Gunung Stong: First-hand tales from a mountaineering beginner
I love being with nature, and I love sports so it was only inevitable that those two interests meet. The invitation came from Jhun V, who I met thru badminton and is my partner in the mixed doubles category. He must think I need more training and decided that mountaineering should do it. The climb was scheduled 6 weeks ahead, so it was successfully booked in my ever-full sporting calendar. Besides, the thrill of exploring caves, scaling a mountain, and swimming in waterfalls just seemed too much to miss. And yeah, maybe I needed the training too. 
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Preparation and Lessons in Packing
I went thru the itinerary and figured I could endure 3-4 hours of trekking. Nevertheless I wanted to come prepared so 2 weeks into the day of the climb, I practiced walking up the stairs of my HDB unit: walked up to the 10th floor, rode the elevator down, and repeated the same cycle until I got dizzy from the circular motions or got bored. I forgot how many cycles I did, but I performed this regimen at least twice a week. Plus I have two days of badminton a week, yoga at home, and kickboxing at the gym. I knew the real experience would be way, way different but I had to do what I can to prepare my body. Challenges such as these can not be underestimated, seriously.
Next came the question of what to bring: clothes and personal necessities, food, gears. I had no hiking boots (and I’m still shopping around till now), and no camping bag. So I used my trusty Mizuno running shoes, while an officemate loaned me her North Face back pack. I did a few researches on mountaineering necessities, asked questions from the experienced hikers, and while they all said to pack light, I just could not leave a few items behind like my moccasin shoes(think American Indians with feather headdresses running around the campsite), a book(just in case I got bored on some legs of the journey), and 10 sets of clothing. Yes, 10 sets of clothing, all carefully selected and matched, and mostly cotton. Lower the eyebrows please, inexperienced climber, remember? And hey, they did mention 7 waterfalls; those require changes of clothing in between right? So clearly I’m excused. Mwehehehe…(Background song: I’m Just A Girl by Gwen Stefani).
So on the day of the climb, I excitedly hoisted my back pack.
And almost fell from the sheer weight on my back. I thought then that I may have packed more than I could carry. Sheesh.
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En Route to Kelantan
I was late for the meet up in Kranji. 14 minutes. I could already imagine Jhun’s raised eyebrows. When I arrived I learned that we were still waiting for the others to arrive, and I breathed easily. I was introduced to Josie and Jon and noticed that their bags were packed neatly and tightly, and looked waaayy heavier than mine. Josie was holding a stick (what for, I remember wondering) and Henry was sporting a tummy (I correctly guessed he was the chef). I noticed their mountaineering gears and apparels, and that’s when the reality of the journey dawned on me. I felt apprehensive and, with Apryl, began to doubt the wisdom of our decision to embark on such a back-breaking, sweat-pouring, and muscle-aching journey. But we didn’t back out. No sir, we are Tropang Smashers Girls, and we don’t back out from challenges.
Arnel and Don arrived and we breezed through the immigrations of Singapore and Malaysia, then had dinner at McDonalds at the Johor Bahru side. Apryl and I were quietly observing the rest of the gang while they already had an easy camaraderie. I ticked the stats: four men, three women, four cameras, five experienced climbers, two newbies, one climb lead, two sweepers, one chef, six kitchen assistants, one deck of cards. We were off to a good start.
We boarded the train at 7pm but not without having a few ‘before’ photos at the JB station. This was Apryl’s first visit to Malaysia and her first aboard the KTMB. She was so excited that she couldn’t sleep and sat on her bunk bed and viewed the ‘scenery’ for as long as she can. She gave up when she realized it was getting pitch dark, and the only sceneries were those in her head.
Still feeling shy, I tried to mingle with the gang while they played cards. Arnel had the winning streak that night, and talk was that he could already buy a meal of roti and kopi with his winnings. Later that night we wanted to have coffee at the train cafeteria, but the cars leading to it were so jam-packed with chance commuters that we could not push our way through. There were passengers sitting on the floor near the toilets too, and some doors at the connecting hallways were open and there were people sitting there with legs dangling over the rails. We gave up and went back to our car. After posing for a few photos I decided to try to get some sleep despite the rattling of the train. I needed a good rest for the climb.
We reached Dabong in the state of Kelantan at 7am, 1 hour late of our itinerary. We groggily heaved our backpacks and were immediately greeted with cold air and a misty grey morning. The guys took photos of the train tracks, and then we had breakfast at a local eatery (I remember having fried chicken and plain rice topped with a sauce and sweet-spicy desiccated coconut). Before 8am struck, our guide joined us. His name was Adam.
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Meet the Guide
The first thing that came to mind was that he looked like Rene Requiestas, the late Filipino comedian and actor. He too was lanky with dark brown skin, and had a bright, wide smile that revealed a few missing teeth. His eyes were thoughtful, and when he spoke it was with a slightly raspy voice. His long, black, curly hair was often worn in a ponytail at his nape. A sprinkling of white hairs lent him a wizened look. And he was always puffing his rolled cigars.
He was clad in shiny black tights, over which he wore a pair of shorts with a wide slash at the rear side. Loose dark shirt and trekking shoes completed the outfit.
He impressed me as sincere, wise, and respectful of nature and the challenges she offers to everyone. Later I would appreciate the way he dispensed information at the right times, or asked for hypotheses as to why certain cave structures formed the way they did; or withheld a scenery at first, only to call our attention to it just when we thought we had seen everything or passed it without noticing.
