A mum, dad and their three kids from Tasmania, go on an epic adventure in Borneo for 3 weeks in December
Tag Archives: bayo lodge
December 21, 2011Posted by on
The night was punctuated with cats complaining, children coughing and one in particular who roused himself from bed to his feet and promptly vomited on the floor. Thankfully Nani collected that one after asking me “what should I do?” whereupon I answered “wipe it up.” I’m not sure what the other options are for vomit.
By 6.30am sunlight was streaming into our darkened bacteria and mucous filled cave like a ray of hope that translates “I hope I get to see the mountain today”, “I hope the laundry gets dry before we have to push on westward to our final destination in East Malaysia”, and “I hope the kids get better today because I don’t think I can carry all their packs.” I mix up some gastrolyte because Lachie has just thrown up and is dehydrating.
I decide that after two days without one I ought to shower. I have hesitated knowing that using my travel towel will mean it won’t dry til we get to KK and will stink by then, but the sunlight means I’m in with a chance. The wall mounted water heater whirs into life sounding like my Breville food processor when I finally locate the mains switch for it and soon a thin dribble of water is burning hot. Evidently these double as an urn for making tea and coffee. I turn the stem of the knobless dial down a little and know with shampoo in my hair it goes cold. I try and clear my eyes and locate the dial again and ease it up. Various insects share the shower toilet cubicle with me including a large impressive green beetle swimming in the water bin. Nani had already cancelled her shower out of fear of the moths in there. I look out the gaps in the wall and across the valley. The fog has lifted and I can see for miles. I emerge from the shower feeling brand new, grab my daypack and head for The Mountain while Nani volunteers to man the ward.
By now after two days of taxi, bus, hard bed and cohabiting an infectious disease unit, I’m keen to pay the triple the local fee to get into what has become by now my Mecca Mt Kinabalu National Park.
As i walk the winding short 300m to the entrance past the nuggety black headed dog that looks part pitbull, past the half grown water buffalo bull with a rope through its nose, past the cafe that aren’t sure when they will serve food, I see it emerging from the canopy above the roofline of Park HQ.
Mt Kinabalu is the highest peak between mainland SE Asia and New Guinea and is a massive grey granite mountain along which several climactic zones determine what flora anf fauna will proliferate. While it was explored in the 1800’s as recently as 1966 climbing the mountain still meant that seven white chickens had to be executed to appease the dead spirits whom villagers believed made their home there.
The park itself is bigger than the island country of Singapore at 75000 ha and is now privately run by the pay-through-your-nose Sutera Lodges. I see bandana clad climbers readying themselves rushing from accommodation to buffet, packs of all brands mounded up outside the restaurant, to the pick up point where they will be transported the 4km to the Timpohon Gate where they will begin the grueling guided 8.7km climb at 1866m above sea level to Laban Rata where wet and cold they will pay through the nose for a cold shower and a bed for some of the night. At 2.30 am they will rouse pull on a headlamp, gloves, beanies, fleece tops and raincoats, to combat the cold and begin their ascent. If they have all their ducks in a row (or better still, seven white headless bloodied chickens) the gods will smile on the efforts of those who don’t have a stroke and they will see the sun rise of a new day at Lows peak 4095m above sea level walking a total of 8.72 km. The unlucky will have hearts racing and lift headedness from altitude sickness, possibly hypothermia, will be rained on and in the mists, drizzle and cloud at the top will see nothing. At this point tired from a lack of sleep climbers will descend to reach the bottom in the afternoon with legs no sturdier than Aeroplane jelly on a warm afternoon. Walking sticks are highly recommended.
I happily join the ranks of the 70% of people who visit without climbing the mountain satisfied I’ve made the right choice after getting short of breath just climbing the steps to Park reception (it’s the altitude).
