The Philippines

The Island Born of Fire (Camiguin)

The kindness and generosity of the Filipinos I had experienced in Kota Kinabalu was to be a common theme, landing in Cebu airport I met, without a doubt the friendliest airport and security staff, I even got a blessing from a Nun for helping her with her bags.

We had ten hours to kill in Cebu airport so we found a comfy spot on the floor and set up camp, after running out of ways to drain my phones battery I fell into a deep slumber. I woke up in time to check in and made my way through to the departure lounge, I took a look up at the board and there in bold was every travellers favourite word, “DELAYED”. Another three hours, a free breakfast and some precarious napping on a plastic chair later and then our plane rolled in.

50 minutes later we were on Camiguin island.

Camiguin island airport is genius, there is one flight in (ours) and one out (back to Cebu) per day, you literally collect your bags off the plane and walk through the smallest building possible, the staff basically follow you out the door and lock up behind you. We grabbed a jeepny and made our way to “Camiguin Island Golden Sunset Beach Club”. Golden Sunset is owned by two of Hatty’s dads friends, Phil and Sue, who he met almost 40 years ago when he was a VSO. Hatty herself had been here seven years ago and everytime they talk about the Philippines I get more desperate to see it for myself and so I couldn’t believe that I was finally here.

As the jeepny drove around the island I started to get a flavour for the Philippines, if I could only use one word at this stage is would be “lush”. There isn’t anywhere I’ve ever been that is this rich in vegetation, dense rows of green trees tower high around you, volcanoes break out above the tree line, high into the clouds, on the other side, between the breaks in the trees is an endless crystal clear sea. I knew this was somewhere special and I was very excited to be here.

The journey time from the airport to Phil and Sue’s was short but by the time we arrived the skies had opened and things had changed. Where I’d imagined the pristine white sandy beaches to be was a slither of black sludgy volcanic sand, the humidity had risen and the sea had become a murky grey colour. We both fell onto the bed deflated and I looked at Hatty who was very confused, she’d been here to this very spot only seven years ago and did not remember it being like this. We knew there was more to Camiguin than sitting on a beach but first impressions are everything and clearly we’d big this up to much in our heads. We fell asleep.

It is an amazing thing, tiredness. It can play tricks on your mind. When we woke up, fresh and reenergised we stepped outside, the rain had past and so to had the clouds, the sea, which was less than ten feet from our room was glistening, out to sea was a small sandbar, known as the white island it looked insane. Around us the greens and picks and oranges of the plants filled the space with colours and smells and the wildlife hidden amongst them added a peaceful and charming soundtrack.  

With a more sane and positive mind we were ready to explore and experience Camiguin to the fullest. We had eight full days and a bucket list that could see us here for many, many more.

First thing on the list was a trip to the White Island, we charted a boat and took the 15 minute journey to paradise. I know in pervious blogs I’ve talked about the sea being stupidly clear and unbelievably blue, the sand being soft and Daz white but nowhere even remotely touches this, I’m certain that White island is Maldives territory, maybe better. From here you get a truly awesome view back across Camiguin, the endless bustling rows of trees, the rolling, towering volcanoes, it looks like Jurassic Park back there.

The White island itself is a horseshoe shaped sandbar, created as a result of the riptide and spends most of its time partially submerged under water. When we arrived the thin strip connecting the two main areas was about knee deep, we waded over and were rewarded with a slice of paradise completely untouched by man, there wasn’t a human in sight. I spent my time snorkelling off the different sides of the island and catching some good ol’ sun. Sunbathing and snorkelling is about all there is to do but the natural beauty of this place is so surreal that many hours can be lost just looking out to the horizon.

Camiguin is the gift that keeps on giving, moving inland from the outlandishly beautiful beaches you are gifted with the benefit of being on a volcano rich island. First thing on our volcano experience was the Ardent Hot Springs, these are a serious of natural pools which range from about 20 degrees to 32 degrees, with the highest one often reaching much higher temperatures. These were substantially better than the ones near KInabalu and we spent a good chunk of time chilling out here. There are other natural spring options on the island, such as the soda pool and the icy cold mountain pools but we did get a chance to visit them.

Recieved some terribly sad news today, Harry, our 13 year old Jack Russell sadly passed away. He’d been fighting with various illnesses and had even had to have one of his legs amputated recently but the trooper had fought his final battle. He bought so much joy to everyone in our family and watched us all grow. Even though it’s been a long time coming it still knocked me back to hear that he had actually gone. I didn’t get a great deal done the following day.

