We all knew that the only way was forward and once we wrung out our kit we set out on that epic day’s 12-hour summit climb.
More almost penetrable cloud forest, new blisters and the arrival of deep wounds underneath our hip sand shoulder traps dominated the morning assent, but the occasional plateau rewarded us with amazing panoramic views of rolling jungle canopy below and a rare sight of the summit above.
Cramp, tired muscles, biting winds and freezing rain urged us to break, but both time and weather were against us and we – for once silently – forced ourselves onwards. The hours trickled by with extreme fatigue on the continuous uphill treadmill and our fight transcended the physical as the main effort became forcing our legs to make each next step, to stay calm and indeed sane.
The day wore on until at around 4pm when a final near-vertical ascent saw the team we emerge from the cloud forest, out onto the rocks and up to the summit. Finally, we had conquered mount Murud!
Elation and relief vied for the top spot in our emotional scale and several minutes were spent simply hugging and back slapping. Mother Nature quickly reminded us that this was her mountain however and threw gusty winds and heavy rain our way. Photos were quickly snapped, as after eight-hours of back breaking trekking, we still had to descend to church camp.
The remaining trek of the day would have apparently taken just three hours in good conditions, but with rapidly fading light, torrential rains and strog winds, the conditions couldn’t really have been any worse. Despite Philip’s urgent urgings to proceed we filled water bottles and donned our head torches in preparation for the following 4 hours of purgatory.
We quickly descended through the picturesque rock garden, barely having time to appreciate the weird and wonderful rock formations. Following a water pipe and river, we climbed and slipped our way to the foot of a valley. Darkness descended and we negotiated rocks and roots using only a single beam of light. Rising up the other side of the valley, the open space of rock garden returned to thick jungle which was muddier than ever.
All energy had long since left our bodies and the group sank deep inside themselves searching for the will to force our sunken boots from quick mud onwards and upwards. We climbed up for an eternity, falls became regular and in our zombie state we forgot even to get annoyed with the terrain. Despite having the epic summit achievement in our back pockets, the mood desperate.
Eventually, church camp appeared out of the dark mist and the feeling was incredible. The moment was more climatic than summit. Twelve solid hours of torturous climbing was finally over.
Despite the cold, the rats, searing pain in our legs, feet and backs, we gratefully sank to floor of the basic wooden shelter and into a night of coma.
