Borneo Blast, Day #3: The Molehill is a Mountain . . .

Before I left for Borneo, I had already registered and paid for a 2-day mountain climb. I was sort of talked into it . . . I thought if I could make it through the climb I did in Thailand, I could do anything this.

After my day of rowing to my own little private island, I took a day to relax and organize everything for the climb. I woke up to the most incredible sunrise, and the most searing sunburn pain.

My sunburn ended up being so bad that I woke up in the middle of the night, too. I can't explain exactly how it felt, but it was far worse than any sunburn I had ever had. If I was laying down, the pain was manageable. But when I would stand up, all of the blood in my legs would rush into the outer most tips of my veins and cause excruciating pain. It was like the feeling you get when your feet fall asleep, times ten: little pricklies all over. So the first thing I did was buy a large quantity of aloe vera. For the rest of the week my legs were covered in about a 1/4 inch of aloe vera. Oh to be pale . . .

While out running errands for the mountain climbing trip and the legs that were burnt, I was able to meander about Kota Kinabalu quite a bit. It was a quiet little city filled with color.

We also popped into a little market, where I did my fair share of Christmas shopping.

I had Mr. Abel drive me around to see several of the large mosques in the city. They were gorgeous!

We also stopped by a cemetery. I was fascinated by the grave sites. They were rather large shrines built to people, tucked into little hills. They were highly decorated and sort of engulfed by the vegetation around them.

The end of the day boasted just as beautiful a sunset as the sunrise I witnessed that morning. That evening I packed away my headlamp, my gloves, and my dignity into a little bag. I was being picked up at 6am the next day for the 2-day climb . . .

I woke up around 5am to prepare for my trip. I was still relatively sore from my sunburn, but at least on this day, I was able to move again without tearing up. Right on schedule my driver arrived. I was alone in a giant white van with him for two hours. We drove through the city and then, up, up, up and away . . . We were getting higher and higher in the mountains, and the roads were getting windier and windier. I was energized and excited, and everything was so green!

We pulled over at a little roadside stand where I picked up some more water and breakfast. I had remembered from my Thailand trip how quickly I ran out of water, so I wanted to make sure that I had enough. Everywhere I turned at this little roadside stand had the most gorgeous views!

I finally arrived to the site where the climb would begin. It was very Yellowstone-y looking. There was a gate at the front, and a few really nice lodges where people were standing around with backpacks on. I stood around waiting for about 2 hours for my guide to show up. Giant buses were dropping off loads and loads of people. It was beginning to get very crowded . . .

My guide finally arrived via scooter. His name was Zul and he spoke very little English. My guess is that he was in his early 20's. He was very kind and patient, and he sort of pointed at a map and showed me what was going on. As usual, I didn't do any research or look over my itinerary before arriving. So I figured this would be a quick climb and I'd leave the next morning.

I was even more excited and positive about the climb when I saw that the path had been paved for us. This wasn't like Thailand at all. I could do this, I thought. Step-by-step I could do.

It was between the 3rd and 4th kilometer that I began to think that maybe steps weren't such a good idea . . . 

I kept meeting people along the way. Some of the guys do trips up and down the mountain delivering goods to the top via their backs. From what I could tell, they were carrying eggs, toilet paper, chocolates, ramen noodles, etc. I found it completely amazing that they would be basically jogging up these stairs, sometimes with a cigarette hanging out of their mouths, with these giant packs on their backs.

There was also a college youth group doing the trip. They were hilarious to meet up with as we continued on the journey. Funny, funny guys.

The most spectacular part was the landscape. It was ever-changing. I kind of thought that it would stay sort of rainforest-y looking, but it didn't. The higher we climbed, the more diverse and interesting the landscape became.

One thing that was really kind of annoying to me was how crowded it was. I was able to shoot several images where there were no people, but believe-you-me, there were people. Hundreds of people. The path was relatively narrow, so you either had to stop for people to go past you or go faster to get past someone else. When I'm doing hikes like this, I like to sort of take in my surroundings. I felt that was a little bit harder this time around . . .

Our goal was to get to the Laban Rata Rest House, which was 6 kilometers up. I was sweating like a beast once we passed the 5 kilometer mark. I wanted to take off my jacket, but there was really no place to put it. At 205 meters from the end, we passed someone wearing earmuffs and a stocking cap . . . Are kidding me? It's so hot!! 