The following day I lost my Tanduay virginity. Tanduay is the big name in the world of Filipino rum, a bottle of their 12 year aged dark rum costs you about £3 and actually tastes amazing. It’s lethal though. That night with Phi, Sue and Linas (a Swedish guy who owns a restaurant down the road) we polished off a few Grande San Miguels and two bottles of Tanduay. We found out some very amusing stories about Hatty’s dad from his time as a VSO back in the 70’s and generally had a brilliant night. As the evening drew in they ordered some local cuisine from the restaurant which was delicious and very welcomed as things started to spin.

The next day we  got an invite to a party, with the promise of free food and beer we figured why not. The event was for the grand opening of a workshop which builds fibreglass boats, the owner is a Welshman who married a local and moved out here. It was to be hands down the weirdest day of the trip. Starting with a slightly unnerving ride in Goldie- Phil’s stretched VW Beetle, as we snaked around the mountain roads she started to squeak and nobody could work out what the problem was, until we pulled over and realised that the bearing had bust and the front wheel was starting to wobble off. We parked up and then tried to comically fit into a tuk-tuk, this mode of transport is not designed for Westerners. Both me and Hatty are fairly short but are dramatically larger than the average Pinoy, we clambered in, our knees rested under our chins and the bike sluggishly pulled away.

We arrived at the workshop which had half the island, Mayors and Police included all sat under a gazebo. There was a second tend with a cooked hog laying on a table, I grabbed a plate and carved myself a portion, being a vegetarian Hatty was less keen. We were taken in the house and briefly met the owner but as he was entertaining the mayor and his brother we made our way back out to hang with the riff-raff. Christian power ballads played out of an old, cracking system and a flock of expats swarmed over to us. We waited for the secret handshakes to finish inside then there was a brief ceremonial moment where anyone who was important had their name read out and everyone had to applaud them, then the ribbon was cut and the workshop opened. The display boat was awful, I am convinced I could have built something 100 times better. The owner was a total creep and the dodgy deals that seemed to be taking place made the whole environment very uncomfortable. Anyway everyone who needed to be seen had been so we made a quick exit. Getting transport back was a long ordeal but eventually we made it back to Goldie, who had been “repaired” by a local mechanical. In his own words the job should be good for a few days…We drove Goldie to his garage and settled the bill then headed back to Golden Sunset, our hangovers were not subsiding so we crashed out. That evening we had another banquet feast, Sue served up a range of Filipino delights and we started to feel a bit more human.

 The next morning we rose at 5am as Phil and Sue wanted to show us the morning wet market, surrounded by all the brightly coloured fruit and veg we were like kids in a sweet shop. We stopped off for a breakfast of local hot chocolate and sticky mango rice which was substantially better than any of the stuff we had in Thailand. It was brilliant sitting here and soaking in the buzz of people rushing about gathering their meat, fish and veg for the day. As the churches spilled out the market picked up and we made our way back to Golden Sunset.

Me and Hatty then hired the motorbike and hit the road to soak in some more sights, first thing on the list was the Giant Clam Sanctuary. We drove around the majority of the island which was awesome, soaking in the winding coastal road, lush greenery and volcanoes on one side and glistening blue sea on the other.

Camiguin is divided into five separate municipalities- Mambajao (Capital Town) , Mahinog, Catarman, Sagay, and Guinsiliban, these are further divided into 58 Barangay (villages) and although the island is pretty small these all have very different characters. Camiguin island is around 23km at its longest point and 14km at its widest, the main road which circles the island is 64km.

Anyway I digress, we arrived at a sharp bend in the round which turned into a dramatically steep and winding gravel track. We followed in down and round for about a kilometre before arriving at a small makeshift carpark. We parked up and made our way to a small wooden booth where we were greeted by a group of school children who explained the different package options then took our money.

They walked us over to a series of large tanks which acted as nurseries for the clams and some other sea creates that they were reintroducing to the waters, this included a baby shark which was really awesome to see.

They explained the life cycle of the clams to us, showed us the difference between the males and females, how they breed, how long they live, how they eat and so on.  This was really informative and I found it way more fascinating than I thought. After the tour we were given a set of snorkels and masks and then taken over to meet our guide.

He gave us a short briefing on our route then we hit the water. Instantly we were greeted with some of the best marine life I’ve ever seen, large colourful corals, schools of brightly coloured fish and one pesky crab who repeatedly attached himself to my face with his claws. It was magically down there and I couldn’t believe some of the things I was seeing. I started filming it with my camera but it wasn’t many minutes before the battery light flashed and I realised the school boy error I’d made.

After about 30 minutes we arrived at the cordoned off area where the clams had been released from the nursery, some of these were monstrous, measuring over 2 metres in size and all manor of shiny colours, purples, greens, yellows, not dissimilar to a peacocks markings . The guide warned us about touching their holes (snigger) as some of them were razor clams and any wandering fingers would be sharply removed. It’s fair to say I never intended to do that but that knowledge encouraged me to snorkel that bit further away.

