BORNEO (14/14): The Awards Ceremony & Making The Best Of Things In Kuala Lumpur

I've been back from Malaysia now for seven weeks and this diary still hasn't been updated. I am now going to document the happenings on the day of Monday, April 3rd. This was the second day of scuba diving. I wasn't really looking forward to making the trip to the diving island. The reasons were twofold; by now, I was close to exhaustion. Secondly, we hadn't been rewarded with much of a view the day before. Despite this, I got up for the usual breakfast, chatter and registration. From there, I boarded the 'speed ferry' from the Sutera Harbour jetty.

Before long, the party was clad in scuba gear, keen to hit the water. This time, very few people experienced problems adjusting to the flow of air and descended into the waters below. Once again, we passed sea urchins and starfish. We were, however, treated to brighter waters affording us better views. I remember thinking, whilst under water, that I would love to stay here forever. The sensation of floating and the nonexistence of verbal communication was uplifting. The coolness of the water was welcoming and, deeper and deeper, the water bought more and more relief to my sun burnt body. By the time we resurfaced, it was time for lunch. The barbecue was pleasing and news of an early return to the hotel spread like wildfire. Lacking in enthusiasm, over half of the group opted to return to the hotel. Upon my return just after 14.00, I headed for my hotel room and began the task of packing. Tonight was our last night and a gala dinner had been planned to celebrate the success of the event. I wanted to get straight beforehand so that the transition to my single room in the morning went smoothly.

When I think back, it amazes me how quick that afternoon went. It just goes to show how disorganised one gets when living out a suitcase and staying in different locations from day to day. After much sorting through the mass of dirty washing, the accumulation of souvenirs and junk, I managed to fit everything into my case. I showered, had a shave and got dressed for the gala dinner. Shortly before 19.00, I headed down to reception where signs clearly directed the way to the gala room. It was all very well done; the room had been decorated in traditional silk-like batik; the material hung from the ceilings and covered the chairs and the nine round tables which adorned the room. All seats were reserved for individuals and it was a matter of finding where your name was!

Shortly before dinner, there was a welcome by Hugh and Jo, the representatives of Children Today and Henshaw's Society for the Blind. They wanted to say thank you to everyone who took part and were thankful, also, that everyone had survived. Hugh went on to say that each of us should return to the UK, make the event sound as difficult as possible and continue in our quest to raise money for good causes. The speech was brief, interesting and in true Hugh-fashion, filled with humour.

Dinner commenced and, once again, we were faced with a plethora of dishes. I must admit that I weren't very hungry; days later, it would emerge that this was just the beginning of a food poisoning case. I ate soup with a couple of bread rolls, a bit of lasagne and a slice of cake. Never would anything turn me off cake! After all, I am an Englishman: nothing like tea and cake. Sound like Worzel Gummidge, don't I? 'Oh, I woud love a cup of tea and a slice of cake!'. It's amazing what you remember from your childhood, isn't it? It's been at least ten years since I've seen an episode of Worzel Gummidge and it represents the era of good, decent and clean TV. Worzel and his many heads, his reluctant sidekick Aunt Sally and his scheming! Great stuff! Anyway....

After dinner was in the stomach, the presentation began. There were awards for best participant which went to Rob from the Isle of Wight who braved the heat of the day to finish first in the cycling event. The second award was for the funniest moment. This went to Emma of Leighton Buzzard who asked, when ascending the mountain in darkness: "What time do we turn our head torches off?!!" This had the room in tears and I suppose you just had to be there. The third award went to Darren who broke his leg during the cycling event. Much to his dismay I'm sure, Troy-boy remained award-less.

Then, the basic award went to everyone; a certificate to all those who completed the climbing of Mount Kinabalu and the white water rafting. I asked Pauline from Yorkshire to tell me when my name was called. One by one, the names were being called and the apprehension was disabling. One by one, each of the participants went up to the stage and collected their certificates accompanied by the scattered applause of the friends they had made during the course of the event. Suddenly, the room was engulfed by loud clapping and cheering. I felt a tap on my shoulder and Pauline told me my name had been called. Everyone was looking at me. Was this applause, by far the loudest, in aid of me?? I felt embarrassed, but threw myself out of my chair and towards the stage. As I passed the tables on the way to the stage, a couple of people tapped me on the back to show their support.

As I approached the stage, from right to left, stood Charlie (the organiser), Jo (of Henshaws) and Emma (of Children Today). As I strode up the three steps towards Charlie, I raised my hand to indicate that the bandage had now been removed, that my burns were well on the mend! His face lit up, obviously pleased that one of the near fatalities of the trip had survived. I shook his hand, then threw both arms round the guy. More than once, I had panicked on this trip. More than once, it had been Charlie who had helped me out. As we parted, we both had big smiles on our faces. I thanked him in his own language: "Terima Khasi," I said. In a broad, deep accent he replied: "No problem, man!" I moved over to Jo and Emma, kissed them both and told them they had done a wonderful job. For the evening, the girls donned waitress outfits and they looked real good, I must admit. Quite fancied both of them myself, but couldn't decide on which to pursue!

My whole presence on the stage must have lasted less than a minute, but it was filled with emotion and thanks. It was filled with the encouragement of the applause I received. When I returned to the table, Pauline told me she couldn't believe the reception I got when my name was called. While I'm a modest person who can't stand people who buzz with the 'know-it-all' confidence, I explained to Pauline that it must have been because I had put myself about a bit. Over the duration of the challenge, I had introduced myself to so many people and while struggling to communicate, managed to meet many people, some of whom will always remain friends. The presentation continued and the sparse applause had returned. I could see what Pauline was saying now. I think it will always be in my nature to be the reserved man, the one lacking in confidence. Having said that, I would rather have not enough confidence than too much confidence.

