Mt Kinabalu, Sabah, late 2023.

There was no way out, I just had to trust my body. Hope that my legs wouldn’t fail.

I stepped off the tree root into the muddy puddle about 30 centimetres below and the jolt on landing shot up my leg and crashed into my knee. Just like the step before, and the one before that, although that time the pain had speared past my knee and crashed into my hip. Muscles, ligaments, tendons, bones fighting together in protest.

Each step down the mountain was worse than the one before. With every step for almost six hours I feared my ankles would crack and crumble or my knees twist and burn, leaving me in a tangled heap never to rise again.

Spreading my weight evenly across quivering legs and hiking poles I was a spider crabbing down the stepped path, forlornly hoping for a slight levelling around the corner to provide momentary respite.

Why had nobody told me the descent from the mountain would be so much harder and more painful than the ascent?

At 4095 metres, Mt Kinabalu in Sabah on the island of Borneo is the tallest mountain anywhere between the highlands of New Guinea and the Himalayas. Its proximity to the equator means it has neither snow nor glaciers, making it climbable for enthusiastic amateurs. People like us.

Our journey had started more than 30 hours earlier at the melodic Timpohon Gate, a sort of start line for the 150-odd daily climbers and their mountain guides. At 64 and 66 years of age, Judith and I weren’t the oldest to set out that day, but we were up there. Most of the climbers had bodies with much less wear and tear.

Despite the occasional rain, we enjoyed the day-long climb through the rain forest to the overnight guesthouse at 3200m just above the tree line. Up through the clouds, past colourful orchids, tiny mountain squirrels and pitcher plants the size of coffee cups.

Overloaded with stimuli, my brain swirled through snatches of trekking and climbing songs and settled on lyrics I wouldn’t have thought I knew: There’s always gonna be another mountain/I’m always gonna wanna make it move/Always gonna be an uphill battle …

The Climb. A Miley Cyrus song. But it wasn’t Miley I saw in my mind’s eye. It was Alan Cumming singing the song in his successful but quirky cabaret act.

I find Cumming fascinating. Scottish, although able to perform in any accent; victim of a bullying father; chameleon; raconteur. He’s played gay, straight, villain and hero; stage and screen. He might seem a little creepy in cabaret but he sure has talent, and on this day his version of The Climb just wouldn’t leave my head. I was pleased when we stopped walking for the day and the worm returned underground.

Dawn on the mountaintop was awesome, breathtaking; a mix of euphoria, exhaustion and self-satisfaction as the sun rose over South-East Asia. But then we had to return to earth.

The Climb returned to my head: The struggles I’m facing/The chances I’m taking/Sometimes might knock me down, but/No, I’m not breaking … On and on, for hours.

Sometime in the late afternoon we reached the bottom, which is where the music finally died. The Climb ends with: … Sometimes you’re gonna have to lose/Ain’t about how fast I get there/Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side/It’s the climb…

I’ll always remember the climb but it’s unlikely there will ever be another mountain, my knees just wouldn’t take it. No, Alan, I’ve retired from mountain climbing – albeit with a winning record, 1-0.

Stereo Story #779

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Hugh Jones is an experienced media manager and journalist. He worked for News Limited in Australia for more than 20 years in a wide variety of editorial roles, including as a newspaper editor. He has also worked in the United Kingdom, both in London and the provinces. He now works in public relations and strategic communications, advising a wide range of organisations on their communication needs. Hugh is president of the Williamstown Literary Festival, a long-time supporter of Stereo Stories.