Unfinished (Mountain) Business

by Jonna Baquillas (Philippines)

Making a local connection Malaysia

I took over 20,000 steps in Kinabalu… But I didn’t get to the top. “Oh my God, it’s a sheer drop!,” someone from the crowd exclaimed. We were on single file, traversing the granite face of the mountain we all wanted to conquer that day. The line between life and death literally hangs by a rope – one missed step and you plunge to the bottom. We started summitting when it was pitch black; now that the skies are turning blue, we are slowly seeing how treacherous this adventure is. Surely, everyone was nervous? I definitely was. From the base, Mt. Kinabalu looks impressive; imposing, even. I have seen its iconic shape everywhere as soon as I landed in the city. They’re on mugs, shirts, store signages, government emblems, and even on the State of Sabah flag. I’ve been looking forward to this climb. “Do not let go of the rope! Hold it with both of your hands!” The mountain guide kept repeating as we all silently moved in unison while vertically scaling the 90-degree-angled mountain wall. I made the mistake of wearing non-waterproof gloves. By now, they’re drenched with dew from the wet ropes, my hands ice-cold, and there was no chance to stop for a moment and let my fingers stretch and rest. I was getting more and more scared; anxiety was increasingly creeping into me. For someone who loves the mountains, it is perhaps a surprise that I have an extreme fear of heights. My knees tremble and lock when I peer from a high vantage point. I get the same feeling when I am in a high place surrounded by glass, as the transparent view gives no sense of security. Today is one of those days when I feel overwhelmed with fear. I love watching the world go by as the sun rises and sets, but on this very day, it fed fear to my anxious mind as the growing daylight slowly illuminated the dangerous view below, quickly drowning my sensibilities. By the time I reached the final checkpoint, I was already mentally drained. Shivering from the cold mountain air, I defeated myself and surrendered to the fact that I will no longer make it to the summit. Not knowing what to do, I sat by a boulder and stared into the colorful palette of sunrise. Burst of yellow, a hint of orange, a touch of pink – it was truly a sight to behold, an unobstructed view at 3,700 above sea level! “Are you okay?” I probably looked lost and withdrawn; a mountain guide sat beside me to check on me. I told him I can no longer continue. “Don’t worry, there’ll be another day. Your safety is important. Come with me.” He brought me to Sayat-Sayat Hut, a resting stop for anyone who needs a shelter in the mountain. “I’m Robbi. Are you cold? Here. Use my gloves. They’re waterproof.” In ten minutes, we exchanged pleasantries and got acquainted with each other’s culture. My mind was telling me I was a failure – it took me five months to prepare, physically and financially, but forgot to mentally prime myself up for this. “Look at the sunrise. It’s beautiful.” He intercepted my nagging thoughts. And indeed, it was. Devoid of any vegetation, it is an otherwise otherworldly aesthetic if not for the presence of other climbers who were taking in its beauty, albeit briefly, before everyone is herded off to continue the journey. Robbi patiently assisted me in the descent, as we went ahead of the crowd. He joked, and we laughed; our laughters reverberated among the trees. Very carefully, he helped me overcome my fear of heights. On that day, he was my strength. I never thought I'd find myself pushing beyond my limits. “Come back next time, I’ll help you reach the summit!” “Of course! I’ll be back soon. This is my unfinished business!,” I happily quipped. Then, the news came. Three years later, Robbi perished in the mountain during an earthquake, doing what he loved most – guiding and helping people. By then, I still have not fulfilled my promise to finish this (mountain) business. I wish I came back sooner.