BORNEO (13/14): Dehydration, Sunburn, White Water Rafting & Scuba Diving

I arrived back in the UK yesterday morning, just after 06:00. It was a hard day for me. I hadn't arranged to take that day off work so after popping into work for a few hours, I got the train down to The Royal Ear, Nose and Throat Hospital in London to sort out some replacement hearing aids. Last night, I attended college too. I got home at 22:00 overwhelmed with jetlag. My head felt heavy, as though I was hungover. I slept right through the night though which is something I never do. I'm usually a very light sleeper, but even today, I'm feeling a bit groggy. This diary is pretty much up to date apart from the second day of cycling, the day of white water rafting and the two days of scuba diving on the Island of Mamutik. Oh, there's also the last day of Kuala Lumpur to write about which was tiring, considering how ill I had become.

I'm going to take you back to Saturday to take part in the second day 1st April, the second day of cycling. I chose not of cycling for three reasons. Firstly, I was still recovering from the dehydration. Secondly, I was still nursing the sunburns from the previous day. Thirdly, I wanted to be in the best I could possibly be for the white water rafting and scuba diving. When everyone got up for breakfast at 07:00, we headed over to the Clubhouse where an English breakfast of eggs, bacon, beans and frankfurters awaited. An Englishman's breakfast for sure! After breakfast, I made the final decision that I would not be heading off on a mountain bike this morning. Instead, Sharon and I arranged for a taxi to take us from Timbunan to Tenom, where we would relax for the afternoon and await the arrival of those who were gluttons for punishment!

After breakfast, we chatted in the restaurant area, talking about our families, our jobs, life experiences etc. Sharon told me that her brother had been paralysed in a car accident just a week before she came to Borneo and said that she nearly never came. Likewise, my Dad went in for his triple heart bypass in London on March 29th so both of us had relatives at home who we were thinking of in very grave circumstances. We were there for nearly three hours before the taxi came. In that period of time, we laughed and joked and playfully insulted each other with rude remarks! It was probably the least stressful conversation I had had with anyone since our arrival. At one point, Sharon got up to go to the toilet and I just couldn't stop laughing at her. With every step she took, she groaned from the stiff muscles gained from the mountain climb and the cycling. She stopped, turned round and said: "What are you bloody laughin' at?!" I laughed, then she laughed! Shortly before the taxi arrived, Sharon ordered "two plates of chips and lots of bread". In the empty restaurant, we ate away.

Just before noon, the taxi arrived and we began the ninety-odd kilometre journey to Tenom. At speeds of up to a hundred miles an hour, the loopy taxi driver raced down the route as if though he were on a racing circuit! Sharon and I witnessed his driving technique in horror to begin with. Then, the bumpy road surface kicked in and the horror soon turned to amusement and another bout of laughing. About an hour after setting off from Timbunan, we saw the Challenge coach which was stationary by the road-side. On board were the other people who didn't take part in the second day of cycling and the ones who had quit during the course of the day. Yannick, the girl from France, was on board and she travelled on ahead with us in our taxi.

Just after 14:00, we arrived at the Hotel Perkasa, Tenom, and checked into our rooms. There was no swimming pool at this hotel which was disappointing. There was, however, an Internet cafe which I registered into so that I could send emails home. I paid RM5, the equivalent of eighty-odd pence, for an hours access! Blimey! While I was online, having sent the emails I wanted to send, I logged onto the BBC website and checked the news! I'm a news person and love watching the news on TV. I ordered a coke and carried on surfing. Before long, my hour was up and the girls still hadn't come down to reception. I went upstairs, unpacked some clothes and had a shower. The burns on my arms, legs and shoulders still sizzled under the stream of water, but I sought comfort from the fact that from now on would be more relaxing. There was white-water rafting and scuba diving to come! I was looking forward to both.

Not long after 16:00, the three of us were chatting in reception. About 16:30, the first of the cyclists began to arrive. First was Rob from the Isle of Wight, the whiz on bikes. As the rest of the team began to arrive, drenched in sweat, I felt bad about not having participated in the second day of cycling. While it was for my own health, I couldn't help but think how proud of myself I would have been if I had reached the finish line. I was envious, but reminded myself that we had put ourselves through a lot over the last few days, mentally as well as physically.