I wander around and check out the breakfast buffet being served in the cafe (looks pretty flash). I continue around past various kinds of accommodation options inside the park along a walking path with generously provided shade stops erected with some rough seats and oddly little concrete barbecues. Odd because I can’t remember the last time I saw a dry stick that would burn.
I make it to the Liwagu Restaurant which opens at ten. Outside the restaurant in the foyer is an inviting lounge with a view of the mountains imposing green jungle clad flanks. This is where the climbers briefings are held the night before.
Upstairs is a visitors centre which is a small room with information about not only Mt Kinabalu NP but also the other parks in Sabah. Details on the formation and geology of the mountain I’m not interested in so I keep browsing. The only other person in the room is a Malaysian lady about seven months pregnant. We don’t talk. Vegetation and climactic zones are covered but the bit I like the most is the stuffed animals – rats, civet, python, tarsier, mouse deer – probably the closest I’ll come to seeing these in Malaysia.
At the gated and locked Botanic Garden I jump on the Silau trail and cross a small mossy arch bridge nearly losing my footing on the slick timber. I love temperate rain forests and the little busy creeks and streams that run through them. Shafts of eye piercing early morning sunlight stream through the foliage ricocheting of wet leaves and puddles. The fresh cool air a welcome relief from the sick bay that is our hostel room. As I walk up the yellow muddy trail there seems to be more bird life here than in the tropical rainforest as I hear more different calls than I have in the other places we have been.
There are kilometers of beautiful walks of lengths ranging in a few hundred meters to a few kilometers around the park. I’m sorely tempted to bum a ride the 4km to the Timpohon Gate where the climbers begin so I can take a short sneaky walk up the first part of the actual climb but in the back of my mind I know Nani is looking after the kids catching all kinds of nasty and voluminous expectorant variously blown, coughed and vomited out.
I enjoy a breakfast of cold Nescafé Kopi Latte in a can (why haven’t these taken off down under?!) and a few Kuih Kacang Hijau which is a yellow bean filled pastry similar to moon cake minus the moon.
I’m camped on the steps of the Gallery waiting for it to open right across from the Dewan Kinabalu Exhibition Centre World Heritage Monument whose massive timber double doors aren’t open either. The info sheet handed to me by the nice Sutera Sanctuary Lodges girl says opening time is 9.00. It’s now 9.15 but no signs of life. I persevere because maybe things run on Malaysian time here. The toilet is being cleaned but the lady lets me in for a leak anyway. I’m not shy. I continue my stake out, which only serves to lift my expectation. It’s 9.40 a.m and a few cars arrive but they’re only tourists. I go to the little book cum souvenir shop and ask “what time open?” They can’t work out what I’m saying. I wish I had a Malay phrase book. I show her the map and point at the building with the opening times next to it. She indicates that the building I’m pointing to is up the road. Hmmm there are two galleries and world heritage monuments?? I walk around the road, and up the steps (puffing) and bingo I’m back at reception.
It’s ten o’clock now and I probably would have been charged pay-through-your-nose-foreigner-Sutera-sanctuary prices to visit them and only have minutes to spare now so I chalk it up to serendipity. I figure the mountain will still be here for another eon or so and when I come back I will buy another Kopi Latte, suck it down and vacuum up with my eyes everything I see in those buildings. I later discover it is Sunday…. Opening time 10.
I notice the mountain is already gathering her misty skirts and quickly disappearing from view barely 3 hours after the sun rose and exposed her peaks. Soon climbers will be shrouded in mist, slowly making their way up her side but I’m confident for most of them they will be focused on their next step.
If we’re going to have any hope of catching the 11.30 through to KK I will need to get back now and survey the damage. I put the kids chest infections, runny noses, coughs and vomiting down to travel tiredness and cold AC reducing their immunity, and not being able to fight off foreign bugs (we haven’t seen any locals with coughs
or colds). I guess it’s something that was inevitable and their immune system will be better of for it. On the upside I’m chuffed that they don’t have the squirts. Now that would be a disaster of epic proportions.