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?

The Authentic Experience (continued..part 2.)

In crazy times like these,
when all the world just seems to be spiralling downwards
in a dizzying blur
and sometimes I cannot decide whether to be angry
with the Korean government for failing to save
the poor man from getting beheaded,
or to be even more resolute in wanting governments
to send the signal that such cowardly acts will not
stop them from doing what's right,
when the media suddenly becomes circumspect about
reporting such gruesome acts
Yet on the very same day
publish the figures of the number of primary students
who committed suicide from 1997 to 2003,
it seems all the clearer to me that we need God.

Was the second world war worse than this? Hitler and the Japanese may have massacred millions, but at least the world knew WHO the enemies were. And the soldiers knew what they were fighting for. To the cynic, the war, in the end, was about who dropped a more devastating bomb, but at least in retrospect the perpetrators have hung their heads in shame and admitted to their errors. Lesson learnt from there: In a war between nations, the man with the biggest stick, the most powerful weapon will bring an end to the conflict.

Laying the ironies aside, who are the enemies now?
The US and her British cronies? For the sheer hypocrisy of going into a war without substantial justification, and then mistreating its POWS, while taking other countries to task for appalling human rights records?
Some would like to think so. But to end the Bush administration, to topple the Korean government, is as sure a sign to the terrorists that terrorism works. Instil terror, turn the people against their own government, and that's how the new war will be won.

In the years to come, when historians cast their eyes on this madness, which will be a more devastating war?

Searching for the Authentic Experience

"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit--just as you were called to one hope when you were called--one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all."
- Ephesians 4:1-6 NIV

I sometimes read, with sadness and a great deal of envy, some of your entries and observations because you seem to have it. Just a sheer honesty about your lives with that added dash of humour. It's a trait I've noticed that all bloggers seem to share - that superordinate ability to see your lives outside of yourselves as some kind of comedy, or sometimes satire. The ability to make light of yourselves, yet imbue it with a moodiness that makes one stop, and sometimes wish that they were there, or that they were you.

Me on the other hand, am deluged by my work, this humourless, insipid environment. Around me, everyone is buried to their necks in their keyboards, typing away typing away at ...what? the latest speech? rushing to get the next "Errata" out the ST to correct them on the wrong nuances made in one or some of their reports?

Do I have time to reflect? To just "be"? Hardly.

This may just be a Monday blues phenomenon - reading the Scriptures for today I am also reminded that we all have our bits of lives to live, that ours is not a life to compare with each other's and feel bitter that our lot is not as fascinating as someone else's.

Still. Is there anything truly fascinating about Chai Tea? Hardly. =)

Or that the smallest things can send one into orgasmic heaven? Well, not so uncommon, that one, but yes, I take the point. This individual introduced me to Chai tea once, and I commiserate with him that the only cafe that found it worth its time to sell the concoction in Singapore is Coffee Beans.

Borders in Singapore, did you say, does it now as well?

Will have to check it out then!