The presentation ended just before 22:00 and I left to return to my room. Despite the buzz I got from receiving my award the way I did, I was feeling lousy. For the last three days, everything I'd eaten had gone right through me. My trousers felt looser and it was apparent that I was losing weight. I had a quick shower and packed the rest of my stuff into the case I had packed earlier in the day. By 23:00, I was sitting in bed with a cup of Tenom coffee watching some foreign gibberish on TV! Once again, rain was running down the large window overlooking the harbour.

I've documented everything now except my last day in Kuala Lumpur. This text is now going to take you to April 9th, my last day in Kuala Lumpur. I spent the whole of April 8th in my hotel room, ravaged by tiredness and the symptoms of food poisoning. I woke up just before 08:00 and recall my stomach being sensitive to touch. Every step towards the bathroom was a chore, but I managed to ease into a relaxing hot bath which helped somewhat to ease the aches that now plagued my body. I got dressed, filled up my ruck sack and headed down to the breakfast bar. For the sake of keeping up my energy, I downed some fruit and cake, washing it down with plenty of water. After breakfast, I reviewed some of the tourist material, trying to decide what to visit in the little time I had left. This was going to be no ordinary Sunday; I was in Kuala Lumpur, 8,000 miles away from home on my own. I was besat by food poisoning with barely any energy and I so wanted to enjoy myself.

I stood up and headed towards reception to see if there were any replies to the faxes I had sent home the night before. There were none; as I turned to leave the hotel, John Eyton of SMAS (Malaysia Airlines Services) walked in! I couldn't believe it. John, originally from Scotland, had been present during the whole of the Borneo Challenge, an English-speaking member of the organising team in the event of any emergencies. He had dropped by to see if I had arrived in Kuala Lumpur safely and in good health. I told him I had arrived with no problems, but not in the best of health. There and then, I nearly let loose and cried. I felt like I had been betrayed by some higher force, perhaps even fate itself. All I asked for was two days in Kuala Lumpur to relax and explore. I couldn't relax because I felt like I was going to keel over and I couldn't explore because I didn't have the energy. I told John how I was feeling and he took charge by taking me to a doctors. He said his nephew (his wife is Malaysian) was a doctor who worked in the Kuala Lumpur City Centre (KLCC) building. We left the hotel, crossed the busy six-lane road and headed towards the KLCC which occupied the first five floors of the Petronas Towers, the tallest building in the world; it stands at 459.2 metres and has 88 floors with a design inspired by the Star of Islam.

By entering KLCC, I was inside the worlds tallest building! The first five floors were packed full of retail outlets including Marks & Spencer's and a Barclays Bank. The presence of these stores did little to alleviate my missing home. We got the elevator to the fifth floor and headed for the Surgery. Upon arrival, I was instructed by the receptionist to fill in a form and was seen within minutes. The doctor diagnosed a throat infection, an ear infection, food poisoning and exhaustion. When John explained the Challenge I had participated in during the previous week, the doctor chuckled and said he was surprised I was still alive! He prescribed six different medicines, all of which were designed to tackle each of my symptoms separately. I took the recommended dosage of each and washed them down with water bought from the supermarket. By this time, noticing the discomfort I was in, I could sense that John felt sorry for me. After all, it was Sunday and he seemed to have nothing better to do than accompany me to the doctors. I mentioned it to him and he said that one of the reasons why he liked Malaysia is because "the people are better disciplined and care more about what they do". I interpreted this to mean that he saw it as his duty to make sure I was well looked after.

I really wanted to go to the Kuala Lumpur tower to get an aerial view of the city, but time would prove that it wasn't meant to be. After thanking John and after a brief walk around the KLCC gardens, I returned to the hotel. It was nearing midday and I had arranged for a taxi to take me to the airport at 20:30. It was unfortunate that I spent the rest of my last day in my hotel room. Not long after having returned to the hotel, I was riddled with vomiting. I wasn't surprised considering the cocktail of medication I had been prescribed. I would think a menu of six different medications would be reserved for the terminally ill, not one suffering from the likes of ear and throat infections! At that time, I threw my medication away and slept.

I slept until about 18:00 then set about preparing my luggage for the journey home. I entered the reception are about 19:00 and arranged for an hour of web surfing. I hit the BBC website to read the latest news like I had done the afternoon I arrived in Tenom. It emerged that it had started snowing in some regions of Britain. I had got talking to the manager of the hotel and told him about the weather. He imagined that the temperatures must have been well below freezing for it to be snowing. I learnt that he had never visited Britain and very much wanted to do so. I gave him a taster of what to expect in Britain by hitting the This Is London (www.thisislondon.com) and the Royal Family (www.royal.gov.uk) web sites. He was hooked. Before my hour was up, I checked my email.

