The Authentic Experience part 3: Scaling Mount Ophir

We set out to leave Gunung Ledang "resort" at 7 in the morning, after spending the 1st night out in some aluminium huts.

Morning call at 6am. Breakfast at 6.30.

7am, everyone is geared up, from the youngest at 13 years, to the oldest at fifty-something. Decked up for a good long Sunday climb. And suddenly, the CumulusNimbus which had been obscuring the morning sun, let loose the rain with a great big heave of wind and thunder. Like an old man holding back a full bladder all night long who finally let it all go, it rained.

We looked at each other with bemused faces, faces that fell slightly from the exuberance at breakfast just some 10 minutes before. A few of us remembered to bring a windbreaker or a poncho, but most of the rest of us were decked up in sleeveless tops and shorts, ready for a hot hot day. And now, at these altitudes many started shivering, even the muscular, lean-bodied army boys.

8.20am. Seng Chor, our fifty-odd year old leader decided to sod it and send everyone going anyway, so off we went, slushing through the small puddles that gathered at the foot of the hill, and tried not to notice the crashing sounds of the waterfall up ahead of us, and the sign that said "Beware of Flash Floods".

8.45am. Check Point One. Rain has petered down to a gentle drizzle, but the damage had been done. I was soaking wet in my drenched shirt, under which embarrassingly my nipples showed through its thin sports bra. It didn't help that it was cold, even though we all worked up quite a sweat already. The morning air was crisp. Soil smelt clean. Trees overhead, waterfall gurgling by our left side.

We had to fill in our names, addresses, details of our next of kin on a sheet of paper that looked quite miserably dotted with the wet from our hands. By the time it went back to the rangers, it resembled more like a bedraggled lump of toilet paper than anything else.

I briefly wondered if they could still make out my father's name and phone number.

We began the climb proper, 30 of us following silently behind the sure-footed steps of our ranger who wore fatigues with his black polo T that said "RANGER" at the back. He reeked of stale cigarette smoke, but his stamina sure didn't show it.

At some point I lost count of the time - Check point 2, check point 3, check point 4. Roots and rocks everywhere. When we stopped, it wasn't so much to rest but to just gape at the greatness of the nature that surrounded us. Surprisingly, we didn't chat with each other too much. At least I didn't make much effort to keep up with the pleasantry of getting to know the lady I slept in the same bunk with, a social worker named Lillian. Lillian who dives as well, and was recently involved in a 4-wheel drive crash that fractured her collar bone. Some people are so brave. All we did was stand, drink water, take pictures, and gape.

Fiance held me close to him, and I found myself resting my head on his great big shoulders and finding it ever so comforting. Now that's bonding. Few words, but a thousand emotions exchanged.

Sounds of footsteps and giggling girls aside, the rainforest was a big, big, silent place. Legend has it that Mount Ophir, whose Malay name "Gunung Ledang" meant "a mountain of myths" carried the secrets of many mystical creatures. I looked overhead me, and apart from barely making out the soft whispers between the leaves in the trees and the light rain that was falling - it did seem like it had secrets kept out of the earshot of its human inhabitants.

Intoxicated, we journeyed on. At one stage, after scaling a sheer, near-vertical rock cliff with no safety belay or aid save a knotty rope to help me up, I felt my knees go weak. I looked down, all three storeys or so of the rock wall, and wondered where I'd be if I had let go.

At 3pm in the afternoon, we suddenly found ourselves at the summit.

4,200 feet above sea level.

Heady with exultant joy the army boys laughed, and started ripping their shirts off and lying down in one line, as close to the edge as possible, exposing their bare torsos to the warm sun. I smiled at fiance, and him at me, and for the first time all day I felt like crying.

I was scared for the first time, horrified at the prospect that after this, we will need to climb down the same sheer cliffs, the same muddy rocks and slippery roots. I didn't even want to go near the edge to see how breath-taking the view at this altitude was. My hands were muddied, my track pants caked in soil, and my eyes were brimming with reluctant tears.

And the question that came to me was:

Now what?