Time Keeps on Slipping

The year really has just flown by. I’ve always hated that statement, but I find myself using it nowadays strangely enough. For one thing years don’t fly, for another each year is much the same length and finally 365.25 days don’t exactly go by in the blink of an eye; try watching Titanic 2500 times and I bet it will feel like eternity. Then why do so many people feel the need to say this ludicrous statement around this time of year and more intriguingly, why am I starting to say it?

Believe it or not I’ve had this discussion with Chris on more than one occasion and he puts it down to memory compression – you tend to cram important memories together and filter out irrelevant ones, so if you’re trying measure the year by viewing back through your memories, the compression effect will always make it seem a lot shorter than it actually felt like at the time. I’ve always thought it was a good theory, but why then does the effect seem to get worse with age; old people are the most notorious users of this loathsome statement. Is it because as we hurtle towards the inevitable end our perception of time warps so that the years seem ever shorter? Or is it because as we get older, we have less important and exciting memories meaning that the memory compression effect is stronger? I really don’t know the answer, but all I know is that this year has seemed to go rather quickly.

It has been over a year since I’ve started work now. What’s more, my thoughts about my first year have been given a jolt by the starting and subsequent training of the new grad to replace my role when I rotate. As I see his eyes bright and full of energy and sense his scorn at the sometimes tedious tasks we have to do, it makes me reflect on how I’ve changed, if at all.

I wouldn’t say corporate life has sucked out my soul, but I have adapted to it somewhat. I even find myself voluntarily putting bullet points into e-mails and reports nowadays. It probably isn’t all bad though. Where there was flair and individualism there is now efficiency and team skills. Things I have improved on are assertiveness, confidence and analysing consequences before actions, while things I feel I have lost or slipped back from are creative thinking, reflection and the ability to chill out; even when I have time off I feel I want to maximise every second of it; I can’t seem to just relax any more. Still, it has been a good year. Tough, but pretty good overall. I’m proud of some of the things I’ve been able to achieve and think maybe I can see myself having a future in the corporate world. I do notice it is making me become more politically left though for some odd reason.

Anyway, enough reflection, there is some time to go before the New Year. Sherly got her PR recently, so I’m thrilled about that and took her out to dinner at a nice French restaurant in Port Melbourne. Apart from dining out, we really enjoy cooking together. Sherly loves to cook, I love to eat Sherly’s cooking and it is time where we can chat and help each other out, all in all a great combination. It works out swimmingly.

I’m planning a Europe trip with the lads and can’t wait, but there is still a lot to do and achieve before then.

Back to the Malaysia holiday…

You can stay under my umbrella…ella…ella…a…a…a…(3)

My lunch was swinging to and fro precariously from my pack held only by the ever stretching handles of a plastic bag. For it to drop would have been a real shame given how hungry I was expecting to be at lunchtime. Perhaps the sight of my swinging lunch bag as I strode along the narrow bumpy track was strangely hypnotic to Chris and Irz who followed behind as I led in the first leg of the walk.

The path was not testing in the initial stages and was only moderately uphill. We reached the first of eight (or maybe it was nine) rest stations within half and hour and basking in our own arrogance and confidence we made light of the climb and pushed on past the rest stop. Each group we overtook made us more ever more cocky. Irwin was strangely quiet though and knew Chris and I were being foolish; he’d climbed the mountain before and knew our confidence was misplaced as we’d barely scratched the surface.

The path started to get steeper and harder and the flat bits in between hills all but disappeared, replaced by ominous awkward stairs. Along the path we passed several workers whose job it was to carry heavy loads to the top of the mountain each day. We marvelled at their efforts but later on when we realised that every single building and structure on the mountain had been carried up painstakingly piece by piece by these poorly paid workers who are sometimes 80 year old women, we couldn’t help to think about equity or lack of it in the world.

We started to tire. We were sweating, panting and trudging along and we’d barely even climbed 500m in altitude yet. By the time the third rest shelter came along we were ready to have some lunch.

The shelter was crowded with other climbers – who also thought it was a good spot to have lunch – and we wandered around for some time trying to stake a claim to a place where we could eat. Our packed lunch was a little unusual but we scoffed it down without too much discernment. Whenever a piece of food dropped to the ground, a small rat like creature scurried from the safety of underneath a bin to brave the sea of exposed legs and grab it.

