(x) A conversation with vertigo

2.15am alarm call. I'm a late riser, others already moving. Shower in icy mountain water. Invigorates, empowers, enlivens. Clearly not every part of me agrees.

Kitted in fetching red / purple reversible balaclava (perfect for the friendly bank robber) and stripy red and white gardening gloves. A head torch to guide the way. 2.8 km to scramble and 1000 metres to climb before sunrise. Welcome breakfast of porridge and eggy bread. Avoided the urge to dip.

Conversation limited as endless steps appear. Sweat from exertion hangs wet inside raincoat, cold against the skin. Mist condensates outside.

Steps are gone, now sheer rock faces me. Steep shards descend toward darkness. I hope I never see where they end.

*****

Hello vertigo, meet altitude sickness. Please, have a party in my head...

'Look down'
'Why'
'Just look down, you'll see'
'What, what will I see'
'Nothing'

'What do you mean, 'nothing?''
'Just...nothing'

'Why are you lying on the rock?'
'It's comfortable.'
'Comfortable rock?!? You looked down didn't you?'
'Maybe...'
'Yes! What did you see?!'
'Nothing. Just nothing.'
'Look again, look again!!'
'FUCK OFF Vertigo'
***hugs rock***

*****

The landscape opens to moonscape. Layered rock climbs toward destination. Harsh wind blows in the darkness. My legs gather momentum, using each group ahead to fuel my rise. I pause. Behind, headlights progress through the night. Left, right, left, right. Martian Miners parading silently for the bewitching hour.

The final rock-face. A steep but simple scramble. Every few feet altitude steals my breath. I collapse above, nestled in against fierce west wind. The cold forming a blanket around me, wrapping it's way into my skin digit by digit.

*****

First light brings clouded sky. Sun visible through shadow.
What a shadow.

Shepherd's warning lights the candy-floss sea. Cloud sedimented in altitudinal layers; some chased across the horizon, others static as the rock itself. Peaks of granite resolute against the weather, peeking out to enjoy the view. Can't blame them.

My mind full of images cameras cannot capture, I descend. Curious to see the route already trodden. Stark beauty in nature's first light.

(ix) Heavenly views of Mt Kinabalu

Just met a girl who is scared of butterflies. Fingers crossed she never meets a shark.

*****

I arrive at mountain base-camp expecting a group to climb with. 'No sir, no sir, single person guide only.' There are groups all around me, small groups of Europeans, larger groups of locals. However, limiting numbers give employment to more guides. If I join another group, my guide would not be paid today. I approve, though it is a shame not to have more company.

Whitesnake sings in my ears as I climb (see ii). However I am not alone. Maikin Sikon has been a guide since 2003. He has a wife and a child of 8 years. 'At twelve, he can climb the mountain.' I will walk 6 km today and climb 1000 feet. The air is thinner but quite manageable.

I pass members of the matching cagoule brigade; each equipped with professional walking sticks. I feel inadequate in trainers, with a scuba dry bag strapped across my back. When they catch up I will find out what gear I need to take walking seriously.

Religion is on my mind today as I climb Mount Kinabalu. There are many paths to climb a mountain. Each path here is guided by a local. It prevents Europeans straying. One European who did stray was Brother Benedict, a Dutch Missionary who came to kg bundu tuhan village in 1968. He built St Pius church and now Maikin Sikon, his family and village are all Christian. Perhaps 50% of Borneo are. 40% Muslim, 10% the rest. All climb the mountain paths in harmony.

*****

The view takes my breath, as does the altitude. Balcony perched 3000 metres above the sea. Above the clouds. Above comprehension. I am surrounded by crisp greenery and vibrant red flowers. Simple yet defined colour palate framed against blue skies and whipped white clouds. Tomorrow's foreboding grey stands above me.

*****

Perhaps the Greeks got it right. I sit at 3000 feet and there is no doubt there is a God. He is the clouds beneath me. She is the sunset before me. It is the summit ahead. I don't know whose God I view, but I know she is beautiful.

*****

God is in Good. The concept is described many ways. For me, at the positive heart of each religion lies strong moral teaching. A child with religion is a child with something to believe in, to aspire to. The realisation of this belief is in the good done for others.

I walked some of the mountain today with an English girl who has taught in China for 7 years. Last week she shaved her shoulder length hair to the scalp in a school assembly. She raised £5000 for cancer research.