By the time I had finished my Internet session, the manager of the hotel and I had been chatting for nearly an hour. My taxi was due in the next fifteen minutes and I decided, there and then, that I would pay the taxi a little extra to give me a quick tour of this vibrant city. After all, it was unlikely that I would return since there were a dozen other places I longed to visit. My taxi arrived and I realised that I had the same driver who drove me from the airport two days before. I asked if he would mind driving around some of the sights before leaving the city and heading towards the airport. 'No problem, me glad!' he responded with more enthusiasm than was required. Gary, the driver, hadn't been to London either and so was more than proud to show off his city to an eager tourist little realising that London had much more to offer the budding visitor. We drove past the Kuala Lumpur tower, through the bustling crowds of China Town, past the old Colonial Railway station and the Sultan's Palace. I looked at my watch and it was gone 21:30. I told Gary and said we should head for the airport, that my flight took off at 23:55. 'No problem, me go fast!', he replied. And fast he went indeed. From my position in the front passenger seat, I put my seat belt on as Gary floored the accelerator and flew down the motor way at a speed of 140 kph (approx. 90 mph). The motorway was empty and every so often he zoomed past the 'crawlers' in the slow lane.

As I was being driven away from the brights light of Kuala Lumpur, I began to yearn for all the things that were at home; my family, my friends, but most of all, the restoration of my sense of security. Despite my lack of hearing - and even having lost my hearing aids during the trip - I still managed to have a good time. As I saw the bright lights of the city dwindle in the side view mirror of the taxi, the way I felt about this trip and the people I had met could have been summed up in a song I had heard recently:

"Everywhere I go, All the places that I've been,
There's a smile on a new horizon, On a land I've never seen
There are people around the world, Different faces, different names,
but there's one true emotion that reminds me we're the same...
Let's talk about love....."
- Celine Dion.

All the people I had met during the course of my travels were among the friendliest people I had ever met in my life and being away from home made me realise that I really did love and think about the people in my life.

I left Malaysia behind on my return to the United Kingdom with memories I hope to never forget. Indeed, part of me fell in love with Malaysia. If you've bothered to read this far, you'll probably be one of the many people who helped to make the trip possible. If it hadn't been through your own generosity or support, I probably never would have had the opportunity to visit what is perhaps one of the most unspoiled territories in the world. And for this, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Terima Khasi y Selamat Jalan!

30th June 2000

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.

BORNEO (12/14): Orangutan Drama & The Looming Illness in Kuala Lumpur

Our flight was called which explained the interruption of the last entry which I started in the Sandakan Departure Lounge. By the time I got back to my hotel, I wasn't mentally prepared to finish the entry for the day. Now, however, I will attempt to pick up where I left off.

So, the four of us set off for the airport at 07:15. Our flight for Sandakan left at 08:30 aboard a Malaysian Airlines BAe 1-11. This model is propellor-driven and is an 'over-lander'. We arrived at Sandakan just before 09:30 and were transferred by private bus to Borneo's biggest and most expensive Chinese Temple; the structure was amazing, glimmering with red and gold. Statues of dragons and lions adorned the place together with several Buddha-like structures in a neat line, posed in prayer. Outside, the temple offered an impressive view of Sandakan 300m above sea level. Shortly afterwards, we were driven to Sandakan Town where we were given forty minutes to do as we pleased. Bob and I headed for the fish market where live fish are caught and sold daily. The variety of fish on sale was astounding: catfish, shark, octopus, squid, prawns, tuna, shrimp. There were so many types of fish I couldn't even recognise. As buyers came and went, they often left with live fish in their bags which was unusual to witness.

The forty minutes to do as we pleased came and went and we waited outside the Hawaii Hotel in Main Street. From there, we were transported to the local stilt village. Here, thousands of people reside in homes built on water. Their method of living is far from conventional as far as western standards go. The homes are, however, very picturesque. The most grisly detail of living in this way is that all human waste is dumped into the sea below which gives rise to an unimaginable stench. The residents seem happy, children clamouring on their porches to shake our hands!

I certainly will miss the warm welcomes here. The children are adorable and while parents are always on their guard, they are happy for you to entertain their young ones. After a fifteen minute tour of the village, we returned to Sandakan for lunch at the Hotel Sandakan. The lunch was like any other, leaving a lot to be desired. Rice, sweet and sour fish, followed by pineapple and watermelon. One thing I won't miss is the lack of variety in food. I think the Malaysians are very narrow minded in terms of food they offer to British visitors. Even at the Pan Pacific, a five star international hotel, food is generally disappointing. Breakfasts, however, are another story!

At the Hotel Sandakan, I met Olive, a charming, petite receptionist. She's nineteen, has just split up with her boyfriend and, in her forthrightness, said that she liked me! If only British girls were this direct and spent less time playing the games they like to play. We exchanged email addresses and I was surprised that thirty minutes had passed since our conversation began. Finally, our transfer to Sepilok Orangutan Sanctuary arrived. We arrived just after 15:00, excited by the prospect of seeing the elusive 'wild man of Borneo'. We proceeded along the Orangutan Trail, looking in all directions, hoping for a glimpse of the hairy man. Eventually, we reached Feeding Platform A where three orangutans were waiting patiently for their daily ration of food.

It is now 11:51am and it's been been twenty minutes since my flight for Kuala Lumpur took off from Kota Kinabalu. I had a last minute panic at the airport. Apparently, they wouldn't let me through the airport because I hadn't been through immigration. I explained that I wasn't immigrating, that I was bound for Kuala Lumpur and therefore wasn't leaving Malaysia. Apparently, the regulations are different for Borneo and the Peninsular. Due to the number of Sultanates and the many different - often trivial - laws, everyone must proceed through Immigration between the East and the West of Malaysia. With just fifteen minutes till take off, I ran the half-mile or so to the Immigration Office. There, I waited in a queue of about ten people, anxious to be seen as quickly as possible. One by one, the queue dwindled. My boarding pass was promptly stamped and I made a dash for Gate 2. Within minutes of boarding, the plane taxied to take off. Seconds after take off, the views were fantastic on what was no doubt the clearest day in a week. We flew over the Pan Pacific, the nearby island of Mamutik and saw hundreds of sandbars rising above the ocean.

