Gunung Besar Hantu (Ghost Mountain) Saturday Part 2

We continued along a small gully walking perilously close to the eroding edge. Ferns scratched my arms and legs. At a crossing of the gully, a rattan leaf, long and rigid, lay in the shallow stream, water trickling over the end. We filled our small water bottles and continued on. We anticipated that there would be one more source of water near the summit and planned on filling our bigger bottles there before our final climb. We would be wrong about that source.

It was now about 3:30 and as the trail grew steeper someone said that this is where the climb begins. At close to an 80-degree angle, walking turned into climbing. We used tree trunks, roots, vines, and small twigs as handrails as we stepped up the trail. I was now pulling myself up with my arms as much as pushing with my tired legs. This went on for about 20 minutes and I had to stop. I was wearing my heart rate monitor and I noticed that I was approaching 178 beats per minute. This was starting to get tough.

It was at this moment that I really began to wonder if I could actually make it. My legs were just starting to grow heavy but were not shaking… yet. It was taking longer and longer for my heart rate to drop to acceptable levels. I looked up at the trail and just saw it go on and on up the steep mountainside. A look back, and it dropped away behind me. My strategy now was to climb for a couple of minutes and rest for a couple of minutes. Eventually I would make it.

I heard someone behind me say 200 meters more to climb. I roughly calculated that to 600 feet and started keeping an eye on my altimeter as I climb/rested upwards. I climbed about 30 feet, leaned against a tree to ease the weight off my legs, and climbed another 30 feet. I kept this up… slow, but steady progress.

Nearing the top, I looked up and saw one of the trekkers in our group running down the steep path, cigar in mouth, long machete in hand. He looked like Rambo running through the jungle. It was Joe, our Myanmar friend, 20 years young and going strong. Behind him came our 2 group leaders. I asked what the problem was and was told that there was no water on top. They were heading back to the lower stream and the rattan leaf with empty water bottles. That humbled me. The 2 leaders run in the Mount Kinabalu Climbathon, a one day run up the 4095 meter (13,435 ft) mountain and down again. One of the ladies in our group finished in the top 10 of the KL Tower Stepathon, 2058 steps up to the top of the tower. I was in a group of, well, super-humans.

I continued my slow climb to the top, looked up and could see some sky. The trail actually looked like it was disappearing in the sky. This was an encouraging site to me. I skipped my rest stop and continued on and finally found myself standing on a trail that gently climbed and snaked along a narrow ridge, land dropping off to my right and left. I was back to a trail my legs were familiar with and my speed picked up.

With renewed energy, I started walking along the ridge. The trail was deep and muddy. It climbed over large roots, squeezed through deep, narrow gullies, and passed below moss covered fallen trees. I soon found myself alone. Most of the group was ahead with just 2 others behind me, not including the water gatherers. I could no longer hear talking, laughing or the sounds of walking. I even thought that I may have taken a wrong turn or followed a false trail.

The sky was still cloudy and wisps of mist blew through the trees in front of me. I stopped and listened and all I could hear was the breeze blowing through the trees. The air smelled earthy and damp. It was cooler on the ridge, and quiet.

A little further ahead I met up with two other climbers leaning against the muddy sides of a gully eating oranges and talking. They told me that the summit was 10 minutes ahead. They hefted their packs on and I dropped mine and munched my last apple. The two behind me approached and we continued to the top.

After stepping up a short incline, I emerged out of the jungle and into a small clearing, the summit of Gunung Besar Hantu. I made it. I just stood there for a while looking around. Everyone had taken off their boots and put on sandals. A couple of the ladies were snapping beans and preparing for dinner. Others were off in the bush changing into dry, clean clothes. Tarpaulins were being tied to trees to cover our sleeping areas. The summit was small and there were 17 of us, most were scampering about putting order into our little campsite.

I dropped my pack for the last time that day and took off my wet, muddy shoes. My white socks were brown and spotted with bright blooms of red from the numerous leech bites. My feet were deathly pale and shriveled from being wet all day, but no blisters. Wearing two pairs of socks protected my feet. After a change into dry clothes I felt somewhat refreshed. It was now about 6:30, 10 hours after we left the base. We were in a cloud and there were no views from the summit. The tops of other mountains appeared and then quickly hid behind the swirling clouds. I put on my windbreaker and helped with the laying of ground mats.


view from the summit

We created two sleeping areas, one large enough for about 12 people and the other just big enough for the balance of our group. The latrine was located off of the summit down the far slope a ways, downwind.

Right in the middle of the summit was a metal-framed cube with a pitched top. It looked like a line drawing of a square house with a pitched roof. Right at the center of the roof was a metal rod that shot upwards another 3 meters. This structure was part of an old beacon created by early surveyors. As tempting as it was to just cover the structure with our tarps and use it as a shelter, we knew that it would be a death oven if a thunderstorm rolled through. Three trekkers died this way before. We used this frame to hang our wet clothes and towels.


clothes hanging on the metal frame

With dinner in the works, vegetarian fare, and the sleeping quarters established, we stood around and chatted. A couple of climbers surprised us all by pulling out watermelons from their packs. There is no way I could have carried, or would have carried, a watermelon up a mountain, but it was a sweet surprise.

The rain that started pelting us though was no surprise, sweet or otherwise. The rain came fast and it came hard. The kitchen was quickly moved to the larger covered sleeping area. Seven of us rigged a tarp on the metal frame for shelter; this was just a heavy rainstorm with no lightening. Our tarp we soon learned was not meant for heavy rain and we started shuffling in the small space to avoid the cold drips and streams. Then the ground started retaining water and we found ourselves sandwiched between water. We made a dash to the larger covered area and stooped below the low cover hoping this would be a quick shower and not the usual all night affair.

Dinner started smelling like the kitchen in a fine restaurant. It made the air warm and cozy. Everyone passed their mess kits to the server and soon all talk pretty much stopped. The only sounds now were spoons scraping tin and the rain hitting the covers. Dinner was white rice mixed with green veggies, mock lamb and fish, and various seasonings. It was one of the most satisfying meals I’ve ever eaten. The hot food hit all of my right spots.

The rain tapered off just about the same time we shoveled in our last bites. It was now about 8:30.

After cleaning our bowls and cooking pots, the breakfast meal was mixed and brought to a boil. This would save us a bit of time in the morning. Breakfast would be rice porridge and noodles. As the final tasks were being completed for the day, I spread out my sleeping mat and bag and prepared to just pass out for the day.

At around 9:30 I crawled into my bag, rolled over and listened to the sporadic whispering and quiet laughter around the camp. Water dripping from the trees ticked on the tarp. Frogs and bugs chirped and clicked, and occasionally the leaves rustled as someone made their way to the latrine area. I drifted to sleep quickly.


my sleeping area sans cover

Only one hour later I found myself having to crawl out of my warm space and visit the latrine. I put on my headlight and carefully maneuvered along the narrow trail at the edge of the summit. Everyone was now asleep and the jungle was quiet. I looked up and to my surprise saw stars. I walked to the summit clearing and looked off to the west and in the far distance I could make out the tiny lights of Kuala Lumpur. Among those lights, to brightly lit buildings stood out, the Petronas Twin Towers. I crawled back under the tarp, slipped quietly into my bag and once again fell into a deep, restful sleep.