Rumination on my fourth climb, third summit of Mount Kinabalu.

It was a rather impromptu climb. I was initially looking forward to hiking Mulu in Sarawak. However, a proposal by a friend of mine clashes with MUGIS 2026, which I had registered for. Coincidentally, a friend expressed her wish to climb Mount K, along with the via ferrata. I thought this was a golden opportunity, since I would be flying to Sabah anyway. So I booked the itinerary for two (yup, perhaps a tad crazy), with an extra night at the Pendant Hut [I learned from past experience that descending immediately after via ferrata was horrible and something I wish not to repeat by choice].

Going back to Sabah is always a heartwarming experience for me — it's like my second home. Fizah came to KK on Saturday, and we went to Benjamin Lodge that evening; it was a beautiful place indeed. There were only two of us (this was my first time hiking Mount K in a small group — previously it was always a group of 7 or more). The hike was at a leisurely pace, and I have to admit I didn't train as much as I did for the past hike. Our malim was Jes — Jesminder (he was our porter too! Hahaha).

Throughout the climb I kept asking myself: "Why did I choose to climb this again? Aren't three times enough?" I thought I wouldn't ask that question again. Hahaha. Nevertheless, the surreal feeling when you reach Panalaban — worth it all. Really, worth it all.

I wore a different jacket this time, and it seems waterproof. Truly waterproof — so much so that I got drenched in my own sweat. Miahaha. Good thing I brought enough changes of clothes.

The summit attack was definitely more challenging with the cold air and dark night. It was much slower this time; previously we had reached Sayat-sayat before 4am. This time it was already 5 — we took our time to reacclimatise and also took a break for Subuh prayer. When we reached the summit at 6.15, the sun had already risen. The golden hue of the sun never disappoints, and we were graced with clear weather — truly grateful for that. The weather had been rather unpredictable prior to that, with some climbers unable to proceed with the summit attack due to strong wind or rain.

Following the summit, we did the via ferrata (the Walk The Torq route — apparently less challenging than the other one, which I had experienced before). The "less challenging" description is rather misleading. Miahaha, it was still challenging. After completing the via ferrata, we went back to Pendant Hut (with much contemplation — something that Hafizah described as "fun, but totally unnecessary"). And... we spent the day sleeping in our cozy sleeping bags, so much so that our guide came to knock on our room so we'd go eat our meal.

On our last morning at Pendant Hut, we spent time writing postcards (we bought some from KK itself, but some at Pendant Hut because we wanted the special stamp — hehe, the highest mountain post in Malaysia stamp 😊). The descent was ok — I mean, it was terrible physically of course, but knowing we were heading back made it bearable. We reached the park around 2pm and found out it was Jes' birthday, because the other guides were wishing him on our way down. So Fizah and I decided to give him a small token of appreciation.

Before leaving for KK, we prayed at the park and had lunch at the nearby restaurant in front of the park. We reached KK before Maghrib; I dropped Fizah off at her place and headed to Syu's house, and we planned to go for a massage afterwards. My tummy was grumbling and I vomited a couple of times. I suspected it was probably AGE, but I could still drink so I thought it was fine. We went for the massage anyway and I regretted it immediately. No fun ☹️. Should have waited a few days at least. That night I was barely able to sleep as I had to go to the toilet every 15–20 minutes to purge. Terrible experience. Sore legs indeed — but looking back, those short trips every 15 minutes were probably the reason my legs recovered quickly. The soreness was almost negligible by the next evening. But yeah, AGE immediately after a Mount K hike was definitely not fun.

Above all, alhamdulillah for the experience and for the fun time with my friends throughout my trip back to Sabah! <3 

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Trust

 Sometimes

The time you dread the most is when you are alone with your thoughts 

When you remembered the people/pets that you lost 

Moments that you missed - perhaps weddings/ gatherings/ graduations 

Or just the people you missed dearly but couldn’t have 

Or they are just far far away that even phone calls/ video calls make you miss them more 

It is sad

And exhausting 

To tell yourself 

That the hurt shall pass

The longing will be paid off when you finally get to meet then 

Or the longing will be rewarded abundantly if you persevere through with beautiful patience

 Because husnuzon ain’t easy

And to trust Allah, and believe that His plan is the best - especially when you don’t understand what’s going on, is really really hard

Allah, grant me absolute trust in You

Unshakable faith in You

And only You Alone

P/s: don’t worry about the screenshot I uploaded. That was a joke, and I am glad the joke was taken in a humorous way (although darkly). Miahahaha. My boss is just that special. #ganjarkannyataufiqdanhidayah

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Insensitive

27012026

I lost Kacak.

Throughout my career, breaking bad news has been an art. A skill you hone—delivering devastating words while maintaining composure, preserving empathy even as you do it again and again. Often, it never feels easier. You simply tell yourself it must be done, so you do it, and you get through it.

It is hardest when you thought you could have saved them. When the loss is followed by a chorus of haunting, evil ifs. Those few patients you carry with you throughout your career. Some, you remember their final moment. Some, the last words you shared. Some, the ashen look on a loved one's face as your words found their mark.

Some days, you had to confirm death.

I remember the routine: the checks, the documentation, informing the nurse-in-charge so the last offices could begin.

In those moments, I never felt fear. Perhaps sadness, or sorrow. But never fear. Never apprehension.

Yesterday, it was different.

I saw Kacak lying on the porch and thought he was sleeping—he loved sleeping in the sun.

He looked as if he were resting. I stood there, enjoying the sight of him... until I noticed he might not be breathing. As I walked towards him, seeing no movement of his breath (a truth already obvious, of course), I kept telling myself I was wrong.

Even standing beside him, I hesitated to touch him. I was terrified of confirming the loss. I did not want to feel that he was still, that he was motionless. I was still hoping he would wake up and come to me.

Reflecting on this moment, I realized how much I had insulated myself all this time.

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