A large group of Korean tourists began to annoy me. Firstly they all flew a group flag that said K2 on it, which made me mad, as Kinabalu although a mighty mountain hardly compares to K2. Secondly they were loud, not just American tourist style loud, full on shouting non-stop loud. Thirdly the women wore makeup for the climb showing total disrespect for the climb and the mountain in my eyes. Fourthly, they obviously had too much money, as they all were ridiculously over equipped for the climb. Fifthly they showed utter disregard for other climbers. Sixthly several drank straight from the tap with their mouth over it. Seventhly they made loud chanting noises. Eigthly they were old… not sure what that has to do with anything, but it makes it on my list anyway. Ninthly they hogged the path and gave no thanks when people let them pass. And tenthly one was wearing a ridiculous shirt, I think. Yes it’s fair to say that that tourist group gave me a lot of rage and they did a lot of damage to the reputation of their fellow countrymen in my eyes.

Grumblings about the ‘K2 morons’ aside, we started climbing again. It was spectacular how the foliage by the path changed the higher we climbed. Trees became less dense and more stunted. Occasionally a break in the trees offered a spectacular view of the valley far below.

We began to suspect that Clarence and all the other guides had a secret elevator to the top of the mountain, because no matter how far we got ahead of him, he always seemed to be there at the next rest stop before us, smoking as if he were waiting for a bus. It was strangely irritating. Actually irritation seems to be a recurring theme for me looking back and was possibly due to the strain and lack of oxygen.

Signposts and shelters were both a joy and a curse as they indicated our progress. The trail got tricky in spots with steep slippery stairs a regular occurrence. Although our pace slowed as the day wore on, we were steadily reaching our resting place for the night – Lamban Rata. At this point I remember trying to decide in my head which was worse, the four day charity bike ride or the climb? And at this point it was still an easy decision – the bike ride, clearly.

At one point, big droplets from a tropical rain shower plodded on our backs and faces prompting us to stop and put on our incredibly unfashionable rain jackets. We even huddled in a rest shelter – when we reached one – with some English climbers who were talking about scrabble and who offered us some biscuits. The rain wasn’t to last though and turned out to be as fickle as a Melbourne thunder storm. We trekked on.

Eventually we felt as though we were almost at rest point for the night; it had been quite a while since the last indicator sign. At this point we bumped into a French man, who we thought was being helpful when he said the hut was 1 hour away, but realised soon after was being an utter arsehole when we in fact discovered the hut was but 2 minutes away. The French man was another thing on that mountain that irritated me…

The accommodation was mainly small huts dispersed among the trees off the trail with one large distinctive hut in the middle where there was a restaurant and warm showers for those staying there. Why, there was even a dilapidated volleyball net strewn between two rusty poles for those who had energy to burn and had the foresight to pack a ball.

We were relieved to reach the rest stop but perhaps a little too tired to feel a sense of achievement just yet. We took a few half hearted photos of the view that was now available and made our way into the large hut named Lamban Rata. A clock outside displayed the time and temperature. It must be about one of the only places in Malaysia below 10 degrees. We wearily stepped inside and made our way to the check in counter observing other climbers looking about as exhausted as we felt. We decided to dump all our bags off first and then come back for a jolly good cup of tea.

Our hut was about 5 minutes up the Summit trail and was far from impressive – a cosy steel shed construction with 3 bunk beds crammed inside – but it looked like the Ritz to us. We all claimed a bed and crashed. We weren’t sure why there were 6 beds when there were only three of us, so we all stole an extra blanket each in anticipation of a cold night.

Each of us lay sprawled on the bed staring blankly at the graffiti carvings of previous owners on the dark green wooden slats surrounding the beds. We would probably have stayed there all night had our hunger got the best of us, so we decided to head to the main hut and get some tea and stay there until dinner.