It's amazing to me how long the last leg of something can be . . . 6 kilometers flat? I say yes, absolutely. 6 kilometers up a mountain via stairs of varying depths? I think I'll pass.

It was just after this little video that we made our way up and out of the trees. And not a moment too soon . . .

The lodge where all of the meals took place was completely packed and reminded me of lunchtime on a ski slope in Vail. Everyone looked sort of haggard, but upbeat. And everyone was wearing some sort of winter clothing. I went inside to check-in and sit down for a minute. They wouldn't be feeding us dinner for another hour or so.

It was then when I was surrounded by tourists and everything cost way too much money (a KitKat and Diet Coke cost Rm20.50) that I realized I had made a mistake. Not only had I overpaid for this trip (Rm1250-are-you-kidding-me), but it wasn't even the scene I was interested in. There was no personal touch at all. In Thailand, we stayed in a village with pigs running around and kids playing. It was authentic, it was real. This felt a bit manufactured, and like something you would see advertised in an extreme sports magazine.

I mean, I didn't want to be on the top of a mountain in Malaysia listening to Ariana Grande.

But it was really beautiful . . . There was no doubt about that!

After I checked in, they gave me a pass to wear around my neck. My number was AA22, which I could only hope meant "ability of an acute 22 year old". They put me in a cabin named Lamaing Hostel, where I stayed with 14 other people. I was on the bottom bunk. 

After they showed me where I was staying, they fed us cafeteria-style in the main lodge and we were expected to be in bed by 7:30pm. Unbeknownst to me, I had to be up to 2am for a 2 kilometer hike in the dark further up to see the sunrise.

Hmmmm. This is when I started giving careful consideration to what I was doing. Mountains are just as beautiful from my balcony in Kota Kinabalu, as they are up close. So why am I doing this?

The sun had gone down, and--you guessed it--it was freezing cold. There was no heat in the cabin where we were staying. Still pondering the question of why did I agree to do this, I looked back through the selfies I took at various landmarks throughout the day's climb. Still no answer to that burning question.

It was now 12:32am. A zillion people have been going to the restroom (when I say a zillion, I mean 6). Not only do the metal bunk beds creak like jangly chains every time someone moves, but I can hear everything that happens in the restroom. I never get up in the middle of the night. Who are these people?!! I hadn't slept but about 30 minutes. This was going to suck . . . 

I had firmly decided that I was not going to do the hike to see the sunrise at 2am. But over dinner, some younger kids talked me into it. So there I was up and at 'em at 1:30am. And so was everybody else . . . I put on my headlamp, found Zul, and we took off. I actually had no issues with it being completely dark out. I thought it was actually easier because I had no expectations. I couldn't see what was coming, so I was pretty much good to go. Give me a headlamp any day of the week, and I'll be hot to trot.

It was only when we got about 300 meters from the finish mark that I had to put my foot down. The rest of the way was via rope climb. 

Nope. No thank you. Nada. 

Not only was I not going to do that, but I wasn't even interested. When I saw the rope, I knew in my heart that I made the right decision. There are some things I just don't need to do in life. And I'm okay with that.

Zul and I both took pictures in the dark. And we were both completely happy (for once) with my decision not to go any further. So we started the climb down. 

When we got down and back to the lodge, we were really excited to be able to rest. So he went to his room and I went to mine, and we napped for about an hour. When I got up, it was still quiet. There were no people. So I walked around taking pictures. It really was something to be above the clouds . . .  

They served breakfast at 6am. It was really nice to be relaxed and ready before the big 6 kilometer climb down. We left the lodge at 8:15am.

Around kilometer marker number 3, it started to drizzle. I had purchased two ponchos, so I put one over my bag and the other one over me. The rain made the rainforest even more mystical, where the foreground sort of mixed with the background, confusing the image. I loved it!

All-in-all, it took us about 5 hours to climb up and 6 hours to climb down. Over the course of two days, I climbed about 14 kilometers. Completely sunburned. Nothing really humorous or funny happened because I didn't really find this particular adventure enjoyable. Was I glad that I did it? Sure. I'll do just about anything. Have I figured out why I did it? Nope. Will I ever climb a mountain again? Probably not. 

