Kuching
Climbing on Malaysia’s Borneo Island
He reached into a large pocket and gained a shaky grip on what felt like a mud bucket. With his other hand, he took a wire from his harness, and fought through cobwebs to f iddle it into a slot in the wall of slime.
“This is crazy,” he muttered to himself, inspecting the placement, before turning to his belayer and crying out forcefully, “This is really crazy.”
This is ground-up trad-climbing in Borneo, and it’s the only way to put up new routes on the abundant limestone walls in the countryside about 50 km outside of Kuching, Malaysia. To do so required some nerve. The humid tropics are unsurprisingly a haven for layers of grime and soft gooey things, spindly spider nets and all manner of creepy crawlies. It wasn’t uncommon to see a snake poke its head out from a hueco.
The lead climber, Ryan Weller, and I had arrived for the annual Rock On festival. We met some friends, ate some delicious noodles, roti and laksa and stayed longer at the invitation of Malcolm and Eunice Jitam. They were the driving force behind the local climbing scene. They had spotted our trad rack, saw spiders in our hair and moss clinging to our limbs. Establishing new routes in Borneo leaves you really dirty.
Climbing in Kuching kicked off in 1999, when Malcolm began developing the area around the Fairy Caves – a popular tourist destination with lots of featured limestone. He invited an Australian crew to bolt and climb the rock. First was the Batman Wall, a 50- metre slightly overhanging wall that starts with a virtually unclimbable six-metre roof several metres above the ground.
Climbing in Kuching kicked off in 1999, when Malcolm Jitam began developing the area around the Fairy Caves – a popular tourist destination with lots of featured limestone.
It makes for a high-value vertical experience. A long stick-clip and ladder are needed to get the climber to the first clip at the roof ’s lip with Batman-style, gri gri-assisted hoists. Then you may start linking the wall’s many features, from tufas to giant holes that may or may not be hiding a snake.
The climbing torch was later picked up by German expat, Alex Holke, who put up a number of lines to 5.13b on the Batman Wall, which, in spite of the climate, stayed relatively clean.
Today, there are more than 80 sport routes in the area, with more coming – so long as Malcolm and Eunice can find keen partners.
Enter Weller, a stocky, rugged guy with fingers the size of ancient Greek marble pillars. He started up one line, placed some gear and sat on it while drilling a bolt. Sometimes he drilled as he held onto a plant or two. “My hand is in slime,” he calmly reported at one point, with only a slight hint of desperation.
Once he topped out and drilled an anchor, I had the honour of top-roping and then cleaning on the way down. We wore the bristles on steel brushes down every day. First, the outer layer of dust would come off the rock and then whatever life forms laid beneath. It was an undesirable, exhausting task – but not terrifying in the slightest.
While I was cleaning a route, Weller started up a neighbouring line. He was about 15 metres up when I heard him yelp. His tiny brass RP was wedged behind a f lake and was well-placed, but the
For more info, contact Malcolm Jitam at borneo4x4@gmail.com
rock blew when he weighted it. He f lew six metres onto a bolt he had just drilled. In light of his choice of protection and the challenging nature of the ascent, he named the route Brass Balls.
Another route we established was short. It started in a small chimney with a roof crack that fit Weller’s chunky digits perfectly, but which swallowed mine whole. Fat Fingers seemed an appropriately f lattering name. Aside from cranking on jugs up the overhanging jewels of Batman Wall, we ate every day with the local tribe in their thatch bungalow, immersing ourselves in the local customs. Fish and rice, veggies, and rice wine. Sitting on the f loor, we would eat with our hands.
One of the last routes we did was three pitches up the front of the wall that guards the entrance to the Fairy Cave. We rappelled in and climbed back up as busloads of tourists walked into the cave below. Their necks craned to see two figures above wrestling with the rope. By the time we were finished, the grins on our faces could be seen through the dirt, cobwebs and sweat on our faces.