Low's Peak High — Mostly Harmless

THERE IS A LOT OF CONFUSION surrounding the name of Southeast Asia’s highest peak. Some stories are more dramatic than others. “Aki Nabalu” – revered place of the dead. “Tina Balu” – a widow mother. “Cina Balu” – a Chinese widow. Nothing sticks in your craw like a romantic tale, but the most likely origin story of the name Kinabalu is the literal Dusun translation of “Ki” and “Nabalu” – to have mountain. That’s it. The name simply states that the mountain is there.

But Kinabalu is so much more than that and the quest to stand on her gusty peak IS a romantic tale in itself.

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WE HAD ALREADY COMPLETED the summit approach, peaking at 5:30am to a burning ochre and navy sunrise. The view down to South Peak from Low’s Peak summit had been both the wallpaper on my laptop, and the lock screen image on my iPhone, and now it was right in front of my face. I was seeing it, smelling it, feeling it…feeling it so much that I teared up a little.

Another thing I felt was each of the 14,342 feet scaled in my lungs and legs, but the pain and exhaustion was nothing compared to the sense of accomplishment of having conquered this monolith (with its blessing, of course). No matter what or who you believe in, completely respecting nature and mimicking the local reverence to natural sites big enough, high enough, or wild enough to kill you, is always a good plan.

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IN 2015, TEN WESTERN TOURISTS said “stuff your customs” and stripped down to nothing for a cheeky photo opportunity at 14,000+ feet. Reports say they not only ignored local beliefs and superstitions, but also the frustrated pleas of their guide.

Six days later there was an earthquake, the strongest to hit Malaysia since 1976, and 18 climbers and guides died on the mountain. Foreign media claimed the local outrage was connecting the two incidents, hanging the deaths on the naked backs of the summit strippers. Local outlets said no such thing – the earthquake was an unfortunate event and the climbers simply deserved to be punished for breaking the rules.

Leaving the summit (fully clothed) at 14,342 feet to meet up with our via ferrata instructor waiting at 12,388 feet.

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THAT FIASCO IN MIND, I was a little uneasy when a Canadian man I was hooking into the sheer side of the mountain with decided he’d take a pee right off the edge and into the cold wind. While reaching the summit was our main objective, Fernando and I had agreed to descend in style, by abseiling down the side. We were a group of six readying for the via ferrata course with our two experienced Malay mountaineer guides (from Mountain Torq), and already one of us had exposed ourselves. Not a great start for someone familiar with this saga.

After the summit, waiting at 12,388 feet (that’s Guinness World Record height) was our via ferrata instructor Hilary, who bashfully rejected my proposed nickname of Sir Edmund. His soft voice and always calm demeanor made me feel secure during this seemingly very treacherous activity. Via ferrata can be dangerous but really only due to careless human error during carabiner transfers. With the new system, which we were using on Kinabalu, once you hook in, you don’t unhook again until you’re at the end of the trail, so as long as you connect properly at the beginning, even those common human errors won’t lead to death (broken bones, sure).

Gloves and helmets on, harnesses tightened, clips examined, we were ready to let gravity handle our descent. I watched as each member of the Canadian/Aussie group of four in front, overcame the terror that was lowering themselves over the initial precipice. Each started off cocky, telling jokes and laughing at one another until it was their turn to peer over the edge at nothing but sky.

Butterflies were swatted away by nausea, which was quickly replaced by elation. My old friend vertigo, who often adds to the thrill, was with me at different levels the entire time. Fernando and I have climbed via ferrata in the past but have never used it as an add-on after the already draining activity of scaling a mountain. Not to worry, though, the human body is amazing, and even though I thought I had no energy left in my reserve tank, the fear of plummeting to my death kicked up a new batch of boldness, and my muscles felt strong once again.

I rode that bravado all the way back to basecamp at Pendant Hut, then all the way down the Kinabalu trail, and to our transport van waiting to take us to our bed in Kota Kinabalu.

VERDICT: Not entirely harmful.