rpm. Joseph had to stop every 10 paces to avoid catastrophic internal combustion. I could hear his knees grinding with every purposeful step. He was in bad shape.
I offered continuos encouragement to boost his morale and help him in what was an epic mental battle. I relayed stories of my time in the Galapogos where i met an old wise tortoise who could spoke but 6 words to me - "slow and steady wins the race".
At last the tip of Low Peak was within reach. I summoned all the little energy and breath remaining and with great courage grabbed hold of Joseph's shoulder and pulled myself past that shell of a man to stand proudly aloft the Kinabalu Mountain! The sun rose in a curtain of spectacular rich orange. This was a great day. I Sir Col. Charles Charles Esq. had conquered. I looked down at the clouds, the ocean and the world and said 'hey Joseph, call me king of the mountain!"
A fresh wind blew past my lips, carrying my softly sung words down the mountain to all the lands, some near, some far far away......
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.....
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