With Adam, the climbing experience was not just physical; he involved our imagination and our senses of hearing, sight, smell, taste, and touch. He was like a showman, and the forest and mountain and the creatures his props and actors. Part by part he would let the play unfold, somehow making us feel that we have a role in it too.
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Climb Proper
I really don’t remember much, there was no time to take notes. I only remember registering at the park office, doing a few stretches, and praying. I prayed, as usual, for an injury-free activity. I also pleaded for a generous helping of endurance before resolutely marching to the starting point. After a few meters we came to a hanging bridge, but our guide motioned for us to take another route (‘more challenging’, he said). And indeed, after our bodies started to acclimatize to their oxygen demands, there rose a view of the waterfalls, majestic and imposing. We cautiously stepped over rocks to cross the stream. The weight of our bags added to the challenge of leaping and balancing. I did not dare to imagine what would happen if I slipped.
We rested under a shade after safely landing on the other side, and I felt like I accomplished a lot already. Well, a poem did say about celebrating your victories, however small. I took a little pride then quickly put it away. Up ahead was a rock-climbing challenge. We had only a metal chain to help us. We scrambled up, and from there onwards it was trees, branches, thorns, and pebbles, stones, boulders, more trees, mud, clay, roots, then more trees and branches.
For my ears came the sound of cicadas, birds, bees and other insects, the crunching sound of shoes stepping on twigs and stones, now and then the sound of running water, and my very own labored breathing.
The air started to smell of leaves, mud, insects, and heat - forest smell, I call it. I inhaled deeply. As we hiked on, my sweat began running in rivulets and were dripping down my nose. My clothes were starting to be soaked, and my bag was becoming heavier every minute. Remember my cotton t-shirts? I was wearing my light green one when we climbed, and it absorbed my sweat, becoming heavier as well. It also doesn’t allow for quick evaporation, so when my sweat cools off, I might lose a few degrees of normal body heat. And that’s not good. I should have listened carefully and worn dry-fit clothes.
Over an hour into the trek, I realize I was having a good time. I liked what I was doing. I like sweating, climbing over tree trunks and clay paths, sometimes using only roots as leverage. At times I was on all fours, scrambling over granite rocks and clinging on desperately. I held on to branches and vines that could not support me if I fell anyway. But I held on. I regulated my breathing, I trusted my bodily instincts to tell me which way to lean, where to plant my foot, and I learned to test for stability of my foothold. I realize that while one can be daring and push her limit, pride has no place in making decisions here. Each mistake can be fatal.
Oh, did I mention there were leeches? I think Jhun purposefully skirted my questions regarding these, otherwise I might have declined with finality. But I was so freaked out at the thought of having a leech attaching itself to and sucking blood from me that I did some research anyway. These vamps have suckers at both ends of their bodies, and can use either or both to cling to their victims and perform the bloody heist. First they inject a sort of anaesthesia so you won’t feel anything, then an anticoagulant so the blood will just flow freely into their stomachs (or wherever they store it). When they have had their fill, they will conveniently detach themselves and roll off (presumably to doze off).
Fine, I can be generous, but giving away blood to a sucker without my permission? (Not that I would give it). And who would leave me bleeding hours after it’s gone, and a terrible itch after a week, and a scar for months? Thanks, but my consent would rather go to the proper blood donation channels. But even then, just the very thought of seeing a leech stuck on my skin wrecks havoc on my nerves - and vocal chords.
Despite the pants and the insect spray though, I was still made to undergo the experience of a leech victim. Picture this: me arriving at the base camp after trudging with the gang for hours; me thirstily guzzling a can of 100 Plus drink and imagining the night’s rest ahead; me learning how to set up the tent with Apryl and Jhun; me celebrating the successful set up of the first tent; the 3 of us starting to set up the second tent; Jhun pointing to the knee area of my trousers, mumbling about leeches; me not immediately comprehending but looking down and seeing blood dotting my pants; slowly it sank in…
Then I screamed.
Looking back, I recall seizing Apryl by the shoulders from behind, screaming at her ears, “Tanggaling mo, tanggalin mo!!!.” But how on earth can she remove the damn thing when I was grappling her? Poor Apryl, her ears must have been ringing a bit after that incident. My screams must have reached the nearby camp sites, I don’t know, and I couldn’t care then. Mercifully when we looked, the leech wasn’t there anymore. Apparently it wasn’t alone; another leech also had its fill at the back of the same knee, and together they must have unceremoniously rolled off like contented drunken beer buddies. Luckily at that time, I was wearing a support strap on my knee and I think that it prevented them from crawling upwards to the more fleshy region of my thigh. Or upwards still…
Ok, that’s enough imagination. I’m just thankful that I did not see them, or else I think I would have screamed louder, or maybe I would have beaten myself black and blue just to get rid of the suckers. If you fear leeches, trust me, no amount of research can prepare you for the real thing. But leech or no leech, I have decided that I am joining the next climbs. Err, as long as I am physically capable, anyway. I will be wiser with my clothes. And just in case the leeches manage to fasten their suctions anyway, it’s better that they spare me the sight and roll off before I whack the life (and the blood, my blood, aaarrgh!) out of them.