We had planned to do a zipline which ran off the side of one of the mountains and over a lagoon towards another island but after a lot of searching around the zipline HQ we didn’t find anyone so gave it a miss. We jumped back on the bike and carried on around the island until we arrived at Katiwabasan.

Katiwasbasan is a 70m waterfall located at the base of Mt Timpoong, it surrounded by lush vegetation mainly consisting of falling vines and epic trees growing out of the side of the rocky mountain. Below the falls is an amazing pool that you can swim in, it was pretty cold which was a welcome escape from the tropical heat of Camiguin. After a good half hour of splashing about I felt truly refreshed and revitalised.

Swimming directly under the falls was prohibited and as I watched one man attempt to swim under it I understood why. He couldn’t have been any more than 20m away and he was already getting dunked from the pressure, had he made it under he would probably have been knocked out then drowned by the pressure, I was content just swimming in the pool looking back to the falls and listening to the consuming pounding sound the water made as it plummeted off the side of the mountain.

That evening Phil and Sue treated us to another Filipino banquet feast, mounds of local red rice, Blue Marlin Kinilaw, Pinakbet, Chicken Inasal and many other exciting and delicious dishes, we steered clear of the Tanduay, well we didn’t bring the bottle to the table at least. We ate, drank and talked late into the evening, another wonderfully successful day on paradise.

The main event of the following day was a boat trip to Mantigue island, we made the hour crossing on a traditional Filipino boat which had been modified with a glass bottom which gave us frequent glimpses at the coral below.  Mantigue is yet another tick on the “reasons Camiguin is paradise” list. Arriving from its clear waters we walk across the powder white sand, through a deep cluster of woodland and into the heart of the island. Sheltered under the canopy of trees with a view of nothing except sand and sea we open up the picnic basket.

Phil and Sue have done it again, and we are treated to some homemade steak pies, cheese, caviar, fruit salad and a glass or two of wine. Its truly magnificent and we are the envy of the small groups of visitors.

After lunch me and Hatty grab some snorkels and head out into the sea, at first it’s a pretty plain scene, aside from a sheet of underwater grass there isn’t much to report. As we continue swimming suddenly things become more interesting, lumps of coral housing schools of clown fish and other similar sized piscine. But the best was yet to come, we continued out to a jetty used by divers and the coral become more dense and the fish increased in numbers and size, by the time we made it to the jetty we were completely encapsulated by the largest group of fish I’d ever experienced. I was so enchanted I followed them as they swam lower, my experience was quickly cut short as my snorkel filled with water and then made its way into my mouth. I resurfaced, emptied my mask and my lungs and then joined the marine life once more.

The underwater activity that is visible just by snorkelling is absurd, it’s a truly mystical experience, I continued drifting whilst in complete awe of what I seeing then I felt a sharp tug on my leg. I came up to the surface where I met Hatty who was pointing in front of me, I turned and looked and noticed a row of buoys with rope attached to them marking out a boundary.  She explaned that we cant go beyond that point because of the drop off. Basically on our side of the rope the water is never deeper than a few metres but past that point it drops down to 40 metres. We also later found out that much past that point the current picks up and we heard horror stories of people washing away at a rate of knots…anyway, we made our way closer inland and enjoyed the spectacle until our ride home looked like it wasn’t waiting any longer.

Our final night on Camiguin was to be a memorable one. It so happened that we had timed our visit with the grand opening of a new project. Located high in the mountains between the volcanoes is the new home of Nightscape Garden, an educational programme looking to teach people about the solar system and night sky. The plot is set on an expanse of land with a clear opening in the trees offering gazers an uninterrupted view of the night sky which is phenomenally clear on the island and even better from this high vantage point. There are camp beds laid out, hot food on the go and a number of talkers teaching you about what it is that you are seeing.

I have seen some fairly clear night skies in my life but absolutely nothing comes close to what I was seeing here. We didn’t stay the night but the many hours we did were magical, and as we walked back to the car we were treated to a light show from a cluster of fire flies. It was breath-taking.

The next morning we were up bright and early for our flight back to Borneo and I’ve never been more depressed, we were taken to the airport kicking and screaming.

From the generosity and kindness I experienced from the Pinoys I met in Kota Kinabalu I knew this detour was going to be a memorable one but nothing could prepare me for just how spell binding this wonderful country is. The people are simply the friendliest, most charming and genuine people we’ve met, they made the Cambodians come across like Europeans. The sunsets and sunrises are arguable some of the best on this fine earth, I was fixated by them each and every day. The beaches and islands are postcard paradise, the marine life is fascinating. But that’s not everything, there’s the wonders inland, the volcanoes, hot springs, waterfalls, soda pools, extensive examples of flora and fauna, I really could go on but it’s only making we want to be back on Camiguin.