We sat down on faded orange plastic chairs by a window that offered a decent view. A lonely plant stood in a narrow glass vase with a retired helpless air – its leaves decayed and withered. Our speckled table lay nestled between the postcard/snack stand and the kitchen. The Sabah tea on offer was hard to go past, so we all poured ourselves a cup. We pondered where we’d come from and where we had to go over tea, our bodies slumped in the least straining position possible. It may have looked a little odd, the three of us sitting like that, but almost everyone else had the same retired look, almost matching the lonely plant on our table.

Irz appeared to doze, Harry began a pen sketch of the hut and I pondered. As the hours ticked by and the daylight faded, the hut became more and more full of weary hikers. We had an unmemorable meal. Time continued to tick by.

Eventually we summoned the energy to head back to our little hut and turn in for the night. I was surprised at how much energy everything took at this altitude. Even standing up and walking a few paces required large gasps of breath to do. I began to worry about the rest of the climb and for the first time that day I started to think that it was possible that I may not be able to reach the summit.

Lamban Rata is at 3200m above sea level, an altitude that is just not comprehendible coming from the flat land of Australia – it is 1km higher than the highest Australian mountain.

We staggered back along the trail to our small hut. I was gasping for air along the way. This added to my concerns. Once we reached the hut we stood around and took some photos. Next to our hut was an identical neighbouring hut and a toilet that looked like an old style outhouse was a short distance along a path from both huts. The view was pretty good and the sense of freedom and the novelty of being on South East Asia’s highest mountain suddenly sunk in and filled me with a mild euphoria that swept away my aches and worries.

We got chatting to our neighbours, who were a group of friendly backpackers from Ireland on a world trip. They were around our age and were easy and interesting to talk to. As we exchanged travel experiences the conversation drifted to accommodation in Kota Kinabalu and Chris, Irz and I simultaneously decided to neglect to mention that we were staying at a luxury resort for fear of scorn from our new acquaintances, so we mentioned that we were staying at a small backpackers lodge instead.

As the night wore on we decided to turn in and went into our hut to get some sleep ahead of our 3am summit climb the next day. When the lights went off, silence filled the room and my eyes shut, yet my mind stayed alert and buzzing.

Sure I was thinking about the climb, but what was worrying me was the fact that I was breathing at a pretty fast and deep rate even though lying down is one of the least strenuous activities possible. How on earth was I going to cope with climbing if I was out of breath just lying down? The worry ate and ate at me. What if I can’t make it? I convinced myself that I would ruin our entire holiday if I had to give up on the climb. Fear grew and festered in my mind, churning my stomach. These pointless silly thoughts continued, until I realised I wasn’t sleeping. The best I could manage was a drift into deep thought.

…

The cosy fire flickered next to us providing a gentle warmth as I chatted with my family about the holiday I was planning with my friends. The food was good and the atmosphere homely. I was feeling happy about being here with my family on my Sister’s birthday. How busy life has become now that I appreciate a meal with my family so much. I remember as a teen, dining out with family sometimes felt like more of a chore. Funny how we change.

A sceptical question asked by my Sister disturbed my thoughts. “So you’re climbing a mountain on your holiday? Why on earth would you want to do that?” I didn’t give much thought to my response. “Because it is there,” I replied perhaps a little too arrogantly.

It’s funny how some people’s idea of a holiday is to revel in the comfort of a nice beach in an English speaking country, while others really want to get out and push their limits on holiday. I could see my family and I were at different ends of the spectrum.

So what does drive us to climb mountains? Why do some of us look up at a tall peak and think, yeah I’d like to try and climb that? I guess it is for the same reason we came down from the trees, the same reason we sent men to walk on the moon: the desire to go beyond our limits; test what we’re capable off. Some of us take it literally, physically climbing mountains while others climb mountains in other ways, in their jobs or study.

I changed the subject. It wasn’t the day to argue about our thoughts on the perfect holiday.

…

The unmistakable metallic clunk of a key turning in a lock pierced the silence and shook me out of my thoughts. What the? The bright lights came on suddenly. Each of us sat up wondering what the hell was going on. It became evident that the cabin wasn’t exclusively for us; we now had 3 roommates. Talk about horrible timing. Cursing and muttering, we all returned the blankets to the beds above us and asked our new visitors to turn the lights off and be quiet.

