No mountain high enough...

No Mountain High Enough was a book I read about four years ago, written by Linda Armstrong, mother of the great Lance on the suffering she went through nursing her only child as he fought a mountainous battle to survive testicular cancer.


My mother did not suffer through the same, except on May 5 1974 she battled to get me out of her at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in the city named after that mountain you see in the picture.


Being born in Kota Kinabalu though, sure didn't give me the right to underestimate the mountain. I'd forgotten all the lessons learned from the book that Linda wrote. I left too many stones unturned in my quest as part of the National Press Club's team of nine that were charged with the duty of climbing to the summit of Malaysia's highest peak.


I'd misheard some pointers given by colleague Edmund Samunting the night before we started our climb. I'd thought I'd be able to make it to the top in my Manchester United kit and running shoes as I'd aimed to fulfill my pledge should the team deliver the Premier League and Champions League double.


Nine of us: Hillary Merrai, Voon, Haslin Ghaffar (all from Bernama), Sivanesan (Malaysia Nanban), Pascual Dino Herrera, Tony Yew (NPC), Lum (Oriental Daily), Jugjet Singh (NST) and myself, had began our climb from the Tipohon station last Saturday (June 13).


It was a seven hour journey up trecherous uphill terrain to the Laban Rata station near the peak, which gave me all sorts of pains. I was unprepared physically, although mentally I was determined to fulfill my pledge to United.
I made it through the first part, feeling I'd be okay for the 2.7km climb up to Low's Peak which would begin at 2am the next morning.


I woke up, got dressed (in my United jersey, shorts, with United scarf wrapped around my neck and running shoes). I went downstairs to gather with the rest.... And to my surprise, everyone was all wrapped in three layers of overcoats, long pants and so on.. The only extra I had was my Eupro Big Game jigging gloves. On top of that, we had no breakfast.


Our guide Primus asked me whether I was okay cause it was five degrees celsius and drizzling. I told him whether I'm okay or not, that was all I had, so I'm giving it a go.


Made it past the first kilometre, then we started climbing using ropes. The wet ropes began to soak my gloves. My hands slowly increased in level of numbness until the second section when I began to not feel my hands at all. Suddenly, I slipped and as I quickly tried to regain footing, I felt my ankle was sprained and then suddenly cramps appeared. I told Jugjet and Siva, who were behind me at that point, to just go on.


I tried to think hard but my body just could not take that much cold. So, down I headed, slowly. Entering the final part of the ropes on the way down, with a ravine just metres away, I slipped under the sprained ankle again. Which led to an amazing instant, selfless act by Primus, who jumped from above me to break my fall. He was tiny, at least 30kilogramme lighter than me. I could have easily taken both of us down the mountain.


Thankfully, although painfully, I made my way back to the Laban Rata resthouse by 4.30am. Got into bed and slept off the pain.


By 10am, Hillary, Voon and Haslin were already down after reaching the summit. Next came Lum, then the hotel manager who instructed us to gather our stuff and get out of there as it was check-out time.


Dino, Jugjet, Siva and Tony were still somewhere up there. Luckily, Maxis worked perfectly all the way up Kinabalu. After checking with our other guide Freddie Akau, we thought it better for the first group to head down, since there were reports from Primus that Jugjet and Dino were stuggling along and would take a bit longer. Okay down we go.


Problem was, I had a sprained ankle. I told myself it is about the time spent struggling and fighting pain, thus the need to reduce that. First kilometre down was about warming up. Then as Hillary and myself were side-by-side I asked him how he was. "I'm just so uncomfortable. Without sleep and my knees are aching," said Hillary. I was in pain too.


"You know what we can do?" I asked Hillary. "We can go slow, suffer the pain and get down to Tipohon at our own pace. That means about six hours of pain. If we just grit our teeth, forget about the pain and race down as quickly as possible, we maybe suffer three hours."


"Okay. Let's go," Hillary replied. By the third kilometre, we were leaving Haslin and the other two behind and had to wait at the rest stations for them. "You two downhill specialists!" quipped Haslin.


Oh, I forgot. As we approached the one kilometre mark from Laban Rata, Tony called, telling us to wait as he'll join us, while we had to arrange transport for the rest of the party who'd be coming down later.

So, Hillary and me led the way. If the first kilometre down was slow, the next five were explosive. We only took several minutes to rest. At some flat sections, I started to run. For a moment, I was one with the pain in my ankles. That was until the final 500m, when it was just unbearable. I was almost crying. I could see Tipohon gate in front of my eyes, but getting there was just excruciating. the pain started to get to me. We took about four hours to get down. God knows how I felt when I finall arrived and sat down only to find that there was no water on sale!

In all this part of the NPC Sabah Goodwill Trip was memorable. But I've got unfinished business. I know I made a grave and stupid mistake. I should have known better. So, I'm going back there soon to get to the top of that mountain.