I'll stick to water adventures from now on. Cheers!

Borneo Blast, Day #2: Rowing to my Very Own Island!

When I was growing up in Dallas, Texas we would go to amusement parks all of the time during the summer. A water park named Wet n' Wild and Six Flags . . . Both of them were overly crowded and probably completely unsafe. But every summer we were there as a family or with friends, all of the time. And by the time I was in 6th grade, I began to have this reoccurring dream--nightmare, really--that the two parks had mixed together in a disastrous sort of way. Six Flags became flooded while I was stuck on top of a roller coaster. And somehow that flooding mixed with the ocean (it was a dream after all). And not only was I stuck on top of a roller coaster surrounded by water, but there were hundreds of killer whales swimming around me. I remember that dream like it was yesterday.

My goal when booking my trip to Borneo was to take a diving course. I mentioned how the ocean sort of frightened me with it's vastness in my previous post. But I booked the diving course anyhow and thought, I'll be fine. I'll just do it and deal with it. Except that the closer I got to actually leaving for Borneo, the more I thought about that nightmare I mentioned above. I don't even know if killer whales live around Borneo, but I cancelled my dive course booking. I decided I wasn't ready. The most exhilarating and frightening thing I can think of right now at this moment in time would be to stare a whale in the eye while underwater trapped in heavy gear. It took my breath away, and I hadn't even done it yet. I know they are harmless, and I've been whale watching a zillion times. But for some reason, something stopped me.

So I accepted it. I decided that I would do other water activities. Find other ways to experience that crazy vastness of the ocean that completely terrifies me. 

I started my second day in Borneo with another walk on the beach. I thought it was so fun to just walk up and down the coast in the sand. I found the most random things in the water, like the chair above. I also had an absolute blast watching all of these tiny, translucent side-walking crabs build their little sand caves. They would roll up the most perfect little sand balls, in all different sizes, creating beautiful designs outside of wherever their little cave was. And they scurried back into their cave every time I approached them, covering their little cave holes with one of the balls they just made.

The night before, I asked my driver, Mr. Able, what he thought might be fun to do. I told him that I had absolutely no interest in doing anything that other tourists might be doing. I didn't want to go to a zoo to see monkeys, or be around a giant group of people. I just wanted to feel a connection to the water in some new way.

He said that he had a friend who was opening up a new, tiny, exclusive beach hut resort. And would I be interested in going to see it and taking a boat out on the water, perhaps even rowing to another island. 

This is when I decided that drivers know the best things to do, but you really have to drill them. They are so used to taking people wherever most tourists go, so you really have to tell them exactly what you might be interested in doing. And I promise--if you trust them--the most exciting things will take place. It happened for me in India, and now in Borneo. Always, always, always talk to the driver and trust in them to make things happen!

So around 9am, we were off. It was about a 2 hour drive. We stopped off at a little market to pick up some fruits and bottles of water. Color was everywhere!

The drive was relatively flat until the very end. We started winding through hills, up and down. Then we got over one hill and he told me to look out the window. That's when I saw the view pictured above. It was so blue and luscious! He said to me, "Just around that curve on the right, that's where we're headed." 

Sure enough, not a soul in sight! It was marvelous . . . 

It took about an hour for Mr. Able and one of the two construction workers on the property to arrange the boat and get it ready. So I made myself at home . . . I tossed my shoes off in the sand, and played in the water and climbed around on the rocks.

I couldn't stop taking pictures of this place. It was just so pure and beautiful and empty! I've become such a recluse in my old age, and I absolutely love it! The only sound I could hear was water lapping against the rocks, and the occasional bird. It was just so magnificent!

Finally the boat was prepared. I took a quick picture with the construction worker who had helped us out, and then we were off.

It was just a simple row boat. We both had oars. And Mr. Able thought to grab his battery powered motor from his house--a welcomed surprise! 

The island we were rowing to is that little tree-covered green spot in the image above. It may appear that it is relatively close. Well, I am here to tell you that it was not . . . Mr. Able guessed that it was about 3 kilometers away. But I don't think that's true. I think he was telling me that in an effort to keep my panic at bay.

