Hamble Climbs The Mountain.

"You'll never climb mountain with these ankle!" Exclaimed Lillian, the pedicurist. I should realise by know that a simple trip to a beauty parlour comes with a hidden price-tag - that of a swift personal insult. Perhaps to the Chinese, leg oedema is an unknown phenomenon, but to the Croom, it has been like a close personal friend for the last 5 months. It didn't end there, after 45 minutes of scraping, filing, and de-hoofing with a pick-axe, Lillian went to great lengths to tell me how dirty my feet had been. Not really listening, more observing she hadn't actually cut my toenails (? the reason I went in) at least their prehensile qualities were a nice pearlescent pink...."and there were lot of yellow to scrape off..." she droned. O.K. Lillian - I get the message. Well Lillian, if you'd spent the last 6 months trawling in the filth I have, you may be in a similar boat. Coiffed, bedecked in gold and middle-aged she may have been, but Lillian was nothing if not shrewd. "Take this," she said reaching for a tube of algae. At 25 quid a throw, she seemed to think I could afford it. The pedicure was a mere fiver, though I'm sure she considered mine more surgical than most and now she was to reap the rewards. She was wearing glasses, so it wasn't exactly danger money she was due. Still, she did some kind of swift manoevre which involved me emptying my purse on the counter. "But Lillian, I need some money left for lunch!" "It's O.K. - you eat in Malaysia for 10 Ringitt!" I left, algae in hand, more determined than most, to climb Mt. Kinabalu.

Mt. Kinabalu stands 4,097 metres above sea level. It is the highest mountain between the Himalayas and New Guinea and billed as "one the easiest to climb," (by who? Tenzing Norgay?)That was about all we knew. When I initially mentioned to Andy that we should climb to the Pinnacles in Gunung Mulu National Park, he'd said it was a ridiculous idea and we just weren't up to it. So when, between us, we came up with the notion of climbing Kinabalu (which is much more difficult), I began to question our sanity. I didn't question it in time though as we booked the thing with a hangover. After arriving in KK after the sobriety of Brunei, we went for it in rather a big way. So here we were - big mountain, few bars of Fruit 'n' Nut (what a find) and a couple of those hand-warming pouches. Courtesey of the Filipino night market, I'd developed a touch of the Borneo Belly and this didn't do much to inspire confidence in my strength for the exertions ahead.

The mountain was first conquered by Sir Hugh Low in 1851, but they reckon it was more difficult in those days. I think not - especially given that it grows 5mm in height each year. He might have had almost a metre less to climb up, but it was the impermeablilty of the jungle which posed the difficulty back then. Obviously, with all the deforrestation going on, we were going to have an easier time of it. It was also believed that the spirits of the dead inhabited the mountain and so the porters of the 1851 expedition brought baskets of crystals and teeth as talismen. In order to appease the spirits, the porters performed prayers, fired guns and ensured the sacrifice of 7 eggs and 7 white chickens. Low gave his name to the peak of the mountain and also to the mile-deep gully where a group of climbers became stuck in 1994 and had to remain for 3 weeks until they could be rescued!! At only 9 million years old, the mountain is relatively young. It formed when an igneous mass pushed its way through the ground and you can still see the glacial effects on the mountian's surface in the form of striations. Oh, Ken Griff would be loving all this!

Kinabalu Park, a couple of hours from KK, provided the base camp. Placed at 1,000 metres above sea level, the change in climate was already palpable and as I shivered my was through the night, I imagined us developing frost bite in the hut accommodation provided at 3,000 metres up the mountain, where we were to spend our second night. We knew that the weather was key to our enjoyment (and accomplishment) of the expedition and as we watched the clouds roll in over the summit, we hoped the mountain spirits were feeling charitable. The morning of the ascent, we met our guide, Vardsley - a young 16 year old wippet with limited command of English. He seemed very sweet, but I was hoping for a wiry old bloke with a beard who knew how to survive on moss and make a bivouak (well, you never know). Inspired by the records set by the youngest and the oldest to conquer the summit - 5 and 95 respectively, we set off on that beautiful morning with a clear view of Mt. Kinabalu and all its majesty.