I would also like to give a massive mention to Phil and Sue and all the staff at Golden Sunset who really went out of their way to make this portion of our trip something very special. Their kindness and hospitality is something that we are both grateful for and can’t thank them enough.

Camiguin is without a doubt the best place I’ve ever been and has officially ruined me for going anywhere else. My visit was brief but the sights, sounds and smells will stay with me for a lifetime.

OK, next leg sees us travelling from the Philippines to Kuching in Borneo, Malaysia where we explore Bako National Park in search of the Proboscis monkey.

Thanks for reading.

Malaysia & Borneo: Part One

Kuala Lumpur

We were both excited about arriving in Kuala Lumpur, for the first time since Chiang Mai or even Hong Kong we were going to be somewhere developed, somewhere with decent infrastructure, somewhere with money. All these things, and more meant we could get a little bit of home, away from home.

Departing Kuala Lumpur airport we boarded a bus that worked and was on time. We used trains and the monorail, again these worked, were clean, efficient and even air conditioned. We walked down streets which had pavements for pedestrians and roads for vehicles, vehicles that were recognisable as cars and buses not tuk-tuks or songthaews or any other type of motorbike-trailer hybrid. Traffic lights changed red and cars stopped. As we continued our journey to the hostel we read street signs in an alphabet we could understand, some were even in English. I could go on, the point is Kuala Lumpur was a modern city and as such should have made us feel at home. For me, however there was something missing.

I enjoyed every monorail, train and bus journey I made, in terms of comfort, convenience and in most cases even price Kuala Lumpur trumped everywhere we’ve been. Walking the well signposted streets made navigating the city a breeze. Exploring the endless, towering malls, looking at clothes, watches, shoes made by designers whose names I can’t pronounce, taking in the futuristic architecture, wandering the winding market streets, breathing in the aromas of street foods from every corner of the globe. Seeing so many cultures all bundled together, there is a lot to say for Kuala Lumpur but still I felt like something was missing.

The city centres around Taman Negara, a 130 million year old rainforest which is home to loads of animal species, including a very rare breed of monkey. There is a sky canopy that takes you through the middle of the forest and high up in the trees. On one side you can see the tips of the buildings and on the other natures own skyscrapers. The duet of cars and people vs wildlife, birds, monkeys, insects is something of a surreal experience, I thought I had landed myself in a game of Jamanji.  This was further heightened by the fact we were the only people in the rainforest, we didn’t see a soul, all the seating areas were covered in leaves, the kiosk at the entrance to the bridge was empty. The place looked like it had been abandoned. We started to wonder whether we should actually be here and thought about making our way back into the urban jungle, humidity and mosquitoes soon made this decision very easy.

The three main cultures in Kuala Lumpur are, Malayan, Indian and Chinese which puts you in good stead for finding some decent grub. From hawker stalls to food halls you are never far from food. My brother had been quite vocal in the fact that I needed to try Roti Canai so I made it my mission to find some. It wasn’t long before we walked past a bustling Indian joint whose menu boasted every type of Roti, including the prestigious Canai.

We ordered two and waited like kids at Christmas, they arrived and we were right to be excited. Two large Roti, a traditional Indian bread which closely resembles layers of puff pastry but with a more pancake type texture arrived. Next came the Canai, a chickpea dahl and a dark curry sauce which in this case was similar to a Madras. There was so much sauce and bread that we were both stuffed, I  paid the bill of £0.50 and from that moment on knew I’d found something good. Tom, my brother also informed me that they sell a sweet version, stuffed with banana, Nutella or both without the curry sides. In fact Roti (insert side name here) comes in so many forms it would be impossible to get bored and with them being so cheap it would be impossible to go hungry. These would quickly become a staple of our trip through Malaysia.

For a spot of culture we visited the Batu caves, seconds after leaving our hostel the skies opened and we got drenched. We sat waiting for the train which ran a very generous service of one train an hour, naturally we had just missed one so stood at the station while the weather did all it could to make the experience as uncomfortable as possible. The rains cleared but the muggy, humidity lingered, as the temperatures rose the water began to evaporate from my clothes. I was literally steaming.

The Batu caves, for all the epic statues of Hanuman and Lord Murugan, brightly coloured staircases, clans of monkeys and of course the caves is a total anti-climax. It looks so impressive and grand on the outside but inside it is dirty and uncared for. Broken plastic chairs, litter and excrement make it neither a sight of natural or manmade beauty, we spent a total of 15 minutes there, 10 of those were spent climbing up and back down the stairs.

