Ok one more time, tell me about the toilet...

Unfortunately, our time in the hammock and lazily walking on the beach had to come to an end...

We caught a mini bus from the Tip back to the hustle and bustle of KK, for a flight out early the morning of New Years Eve, to begin the long journey home.
With one last night in Borneo, Heather decided that while the jungle was amazing, working Western toilets also deserve their props...
We checked into the new swanky, Hotel 63... a real life, honest to God hotel.

Hello Mr. desk clerk guy, with a uniform... One room please, with a toilet that you can sit on and flushes, and a shower that only we will use for the evening...

and a bed, with clean sheets, no mosquito netting, and oh my goodness, I can stand and not whack my head on a banana leaf thatched roof... yeah!!!

forecast calls for some light rain

Two merry Australians arrived the next day with a car and offered to take us for a drive along the coast... goodbye mountain bikes, hello comfort...

We spent the afternoon hitting one secluded beach after another.

This beach was super cool... a long sand bar extended from the coast to a small island and during low tide you could walk across.

The obligatory "jumping for joy, cuz we are here and not there", photo

On the way home, we discovered a field full of watermelons, beautiful, perfect, red, fruity, delicious watermelons... there is something to be said for hunting, picking and eating your OWN watermelon.

The cloud formations in this place are stunningly epic, like what you might imagine God's foyer to look like... the canvas stretches from distant sea horizon to the stars, and His brush has danced across every inch, filling in detail with soft subtle beauty, taken in aggregate, steals one's earthly breathe away.

Each place in Borneo we have spent time, we have been fortunate to meet some truly quality people, with the Tip being no different... from left to right, Rose and Mame (Kiwis), Natalie (ze German), Kristen and Remco (Dutch), back row... Rodger and Ian (Aussies) and Howard (the Englishman and proprietor of Tampat Do Aman), front row... Helen and Wade (Aussies).

And you would never believe it, but it rained later that evening...

I am not sure what magical properties exist within the banana leaf, but we stayed warm and dry as it pissed down rain all night long.

AWAS ahead

After a ridiculously relaxing day, we decided to get back on the ole bike, literally.

The hut and beach are very isolated near the Tip of Borneo. There are miles and miles and miles of coast line, spotted with secluded beaches.

Howard has a truck, one single truck that is not available to rent, so you either walk or take the mountain bikes.

Of course, there is this easy to follow map, drawn up in crayon on a board in the common room... given both Heather and Riad's inherent internal compass, what could possible go wrong?!?

The day started with sunshine and happiness...

but soon turned to a series of hills, umm yeah, so recall we had JUST finished climbing UP and DOWN a freakin mountain. Heather was not happy, my ass was not happy.

I wonder what AWAS means...

Oh yeah, AWAS in bold and red means... DANGER, in this specific case, "DANGER old, wobbly wood and metal bridge, cross at your own risk, but then again, if you don't cross, then it is back over those damn hills you loved so much earlier".
The Malay words can convey a lot in a few letters.

After the bridge debacle, and flagging down more than a few quizzical looking Malay's, we hit our stride, passing beautiful rice fields...

Before finally collapsing back on the beach...

South China Sea, please meet Sulu Sea

The next morning, we decided to take a quick walk up the coast to the actual Tip of Borneo, where the land ends, and two Seas meet... the South China Sea on the West Coast and the Sulu Sea on the East Coast.

South China Sea, a more gangsta style sea, birthplace of classic west coast sea creatures, NWA, Tupac & Dr. Dre.

Sulu Sea, adhering to a more lyrical, political sea typified by east coast sea creatures, Public Enemy, Run DMC and Biggy.

On our way back, we ran into the thriving surf scene...

Of course, I simply dropped that I was a Californian, and BAM, they handed me a board and asked that I demonstrate my mad surf skillz...

It was not pretty, beach break with a sandy bottom, the waves came in hard and broke fast, mostly right on top of me.
On behalf of all my California surf friends... I deeply apologize and will stick to representing myself as a Canadian not a Californian.

the Presidential Suite

After the sheer physical and mental exhaustion of the climb up AND down the mountain, some serious R&R was in order.
Heather hit the jackpot when she overheard a couple of Aussies chatting about the Tip of Borneo in a cafe... up at the furthest northern point of the island of Borneo, there is a small village, home to the Rungus, another indigenous tribe.