As we sat there rowing, surrounded by water, I started to get imaginative in my head. I began to think of the dream I had as a child and the movie, The Perfect Storm. But this did not deter me. I kept on rowing and tried to shoot as much video and still images as possible.

It was when we were about halfway that I realized we had a little stowaway. I didn't have shoes on, so while I was rowing, I felt this little tickling around my left ankle. That's when I met Harry. I hadn't seen a hermit crab since I was much younger. I picked him up without thinking and then squealed when he popped his head out and his little arms touched my hand. I set him back down again, and continued rowing. We were taking Harry to his new home, a private island all to himself! Hooray!

About 3/4ths of the way to our destination, I began the dreaded chant, "Do you think we'll make it?' It's like I was a child again, in the back of my parent's Chevy Blazer on the way to Colorado: "Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?" Every 2 minutes I was asking the question, "Do you think we'll make it?"

We had been rowing for about three hours. Three hours??! Yes, three hours. Turns out the little motor that Mr. Able brought didn't work. He forgot to charge it the night before. Ooops. Plus we were headed towards the wind, and it was hot, and we were out of water. Oh the irony to be surrounded by water, but out of water.

Then without any sort of fireworks or ticker tape parade, we made it! Just like that, we hit shore. Hooray! Hooray!

The beach was solid shells. There was absolutely no sand. It was so incredibly beautiful! And the perfect new home for little Harry. He could pick out any new shell he wanted to live in . . . Countless outfits at the ready!

We were both so happy that we made it! I mean, seriously! Writing this now and looking back at these pictures . . . My goodness! How gracious I feel to have been able to experience this!

Mr. Able found Harry a place to live while I took in a victory splash. We ended up only staying on our little island for about an hour. Maybe even just 45 minutes. But I can safely say that it was probably the best 45 minutes of my life. EVER.

I kept looking at the sky while taking in the new island. The weather was changing. Clouds were rolling in and thunder was booming. We got back into the boat and began our journey to the mainland. That's when the chant turned from "Do you think we'll make it" to "We keep rowing, but we haven't moved at all!!" I have to admit: about halfway home, I kind of had a bit of a nervous spell. Mr. Able had just finished telling me about how the last time he was out on these waters, he saw some whales feeding just over there. That story coupled with the rain that was on it's way sort of did me in. I didn't cry, but I rowed faster than any other human has ever rowed, ever. It was a mild freak-out, but a freak-out nonetheless. And I was so hot and thirsty and completely sunburned, down to my core.

About 50 meters from the shore, I jumped ship. I didn't care if I could stand or not, I just had to get out of the boat and feel the coolness of the water on my skin. Thankfully, I could stand, if only barely. I held onto the side of the boat and we kind of drifted in . . . At this point it had started sprinkling. I squelched all of the crazy thoughts going on in my head like what if we had still been on our island during the rain. Oh my gosh! What if, what if, what if??!! But we were safe. We made it to our magical island and back again, just in time for the storm. Lucky ducks!

I did it! I was so happy and thankful and filled with excitement!

We got back to the shore a lot quicker since the wind was at our backs. We ended up back on the mainland in about half of the time that it took us to row out to the island. I just stood on shore and looked out at the island where we left Harry. What a marvelous, once-in-a-lifetime, experience I just had. I know it probably doesn't look like a lot. But to me, it meant the world. To me it was incredible.

I begrudgingly got back in the car to go home, back to my condo. I really wanted to stay there at that enchanted beach. Alas . . . The ride home, back through the little villages, was just as beautiful as anything else I had seen that day. Roaming cows, pink houses, rice paddies . . .

Back in Kota Kinabalu, I remembered that I was in Malaysia. (Ha!) I wanted satay and I wanted it now. The perfect ending to a perfect day . . .

We stopped off at a little street side market and it was a treasure-trove of goodness. Satay for miles!

We also stopped off at this little stand on the highway where a lady was selling coconuts. Let me tell you in case you are unaware, there is nothing more refreshing at the end of a day of rowing than drinking out of a fresh coconut. And there is nothing more exciting than watching a lady in fabulous complimentary-colored prints, hacking away at a coconut! So good . . . Perfection achieved.

Up Next: Climbing a mountain for the second and last time in my life. (Here's a tip: mountains look just as good up close as they do from a balcony with a glass of wine in hand . . . )