Having shopped and eaten our way around Kuala Lumpur we were looking at our options, the humidity here is on par with Bangkok so a sea breeze was a priority. We had two options, follow the majority of tourists along the West coast working our way up to Langkawi or the East cost to the Perhentian islands. Our only issue was that we were going to Langkawi in the middle of May via a flight from Singapore, this narrowed our decision down to taking on the East coast. That was until I spoke to Tom who urged us to visit Borneo. He tempted me with his photos of places like Mabul island, turquoise waters, swimming with turtles, staying in accommodation set on stilts over the water. It looked out of this world and I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

We quickly dismissed the rest of Peninsula Malaysia and took the cheapest flight to Malaysian Borneo. We landed in a small town called Sandakan and if there ever was a place to destroy an image and give a worst first impression it was Sandakan.

Sandakan

Sandakan is like Harwich, or any other port town, unless you are looking to buy or sell fish there isn’t much here for you. It was all the worst parts of all the countries we’d been to- humid, poor travel connections, no beaches and not much of a town either. We were however in a good enough location to get ourselves to Mabul island and so started looking at how to get there and where to stay. (Perhaps) stupidly we didn’t do this before leaving Kuala Lumpur and given the short notice we of course had no success in finding a place to stay, Mabul is geared up for the diving crowd and as I don’t have a PADI and so wouldn’t be diving my accommodation costs were £20+ more expensive than those who would be. Besides this, most places required booking up to 3 months in advance, this shattered our hopes of getting there. We had ended up in a shit hole and had no idea what to do or where to go.

We used up a day trying to get a good deal to head out of Sandakan and go to either the Proboscis monkey, Sun bear or Orang-utan sanctuaries as these are sold as the main attractions of Sandakan. The only catch is they are only accessible by taxi and are, in the case of the monkeys more than two hours drive. The best deal we could get would see us almost £100 out of pocket which is more than two days of our budget. I’d like to see the Proboscis monkeys but didn’t fancy sleeping on the streets and not eating for two days. We managed, after more than two hours of asking about, to find a bus that takes you to the Orang-utan sanctuary for a much more reasonable £2 so that’s what we did.

We timed it perfectly to witness feeding time which was an amazing experience, it was the first time I’d seen these playful creatures outside of a glass cage. They had a gigantic expanse of forest to roam and as we walked around we could hear them calling out to each other, their bark echoed all around us which was awesome and terrifying in equal measures. We later went to the Orang-utan nursery where we sat for almost an hour watching the young ones who were going through the rehabilitation process, it was entertaining to say the least. It was fast approaching 4pm which meant the park was closing and the last bus to city was planning to depart.

When we got outside we discovered that the bear sanctuary was on the otherside of the road, it too was shutting its doors and we kicked ourselves for not getting here sooner. 4pm came and went as did 4.30pm but still no bus, then like sharks to blood, moths to the flame, taxi drivers started gathering around the small group of tourists waiting for the imaginary bus. We held them off for a while longer but we soon realised our fate and nervously asked a price. Despite our situation the driver was fair and we filled the car up and headed back to the town.

That evening we put in some serious hours to work out a plan of action as our Malaysia/Borneo experience was quickly turning into a series of closed doors and wasted days. That’s when I stumbled across a photo of a group of people having a beer sat on a decking above the clouds. The photo fascinated and excited me, I was desperate to find this place. My research uncovered Mount Kinabalu, the tallest mountain in South East Asia standing at 4,095.02m. I learnt that you can climb the mountain with little experience, all you’d need is a level of fitness, determination and some cold weather gear.

I hunted for prices and received quotes which were perhaps reasonable but still out of our budget. Then I found Jungle Jacks. The reviews were 5 star across the board and his prices were a fraction of what other places were quoting, better still he offered a one day climb. The only way I could contact Jack was via Facebook, so I sent him a message with my dates and asked if he had any availability. We made our way to Kota Kinabalu, the nearest place we could fly to from Sandakan where we became sitting ducks.

Kota Kinabalu

KK had a bit more going on that Sandakan, aside from things like a cinema and a slightly more vibrant town centre there were a series of paradise style islands only 20 minutes boat ride away. Our hostel was in a decent location and so as far as holding pens go this one wasn’t too bad. I kept pushing for a reply from Jack but remained in the dark. Online views about Jungle Jacks had one common theme, his booking methods are archaic but take a leap of faith and you won’t regret it.

That night Hatty spoke to her dad who pointed out how close we were to the Philippines, he had first come here in the 70’s as a VSO and had made many return visits, I had had countless conversations with him about it and never spoken to someone who expressed such a passion and love for a place. Hatty herself had been about seven years ago and we had vowed that one day we would go, it seems stupid that we had wanted to go but now we were only a few hours away hadn’t considered it. It was a proper case of having our blinkers on.