That evening, I was getting more concerned about the burns on my left hand. By now, the burns were a very dark red and I couldn't bend my fingers due to the swelling across the upper surface of the hand. I sought the advice of Charlie Chan, the emergency contact, and he referred me to the paramedics. The paramedics then took me to Tenom hospital which was deserted. No waiting rooms, no people loitering around demanding to be seen. Upon examination, a doctor told me that my hand was on the brink of becoming septic if he didn't treat it. He explained that he would need to release some fluid from within my hand by injecting me and drawing out pus from the three recesses between the four fingers. I reluctantly agreed to this, but the procedure was painless because of the swelling. I was provided with an antibiotic cream which I needed to apply three times a day. The stuff worked wonders. I wasn't even charged for this treatment and could only thank them for their help. They were friendly, efficient and I thought my own GP could learn a lot of good manners from this lot!

I was taken back to the Hotel where, in the meantime, people had sat down to dinner. I was reluctant to attend the dinner now that the paramedics had applied the cream and bandaged me with a sling so as to prevent more fluid accumulating in the hand. Whenever I lowered my hand, the throbbing was unbearable. When I returned to the hotel, I left a message with Gary, the guy who had dyed his fair blonde to raise the sponsorship money, to tell Sharon what had happened. Worn out, I returned to my room. I left the door on the latch so that Troy - who was still being designated as my room mate unfortunately - could let himself in later that evening. I slumped into an armchair and surfed through the channels on the TV. Minutes later, Sharon appeared in the doorway, demanding I join the rest of the group. I reasoned with her that I felt stupid wearing a sling and that I just wanted to relax. She said I could relax when I got home, that I should make the most of being in Borneo while I was. Good argument, I thought. She had plenty to say on the subject, you know. Both of us had complained of having dull lives at home. We had good jobs, loving families, but neither of us felt content. I gave in and joined the rest of the group for a dinner of rice and Sweet and Sour Chicken(!), followed by pineapple, papaya and watermelon. How predictable!

After dinner, Sharon, Colin, Graham, Yannick and I went to a Karoake bar just next door to the hotel. With a concentration of Malaysians in the area, many of the songs being sung were in the national Bahasa Malay language. Nevertheless, the five of us had a laugh trying to sing along! As the alcohol was bought in, things really took off. Between each song, a bit of beat music would fill the room. I told Sharon to stand still, to feel - rather than hear - the beat. Within minutes, she was dancing to the beat like I was, appreciating that I had to feel music since I couldn't hear it. About 23:00, the Karoake came to an end and dance music poured out into the air. Many of us hit the dance floor, dancing the hours away. While the drink continued the flow, people continued to dance. It wasn't until 02:00 that people started making their ways to their beds. When I think of how I could have spent the evening watching TV, I had Sharon to thank - once again - for "making the trip what it was". By now, the crowd had dwindled, but Sharon and I were the only ones left on the dance floor! We stopped briefly and realised we were both in fact knackered and, like we had done with the cycling, decided to pack it in! I got into bed just before 03:00 and slept soundly until dawn.

I woke up just before 07:00 on what was now Sunday, the 2nd of April. Normally, on a Sunday, I get up for breakfast about 10:30, then watch Hollyoaks on Channel Four until 12:30 before getting on with anything that needs doing. Today, however, I didn't mind not being able to watch Hollyoaks because I was going WHITE WATER RAFTING!!! Yeah! After breakfast, we all headed out to our bus which would transport us to Tenom railway station. From there, we set off for the Padas Gorge. For the first fifteen minutes of the trip, there wasn't much to be seen but trees, trees and more trees. Before long, however, we got our first view of the mighty Padas river through the vegetation. For the last fifteen minutes of the journey, the train line ran parallel with the meandering rapids, affording us spectacular views of the river. By this time, I could hardly contain my excitement. I believe that, within every person, there is a wild streak. At this moment in time, I just wanted to explode and declare my excitement!! I was like a four year old who couldn't keep a secret and just had to spill the beans!

We arrived at Pangi Station where we were welcomed by a large team of paddlers and white water rafting experts. The were all native to the region and knew the area like the back of their hands. They knew every nook and cranny of the 'Headhunter', the stretch of river groups of six to eight people were about to contemplate. Each person acquired a helmet and a life jacket and rigged themselves up. Meanwhile, the experts gave instruction on how to white water raft. They old us how to recover someone who had fallen overboard, how to paddle correctly, how to position your feet within the raft etc. It was all quite interesting and I was raring to go!

