Chapter VIII: The Mountain of Kina Balu (2)

We sent back one of the men to hurry up the stragglers, and in the meantime continued the discussion. They then said they would take us up the mountain if we would start from their village; but being unwilling to risk a disappointment, we declined. They remembered how the Kiaus had turned back Mr. Lobb, because he would not submit to their extortions, and thought they might do the same with us. As the Ida’an were shaking their spears and giving other hostile signs, we thought it time to bring this affair to a climax; so I ordered the men to load their muskets, and Mr. Low, stepping up to the chief with his five-barrelled pistol, told the interpreter to explain that we were peaceable travellers, most unwilling to enter into any contest; that we had obtained the permission of the Government of the country, and that we were determined to proceed; that if they carried out their threats of violence, he would shoot five with his revolver, and that I was prepared to do the same with mine; that they might, by superior numbers, overcome us at last, but in the meantime we would make a desperate fight of it.

This closed the scene: as long as we had only half a dozen with us, they were bullies; but as our forces began to arrive, and at last amounted to fifty men, with twenty musket-barrels shining among them, they became as gentle as lambs, and said they would take two pieces of grey shirting; but we refused to give way, keeping to our original offer, and then only if the chief would follow us on our return, and receive it at Tampasuk. We ordered the men to advance, and we would close up the rear: no opposition was offered; on the contrary, the chief accompanied us on our road, and we had no more trouble with the Labang Labang people. We were detained forty minutes by this affair. Our guides explained the matter to us: when Mr. Low was here last time, many reports were spread of the riches which the Kiaus had obtained from the white man, and they were jealous that the other branch of their tribe should obtain the wealth that was passing from them through their village. The Koung people tried to persuade us last night to start from their place, and as they were very civil we should have liked to oblige them, but they were uncertain whether they could take us to the summit. Mr. Lobb, when he reached Kiau, had but a small party, and was unarmed, so they would not allow him to pass, except on terms that were totally inadmissible.

Immediately after passing the village, we descended a steep and slippery path to one of the torrents into which the Tampasuk now divided. After crossing it, we were at the base of the spur on which the village of Kiau is situated. We passed several purling streams which descended, in a winding course, the face of the hill. From one spot in our walk, we had a beautiful view of two valleys, cultivated on both banks, with the foaming streams dashing among the rocks below. Over the landscape were scattered huts, which had the peculiarity of being flat-roofed: the Kiaus using the bamboo as the Chinese use their tiles, split in two; the canes are arranged side by side across the whole roof, with their concave sides upwards to catch the rain; then a row placed convex to cover the edges of the others, and prevent the water dropping through. They are quite water-tight, and afforded an excellent hint for travellers where bamboos abound.

The latter portion of the road was difficult climbing, the clay being slippery from last night’s rain; but as we approached our resting-place, the walking became easier. Kiau is a large village on the southern side of the spur. The houses scattered on its face are prettily concealed from each other by clumps of cocoa-nuts and bamboos. It covers a great extent of ground, but is badly placed, being more than 800 feet above the torrent--that is, the portion of the village at which we stayed. The eastern end was nearer the stream. The inhabitants supplied themselves with drinking-water from small rills which were led in bamboos to most of their doors. We brought up about eleven, our course being generally E.S.E. Thermometer 73° at twelve in the house. We felt it chilly, and took to warm clothing.

The Kiaus are much dirtier than any tribes I have seen in the neighbourhood: the children and women are unwashed, and most of them are troubled with colds, rendering them in every sense unpleasant neighbours. In fact, to use the words of an experienced traveller, “they cannot afford to be clean,” their climate is chilly, and they have no suitable clothing. We observed that the features of many of these people were very like Chinese--perhaps a trace of that ancient kingdom of Celestials that tradition fixes to this neighbourhood. They all showed the greatest and most childlike curiosity at everything either we or our servants did.

In the afternoon, Lemaing, Mr. Low’s old guide, came in. Mr. Low recognized his voice immediately, though seven years had passed since he had heard it. Sir James Brooke has a most extraordinary faculty of remembering voices, as well as names, even of natives whom he has only seen once. It is very useful out here, and I have often found the awkwardness which arises from my quickly forgetting both voices and names.