Rob had planted a seed so just out of curiosity we looked up flights and to our amazement found they were affordable. Rob had friends who own a holiday resort in Camiguin, an island off of Cebu so everything looked like it was fitting into place. My wanderlust levels went off the scale, I hadn’t been this excited about seeing somewhere since before we left England. We knew we could get to Cebu and from there we had two options, fly to Camiguin or travel by bus, boat and jeepny. The flight (one a day departing at 6.10am) with Cebu Pacific was a fairly new and the only flight to Camiguin, the 50 minute flight came in at £100pp return. The overland option had a lot of steps, timetables for which matched up in such a way that it would take almost an entire day to complete. We worked out the price and it came in only slightly under the flights.

Although the flights were expensive it made the most sense and so we got in contact with Robs friends, Phil and Sue and secured a place to stay then proceeded to book the flights. Just as I was entering the payment details the Cebu Pacific website crashed, when I reloaded it to flights had doubled in price. There was no way we could afford that so we killed that idea and went to bed.

The following morning I checked the website in the hope, by some miracle that the glitch had cleared and the original price had returned, to our utter surprise the price had dropped to £70pp, the website worked and we were going to the Philippines. It was a morning of good luck as Jungle Jack replied and said I could climb the following morning as long as I could get to him by this afternoon. We checked out and jumped on the first bus to the mountain, day 100 was shaping up to be a fine day.

Mount Kinabalu

The two hour journey to Jack’s was breathtakingly beautiful, we left the towns and began climbing through the mountains it was seriously epic and knowing that in less than 24 hours I’d hopefully be at the top of one of them was making me very excited.

Jungle Jacks is a set of containers turned into dorms set on a stunning piece of land facing Mount Kinabalu. Between us and it was an expanse of jungle and offered views like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The air was fresh and cool and with nothing but nature around us I instantly fell in love with the place.

Things only got better when we found out that our accommodation cost included all our meals, which were provided by near by restaurants. Jack would ask, do you fancy Malay or Indian then drive us all to foodie hotspots in the surrounding area. There were nine even of us staying at Jacks, me and Hatty, two Norwegians, a German, a Canadian chap, a Czech couple and a Dutch girl. The set-up at Jacks and the fact everyone went out to dinner together made for a really sociable time.

Meal times were insane, our first lunch saw us working our way through at least ten different dishes, BBQ pork, fish stew, noodles, grilled vegetables, the food just kept on coming. I hadn’t eaten so well all trip. Dinner that first night was the same story, grilled ostrich, fish steaks, chicken curries, “magic” mushrooms, Jack wouldn’t let anyone go hungry and just kept on ordering dish after dish.

That evening people found out that I was doing the one day climb and told me I was mad, everyone else at the table was doing the two day climb, Teneka the Dutch girl had just come down from the two day climb, her face painted a picture of how challenging the climb was, she put the fear of god into me and that night I went to bed feeling very nervous.

At 6am I woke up and stocked up on breakfast, prepared a pack lunch and sat outside looking up at the mountain. My mood yo-yo’d from excitement to complete fear, my stomach was churning and I really started to understand what I was doing. I think I should disclose that I had never climbed a mountain before, I had never experienced altitude. I had been snowboarding a few times but taking the ski-lift to the top is hardly the same thing… I believed myself to be in an ok physical condition, despite having done little more than drink beer and lay on a beach for the last three and bit months.

Despite these factors I have two personality traits which I hoped would help me more than any amount of experience or fitness level ever could. I am stubborn and determined, a little self destructive and a little bit stupid. These traits seemed perfect for taking on a physically and mentally enduring challenge without any real preparation.

I was doing the climb with the Czechs who do Climbathons (that’s where you run up and down the mountain). I’ll put this into perspective, most people take 2 to 3 days to complete the climb, the record time for the Kinabalu Climbathon is under 2.5 hours. To reach the 4,095m peak you have to trek 9km and the same to get back to base camp, 18km of mismatched stairs and slopes, the final few km are scaled using a rope and a lot of upper body strength.

I stayed with the Czechs for the first three km which we smashed in under one hour, my breathing was heavy and my legs began to throb as they filled with blood. Over the next km I started to fall behind them and by body remembered what exercise felt like, it wasted no time in reminding me that it didn’t like endurance activities. Fast twitch, explosive, weightlifting style exercise are fun, I could spend all day everyday in a gym lifting weights but put me on a treadmill and I’d wish you dead.

My mind started to plant seeds of doubt, I was telling myself to give up, to turn around my legs agreed but still I pushed on. At the five km point I stopped to look around, we were high above the clouds and visability was low, I was drained and couldn’t see the point in this. I sat on the ground with my head in my hands, I was dizzy, I was arguing with myself. I set myself a goal- reach that rock and then take a rest, the distances between these goals got smaller and by steps smaller still.