Groups of six to eight people were selected to fill up the eight buoyant rafters resting on the grass. The members of each group had to raise their raft above their heads and lower it into the water at the docking bay. While six people paddled in the initial ease of the water flow, two people seated between the first four rafters (two on either side) had to grab the lifejackets of the paddlers to prevent them from going overboard. For the first five, ten minutes, nothing happened. All of a sudden, everyone in the raft was drenched with the murky, mud coloured water. Despite being soaked, everyone in the raft cheered and paddled ahead, keen for more water relief from the sizzling heat of the sun.

As the rafting progressed, we were warned how to paddle, which direction to aim for etc. Often, we would come to rest by the side of the river so that the guide (who steered the raft using a paddle in place of a rudder) could direct us on how to approach the next set of rapids. When all was agreed, we set off to tackle the rapids of the 'Headhunter'. Once again, we strained to paddle ahead, but the drenching couldn't be avoided. Grunting under my breath, I continued to row despite the rush of blood that throbbed into my left hand with each lowering of the paddle. Despite the dull ache, I was having a fantastic time. Up ahead, about fifty yards away, I saw a dip and pointed. Everyone in the boat looked up and stared in disbelief. They knew there was no avoiding this 'pocket' in the river and that a very wet drenching was in store. As we raced towards the pocket, the raft tipped forward and slid down to the bottom of the fifteen foot or so dip. When we landed, a wall of water rushed towards us, filling the raft. We were ordered to paddle, paddle, paddle! A minute had passed and we were still there, in the same pocket. At that moment, another raft had arrived from behind us, tipping into the very same pocket. The collision of the two rafts granted us our freedom and we paddled on ahead.

As we cleared the last of the rapids on the Headhunter, the guide pushed us overboard one by one for a spot of body rafting. By stiffening the body in the water, you would naturally float on the surface whilst savouring the coolness of the water. It felt weird drifting down the river, wearing a helmet, t-shirt and trainers, but what the hell, eh?! Like they say, all good things come to an end; we were told to swim to the left hand side of the river because the rapids would pick up again shortly and, for our own safety, we would need to get out of the current. I turned onto my front and tried to swim towards the side of the river. I seemed to make no progress. The river, this far down, was dotted with people in a similar position to mine and I began to get worried. With amazing speed, one of the rafters whizzed across the river, plucking each of the struggling swimmers (myself included) from its wrath.

Each participant returned to their raft which, by now, had been run aground towards the left hand side of the river. After a ten minute rest, we set off again for a brief, but speedy raft to where lunch awaited us. Mooring our rafts to the riverside, we clambered up the steep banks to where a feast of satay chicken, frankfurter sausages, savoury rice and salads were welcomed by all. After lunch, a series of rail transporters arrived by the river side to take us from Rayok Station to Beaufort. Instantly, the twenty-odd of us in the cabin, which resembled a single London underground tube carriage, were concerned by how rickety the journey was. After a few minutes, it was clear that this was the way the trip was intended. At times, the bumpiness was so sudden that it evoked an uneasy laugh. Each of us hung on to our seats, waiting for the next series of metallic bumps and scrapes. In time, we all relaxed, finding the ride quite amusing. It was far from conventional and actually put British Rail in a good light!

Half an hour into the journey, having watched the rest of the River Padas run parallel with the track, the train headed inland. Within minutes, the train came to a sudden halt. Obviously in the middle of nowhere, we looked ahead of us, viewing the unexpected challenge that laid head. In what appeared to be a 'mini-landslide', a number of trees and bushes had fallen from higher land and come to rest on the track. One by one, each of us embarked on our next challenge; to clear the way for the train so that our carriage - and the other three en-route - could reach Beaufort. After twenty minutes of pulling, breaking, grunting and groaning, we finally managed to clear the path. Despite the throbbing in my hand, several of us proceeded to lift a number of huge logs and tossed them aside. Amazed, the Malay driver of the transporter looked on. Why be so amazed? If anything, history has proven how resourceful the British are. One by one, each of us covered in sweat, we clambered aboard the train once more. After another thirty-odd minutes or so, we arrived at Beaufort where a coach awaited our arrival. From there, we were transported to the comfort of the Pan Pacific in Kota Kinabalu.