Back to our trip to the Orangutan Sanctuary. The three orangutans played, teasing each other by pulling each others hair. At times, they just hung by their hands, looking out at the thirty-odd visitors of the day. Often, an orangutan would stick its tongue out, amusing the crowd. At 15:30, two park rangers equipped with food, approached the feeding platform. By now, four more orangutans had ventured out of the forest.

The purpose of the Orangutan Sanctuary is to rear abandoned baby orangutans so that they are able to return to the wild later in life. Sepilok is one of just four such sanctuaries in the world and currently has 20 free-roaming orangutans in its enclosed reserve. It's amazing how human these apes were. It is believed that they are our most direct relations in the animal kingdom; after a male orangutan relieved himself in front of the crowd, I couldn't have agreed more. He stood at the platform, towards the crowd, took what looked like a human penis into his hands and urinated. So often, when visiting the zoo, it is difficult to differentiate between the sexes. In this show of male pride, the orangutan gave us a direct lesson in primate anatomy and biology!!!

After about twenty minutes of being amazed by the playfulness of the apes, I proceed along the trail, towards the gift shop. Rory had gone ahead of me to escape the humidity of the forest. Borneo Bill and Bob the Vet wanted to stay a while longer. So, I was walking along the trail when I noticed an orangutan walking up the trail towards me. At first, I was stunned, but her endearing face enticed me. As she approached me, another group walked back along the trail behind her. She was surrounded. A child offered a leaf and the orangutan accepted it, shaking the childs hand. What a sight!

The ape motioned for the child to sit down beside her. He did so, quite bravely I reckon; Orangutans are notorious for their surprising, unpredictable strength. Another child, I think from the same family, sat down beside the ape. By this time, the tension I experienced had flown away. The sight before me was truly inspiring, an ape inviting the company of young humans. This scene before me obviously made me drop my guard because nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen.

Overwhelmed by the hand-shaking and the children sitting with the orangutan, I removed my ruck sack, put the bag on the floor and reached for my camera from within. I put both hands on the camera, aimed the camera and took a picture. At that very moment, the ape grabbed my bag and fled high into the trees. I found it amusing at first. Item by item, it emptied the contents of the bag. It drank some of my Factor 35 sun cream, ate my malaria and throat tablets. I'm surprised it hadn't passed out from the combination of what it had consumed. Suddenly, it removed a small, red book from the bag. My passport! The ape tried to consume this, but they are lazy animals and she threw it to one side. Did my picture disappoint? Did I really look that bad?! It was at this point that I remembered that my airline tickets and hearing aids were in the rucksack too. I let out a long, desperate "nooooooo!" Would it listen? Nup!

19:50, SMT

So, the plane has landed in Kuala Lumpur and I've already had a well needed sleep in my room at the Park Plaza Hotel. I'm feeling very weak at the moment and my appetite is non-existent. My thoughts are that I must endeavour to enjoy these last two days. I think I'm suffering from a mix of accumulated exhaustion and mental worry attributable to the loss of my hearing aids. Aah, that reminds me to continue with the last entry.

The orangutan wasn't going to listen to my demands for it to return my rightful possessions. It threw my diary down from the rooftops which, if you've bothered to read this far, you can tell I have spent considerable time and energy preparing. It then removed my airline tickets and waved them in the air. I suppose all I could do was pray. She dropped the tickets and they floated to the ground. Momentarily, Janet the orangutan, disappeared from view. By this time, Ahmad, one of the park rangers, had arrived on the scene. He said there was nothing we could do but wait. He arrogantly pointed out that my carelessness had caused the situation to arise anyway! Charming, eh? I looked up and noticed she was chewing something. I was in despair, surrounded by people who were amused, but at the same time concerned. By now, I couldn't have cared less what Janet was trying to eat; I was just pleased to get my passport, tickets and money back. She could have my hearing aids, the bitch! This seemingly genteel, loveable ape had the power to cause chaos and I was powerless to stop it. Having had her fun, Janet dropped the bag, pointed at me and let out a cheeky laugh! God, how so annoyingly human! I reported the incident to reception for insurance purposes, but in the meantime, I would have to struggle without the sense of sound. I pondered on whether or not I would go to Kuala Lumpur, whether I should just go straight home. Part of me wanted to go home, yet part of within me wouldn't accept defeat, reasoned that it was just two more days.

When we got back to the hotel at 19:30, I sent a fax home to let them know what had happened so that arrangements could be made on my return to deal with my hearing and employment matters. Mum replied, demanding that I came home. I reassured her that if there were any real problems, I would be on the first plane home. I went to bed at 22:50, having packed my case for todays flight to Kuala Lumpur. It was a restless night, ravaged by the sensitive stomach I had had for the past two days. I've taken some mixes to help settle it to no avail. I have since become weaker, but I'm here now and it's little over one more day till my flight home.