When I reached the 6km mark I was barely able to place the heel of one foot further than the toes of the other. My thighs, calves and glutes were shaking as the lactic acid pumped around them, my eyes began to close for extended periods and my breathing was shallow. The 6km mark is where the two day climbers stop, they have dinner, sleep and then continue in the morning. I didn’t have the same luck, in order to be allowed to reach the top I needed to be there by 1pm to ensure I would be down before the park closes at 5pm. I was on target but with my speed rapidly dropping I could afford to stop. The Czechs had made such good time they had stopped off for breakfast, I met them outside the restaurant, they were fresh faced and full of energy, I was on my hands and knees with a look that said “kill me” written across my face.

We marched on and before the 7km checkpoint they were nothing by a tiny dot to me. I was stopping every 10m by this point and had started to become delirious, I had long since moved on from thoughts of self-doubt, instead I had nursery rhymes going around and around in my head. Each time I picked myself up off the ground I was full of determination and vigour, I was a war machine and nothing was going to stop me from reaching the top, I charged on, I felt like Terminator, I used everything in me to get moving, I was like a freight train ploughing along at high speed. At least that’s how I felt, the reality was that I could only muster a handful of baby steps before I had to slump on the ground, I actually started to nod off at one point and regularly dreamt about having the ability to fly. My brain was fuzzy, I felt as if I hadn’t slept for a week, every stone looked like a boulder, every boulder like a mountain. I hated being here and hated even more than I would have to go back down at some point.

We reached the 8km checkpoint and I thought I could see the peak, I turned up a gear and got a real move on, I was smashing 100m at a time, I picked up my pace, almost reaching a slow jog. I grabbed the rope and pulled my lagging body up the mountain, for all I know I was dragging my legs as I could no longer feel them. Every 100m I reached a new state of euphoria, I was having an out of body experience and was screaming at my pathetic body to keep working. Whenever I stopped I crashed out big time, I hadn’t had a thought in about an hour and the only thing I wanted to do was cry but I couldn’t even the muster the energy to do that.

I reached what I thought was the base of the summit and sat for a moment, ate a chocolate bar and drank some water. I calmed myself and reflected on what I had achieved. I took a deep breath and prepared for the final stint of this hellish experience. The fog cleared and I learnt the hard way that I was nowhere near the top.

The final 500m climb to the top was the most challenging thing I have done in my life, every step took ten times longer than the previous one, as I reached the final 100m I could hear the Czech couple cheering me on, I am now thankful for their encouragement but at the time it was seriously degrading. I literally dragged myself on my hands and knees to the top and slumped myself against the sign at the top. I was too fucked to take it all in, I went into auto pilot and took some photos then just sat there looking completely lost. I am being 100% honest when I say I don’t remember taking the photos.

I had a total of 15 minutes at the top before I had to start the arduous descent. I felt sick as the reality dawned on me that I had another 9km of rocks and stairs to navigate. Being so high was also taking its toll, my head was pounding, my calves were so tight I was walking with straight legs which almost instantly caused my knees to turn to dust.

Within the first km of the descent I had alrady fallen over, I slid down a portion of the mountain on my hands, the cuts gave me an endorphin rush which woke me up nicely but the fall seriously knocked my confidence. The Czechs vanished and I hobbled down the mountain at a snails pace.

I bumped into the Canadian and German at the 6km checkpoint but we didn’t exchange many words. My body language told them everything they needed to know.

As each km passed I began to curse the mountain, first in my head but later out loud, I kept saying “how the fuck am I still above the clouds” over and over. I cursed stairs, rocks, mud, trees, roots, clouds and people. At the 5km checkpoint I slipped on some wet rocks and missed a row of steps which didn’t do my ankle any favours. I hated this experience and wasn’t prepared to let it put me in a hospital, I took each step with more caution than humanly possible, gripping onto anything I could, lifting one foot shyly off the ground and placing it forward such a minute amount I barely moved at all.

I had moments of overriding determination where I pushed passed all fatigue and flew down large sections of the mountain, I picked up pace and moved into a jog and at some points even a run. I utilised these bursts of energy but they ran out I was more sluggish than before. With 2km left I had only one thing on my mind, reaching the 1km mark and downing the bottle of water I had stashed on the way up. I felt every single step of those 1,000m but every time I fell down I jumped back up knowing I was closer to the water and even closer to the end.