Shortly after Lemaing’s arrival, a dispute arose between him and Lemoung, the chief of the house in which we were resting: both voices grew excited; at last, they jumped up, and each spat upon the floor in a paroxysm of mutual defiance: here we interposed to preserve the peace, and calm being restored, it was found that seven years ago they had disputed about the division of Mr. Low’s goods, and the quarrel had continued ever since--the whole amount being five dollars. Lemoung said that his house had been burnt down in consequence of the white man ascending Kina Balu, and that no good crops of rice had grown since; but it was all envy; he thought in the distribution he had not secured a fair share. We asked if he had ascended the mountain; he said no, but his son had brought some rice, for which, on inquiry, we found he had been paid. Drizzling rain the whole afternoon.

The thermometer registered 66° last night, and we enjoyed our sleep under blankets. At midday, we took out the barometer from its case, and found, to our inexpressible vexation, that it was utterly smashed. This will destroy half the pleasure of the ascent; in fact, our spirits are somewhat depressed by the accident, and by Mr. Low’s feet getting worse. At twelve, thermometer 77°. (The lamentable accident so disgusted me that I find no further entry in that day’s journal, but a pencilled note remarks that the Ida’an preserve their rice in old bamboos two fathoms long, which are placed on one side of the doorway. It is said that these bamboos are preserved for generations, and, in fact, they looked exceedingly ancient.)

Last night, thermometer 69°. At early dawn, we heard the war-drums beating in several houses, and shouts and yells from the boys. They said it was a fête day, but we rightly guessed it had something to do with our expedition. For some time, our guide did not make his appearance, and a few young fellows on the hill over the village threw stones as we appeared at the door--a very harmless demonstration, as they were several hundred yards off--but discharging and cleaning a revolver lessened the amount of hostile shouting. About nine, the guide made his appearance; the women seemed to enjoy the scene, and followed us to witness the skirmish; but the enemy, if there were an enemy, did not show, and the promised ambush came to nothing--it was but a trick of Lemoung to try and disgust Lemaing, and frighten us by the beating of drums and shouting. At the place where we were assured an attack would be made, we found but a few harmless women carrying tobacco.

Our path lay along the side of the hill in which the village stands, we followed it about four miles in an easterly direction, and then descended to a torrent, one of the feeders of the Tampasuk, where we determined to spend the night, as Mr. Low’s feet were becoming very swollen and painful, and it was as well to collect the party. We had passed through considerable fields of sweet potatoes, kiladi, and tobacco, where the path was crossed occasionally by cool rills from the mountains. We enjoyed the cold water very much, and had a delightful bath. The torrent comes tumbling down, and forms many fine cascades. Mr. Low botanized a little, notwithstanding his feet were suppurating. The hut in which we spent the night was very pretty-looking, flat-roofed, built entirely of bamboos.

To-day, we had a specimen of the thieving of our Ida’an followers. One man was caught burying a tin of sardines; another stole a Bologna sausage, for which, when hungry, I remembered him, and another a fowl.

Next morning, Mr. Low found it impossible to walk, and I was therefore obliged to start without him. We showed our perfect confidence in the villagers of Kiau by dividing our party, leaving only four men with Mr. Low to take care of the arms; we carried with us up the mountain nothing but our swords and one revolver. They must have thought us a most extraordinary people; but we knew that their demonstrations of hostility were really harmless, and more aimed against each other than against us. Probably, had we appeared afraid, it might have been a different matter.

Our course was at first nearly east up the sub-spur of a great buttress. The walking was severe, from the constant and abrupt ascents and descents, and the narrowness of the path when it ran along the sides of the hill, where it was but the breadth of the foot. At one place we had a view of a magnificent cascade. The stream that runs by the cave, which is to be one of our resting-places, falls over the rocks forming minor cascades; then coming to the edge of the precipice, throws itself over, and in its descent of above fifteen hundred feet appears to diffuse itself in foam, ere it is lost in the depths of the dark-wooded ravines below.