As I write thissitting in the seat in the corner of my hotel room. To my right is a large window, overlooking , I'm much of Kuala Lumpur city. It is now dark outside and the city is well lit. About half a mile away stands the Kuala Lumpur Towerobservation deck which stands 421 metres above sea level. I would like to go there before my , an departurefeeling so weak that I'm going to play it by ear. I barely have enough energy to write what I'm , but I'm writing in this diaryIt's now 20:30 and I think I'm going to hit the sack. I'm not feeling too well. I've drunk plenty of water and taken some aspirin and hope that tomorrow morning I will feel much better.

BORNEO (11/14): Four Guys Go Sightseeing!

Today has been a great day, but the last couple of hours have been particularly eventful. I woke up before my alarm of 06:30 and had a long bath to cool my skin down. Just before 07:00, I went to Cafe Boleh for Breakfast. There, I met other people who were also looking forward to their own days out. It emerged that four of us had booked the same trip: Rory from Edinburgh, Borneo Bill and Bob the Vet.

BORNEO (10/14): Post Event Chilling!

Here I am, on my own now that the event has come to an end. Most of the group have now transferred to Kinabalu Airport to start their journeys home. Many of us, however, have opted to stay on, at our own expense of course. The last ten days have been hectic. So much so that this diary isn't even up to date and I will attempt to do this over the next few days while the facts are still relatively fresh in my memory. This morning, I transferred from Room 930, which I shared with Troy, to room 539, a single room with a huge double bed.

Today, while the majority of people busied themselves with present-buying and case-packing, I set out to experience two new things; para-sailing and massage. The para-sailing cost me £18 for fifteen minutes which is a bargain. It would cost twice as much in some Spanish resorts. At 14:30, I headed towards the Sutera Harbour Jetty.

I must interrupt this entry with a note about a sunset which is taking place at this very moment. It is now 18:22 and the view from my bedroom window is extremely relaxing. Out towards the Ocean are three distant islands, each of which are a matter of acres in area. The sun is lowering behind the one to the right, the last of its light bouncing off the ocean. The last of the para-sailers are now heading to shore and some more traditional boats are simply bobbing up and down on the sea, the occupants no doubt admiring the sunset or fishing for their tea, perhaps even both.

The suns light has intensified now, casting my shadow on to the desk at which I am writing. The clouds are now majestically lit from below, adding another dimension to the appealing view before me. The sun is now sinking, the light receding, the sea darkening. The clouds are now orange, slowly turning red. All is pleasant and calm and the stillness of the Ocean is unnerving in this twilight. The last of the para-sailers within has now returned to the harbour which brings me to what I wanted to tell you about.

At 14:00, I made my way to the Sutera Harbour jetty. There, I was greeted by three Malay men who made me sign a liability release and took me through a quick five minutes worth of instruction. I boarded the boat and before long, I was strapped to the back of the boat and standing on a platform. The boat powered ahead and I was gradually released into the air as the parachute slowly inflated with the passing sea breeze. I felt like I was flying; my legs were dangling beneath me, swaying in the wind. I got higher and higher. At a guess, I must have been at least two hundred and fifty feet in the air. It was great and I whooped with delight. I closed my eyes, sensing the air all around me and breathed in deeply. This was a true quality moment, one worth all the aches, pains and fundraising tactics it took to get here.

I opened my eyes. To the left was the Kota Kinabalu stilt village. To my right lay a vast expanse of sea with the three offshore islands in the distance. Fortunately, the fifteen minutes of the para-sailing felt like much longer and I can't wait to try it again. I arrived back at the Sutera Harbour about 15:15. In the hotel, I bumped into Borneo Bill who was boasting about the good bargains he had bagged in town. Pauline and Bob were envious, but I still have plenty of time to do some shopping, unlike them! Ha, ha, ha!!

It is now 18:32 and the sky outside is brimming with the colours of orange, red and the greyness of incoming cloud. Rain is starting to fall and I just sensed the vibrations of a rumble of thunder. It's strange to witness a thunderstorm in the presence of such a beautiful sunset.

At 16:00, I had arranged to have a massage at Body Senses, the Pan Pacific's own in-house fitness suite. I arrived into reception and within minutes was motioned into a barely lit room. Then, a petite young Malaysian girl of about twenty entered the room, motioning for me to lay face down on the massage table. I was stunned by the strength this young girl had coming from such a small pair of hands. She certainly gave me a good working over and amidst the ooh's and aah's, I felt at peace. It was very uplifting though an hour after the massage started, I had to summon the energy to even move! It was well worth the £20 I paid, which is at least half the price of what it would cost in the UK.

Shortly before I started writing this entry, at approximately 17:45, a group of people had begun their journeys homeward. Some of the goodbye's were heartfelt, some a relief! My particularly sorrowful parting was from Sharon of Poole. Throughout the trip, we had been wild, lead a jaunt to a nightclub and made our own day of adventure when we both opted not to take part in the second day of cycling.

I gave here a piece of paper saying: "Thanks for making the trip what it was". She said that I would always be in her heart and I could have given her a smacker on the lips right there and then! She hinted about meeting up at a later date, but I forget when. That would be nice, but we'll all return to our own lives now, won't we? Right, it's now 18:46 and I've booked a seat on the Complimentary Shuttle Bus into Kota Kinabalu. When I return, the next section will pick up from where I have left off: the first day of cycling.

22:25, SMT...

Tonight has been a bit of a drama. I left the apartment just before 19:00 to catch a bus into town. Despite the receptionists claim, there were in fact NO buses at 19:00. So, I took a cab. It cost me RM10 (£1.60) to get to Centre Point. What a bargain, eh? It costs double that to just get into a taxi in the UK! Once there, I had planned to get a cash advance using my VISA Card. The Bureau de Change closed at 19:00 and I panicked. I had RM6 left, barely enough to buy a can of drink! All the banks were now closed so what was I to do? I had no choice, but to go to the hotel and change my last sterling twenty pound note and hope that someone, somehow would be able to draw an advance by tomorrow morning.