A friend is a qualified football coach. He has worked with high level football teams but has now established his own charity for less advantaged males. The charity is driven by his goodwill and commitment, fundraising and positive influence. It is based in his Christian faith. The impact crosses faith boundaries. It is delving into humanity and having a positive influence. It is what life is about. Sometimes he 'persuades' me into foolish endurance football events to raise funds. I forgive him, his heart is in the right place.

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(viii) Ain't no scuba low enough, ain't no mountain high enough

Ok, so no sharks yesterday; a little poetic licence whilst waiting for the dive boat. Good to get back in the water though. Hoping for some amazing diving in Sipadan next week.

Diving yesterday was limited, as was visibility. My right knacker couldn't see the left on the final dive. Some good company on the boat though. A lovely couple who live out here now, half French, half English; like a great mustard. Migrated via Cyprus and Fiji. That's the life.

Got me thinking. Where's home when family are born in numerous countries, and growing in a different continent?

Home is where the family is. That much was evident. Bilingual 3 years olds prove language schooling in England has a lot to learn. As do I. Family thoughts still drift to a hospital bed back home. Grandad's spirits have been low. Hopefully some flowers have lifted Mum's.

Very pleased with today. Early start, 3 separate flights booked, a jungle river tour recommended by a friend, first steps to arrange some more dives. Busy organising day.

Sunday market in Kota Kinabalu. Pungent fruit, dried fish, vegetables from a rainbow, goods from poor imitations to great counterfeits. 'Real Levi sir, Real Levi. David Beckham wears.' I'm sure Beckham's aren't spelt Levy. Surely he'd notice if he had the Tottenham chairman tattooed to his backside? Maybe not. Love Asian markets. Friendly banter, trade, laughter, vibrancy, no forced sales - just hopeful persuasion. Bought a notebook with a Lego style cover. Brilliant.

Oh, and I'm now halfway up a mountain. From -20 to altitude of 2000 metres in 24 hours. Double that tomorrow, unfortunately on foot. Should be beautiful if pictures at this height are any judge.

Good people today too - a German couple shared my bus to the Mountain base. 2 hours flew with great company. Tasty Malaysian food tonight - some Malaysian tourists guided me safely through the daily local food / nut allergy game. Winning at the minute.

Best get some shut eye so I enjoy the views tomorrow...

(viii) It's all about big and deep

I don't want to sound shallow, but it's all about big and deep for me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the foreplay; the titivating view from above, tantalising shapes and depths to be explored for the first time.

The anticipation, the expectation, framed with a little performance anxiety. It has been a while, more through opportunity than choice. I just hope I remember how the equipment works - would hate to let the others down.

Nothing beats that feeling when you jump straight in and get wet for the first time. I take a moment to familiarise myself before diving a little deeper. Keeping my breathing steady to ensure longevity.

I memorise every image to toy with and savour later. A feeling builds as I sink deeper and deeper. I know my buddy feels it too, it's clear in the way her body relaxes, waves of pleasure overtaking us.

I'm nearing my limit. I try to focus on anything else, control my breathing, relax myself.

I never feel complete unless...

...unless

My vision blurs, but through the murky depths I see the smile I've been waiting for. The beautiful, natural grin that makes my day perfect. I inhale deeply with uncontrolled fulfilment.

No dive is complete without a shark sighting.

(vii) Brunei reflections

My thoughts on leaving Brunei. A Sultan state, alcohol free. Death penalty for drug importation. Iced coffees drunk in cafes in the early hours. Gentle patter of conversation. Unsurprisingly a lack of Aussie, Brit and Irish travellers drinking their body weight of chilled cappuccino.

Brunesians are the friendliest people. Warm greetings offered on the street. Not once did I feel uncertain or concerned. The greatest reflection is driving. Fuel is, unsurprisingly, cheap. But Brunei suffers little of the showmanship of Dubai. Some expensive cars purr the streets, but drivers are courteous, mooching gently to destination and genteelly giving way to others. Many a car stopped and offered spare seats to those awaiting buses. Uncertain if they were acquainted to their new passengers.

Brunei's alcohol and drug laws may seem draconian, but their streets lack beggars, their stores go without shop lifters and their streets are places of contentment.

Time to board the boat to Kota Kinabalu. Hope there're some Aussies to have a beer with.