I soon found I had made a great mistake in permitting these active mountaineers to lead the way at their own pace, as before twelve o’clock I was left alone with them, all my men being far behind, as they were totally unaccustomed to the work. Arriving at a little foaming rivulet, I sat down and waited for the rest of the party, and when they came up, they appeared so exhausted that I had compassion on them, and agreed to spend the night here. The Ida’an were very dissatisfied, and declared they would not accompany us, if we intended to make such short journeys; but we assured them that we would go on alone if they left us, and not pay them the stipulated price for leading us to the summit. I soon set the men to work to build a hut of long poles, over which we could stretch our oiled cloths, and to make a raised floor to secure us from being wet through by the damp moss and heavy rain that would surely fall during the night. At three P.M. the thermometer fell to 65°, which to the children of the plain rendered the air unpleasantly cold; but we worked hard to collect boughs and leaves to make our beds soft; and wood was eagerly sought for to make fires in the holes beneath our raised floor. This filled the place with smoke, but gave some warmth to the men.

The Ida’an again tried to get back, but I would not receive their excuse that they would be up early in the morning: they then set hard at work going through incantations to drive away sickness. The guide Lemaing carried an enormous bundle of charms, and on him fell the duty of praying or repeating some forms: he was at it two hours by my watch. To discover what he said, or the real object to whom he addressed himself, was almost impossible through the medium of our bad interpreters. I could hear him repeating my name, and they said he was soliciting the spirits of the mountain to favour us.

The thermometer registered 57° last night in tent. Started at seven; I observed a fine yellow sweet-scented rhododendron on a decayed tree, and requested my men on their return to take it to Mr. Low; continuing the ascent, after an hour’s tough walking, reached the top of the ridge. There it was better for a short time; but the forest, heavily hung with moss, is exposed to the full force of the south-west monsoon, and the trees are bent across the path, leaving occasionally only sufficient space to crawl through. We soon came upon the magnificent pitcher-plant, the _Nepenthes Lowii_, that Mr. Low was anxious to get. We could find no young plants, but took cuttings, which the natives said would grow.

We stopped to breakfast at a little swampy spot, where the trees are becoming very stunted, though in positions protected from the winds they grow to a great height. Continuing our course, we came upon a jungle that appeared to be composed almost entirely of rhododendrons, some with beautiful pink, crimson, and yellow flowers. I sat near one for about half an hour apparently in intense admiration, but, in fact, very tired, and breathless, and anxious about my followers, only one of whom had kept up with me.

Finding it useless to wait longer, as the mist was beginning to roll down from the summit, and the white plain of clouds below appeared rising, I pushed on to the cave, which we intended to occupy. It was a huge granite boulder, resting on the hill side, that sheltered us but imperfectly from the cold wind. The Ida’an, during the day, amused themselves in trying to secure some small twittering birds, which looked like canaries, with a green tint on the edges of their wings, but were unsuccessful. They shot innumerable pellets from their blowpipes, but did not secure one. In fact, they did not appear to use this instrument with any skill.

At four o’clock the temperature of the air was 52°, and of the water 48°.

Some of my men did not reach us till after dark, and it was with great difficulty that I could induce the Malays to exert themselves to erect the oiled cloths, to close the mouth of the cave, and procure sufficient firewood. They appeared paralyzed by the cold, and were unwilling to move.

During the night, the thermometer at the entrance of the cave fell to 36° 5´; and on my going out to have a look at the night-scene, all the bushes and trees appeared fringed with hoar frost.

After breakfasting at the cave, we started for the summit. Our course lay at first through a thick low jungle, full of rhododendrons; it then changed into a stunted brushwood, that almost hid the rarely-used path; gradually the shrubs gave way to rocks, and then we commenced our ascent over the naked granite. A glance upwards from the spot where we first left the jungle, reveals a striking scene--a face of granite sweeping steeply up for above 3,000 feet to a rugged edge of pointed rocks; while on the farthest left the southern peak looked from this view a rounded mass. Here and there small runnels of water passed over the granite surface, and patches of brushwood occupied the sheltered nooks. The rocks were often at an angle of nearly forty degrees, so that I was forced to ascend them, at first, with woollen socks, and when they were worn through, with bare feet. It was a sad alternative, as the rough stone wore away the skin and left a bleeding and tender surface.

