How to not get flooded in a van from Poring to Kota Kinabalu
We survive a hair-raising van ride, discover great customer service and settle into Kota Kinabalu
This is a travel journal of our adventures in South East Asia. Trust a bunch of Newfoundlanders to find trouble no matter where they go! You can read the entries as we climb Mt. Kinabalu and explore some parts of Thailand. A month after we left, this entire region was devastated by the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 2004. We were very lucky to have witnessed life and adventure before that and our hearts go out to everyone in this journal who might have been affected. A gallery of photos from this trip is available on my photos site.
9am November 25, 2004 Poring Hot Springs
The descent to Timpohon Gate at the base of Mt. Kinabalu was one of the most brutal hikes I have ever done. I don’t remember it being this difficult 15 years ago. Maybe my 15-year-old knees could take more punishment than this.
That said, the five of us descended in just three hours, with me running the last half-kilometer after finally giving up on carefully treading down the steps. All four of us guys, at least, are feeling like creaking old men.
I have decided to name our guide, Junios Lambayo, the Invisible Man. I’m not sure how a guide can manage to become invisible, but Junios somehow did the impossible. Naturally, we didn’t bother tipping him—I don’t tip ghosts!
After a celebratory Stella Artois at the Park HQ (where, once again, a working Visa machine had to be found that could actually accept Chris’ card), we headed to Poring.
On the way, we finally found an ATM that was:
In service
Had cash
Could actually contact our banks
Hallelujah!
So far at Poring, we’ve visited the hot springs, which are mostly individual tubs that you need to fill yourself. Unfortunately for Chris and Andrew—who actually bothered to try—the tubs tended to be of the slow-filling, fast-draining variety.
Our mathematical calculations led us to conclude that one of those tubs might be filled in a month. Certainly within our lifetime. But definitely not that evening.
Dinner was a happy, if drawn-out, affair. We celebrated Megan’s birthday and were served beer (Bali Hai Lager) by four-year-old waiters. The food at the Tropicana Coffeehouse and Restaurant was excellent, but with only one cook, it took three hours to get our food. Not fast food by any stretch, but we weren’t complaining.
Tomorrow, we have a rainforest tree canopy walk, a descent into the famous bat caves, and then we’ll be reaching Kota Kinabalu by evening!
11pm November 25, 2004, City Park Inn, Kota Kinabalu
This has to be the funniest day so far on this trip. A day in which we learned several things.
Lesson 1: Never Order a "Large Coffee" in Borneo
We sat down for breakfast at Restoran Kalibimbang (love the name) at Poring Hot Springs.
Mike ordered a small coffee (actual size: 2 cups).
Andrew ordered a medium coffee (actual size: a pot for about 3 cups).
Chris, in a Singapore Starbucks frame of mind, ordered a large coffee.
Unfortunately for Chris, this "large" coffee pot contained enough for about 25 cups. No kidding—at least 4 liters.
What were they thinking? Have they never realized that this is too much for one person? Four liters of black coffee is probably enough to kill someone in one sitting.
Megan said: "I bet the girl goes inside and says, ‘Why do they always laugh when I bring out the large coffee?’"
Lesson 2: A Rainforest Canopy Walk After Climbing a Mountain Is a Bad Idea
More bloody steps.
I swear, when I am on my deathbed and someone asks me, "What do you remember of Borneo?" I will turn to them, grimace, and say:
"Borneo—the land of steps."
That said, the canopy walk was fantastic. I remember it from last time, almost 15 years ago. Funnily enough, according to the sign, we must have been there when it first opened.
Bizarre.
Lesson 3: A Perfectly Sound-Looking Vehicle Can Actually Get Flooded. While Moving.
This deserves an explanation.
At noon, we said goodbye to Megan and headed to Ranau to catch a public minibus to Kota Kinabalu. We found a van for 40 RM (10 RM each).
Well, we got what we paid for.
The bags were on our laps (not that bad, really).
The driver was busy text messaging on his Nokia—probably paying more attention to that than to driving on wet mountain roads. Chris, who was up front, apparently just closed his eyes at that point.
The back door wasn’t closed properly, so I spent much of the ride contorted, holding Andrew’s bag in case the door flew open.
We drove through a torrential downpour, and the van started leaking. Mike, in a vain attempt to emulate the Dutch boy along the seawall, tried to stop the flood with his fingers.
We have video footage.
The Case of the Missing City Park Inn
Despite all this, we arrived in one piece—and with dry bags. Ultimately, it was still better than a lot of bus rides I’ve taken in Asia.
Before leaving, Megan had asked us to check for her phone, which she had left at Park HQ. Good news! They had found it during a room cleaning.
Our plan was to stay at the City Park Inn in Kota Kinabalu (on Megan’s recommendation) and leave her phone with reception for her to pick up later. Apparently City Park Inn was near a big mall named Centrepoint in Kota Kinabalu. Slight problem: apparently no cab driver knew where the Inn was.
Realizing that negotiating with taxi drivers during a downpour was both stupid and wet, we decided to go to Centrepoint Mall for food and then find the place once we were sated.
Naturally, being in a mall, Chris had a craving for Pizza Hut—and we obliged.
To put it into context:
There were five servers, with two people working the till.
All the instructions were given in English—which apparently none of the servers understood.
At one point, after taking our order, our server disappeared.
No one would bring our food to us.
The two at the till kept banging plates and yelling in English, but the five servers just sat at a table, silently fascinated by a card game and a pair of scissors.
As Chris pointed out, one was so bored by the cards, the scissors, and our food (which was waiting for us), she fell asleep.
Mike and I left Andrew and Chris at Pizza Hut and valiantly braved Kota Kinabalu traffic and its weirdly functioning pedestrian lights (here we learned that jaywalking was safer).
Finally, we found City Park Inn.
Oh joy.
The rest of the evening was relatively quiet.
We found a laundry place and had tea with an old-time Punjabi Sabah Indian doctor, now emigrated to Australia. He gave us the lowdown on the changes in Sabah since independence.
Notable comment:
"Things changed when the bloody British left. Mind you, we didn’t ask them to leave."
The Pizza Hut incident came back to haunt us.
Later that evening, Myrick spectacularly put his foot in his mouth. During dinner he started expounding on the bad service at Pizza Hut just as the waitress came to clean the table.
She left shocked and rather frightened, thinking that Chris was talking about her. This left Chris mightily embarrassed and desperately finding ways to tip her. Myrick has probably sent this poor girl home in tears.
Chris is a bastard.
A Final Thought
This day has no parallels.
God bless the Land of Stairs—a place where Richard Simmons would feel supremely happy recording people climbing Mt. Kinabalu, while Sally Struthers campaigned for "Contacts for Cambodia," all to the sound of ’80s dance music being piped through the trees.
Yes, that made no sense. I’ve been drinking.