I got back to the hotel, changed my last £20, paid the taxi and then sought the advice of Charlie Chan, the charity event emergency contact. He suggested the hotel refund the RM800 I paid them in respect of my hotel accommodation and charge the refunded amount to my credit card. This was the ideal solution and once again, I had been saved! Now I had money, I could have dinner! I had a Club Sandwich with Ham and Chicken and a portion of chips with plenty of tomato sauce. Not bad for RM23, equivalent to £3.80. Anyway, I'm now in bed as tomorrow is going to be a long day. I'm due to fly to the Sepilok Orangutan Sanctuary in Sandakan on the East Coast of Borneo. I guess I'll be writing about that soon too.

BORNEO (9/14): Along The Crocker Range

After a restless night watching that gecko chase its own tail and cockroaches on the ceiling, dawn arrived in Poring on Friday, 31st March. Energised from the triumphant mountain climb from the day before, the two parties met up for breakfast by the pool at 07:00. I had got up at 06:00 so that I could take a refreshing swim in the rainpool to prepare me for what was no doubt going to be an arduous, hot day. After a breakfast of eggs, frankfurters and beans, we made our ways to reception where each person chose their bike and a cycle helmet. The task before us was to cycle 180 kilometres across the Sabah Mountain Range, guaranteed to test even the fittest.

At 07:45, there was a bike line-up for the purpose of a team photo. The flag was raised, then lowered, indicating the start of the cycle ride. The task for today was to cycle the eighty-odd kilometres from Poring to Timbunan. The only rules imposed were to stick to the route, obey the police escort, drink plenty of water and that people would be 'cut-off' (i.e.. picked up by coach) if they didn't reach their destination by 16:00.

As I write this, I'm sitting at the desk in my Pan Pacific Sutera room on the ninth floor. My feet are on the desk and I'm comfortably prepared to finally get this diary up to date. As we all turned right out of Poring Hot Springs, the hill took a slight upward rise. At the top within minutes, the hill gave way to a ten minute downhill cycle. It was bliss to cycle at speeds of 40-, 50-, perhaps even 60 mph. At this speed, the air was so fresh, but we knew that the day had barely begun. Within an hour, because of all the downhill, we had covered 14 kms. At that point, I felt that the 80-odd kilometre cycle for today would be easily achieved. I couldn't have been more wrong.

As time drew on, we passed lots of little communities with what seemed like sheds for houses. Children played happily by the roadside while mothers tended to their younger ones. Soon, the route changed: the previous tarmac surface became an awkward asphalt surface. Before we reached this stretch of road, I had a very high opinion of Borneo's highways. Now, however, their roads are shameful. At least they're not as congested as our routes in Britain.

The asphalt sections of the ride were really uncomfortable with most guys claiming to have inherited 'saddle-bum syndrome'. I'll let you work out which parts of the body ended up very tender! Having spent an hour rumbling across this surface, I briefly looked to the right to acknowledge a group of children waving me by. When I looked back ahead of me, I noticed a large rock just feet away. Having no time to swerve, I struck the rock. The bike tipped forward and I landed, heavily, on my right shoulder no less than six feet away from where the bike itself came to rest. I felt a snap and cautiously rotated my shoulder before getting up on my knees. I felt a stinging in my right hand and discovered a deep cut along one of the creases in my palm. My first thoughts were that I had fractured my left thumb, but time proved that it was just very bruised. I was thankful for that. Despite the sustained injuries and the crucial role of hands with braking, balance etc., I soldiered on. At that point, I was too determined to let anyone - or anything - stand in my way. An ambulance came by, treated and dressed the wound and within ten minutes, I was on the road again. The next two hours were demanding with most of the route being uphill.

In an attempt to stay sane and conscious in the 32 degree heat, people started talking more, congregating while manually pushing their cycles uphill. Lunchtime came and I was a bit behind. I arrived half an hour late and decided that I would jack it in, that the sun - let alone the humidity - was causing me torment. When I stopped for lunch, I was assigned a lunch of what was supposed to be a sandwich, a hard chicken drumstick and a can of isotonic. Part of me didn't want to give up and I realised that many people had already quit. It emerged that some people had never even started the cycling at all. I sat on the coach for ten minutes and psyched myself into not giving up. True to my word, I carried on.

We set off again, just before 14:00, two hours before the imposed cut-off. I figured I would have no problems cycling for just two more hours, but I couldn't have been more wrong. In the first half hour, we were treated to an exhilarating six kilometres of downhill; we passed dozens of shanty towns and whole families rushed to the roadside to wave us by, eager to catch of a view of the speeding white men - and women - from the West.

As we continued down the winding slope, we passed a number of plantations and valleys that dropped hundreds of metres beneath the A4, the Sabah Route on which we were cycling. As time passed, the thrill of downhill cycling came and went. About forty-five minutes after setting off and nearly 15:00, we came to a bridge suspended over a fierce river laced with rapids. Beyond the bridge was an asphalt route leading steeply upwards. Feeling disheartened, dozens of others and I pushed ahead. Spurred on by the experience of the downhill route we had just enjoyed, we figured that there must be more to come. It wasn't to be, not for me anyway.