After hard work, we reached the spot where Mr. Low had left a bottle, and found it intact--the writing in it was not read, as I returned it unopened to its resting-place.

Low’s Gully is one of the most singular spots in the summit. We ascend an abrupt ravine, with towering perpendicular rocks on either side, till a rough natural wall bars the way. Climbing on this, you look over a deep chasm, surrounded on three sides by precipices, so deep that the eye could not reach the bottom; but the twitter of innumerable swallows could be distinctly heard, as they flew in flocks below. There was no descending here: it was a sheer precipice of several thousand feet, and this was the deep fissure pointed out to me by Mr. Low from the cocoa-nut grove on the banks of the Tampasuk when we were reclining there, and proved that he had remembered the very spot where he had left the bottle.

I was now anxious to reach one of those peaks which are visible from the sea; so we descended Low’s Gully, through a thicket of rhododendrons, bearing a beautiful blood-coloured flower, and made our way to the westward. It was rough walking at first, while we continued to skirt the rocky ridge that rose to our right; but gradually leaving this, we advanced up an incline composed entirely of immense slabs of granite, and reaching the top, found a noble terrace, half a mile in length, whose sides sloped at an angle of thirty degrees on either side. The ends were the Southern Peak and a huge cyclopean wall.

I followed the guides to the former, and after a slippery ascent, reached the summit. I have mentioned that this peak has a rounded aspect when viewed from the eastward; but from the northward it appears to rise sharply to a point; and when with great circumspection I crawled up, I found myself on a granite point, not three feet in width, with but a water-worn way a few inches broad to rest on, and prevent my slipping over the sloping edges.

During the climbing to-day, I suffered slightly from shortness of breath, and felt some disinclination to bodily exertion; but as soon as I sat down on this lofty point, it left me, and a feeling came on as if the air rendered me buoyant and made me long to float away.

Calmly seated here, I first turned my attention to the other peaks, which stretched in a curved line from east to west, and was rather mortified to find that the most westerly and another to the east appeared higher than where I sat, but certainly not more than a hundred feet. The guides called this the mother of the mountain, but her children may have outgrown her. Turning to the south-west, I could but obtain glimpses of the country, as many thousand feet below masses of clouds passed continually over the scene, giving us but a partial view of sea, and rivers, and hills. One thing immediately drew my attention, and that was a very lofty peak towering above the clouds, bearing S. ½ E. It appeared to be an immense distance off, and I thought it might be the great mountain of Lawi, of which I went in search some months later; but it must be one much farther to the eastward, and may be the summit of Tilong, which, as I have before mentioned, some declare to be much more lofty than Balu itself.

Immediately below me, the granite for a thousand feet sloped sharply down to the edge of that lofty precipice that faces the valley of Pinokok to the south-west. I felt a little nervous while we were passing along this to reach the southern peak, as on Mr. Low’s former expedition a Malay had slipped at a less formidable spot, and been hurried down the steep incline at a pace that prevented any hope of his arresting his own progress, when leaning on his side his kris fortunately entered a slight cleft, and arrested him on the verge of a precipice.

Among the detached rocks and in the crevices grew a kind of moss, on which the Ida’an guides declared the spirits of their ancestors fed. A grass also was pointed out that served for the support of the ghostly buffaloes which always followed their masters to the other world. As a proof, the print of a foot was shown me as that of a young buffalo; it was not very distinct, but appeared more like the impression left by a goat or deer.

Our guides became very nervous as the clouds rose and now occasionally topped the precipice, and broke, and swept up the slopes, enveloping us. They urged me to return; I saw it was necessary, and complied, as the wind was rising, and the path we were to follow was hidden in mist.

We found the air pleasantly warm and very invigorating; the thermometer marked 62° in the shade; and as we perceived little rills of water oozing from among the granite rocks, the summit would prove a much better encamping ground than our cold cave, where the sun never penetrates. The Ida’an, however, feared to spend one night in this abode of spirits, and declined carrying my luggage.