Chris later named one of our roommates Mr. Tuberculosis due to the seemingly endless coughing fits he seemed to be having. Mr. Tuberculosis and his buddies were also loud snorers and drifted to sleep very quickly. After about 30 minutes of their snoring and coughing, I heard Chris curse under his breath, “just kill me…” What luck to get such horrible roommates at this time of night.

It didn’t make much difference to me though as I’d already conceded that I wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep. I just wanted 3am to come around so I could get the climb over and done with.

The night seemed to last forever. It was the kind of night where you stare into space for what seems like hours only to check your watch to find that less than 20 minutes have gone by. Annoyingly I finally got to sleep barely half an hour before we had to wake up. The alarm went off just before 3am. It was time to make the final push and climb the mountain.

We paid our roommates back for their midnight intrusion by making as much noise as possible when we got ready. After much stomping, loud talking and light flicking we decided enough was enough and closed the cabin door sealing Mr. Tuberculosis and his buddies inside.

It was a crisp morning. The lack of artificial light made for a bright mesmerising star lit sky. Condensation lingered in the air as we breathed out; proof of a chilly morning. Harry, Irz and I weren’t the only early risers, with our Irish neighbours getting out for the occasion also.

After a little bit of waiting around, Clarence our faithful guide came bounding up the track bidding us a cheerful good morning. This is the moment where Clarence shone and proved invaluable. Instead of walking off on us and taking the sherpa elevator, he stuck with us closely and helped us navigate the tricky rock path to the Summit.

We stumbled and trudged our way along the summit trail, up rickety stairs, never quite sure if we were putting our feet on solid ground or not. After walking at a steady pace for an hour, we got above the tree line and the rest of the climb was up slopping rocks to the Summit. At one point we stopped to have a rest and take in the surrounds. We all switched our lights off and looked around. What an eerie but pleasant sight it was. Darkness was all around except for the lights of Lamban Rata well below, from which a thin stream of the snaking torch lights wound up the path, which looked like glow worms crawling in a darkened cave.

We pushed on. Thick ropes helped us scale up the sometimes steep rocks. Irz was fading and seemed in pretty bad shape. We were now stopping quite frequently and one or two groups caught up and passed us. As I watched Irz bending over and panting at each break, I felt worried and helpless. I really felt like pushing on to get it over and done with while I still had the motivation.

After continuing for a while in this stop start fashion, we reached the final gate before the summit. A Malaysian man, who looked uncomfortably cold, sat in a booth and wrote down our names before letting us pass. We stopped for some water and to snack on some muesli bars before making the final push.

Some more climbing and we reached another milestone – the final sign post indicator. Our spirits picked up and we knew somehow that we would make it. Irz was still battling. Not long after the indicator I suffered the same affliction as Irz. I was overcome by exhaustion and nausea. Each crevice in a rock looked like an ideal place to rest and vomit, but I crawled on metre by metre. It was surprising to feel like this as I felt pretty fit before the trip and had put in a decent amount of training including climbing up and down the stairs at work (18 flights) every lunchtime. I felt as if suddenly I were a 50 year old fat smoker to whom every step was an effort. The air just felt so thin; even though I was panting I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.

Chris and Clarence were fine. They seemed to have no trouble and Chris was still cheerful enough to make wise cracks. Irz and I started to slow to a crawling pace, cursing loudly with each step and cursing more for each rock we had to negotiate or climb. We saw Chris fade into the distance. Irz and I conceded that Chris was the overall winner and we spurred each other on. The best motivation I could muster was to talk like Sam from the Lord of the Rings movies, “You can do it Froddo…” The rocks were very steep now.

We moved on to mindless chatter to keep our minds busy. We couldn’t see any lights ahead of us and had no idea how far it was to the top. Then, suddenly Chris appeared at the top of the rock pile in front of us and declared “This is the top fellas. I win… losers.” Irz and I glanced at each other with a look of relief and joking resentment towards Chris.

And then we’d done it. We saw a small group of climbers silently sitting around on the rocky summit, solemnly appreciating the surrounds and their achievements. The pale green metal summit sign confirmed that we were in fact at the top, 4095m above sea level. Phew. Things felt pretty good right then.