To begin with, it was a load of steps fashioned from tree roots and the odd plank of wood here and there. It transpires that there are actually 2,500m of the blighters. Not blessed with the longest of pins, I'd always likened my legs to those of Hambel from Playschool. No knees to speak of, the only way of telling where the join is, is to watch where they bend. And at least at the beginning of the walk, that's what they could do. It is expected that most people ascend to Laban Rata, the accommodation at 3,000 metres, within 4-6 hours. It was pretty tough going and we made good use of the shelters along the way. Though we had brought minimal stuff with us, our thermals and the emergency suplies began to feel quite heavy within half an hour. Vardsley came good at this point and offered to carry my backpack - what a beauty. It made things much easier. We spotted the occasional pitcher plant along the way and there were a few squirrels scuttling around scavanging for food, but otherwise, we were concentrating on each footstep as it was pretty rocky most of the way.

After about four hours, we were beginning (well, maybe not just beginning) to get rather knackered. The uphill was relentless and the steps steep and unforgiving. As the air began to thin, it became harder to catch our breath. Of course if you've climbed mountains before, you're used to the added pressures of altitude sickness. Just at the right time, we met a couple of Northerners and we managed to chivvy each other along no end. Hannah was from Yarm and Phil a Darlo lad and together we soldiered on. You definitely moan less when there are other people about! The previous day's climbers passed us along the way on their descending aspect. Most looked O.K. but some were in a very shabby state indeed. "Dear me, they must be very unfit," I mused as we went cheerfully about our uphill business.

After this, we just took it nice and easy and had very frequent rest breaks. From the start of our climb, we'd seen the trees change from dipterocarp to alpine and as we got higher still, the trees decreased in height and began to look a bit dead. They weren't the only ones, but spurred on by the beautiful view which was opening up before us, we began to feel more hopeful that we were approaching our goal. At this point we were above the clouds and we could now view the rock faces of the mountainside. Far in the distance was our base camp...but even further in the distance was our destination. Some 7 hours later, we reached Laban Rata. O.K. so this put us in the not-so-fit category, but surely it's better to enjoy oneself than prove a point. This formidable Scooby Doo house (what house? There hasn't been a house here for hundreds of years?) perched on the mountain did nothing to welcome us... we were in for a long night.

Sustained with a pot of crap tea and a bite to eat (actually not so hungry afterall - one of the symptoms of altitude sickness is nausea and loss of appetite), we made our way to our unheated hut at Panar Laban - another 10 minutes further uphill. This was to be our overnight sanctuary. A spartan corrugated-iron shed with a couple of bunkbeds and a horsehair blanket for company provided the essentials. Luckily, the other bunk remained empty overnight and the only person to witness my dash from shower-to-bed was my ever-loving. Dressed only in towel, head-torch and hiking boots, I looked a picture and despite promise of a hot shower, I had to contend with alpine-fresh iced water. Of course, this was not the brightest idea as it froze my buttocks for several hours. At this point, Andy refused to let me into his bunk for a de-frost. He's all too familiar with my cold-retaining Thermos action cheeks.

Fully dressed and with sleeping bag, three blankets (nicked from other bunks) and a bottle of mineral water filled with hot-water (genius - thanks Katie) down my top, I tried my best to get some kip. Trouble with altitude (although only at 3,000 metres), it makes you pee a lot. So every hour or so, we'd brave the elements again and christen the mountain. It's easy to get dehydrated, so you have to keep drinking - which obviously doesn't help your quest for sleep! After maybe a couple of hours kip in all, Andy made us hot chocolate and a quick dab of Maxalon (anti-sickness med), a couple of paracetamol for both of us (pounding headches are also symtom of mild altitude sickness), I was ready to get it over and done with. You need to understand here that we'd risen at 2am in order to reach the summit for sunrise! Ludicrous, I know. And so off we went with Hannah & Phil into the darkness of Kinabalu.

It's not easy when you've got someone's arse in your face and you're trying to haul yourself up a sheer rock face with a rope attached to the mountainside. The one in front of me was big enough to keep me fascinated enough to distract from the image I had on occasion when I allowed my torch to shine left or right of our path. It appeared as a sheer cliff descending into nothingness...I only worried what might be revealed once the sun rose. Given our stirling time the previous day I wasn't optimistic about us reaching the top of Borneo in the usual 2-3 hours. It's best to be realsitic about these things. It seemed that the roped areas were never-ending and some parts were very steep. On occasion, a magic sheepskin-glove belonging to Vardsley would appear and he would take my hand for the dangerous parts. Thank God the weather had and still was, holding out. Though it was freezing, it was dry and this was most important. The wind too was not so strong - another bonus when you're dangling precariously from a precipice. It wasn't long before Phil started puking. The Thai Red Bull he'd had for breakfast had done him no favours and the mountain gods seemed angry. My mountain rescue medicine did nothing for him, so we did the honest thing and left him to it. Some time later, they caught up with us. Thankfully young Phil was transformed and ready for more.