We arrived at the Pan Pacific shortly after 17:00. No one spoke of the amazing experience of the white-water rafting. Despite having slept for the duration of the two hour coach journey, I still didn't have the energy to instigate such chatter. My enjoyment of the day was overwhelming, but my body just didn't want to talk about it! I collected my luggage from the coach and headed for my room which, as usual, I shared with Troy-boy. As soon as I put my suitcase on the bed, I removed a pair of shorts and a towel from within and headed for the swimming pool.
As I walked around the edge of the freeform pool, I dropped my towel and just walked into the pool. Although still warm from the heat of the day, the water instantly soothed my sunburn. The blueness of the sky was receding now, the sun journeying towards the horizon. This day was particularly memorable for me, looking back. I think it was at this time that I knew I was heading for a bout of illness. Everything had become an effort, even basic tasks such as eating and getting dressed. The humidity, combined with the challenge and long days, was taking its toll. I swam to the middle of the pool, turned over and floated there, looking at the sky. Later, I would discover that I had spent half an hour like this, just staring into space. I couldn't even recall what I had been thinking at the time and deduced that my mind - if not my very being - was just so exhausted that it instructed itself to relax and to not even think! It was bliss!

That evening, we were treated to a massive selection of food in one of the hotels conference rooms. I hardly spoke to anyone, ate my dinner, and then went to bed. By now, I could feel the growing weakness within me. My skin burned, my hand throbbed and my joints felt weak. I wanted to be fit and well for the two days of scuba diving on Mamutik Island so before getting into bed, I had a long shower, alternating between hot and cold water.

When I woke the next morning on Monday, 3rd of April, I felt much better. I couldn't recall having woke up once in the night which, knowing my own sleeping patterns, is very rare. It was obviously a sign that my body needed the rest. We were treated to a breakfast fit for a king before getting a 'ferry' to the nearby island of Mamutik. When I refer to 'ferry', it was more like a speedboat. In the fifteen minute, high speed sprint across the ocean, everyone had gotten soaked. It was obviously a taster because we spent the rest of the day wet, be it snorkeling, swimming or scuba diving twenty metres beneath the sea.

After half an hour of scuba diving instruction, we all headed for the beach where we chose our own masks, snorkels, air tanks, weighted belts etc. Within the hour, we were in the ocean, our life jackets inflated while receiving the last of the instruction. Under the instructors orders, we deflated, elevated the air collector and began our descent beneath the sea. It was unfortunate that there wasn't very much to see; the most amazing aquatic life was sea urchins and starfish. I was hoping to see fish of all shapes, sizes and colours. I guess it wasn't meant to be. It was an uplifting experience though because, for once during the challenge, everyone knew what it was like to not hear. For those who hadn't scuba dived before, they would have to rely on signs to indicate that they were 'okay', 'wanted to go up' or that their 'ears hurt' from the pressure. For once, I felt like an equal among the group and I spoke to a few people afterwards about this. They could finally relate and began to realise how profound the barriers are when you can't hear very well. I've always seen it as a duty of mine to enlighten people as to what being deaf means and what the consequences of being deaf really are. Wherever I've worked or gone, people always ask how I went deaf, how I cope in certain situations etc. It's not a case of coping. It's merely a case of getting on with it. It goes without saying that my personality doesn't actually acknowledge my lack of hearing. In fact, it's as though my personality and my hearing are two very different parts of me who refused to cooperate!

After the first day of scuba diving, we returned to the hotel about 18:00. By this time, the heat of the day had once again taken its toll. I was looking forward to returning to the UK for one reason only; for a breath of fresh air! Back at the hotel, we were spoilt once again with a sumptuous selection of food, this time on the terrace by the pool. I feasted on servings of dishes from all over the world; lasagne, samosas and sweet and sour dishes. After dinner, a group of us decided to go into town. Although it was about 21.30 before dinner was finally over, we ordered a cab which five of us clambered into; Janet, Pauline, Linda, Bob and myself. Within minutes, we were in the centre of Kota Kinabalu which was bustling. There were people everywhere and there was a stark contrast between the many poor and the privileged few.

It was known as 'market night' in Kota Kinabalu and the mass of crowds testified to the popularity of the market. There were thousands of stalls, though most were selling fresh food prepared to traditional Malay standards. Having just eaten a sizely meal, the group of us shied away from the food stalls. We concentrated on the stalls selling souvenirs. The number of stalls selling designer goods - obviously counterfeit - amazed me. The five of us walked around the City till just before midnight. From there, we took a cab back to the hotel, said our goodnights and headed for bed. I remember how good it felt to get into bed that night, how soft the top-notch bedwear felt against my burnt skin. I drifted off to sleep straight away, never to wake until morning came.