101 Challenges:

Location: Borneo

Yesterday morning, after spending the night a-thousand-meters above sea level in the foothills beside Mount Kinabula in Borneo we woke up looking like we needed an almighty shave. This however was not the case. We were in fact wearing orang-utan costumes for the King of the Swinger Challenge – and this is how orang-utans get from KL to Borneo – by plane:



The challenge had not yet commenced but such was the cold, we decided to prevent hypothermia by wearing our costumes to breakfast. Naturally, we looked like twats.

The last 14 hours were like being back home in Scotland and sitting outside on a typical summers day. However back home we would be wearing a pair of trousers, a vest, T-shirt, jumper and a heavily padded waterproof jacket. Here we were preparing for a stroll into the clouds at over 4000 metres with beach wear on and our orang-utan costumes (we now refer to them as our thermals).



We had previously practiced wearing the costumes in downtown KL and we were quite concerned at the blistering heat that accumulated inside. We stupidly expected rainforest covered Borneo to be of similar climates. Oh no. It was cold, cloudy, wet and windy. We should have seen this coming as the signs were everywhere and they were from the Borneo tourist board:

Come to Borneo it’s Baltic
Come to Borneo it’s Brass
Come to Borneo it’s Brrrr
Come to Borneo it’s Bloody Freezing

Okay, so those aren’t real slogans but we think them very apt and are planning on contacting the BTB to offer our suggestions for their 2009 tourist campaign.

We munched a massive breakfast as we knew we would need the energy to climb to the overnight station Laban Rata (3200 metres or so up the “hill” as Lindsay called it).

Our fellow climbers were amused at us wearing our ancestral outfits and a few did ask why. Lee advised them that on the internet it said to wear climbing gear and so that’s what we were doing and said they were stupid for only wearing thermals and fleeces.

And so, setting out with Sir Hillary Edmund in our thoughts, we reached the base of the “hill” with our guide Pinget and 2 porters (Sherpas). We pulled down our masks and adopted our roles as orang-utans and started to monkey around excited at being home again.

The next 5 hours were spent on the Reebok Step master or that’s the way it seemed. 99.99994% of the journey was up hill and was basically large stairs. Granted the steps were more exotic than the ones in our mums hallway but she has carpets so weren’t sure which is better. The steps ranged from wooden slates to muddy banks, to simply jutting out rocks. We missed 96.9772% of the views as we had to look constantly at our feet via the tiny slits in our mask that were our eyes.

Thankfully due to the suits the heat did start to warm our cockles and alas we did feel like we were in Borneo. Every now and again we would stop for a break at one of the resting stations. We would never stop for long though as we would hear the rustle of leaves and the thumping of animal chest which made us fear that if we stopped any longer we would be sodomised by an ape mistaking us for the real thing. Lindsay, funnily enough, wasn’t too concerned though.

After hitting around about the 2500 metre high mark, we entered the clouds. Instantly the temperature dropped and our previously warmed cockles shrank. The winds picked up dramatically and roared and whistled all around us. We still had some way to go and it looked like rain was on its way so we decided to hurry.

Unfortunately our speed was hampered by other climbers wanting to get pictured with the local wildlife. Us!

For the first 500 photos we posed with broad smiles (pointless really as we had huge masks on) and shouts of bananas rather than cheese as that was more appropriate. The next 500 photos were met with silence, major grimaces and whispered f**ks and s**ts under our breaths. All of this was done under our masks so we did not offend or give a bad impression of orang-utans:

The next 1500 metre climb was pretty much all the same. Eyes down looking directly at our feet, trying to control our breath in the thinning air and just ploughing on. It didn’t matter that we weren’t looking around as there was nothing to see but clouds that rolled past all around us. We touched clouds!



We reached the overnight rest area and celebrated with a beer. We may have had more had they not been ridiculously high prices (£3.50 for a small can) but since we were at a ridiculously high height and some poor dude had to climb up here with them we guess the price is pretty fair.

Around 4 minutes after reaching this place the weather got even worse. The wind was trying its best to rip the roof off and came shooting through every gap that the poorly made building had. The rain battered the place and we were convinced if the wind didn’t get the building then it was only a matter of time before we and the building went white-water rafting down the “mountain” as a knackered Lindsay was now calling it.

When darkness fell and people started to hit the sack we were informed that our residence for the night was actually in a different building - a further 7 minutes walk up the mountain. If this was any other country in the world we would not have been allowed on the mountain in the first place and as inadequately prepared as we were, we’d never be allowed or even expected to undertake the journey to our beds.

Having no waterproofs and not wanting to get what we had wet, we hiked up our shorts in a sort of Julian Clary way, grabbed black bin bags and pulled them over us just poking a hole big enough for our heads. Our bags were cradled inside with our arms. We didn’t plan on falling but if we did we figured our noses could stop our faces getting damaged:

We opened the door and started to make our way further up the mountain with Mark, Matt (a Canadian) and Vanessa and Kate (English and Australian).

Matt, Kate and Mark were reasonably prepared i.e. they had jackets. No stairs here, instead slippery granite rocks and flowing water from the continual pouring of rain. For some reason rather than being scared we were laughing at how dangerous it was, we think we were delirious.

Thankfully we made it without a scratch - a complete and utter miracle really. We didn’t even get wet - well apart from our shoes and socks but luckily there was a gas stove so ingenious Lindsay boiled them dry in a pot – great ingenuity but the subsequent stench throughout the chalet was horrendous.

This day, despite all the dangers, stupidity and coldness - was immense. We loved every minute of it and can only recommend you come to Borneo (it’s bloody freezing – surely the BTB will go with that one) with your orang-utan costume and climb Mount Kinabalu. Here it is above the clouds (taken on our outward flight):



The rest of the tale remains a secret for now, that’s telly darlings. Needless to say we are down, alive and despite our legs being in absolute agony, we’re looking forward to our cockles warming and growing again.