Apparently, a few years ago, an ex-British solider went in search of a little slice of heaven and found it in a new Rungus wife and a small bed & breakfast called Tampat Do Aman, or place where the white guy found love and peace in the Rungus language.

There are about a dozen huts and a longhouse. We opted for the hut, the Chili cottage.

The space includes a few outdoor showers, some compost toilets, a common area, and a rice paddy, where they grow their own delicious rice.

Mr. Bacchus, we have today's itinerary... let's see we have a 10am- Do nothing, also an 11am-Take nap, followed by a 1, 2 and 3pm-Resume doing nothing.

Heather quickly met the locals...

Security was a major priority, with Deputy Dog alert and ready for anything...

5 star accommodations, a solid 15 sq. feet with mosquito netting and a thatched banana leaf roof.

Sunset at the nearby beach said it all... is there a Rungus phrase for Heather and Riad pack it in and find their own little slice of paradise?

Italian for Are you Insane?!?

Congratulations clowns, you summited, bagged the peak, now an easy walk back to the guest house for a nap, a lovely Christmas breakfast and skip back down the hill, right?!? Right?
Wrong... please, why take an escalator when we can crawl down, while crying and screaming and crying and more screaming.

Allow me to introduce you to our new Italian acquaintance, goes by the name of Via Ferrata...
Via Ferrate is Italian for iron road, or iron way and describes a fixed mountain climbing route.
The sturdy steel cable connects a series of hand and foot holds and the nutter, err climber, secures themselves to the cable whilst wearing a harness and a carabiner.
The idea is to allow random morons such as myself, to experience what only a famous Paul Parker (good friend who is a rockstar climber), could ever experience.

Mom, I am sorry I did not mention this before, I know you would NOT be pleased with this well researched and thought through idea.

Geared up and ready to rock... the goofy letterman jacket, another gift from those who came before and left clothing. The ledge on the left of the photo... we will be plunging over that in a moment.

Heather hoping that this harness is strapped in better than the harness back in Mulu...

And we just stepped over the edge... mommy, please make the bad man stop...

The route is separated into 3 sections, the first is a 600 meter descent / traverse.
At approximately the halfway point of the first section... the steel cable, giant metal hooks, harness and guide, all appear to be functioning properly... perhaps there is a way we can avoid plummeting to our deaths.

Heather not only has gills, but she has wings somewhere as well...

Off in the distance (bottom right in the photo), is Laban Rata, where the morning summit began...

Is it me, or does she seem a little too relaxed? I mean, who lounges like this at 12000 ft, hanging off the side of a mountain???

Just don't look down...

After crushing the first section, it was time for a "light walk through some jungle", direct quote from the guide... HA... some jungle is right, as opposed to a trail, or even a jungle trail... we literally picked our way through super dense vegetation, growing on the side of the mountain... ugh only in Borneo.

By the final section, our confidence had grown to the point where the harness and clipping in were no longer necessary... just kidding Mom.

Big thanks to our Via Ferrata guide, Mohammed Ali, he floated like a butterfly and kept us safe from bees and falls to our death.

Finally back to Laban Rata guest house, completely empty as all the other guests choose the escalator and were long gone back down the mountain.
Christmas lunch was fried rice and scrambled egg in a styrofoam container and a cup of lemon tea.

Special thanks again to Heidi and Kevin; KK, and especially the mountain was a great time largely because we were able to experience the adventure with you both.

It started to rain quite hard before our hike down, so we donned our bright yellow Mulu cave ponchos and pretended to be Christmas ornaments.

We arrived back in KK Christmas day evening, awake almost 24 hours, having hiked 11 miles, experienced 14,600 ft change in elevation(7300 up and 7300 down), completely exhausted.
Merry Christmas and God bless, each and every one.
Miss you especially 3 Klowns, both Moms, Hans, Dinna, Reza and Anna.