Half an hour had passed and I was beginning to feel the grind. I felt my blood starting to boil, my body begging for mercy. Stupidly, perhaps, I refused to listen to what my body was telling me. At that point, up ahead, I noticed dozens of young children smartly dressed in what could pass for school uniforms. They stared, transfixed, by the white and sweaty people in their territory. The children remained within view for quite a while, curiously following us as they made their own ways home.

Minutes later, a van passed by and one of the cyclists was cheating, hanging onto the back of the van whilst remaining seated on his cycle. Tempted by the possibility of getting a lift uphill, I sped up on my bike and grasped the rope tied to the van. For ten minutes, I enjoyed this luxury, until the road had narrowed from a landslide, forcing the driver to turn back. He would have to find an alternative route to get him to his destination. As cyclists, our aim was to proceed. We did so, giving in to another stretch of uphill. Within five minutes, I found myself sitting by the roadside, exhausted from the heat of the afternoon. While I had intended to just take a break, then press on, I couldn't. I tried getting up and my legs gave way. My arms were burning and at that very moment the first signs of rain started to fall. In desperation, in a very religious country, I prayed. I prayed for rain and lots of it. The event escort drove by in his Land Rover. He offered me water, but I asked for an ambulance, indicating that I was giving in. He told me to wait for an ambulance by the roadside. I slumped by the road in what little shade I could find. Almost instantly, I started trembling and sweating. Even in the shade where I was sitting, it was boiling. Or was it just me? Five minutes passed, then ten. Still no ambulance. My head started to feel heavy, the shivering in my spine never-ending.

By now, I was getting worried. Just as I started wondering what might be wrong with me, the ambulance appeared around the bend of the road to my left. I felt so relieved to see them. They parked the vehicle on the other side of the road and approached me. As I stood up to tell them of my condition, my legs gave way. Two of the three paramedics caught me just in time and they quickly went to work. They helped me walk to the ambulance and laid me down on the bed inside. They covered my body in bandages, to treat any burns and to aid the cooling down of my very being. The paramedic removed my cap and a dead mosquito fell out, or so he told me later. Right then, in sheer horror, I started crying. I had all the symptoms of malaria and just panicked. Indeed, they did find a mosquito bite on my head, but malaria was ruled out. By now, I was finding it hard to breath and they hooked me up to a breathalyser. My lungs felt like hot coals and my skin throbbed beneath the now warm bandages.

They diagnosed dehydration and within thirty minutes, my sweating and breathing had stabilised. It wasn't until several hours later, however, that I could walk unaided. In the meantime, I was transported to the coach which was in the process of collecting people now that the 16:00 'cut-off' had arrived.

Many people wanted to continue, determined to reach the designated destination. Their request were accepted on a case by case basis subject to the individuals well being. To allow the cyclists some time in getting ahead, the coach stopped in a very isolated town where Crazy Sharon from Poole and I shopped for drink and snacks. Sharon helped me across the road as though I was an old man! I felt so embarrassed, but at the same time we had a good laugh about getting together to collect our pensions when we got older! In gratitude, I bought her a packet of cigarettes. Well, they were only forty pence a packet! She's been a good mate, a marvellous laugh and she's helped me to communicate in some tricky situations such as meetings and group discussions. Sharon and I had our picture taken with some of the local children, all of whom were adorable and extremely well behaved. It was time to get back on the bus to travel the last few miles to our destination, Timbunan.

It was gone six when we arrived at the Timbunan Village Resort, our accommodation for the night; the spacious rooms were within 'long-houses' and a lagoon accompanied the clubhouse where people meet to eat, drink and be entertained. Having recovered from the dehydration episode earlier in the day, I headed for the clubhouse in search of dinner. As I approached the clubhouse, I could smell the frankfurters and chicken gently roasting on the barbecue, their aromas filling the thick air. To accompany the meat were servings of noodles and salad, truly one of the best meals since our arrival. Shortly after dinner, a traditional Malaysian cabaret started up. The dancing act involved four men and four women, all choreographed to gentle oriental music. Ten minutes or so later, long thin bamboo logs were introduced into the act. Using a set routine of banging and shifting, members of the audience were given an opportunity to attempt skipping across the ever-moving logs. The results were hilarious and I suppose you just had to be there!

By this time, it was nearing 23:00 and the day had been a hard one for all concerned. Gradually, the crowd dispersed and I returned to my long-house just before midnight. In the cool of the night, although still extremely warm, the burns I had inherited became more apparent. The skin on my legs and arms was glowing and I felt cold from within. I had a shower, alternating between hot and cold water, hoping to bring some relief. Afterwards, I applied layer after layer of aftersun and it was obvious that an uncomfortable night of sleep was about to follow.

The sleeping arrangements for tonight are a bit awkward. In Long-house C5, there were two bedrooms (one twin room with and one double bedroom), a spacious living room with very basic adjoining bathroom and kitchen facilities. Troy, the vain one, had done well with the cycling today so he not surprisingly turned in quite early in the evening. Quite selfishly, he occupied the twin room, locking the door. When I turned in, I couldn't get into the bedroom and had no intention of letting this minor incident get to me. While there was still another double bedroom, it had been agreed that Pauline, a woman from Yorkshire, would have this bedroom. So, what was I to do? The living room area was equipped with a hard wooden floor, pretty much the norm in many a Malaysian home. In the corner, there were a number of two inch thick mats which I laid down to form a mattress. With the bedding locked with the twin room, I used my own beach towel for a blanket. I suppose I was going to be having a more traditional sleep than the others tonight.