Our return was rather difficult, as the misty rain rendered the rocks slippery, but we all reached the cave in safety. Here I received a note from Mr. Low, but he was still unable to walk. The bathing water was 49°.

During the night the temperature fell, and the registering thermometer marked 41°. My feet were so injured by yesterday’s walking that I was unable to reascend the mountain to collect plants and flowers, so sent my head man Musa with a large party. I, however, strolled about a little to look for seeds and a sunny spot, as the ravine in which our temporary home was, chilled me through. I was continually enveloped in mist, and heard afterwards to my regret that the summit was clear, and that all the surrounding country lay exposed to view. The low, tangled jungle was too thick to admit of our seeing much. I climbed the strongest and highest trees there, but could only get glimpses of distant hills.

Thermometer during the night, 43°, while in the cave yesterday it marked 56° at two o’clock.

Started early to commence our descent, collecting a few plants on our way; the first part of the walking is tolerably good--in fact, as far as the spot where we rested for breakfast on our ascent. It is in appearance a series of mighty steps. Passed on the wayside innumerable specimens of that curious pitcher-plant the _Nepenthes villosa_, with serrated lips.

After leaving the great steps, our course was along the edge of a ridge, where the path is extremely narrow; in fact, in two or three places not above eighteen inches wide--a foot of it serving as parapet, six inches of sloping rock forming the path. From one of these craggy spots a noble landscape is spread before us, eighty miles of coast-line, with all the intervening country being visible at once. With one or two exceptions, plains skirt the sea-shore, then an undulating country, gradually rising to ranges varying from two to three thousand feet, with glimpses of silvery streams flowing among them. The waters of the Mengkabong and Sulaman, swelling to the proportions of lakes, add a diversity to the scene.

It is fortunate that the ridge is not often so narrow as at these spots; for on one side there is a sheer descent of fifteen hundred feet, and on the other is very perpendicular-ground, but wooded. Two decaying rocks that obstruct the path are also dangerous to pass, as we had to round them, with uncertain footing, and nothing but a bare, crumbling surface to grasp. With the exception of these, the path is not difficult or tiring, until we leave the ridge and descend to the right towards the valleys: then it is steep, slippery, and very fatiguing, and this continues for several miles, until we have lowered the level nearly four thousand feet. The path, in fact, is as vile as path can be.

By the time I reached the hut where I had left Mr. Low, I felt completely exhausted; but a little rest, a glass of brandy-and-water, and a bathe in the dashing torrent that foamed among the rocks at our feet, thoroughly restored me. The water here felt pleasant after the bitter cold of that near the cave. My companion had employed his time collecting plants, though his feet were not at all better.

Next morning we manufactured a kind of litter, on which Mr. Low was to be carried, and then started along a path that skirted the banks of the Kalupis, that flows beneath the village, and is, in fact, the source of the Tampasuk. We passed through several fields of tobacco, as well as of yams and kiladis; the first is carefully cultivated, and not a weed was to be observed among the plants. Leaving the water, we pushed up the steep bank to the lower houses of the village, and made our way on to Lemoung’s, to reach it just as a drenching shower came on.

Here we found one of our Baju guides, who had been sent back to construct rafts for the return voyage. I was not sorry to find that some had been prepared, as it appeared otherwise necessary that Mr. Low should be carried the whole way.

The villagers said they were at war even during the time we were at their houses with a neighbouring tribe, which induces them to bear arms wherever they may go; but the whole affair must be very trifling, as they sleep at their farms, and we saw, totally unprotected, troops of girls and women at work in the fields.

We thought it better to make some complaints of the dishonesty shown, before we ascended the mountain; they were profuse in apologies, but they had evidently enjoyed the sausage.