Our vista became illuminate as the sun eventually rose. It revealed the sharp grey limestone peaks of the mountain - notably "The Donkey's Ears," which had seemed so distant on our night spent at basecamp. Sabah opened up before our eyes and then, it all went a bit queer. Andy's face looked really yellow. "No pet, I feel fine!" he reassurred me. He might have done, but I did not. I suddenly fely very weak and dizzy and next thing I know, I'm having a lump of chocolate forced into my mouth and being made to eat it ( a first for everything). Like some kind of diabetic moment, within minutes I felt so very much better and decided it was high time to get on with things. The Donkey's Ears might have been giving me the two-fingered salute and the mountain Gods angry, but it would take more than that to defeat Hamble. I'm so very glad that Sherpa Masters had the wherewithall to film my decline.

To cut the 4 hour ascent story short, we made it to the summit. Well, to tell the truth, I stopped about 20m from the actual marker flag because it was really windy. A death had occurred a few years ago, which concerned me somewhat. Vardsley said it still counted though and that we were both elligible for the highly-esteemed colour certificate (at 10 Ringgitts). Had we been unsuccessfull in our mission, we would have only received the black-and-white version (at 2 Ringgitts). Hurray!! We'd done it. Now the only thing left to do was get back down. Leaving Panar Laban at 10.30, I figured would give us an ETA of about 2pm i.e. our descent time would be half that of our ascent. On the way back, The Ears seemed to be giving me the thumbs up.

How more wrong can you be? The descent was, by far, the most agonising of all. In retrospect, the climb up was very enjoyable...funny how one can have such amnesia when it comes to 2,500 steps. My discofort was being compounded my too-long toenails - that pesky Lillian! In desperation I trimmed my nails by pulling off the excess, which helped immesurably. Our pace seemed to be 500m per hour. This would never do. At this rate, we wouldn't be back to base until 5pm, we would have to speed up. Andy had lost the will to live and there was another 3.5km to go. At the 3km marker, I sprained my ankle. Not that I did anything to it, it was just the repetitive strain of all those steps!! En-route we encountered a girl who had badly hurt her knee. She was notable because she was the only person we managed to overtake. There was also a girl being carried down by a porter, who appeared to be in agony of sorts. Another casualty was a middle-aged man who cheerfully reported "Weak Legs!" as the reason for two porters supporting him on either side and dragging him down. Weak legs? We also heard reports of a Frenchman who smashed his face and teeth in as he was trying to run down a scary bit.

The record set for both ascending and descending is 2hrs 41 minutes. At our own personal-best of 22 hours, we might have been the third-last people to pass the final checkpoint, but we hadn't, like some, turned back on day one, we weren't one of the injured, and we were still speaking to each other. Result. Unfortunatley, a longer-than-expected journey to Poring Hot Springs, didn't quite deliver the luxurious spa experience we'd both been hoping for. The 20 quid-a-night room was shabby and it when you were in bed it actually felt like you were lying in a pie. They (twin beds again) were shrouded in brown faux-leather padding on all sides. The Hot Springs were O.K. - quite relaxing, but very dark. Having made it down the "Big Hill" in one piece, I didn't want the embarrassment of injuring myself tripping over a hosepipe. The communal shower had a flying cockroach and mozzies for company. We bumped into and had dinner with Stuart & Katie who we'd met a couple of days earlier. A well-earned beer and curry session sorted us out and we hobbled off for an early night. As I massaged my platinum-priced algae into my Hambles whilst sitting in my pie-bed, I felt pleased to have proved Lillian wrong. We might not be headed for K2, but maybe next time we'll train for it...the morning after was pain as neither of us had ever known. Andy had to dress me and the only hope of my doing stairs was on my bum. Oh, the dignity...

Top of the Mountain: A short film depicting Sam's decline.