I caught site of the 1km mark and carried on to the spot where my water was, only to discover that it had been stolen. My world had been shattered, it was like watching everything you own, everything you love bursting into flames in front of you, I was mad, upset, confused but more determined than ever. I gave up caring that my knees were bust, my ankle was useless, my brain was fried I just marched on at a slow but aggressive pace. It took me almost an hour to do the last km but as I climbed the final step I forgot about it all. In total, from bottom to top and back down it took me 9.5 hours. As ungraceful as my climb was I still did it and in a bloody good time. The Czechs (taking out their breakfast pit stop and the hour at the top) completed it in around 7 hours, considering they do this for fun and on a fairly regular basis I felt proud of my achievement. A lot of the 2 day climbers I had spoken to took 8 hours to reach the 6km checkpoint and a further 8 hours to reach the top and get back down. I was drained both physically and mentally, I had nothing positive to say but I knew in my heart that when my body calmed down I would look back on the experience with positivity and pride.

That night I didn’t go for dinner instead I propped myself up in the shower then collapsed in my bed. Jack bought me back a doggy bag of Malayan delights which I wolfed down then returned back to my slumber. In the morning I woke up sore and tight, my knees were jarred and I had developed a hobble, I felt hungover, my throat was bone dry, my face and neck were sunburnt and had about as much energy as a sloth on sleeping meds.

Jack loaded me (and Hatty) into his car and drove us to the hot springs, I alternated between the piping hot baths and icy mountain water baths which cured my aching body, reenergised my mind and set me right for the rest of the day. After the baths we went for lunch and Jack ordered me a plate of BBQ’d pork chops which were out of this world, my muscles were bathed and my stomach was full and I was quickly on track for being myself again.

When we got back to Jungle Jacks all of the two day climbers that I’d met the other night had returned. They all turned in to get some kip then as night fell we jumped in the car and went out for a curry. As was routine Jack just kept ordering things, plates of roti, curries, rice, noodles, more roti more curry it just kept coming. We ate like champions and all shared our experiences of the climb. Everyone decided what I had achieved was heroic and despite me telling them how challenging I found it they wouldn’t hear it. We left the restaurant and went back to JJ’s where we sank some beers and carried on our conversations until one by one we dropped off.

The following day we travelled back to Kota Kinabalu and went our separate ways, some back home others to new lands and new experiences. Our time at Jungle Jacks was the friendliest, most social, enjoyable, peaceful, happy time of the trip. We landed a great bunch of people to spend those few days with and Jack’s hospitality is superior to any 5 star £200 a night resort. Not including my climbing and park entrance fees I paid £4 a night (including meals) to stay at Jacks, Hatty paid £10 as a non-climber. We had a decent bed, woke up each morning to the beautiful sight of the mountain and the sound of the jungle, we ate and drank until we couldn’t move and were entertained by Jack and 8 adorable puppies. If you ever find yourself wanting to Climb Mount Kinabalu, do it with Jungle Jack.

We had five days to kill in KK until our flight to the Philippines and so made the most of good weather by visiting some of the near by islands. We sunbathed, snorkelled and trekked over Sapi and Manukan island, ate fresh fish and even saw two wild Monitor Lizards, one in the water and one around the back of the restaurant. In the evenings we went to the cinema where we watched the latest Avengers movie and Fast & Furious 7 (these were the only two options). We exhausted KK for all its entertainment and as our final day approached there was only one thing on my mind. Where to watch the Mayweather vs Pacquiao fight. I searched online for places that might be showing it but my results yielding one answer- the chief of Malaysian TV didn’t realise the fight was happening and so it wont be shown anywhere in the country. I kicked myself, if we only booked the flights a day earlier I would be in Pacquiao’s homeland and would be guaranteed a memorial screening of the fight. I’m by no means a big boxing fan but I enjoy watching the occasional match and this was clearly one not to be missed. I went to bed a little disheartened.

The following morning we went to make ourselves some breakfast and was greeted by a bizarre scene. Normally the common room was empty, silent but this morning it was full of people and the telly was on really high. It sounded like wrestling commentary but as the clogs turned in my head I realised it was boxing, not any boxing it was the fight. I took my toast up the stairs and into the common room where I was met by more than 20 Filipinos all drinking beer, eating nuts, crab and kinilaw (a dish of raw fish marinated in vinegar, chili, onion and garlic- not dissimilar from rollmops).

It wasn’t long before they asked me to join them, offering me beers, food and cigarettes. I declined the latter but worked my way through the other two. We “cheersed” each other, a lot and as the main event of the evening (afternoon local time) began the atmosphere in the room went wild. The men were all Filipino, here in KK for a three year construction job, every ten or so minutes more bodies piled into the room and the beers kept flowing.

The fight finished and I was feeling pretty pissed, with only a few hours until my flight Hatty planted me in Burger King, filled me with grease, stodge and water. We grabbed our bags, I had my photo taken about fifty times, high fived everyone ten times then ran for the bus.

We return to Malaysian Borneo in about ten days but before that I’m off to Camiguin in the Philippines, white sandy beaches, crystal clear waters, delicious food and I’m sure Pinoy hospitality.

As always thanks for reading.