Hill
with 3-Fold-Purpose No matter how prepared I think I am on treks, I'm always humbled in ways unimaginable. A mountain is, after all, a respector of no persons, and it can reveal secrets when the person is willing to learn. When I arrived at Fraser's Hill with my 18 other cohorts, everything seemed to have been moving according to schedule. We departed Sunway College on time (true, we nearly left without four trekkers because we were serious about leaving latecomers behind); we had a pleasant drive along the wide straight highways and narrow winding roads all the way (true, one or two had to deal with minor stomach upheavals) ; we reached the Gap by 3.00 p.m., just in time for the flow of traffic to change in our favour. And when we were at Fraser's Hill, we had some time to spare for the hungry ones to devour a decent meal each. But I had a bad feeling about the trek. Hiking up Pine Tree Hill this time will be remembered as one of my most unpleasant trek. It is unpleasant because of the physical challenge. rain rain rain mud mud mud slip n slide sip n slide sip n slide more rain ultra misleaading trail markers uphill downhill uphill downhill uphill downhill cold cold cold wet wet wet windy wind windy sleeping on a slope etc... More than that, the trek is unpleasant because as I was writing this entry, I realised that simply putting down things that happened during the trek cannot do justice to how I really felt. This trek did have its moments, but the reflections impressed upon me is of greater significance. This trek reminded me of so many significant events in my past that I realised I am more sentimental than I thought I was. It was on this trek, I developed a greater appreciation of my trekking buddies of yesteryears. On this trek, I was reminded of a role I have not assumed since I left university years ago. On this trek, I played the natural innocent fool once again—and I played it flawlessly. I might have seem a little rusty, but I'm sure I could have provided footage for an entire episode of Candid Camera or Mr Bean. There can be a segment on how I accidentally let slip my mobile phone from my hands (and seem to flick it maliciously onto the backseat of the van) when Sze Ning asked to use the phone to make a call. There can be a "how-to" segment on lighting stoves: after assuring my students that lighting my stove was a very safe and simple procedure, I ignited my stove with a burst of flame. There can be a segment of how I imitated Melissa, who, on Gunung Irau, held onto a metal mug of boiling water with her fingers. Then there can be a segment on how I'd drop a sausage on the muddy ground, pick it up, put it back in the mesh tin from where it came from, then scoop it up onto a piece of bread and offer it to someone to eat (after Craig and Bernadette declined the offer). Then there can be a segment on Craig, Bernadette and I in the tent engaged in casual conversation that caused an uproar of laughter. For instance, the two of them endured stomach pains when I innocently said, "Have you ever slept with students in tents? I've always done it. This is the first time I'm sleeping with fellow lecturers." Then there can be a segment of me as the lonely figure, who braved chilly winds, to sit patiently at the peak waiting to see the sunrise break through the thick white mist—after an hour and a half, all I saw was a grey sheet turning to white. There can be so many more segments. But more importantly, this trek and the natural innocent fool's role I played reminded me of my early trekking friends. It
was also on this trek that I was reminded of the many people I trekked
with, and the many treks I went on last year. The continuous heavy downpour
days before and during our trek reminded me of Gunung Besar Hantu. We
did not have to lift a lorry out of a ditch or push a 4x4 this time,
but the continuous shower made us slide and slip quite a bit on one
of the wettest and muddiest trails ever. It was so wet and muddy, it
reminded me of Gunung Nuang. Yes, that infamous mountain that stopped
me from reaching it's peak whenever it rained. The trail here did not
have a deep middle sunken ditch like Nuang, so we often found our feet
treading in streams of water or squishing in squidgy mud only. And though
there were spots where I slip and fall, and places where I had to embarassingly
stamp my feet repeatedly before I got a proper foothold, Pine Tree Hill
came no where close to Nuang's stature. It neither inflicted pain nor
dented my ego. But it did make me think of how Su Yuen might have battled
the mud. On Irau, I had been inexcusably caught off-guard by the cold and rain, but I was truly prepared this time. On Irau, I was shivering from the bitter cold, and at times, my hands turned numb. Few times in the night, I turned on my stove (eventhough I knew that it was extremely dangerous) to heat up the tent. On Pine Tree Hill, I was comfortably warm in dry clothing. Shiverings were a thing of the past. Also, I brought a mat and had a dry sleeping bag. But unfortunately, I was to share my sleeping bag. Bernadette had a bag, too, but hers was wet. Craig did not have a mat nor bag. If on Irau my sleeping bag became a mattress, my bag was used as a blanket for the three of us on Pine Tree Hill. To keep warm, Bernadette huddled close-by, and that reminded me of Quin Jean. And then there are probably a hundred and one more things that happened that reminded me a little more of my past. With so many reminders of the past, Pine Tree Hill seemed to offer little originality. But therin lies it's beauty, too. Unlike other mountain trails, this one evoked so many memories of old. So did I like the trek? Probably not. Like I mentioned earlier, this is the most unpleasant trek I've ever been on. Yet, it served its three-fold purposes—it carved me open and revealed that I am really more a sentimental fool than I thought; it served as a fitting tribute to the wonderful trekking years and trekking buddies I've had; and since it was the first trek we did in 2003, it served as an introduction to the adventures and exciting challenges in the year ahead.
Craig Gerow: Me: Carried too much foodstuff up a mountain as usual. 'nuff said
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