BORNEO (8/14): On Top Of The World & The Hot Springs

Once again, I found it hard to find the time to write. After countless transfers, group meetings, mountain climbing and cycling, all one wants to do is sleep! I'm having difficulty writing today due to a number of injuries I inherited from the bike ride across the Crocker Range. Today, I was supposed to complete the ride, but I've conceded in order to recover so that I can participate in the white water rafting and scuba diving. So, where was I? I was telling you about the climb up to Mount Kinabalu to witness the sun rise.

Like I was saying, the barren landscape was almost alien and looking down on the earth, it could have been another planet for all I knew. As the climb progressed, the rope-based trails grew in number, the surface gradient increasing all the time. Suddenly, I saw a number of people congregating, shaking hands. It emerged that, less than twenty metres away, stood the summit! With every last bit of energy I could summon, I broke into a stride. There, I was greeted by a number of people, most of whom I had never even met and who were not even members of the Children Today or Henshaw groups; there was a sense of mutual achievement among those who set out to conquer such an enormous peak.

It was 05:28 when I reach the summit. The temperature was below freezing, my hands numb. Just before 06:00, the first colours of dawn emerged and distant peaks appeared above the clouds: it was a very moving moment, one I hope to never forget. At that very moment, every care I had in the world lifted from me and I detached myself, savouring the moment. Minutes later, the suns disc hovered and slowly rose above the horizon, accentuating the features of the peaks which had remained in the darkness until now. With each passing minute, the shadows cast by the enormous peaks that surrounded us receded and daylight flooded the land.
At 06:15, I began the lengthy, joint-grinding descent to the Laban Rata guest house. It was a strain on the knee and ankle joints. With every step downwards, the light of the new day continued to brighten up the sky. I stood on the granite plain and looked out across Asia. I visualised Indonesia, Australia and New Zealand, just some of the places I would love to visit. In a backward mode of play, the granite surface gave way to stepladders and rubble-laden paths.

At approximately 08:30, I arrived back at the Laban Rata. Devouring a breakfast of just two eggs, I met a couple on an independent tour of Borneo who came from Hertford. It was nice to finally meet someone who lived so close to me, someone to relate to on a geographical basis. It helps to meet people with these things in common when so far from - and missing - home.

At 10:00, after the last of the people had returned from the summit, the two parties began the even longer descent to Timpohon Gate, the base of the National Park. As you can imagine, it was very much like the ascent, just backwards! Going up is one thing, but coming down is another. In terms of enjoyment, it's senseless because you saw everything there is to see on the way up! In terms of strain on the knee and ankle joints, it's murder. In fact, it was too much for some people. Fortunately, my only complaints were blisters, one on each of my two small toes!

We reached the base after four hours, just after 14:00 where we were transferred and plied with yet another awful set menu meal. Just before 15:00, I caught the earlier of the two transfers to the Poring Hot Springs which is where we would spend the night. For most of the 45km trip, I was spark out, exhausted from the climb.

I awoke when we arrived, in the middle of what can only be described as a 'hostel-village'. It's a bit like a holiday camp - Butlins comes to mind actually - but with six or eight to a room and without en-suite facilities. The reason for coming here is to rest our aching muscles in the hot springs. There's no 'spring' as such, but the next best thing. In the Recreational Area of the Poring Hot Springs, there's a restaurant, a number of rain water swimming pools and a mass of triangular baths. Basically, a large square pool is moulded into four sub pools which can be filled, at will, with water from the hot spring. While is wasn't what I thought it would be, my leg muscles did feel tight and the water did a good job at soothing the dull ache from the climb.

It was interesting to learn that the locals come here on a regular basis, paying for the provision of a hot spring as their way of having a hot bath. The bulk of the population, you see, can't afford the luxury of a boiler and hot water on demand so families tend to visit the Springs. At one point, I saw a mother watching her two children playing in the water, splashing each other. She laughed joyfully, perhaps not knowing when their next hot bath might be. It was a wonderful sight, making me wonder once again if they expect too little or we expect too much.

After an hour or so alternating between the springs and cold rain water pools, dinner beckoned. I rushed back to our room which accommodated eight, hurriedly dressed and had a cold shave. It's a shame they couldn't divert the water from the hot spring to the on-site bathrooms! By now, however, I had become accustomed to the odd inconvenience and, surprisingly, I didn't mind. I was, despite the aching, having a good time.

Dinner was the usual, mundane mix of boiled rice and a choice of side dishes like lemon chicken or sweet and sour chicken. The difference about tonight was the apparent presence of every type of insect imaginable; crickets, fireflies, geckos, cockroaches, butterflies, mosquitoes and three horned beetles to name but a few! Everyone took to sitting outside after realising that it was the artificial lighting from within the restaurant that was attracting the insects. From the outside looking in, it looked as though all the insects were on a suicide mission, aimlessly flying into walls and chairs and tables. Within minutes, there were dead insects all over the place. Anyway, I think I've painted enough of a mental image for you!

Dinner was soon over and a meeting followed about the Crocker Range cycle ride we were due to start the next morning. After the meeting, people began to retreat to their rooms. For about an hour, sleeping on one of the four top bunks in this room sleeping eight people, I was entertained by a four inch long gecko chasing its own tail. It was like watching a load of clothes in a washing machine. For those of you who don't know what a gecko is, it's a type of lizard, pretty much like a newt which you will find living in many a British pond.