We woke at 2am (well everyone else woke, with all the people and torches coming and going during the night I didn’t get a wink of sleep) and dressed quickly, adding pretty much all the layers we had brought with us, and head downstairs with the other 100-odd guests for a light snack before we started walking up to the summit at 2.45am.
We set off at a very slow and steady pace, climbing wooden stairs and rocks for about an hour, before we came to what I shall call the ‘really scary rope section’. It was literally a rock cliff with a rope that we had to navigate up, precariously navigating along a short ledge of rock about 5cm wide which separated the cliff and the town about a kilometre down. Our three mountain guides spread evenly amongst us to make sure we made it up ok, and it was amazing fun, kind of like a James Bond adventure (my hiking pass was actually numbered 007, which made it all the more funny). There were moments where I freaked out slightly, but there was always a mountain guide nearby, so I stopped thinking about it. After about 20-minutes of the scary ropes, there was more hiking – following the white rope up steep cliffs – and we spread out once again, the speedy ones with longer legs in front, me around the middle, and those unfortunately suffering from altitude sickness behind.
In the darkness, all you could see were a few twinkling head-torches in the distance, surrounded by an all-encompassing darkness. There were times where I couldn’t even see that – it was just me and my headtorch, lighting the white rope which I sometimes walked beside, and sometimes held on and hauled myself up the never-ending rock towards the summit. I took it slowly (I didn’t want to get to the summit before sunrise and freeze) and as the morning light turned everything a shade of blackish grey, I turned around and saw the clouds beneath me and rock towers surrounding me, and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.
The climb to the summit is 2.7kms, and I think I felt every one of those last 700m. Dawn crept across the mountain, and I was just below the summit when the sun rose at 6am. I hauled myself up the last few metres, literally rock climbing past the ever-growing numbers of tourists who had arrived first, and found a few members of my group huddled together from the cold. I had my photo taken at the summit sign and admired the views, and after about 10mins decided to start the downward trek before there were so many tourists that I would fall off the very tiny rock I was sitting on. The only thing separating me on that tiny rock from the bottom of the mountain was a flimsy metal rail, and I didn’t really want to test its strength.
Now that the whole mountain was lit by sunlight, I was gobsmacked at how steep the climb was. Stupendously amazed. Words cannot explain how baffled I was that I made it up in the first place. I just could not believe it. (You get the idea.) But I had to get down somehow, so I took a deep breath and some more photos and began the very steep walk back down to base camp. I started the walk down as slow as I had climbed up, passing some people that were still on the way up, and totally downplaying how hard it was. “Yeah, oh it’s totally fine, you’re almost there! Yes it’s easy, absolutely!”
I experimented with getting down the steep bits, preferring to kind of step down sideways, instead of the more common backwards abseil method, and when I arrived back at the ‘really scary rope section’, the mountain guide magically appeared (we did he come from?) to help me down. Thank God, because I am fairly brave, but now that it was daylight you could see exactly how dangerous it was, and exactly how far down the bottom of the cliff was. I should mention that while I clung for dear life onto that rope, looking for guidance from the mountain guide every step of the way, he casually strolled down the cliff, one hand smoking a cigarette with the other in his pocket.
The views were spectacular on the way down, and I felt an amazing sense of achievement. We arrived at base camp at 9.30am, ready for a quick baby wipe shower, a dry top and a big breakfast, before the final descent back to Tampohan Gate where we began. Easy! We exclaimed as we stuffed food and coffee in our mouths. We did it! We laughed, congratulating ourselves. The first day was so lovely coming up we were sure it would be just as nice going down, in only half the time. Holy shit we were wrong. We were so, so wrong. Unbelievably wrong. Every step down sent shooting pains up my legs until the muscles could no longer support my body weight, and there were times I fell backwards to the ground, and instead of getting up, I just sat there and rested for a while. Once again I ended up alone near the middle, with a European couple for company who seemed to be going my pace. It took me 4.5-hours going down, not much shorter than going up, and my the time I hobbled down the last few steps, I was using the wooden railing for support on one side and my walking stick on the other, shaking like an old lady. Meanwhile, our porters were running past us, with no suggestions of tiredness. God, they breed them tough around here.
When I arrived back at the entrance to the trail, I caught the bus back to the lodge restaurant, enjoying a late lunch before our 40-minute bus ride to Poring Hot Springs that afternoon. Everyone was exhausted, and we dumped our bags and enjoyed a nice, hot, long shower in our motel-style accommodation before dinner at the restaurant downstairs. It had been a long, long day, and after one beer there was some delirious giggling before we decided that bed was probably a good idea. What an amazing day.
-Sarah
Sarah