We spent the afternoon and evening in settling all claims against us, and having completed that work, ordered the rest of our baggage to be packed up ready for an early start next morning. Among the undistributed goods was about twenty pounds weight of thick brass wire. While I was away bathing, Lemaing coolly walked off with it; but on my return Mr. Low informed me of what had occurred. Knowing that if we permitted this to pass unnoticed, it would be a signal for a general plunder, we determined to recover the wire. As Mr. Low could not move, I went by myself in search of Lemaing, and soon heard his voice speaking loudly in the centre of a dense crowd of the villagers. I forced my way through, and found him seated, with the brass wire in his hand, evidently pointing out its beauty to an admiring audience. I am afraid I very much disconcerted him, as with one hand I tore the prize from his grasp, and with the other put a revolver to his head, and told him to beware of meddling with our baggage. I never saw a look of greater astonishment; he tried to speak, but the words would not come, and the crowd opening, I bore back the trophy to our end of the village house.

The Bajus told us we should find the Ida’an of the plains dishonest, while those of the hills had the contrary reputation. We lost nothing in the plains; here we had to guard carefully against pilferers.

We noticed that as we gradually receded from the sea, the clothing of the inhabitants became less--on the plains all the Ida’an wore trousers and jackets; at Koung and Kiau very few, and we were assured that those in the interior wore nothing but bark waist-cloths.

An incident occurred the evening before our departure, which showed how the Ida’an distrust each other. Among the goods we paid to our guides were twenty fathoms of thick brass wire; the coils were put down before them; they talked over it for two hours, and could not settle either the division, or who should take care of it until morning; at length one by one all retired and left the wire before us, the last man pushing it towards Musa, asking him to take charge of it. Not relishing this trust, he carried it to Li Moung’s house, and placing it in the midst of the crowd, left it, and they then quarrelled over it till morning.

We thought last night every claim had been settled, but this morning they commenced again, anxious to prevent any goods leaving their village. We ourselves did not care to take back to our pinnace anything that was not necessary to enable us to pay our way. We made liberal offers to them if they would carry Mr. Low to the next village, but they positively refused to assist us farther. We therefore collected our Malays outside the place, and prepared to start; and were on the point of doing so, when shouts in the village house attracted our attention, and a man ran out to say that they were plundering the baggage left in charge of the Buñgol Ida’an. As this consisted of our clothes and cooking utensils, it was not to be borne, and I ran back into the house, where I found a couple of hundred men surrounding our Ida’an followers and undoing the packages; they were startled by the sight of my rifle, and when they heard the rush caused by the advance of Mr. Low and our Malays, they fled to the end of the house, and soon disappeared through the opposite door. The panic seemed to cause the greatest amusement to the girls of this house, who talked and laughed, and patted us on the shoulders, and appeared to delight in the rapid flight of their countrymen. None of their own relatives, however, had joined in the affair.

Mr. Low’s rapid advance to my support surprised me; but I found that with the assistance of a servant he had hopped the whole of the way, revolver in hand. Our men behaved with remarkable resolution, and would have driven off the whole village had it been necessary. One Malay got so excited, that he commenced a war dance, and had we not instantly interfered, would have worked himself up to run a muck among the Ida’an. Though we wished to frighten them into honesty towards us, we were most anxious that not the slightest wound should be given, and I may here remark, that in none of our journeys have we ever found it necessary to use our weapons against the inhabitants. We discovered that showing ourselves prepared to fight, if necessary, prevented its being ever necessary to fight.

We pushed on to Koung by a path that led below Labang Labang, Mr. Low suffering severely from the necessity of having to walk six miles over stony country with suppurating feet.

At Koung we vainly endeavoured to obtain a buffalo, on which Mr. Low might ride; but the villagers showed no inclination to assist. So next morning we pushed on through heavy rain to the village of Tambatuan, where the Tampasuk becomes a little more fit for rafts. I was glad to see Mr. Low safely there, and then, as the rafts would not hold us all, I walked on with the men. The heavy rain had caused the river to swell, and the walking and the fording were doubly difficult, but we continued our course, and in two days reached the village of Ginambur, and joining Mr. Low on the raft, pursued our journey to the Datu’s house.

Next day to the Abai; but contrary winds prevented our reaching Labuan for five days.

We were not quite satisfied with the results of this expedition, and determined to start again, but choosing another route, the same followed by Mr. Low in 1851.