I’m Supingi, your Mountain Guide

I’ve just left Borneo and now I’m not up a mountain or in the jungle, I thought it’s about time I stopped making excuses and updated things on here.

One of the things I’ve been most looking forward to on this trip was the climb up to the summit of Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain in South East Asia (although this has been disputed), and the first few days of the trip were dominated by the challenge ahead. I know I had underestimated the seriousness of the inpending hike, and it’s fair to say I wasn’t alone. I knew it would be tough, and I knew altitude would probably play a part, but after having 2 meetings a day in preparation leading up to the ‘big day’, it became apparent that it was going to be tougher than a long, steep trek.

So it all started at first meal in Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia’s Sabah region of Borneo, where we were given an overview of the upcoming two weeks, but talk of the mountain lingered longer, and everyone quickly began to doubt what they‘d signed up to. We got ourselves to bed early that night and the next day made a start by gathering the necessary supplies before heading to Kiau, a small and remote village shadowed by the mountain itself. Here we were given beds for the night in the local church and introduced to ‘Supingi, your mountain guide’ (his favourite phrase) and his gang of helpers at rice wine fueled house party. Supingi continued to build the mountain nerves before proceeding to introduce us to home made rice wine, to which strict rules to his drinking game we all had to abide.

After a couple of hours the locals of the village had clambered up the hill to the house and joined us, wholey intoxicated from a full days drinking, and introduced themselves (more than several times) before continuing with their astounding levels of drunkeness. A couple of the guys performed with a guitar and drum kit made from spoons and bottles. It proved to be a good bonding experience for the group that had only met the previous evening, as we all worked to defend each other from the inappropriateness of the locals, particulary Jackson whom appeared to have arrived to the house a swamp. At the end of the evening a few of us held back for a couple more rice wines (that had severely deteriated in quality as the evening went on) and watched as the locals couldn’t take anymore and passed out in quick succession. Calling it a night, we found and lead the way back to the church as our supposed escorts followed behind oblivious to everything!

The next morning, whilst the locals emmerged still very drunk from the night before, Supingi met us at the church and insisted we were to put the mountain out of our minds and not think about it…as he pointed it out to us high up in the clouds. Thanks Supingi!