GUNUNG Tahan, at 2,187m above sea level, is dwarfed by its cousin across the South China Sea – the famed Gunung Kinabalu. However, it is Gunung Tahan at the northern border of Taman Negara that is regarded as the most challenging mountain to climb in Malaysia.

When one talks about scaling Gunung Tahan, one usually refers to the seven-day trail via Kuala Tahan, Taman Negara. Less talked about is an alternative entry point through Sungai Relau, Pahang. This was the route we followed when we finally gathered up enough courage to climb the mountain. Sungai Relau is located west of Taman Negara, about 7km from the small town of Merapoh, near Kelantan.

This part of the park has been opened to the public since August 1993. It came about because of the increasing number of visitors to Kuala Tahan. The Department of Wildlife and National Park decided to open Sungai Relau as an alternative gateway to Taman Negara in order to reduce visitor impact on Kuala Tahan.

Today visitors can also access Gunung Tahan via Kuala Koh in Kelantan and Tanjong Mentong in Terengganu.

The trek up Gunung Tahan begins with this suspension bridge at Kuala Juram

The Sungai Relau route takes only two days to get to the summit compared to five from Kuala Tahan. If you don't trek all the way to Kuala Tahan, then it takes just four days to complete the trip up and down. This should be the lazy man's short cut up Gunung Tahan. Or so I thought.

Day 1

We rendezvoused with the staff at the Taman Negara Sungai Relau office in the morning. After registration, we started our journey by taking a 4WD to Kuala Juram (309m), where the actual trail begins. The 4WD drive was supposed to be a 45-minute ride past a 13km forested stretch winding uphill and downhill. However, the first of many unexpected events soon greeted us.

Three-quarters of the way, a fallen tree blocked our way, and we had to continue on foot. The half-hour hike proved to be a mere warm-up. A suspension bridge across a river connecting Kuala Juram to the foot of the mountain heralded the start of our trek.

The first three-hour hike up to Lata Luis (558m) was deceptively easy with relatively gentle slopes and a few river crossings. We smugly surmised that Gunung Tahan's notoriety must have been exaggerated, and so we stopped by the mini waterfall at Lata Luis for lunch in the best of spirits.

Our guide had scaled Gunung Tahan more than a hundred times. I gaped in wonderment at this feat. Taciturn by nature, he also turned out to be very elusive. Unlike most guides, he stayed behind us all the time, out of sight. We worried at intervals whether he had deserted us or maybe had gotten lost himself. When we needed his direction, however, all we had to do was shout, and, amazingly, he would appear out of nowhere.

The trickiest river crossing before we reached the campsite was a 30m wide span of rushing water at the top of a waterfall. One false or careless step and I would have been swept over the edge. Gingerly, I part waded in the knee-deep river and part balanced myself on the slippery boulders to get to the other side. We reached Kem Kor (750m) in the near evening, having covered 13.5km for the day.

It took the climbers three days to reach the peak of Gunung Tahan

My first Gunung Tahan campsite dinner of cooked white rice mixed with canned sambal never tasted better.

Day 2

Packing only the necessary equipment and ration for a night's stay at the peak, we forged on. From Permatang (874m) onwards, the slopes gradually grew steeper and more arduous. I was soon wishing for the kind of gradients we had encountered the previous day.

The next 5km trek to Belumut (1,493m) found us manoeuvring for an eternity over twisted tree roots, hauling ourselves up entrenched rocks and scrambling up earth-encrusted inclines ala Spider Man, though not quite so gracefully. There was plenty of wincing and gasping all round.

Belumut's name is self-explanatory. Everywhere green, spongy moss covered the tree trunks and carpeted the earth. It seemed rather surreal. The ground became softer and looser. Some spots were so mushy that the mud sucked my shoe in and my foot would pop out bare. Retrieving my footwear required some effort. I soon resorted to stepping around mud and skipping over stones.

As we trudged on, the flora around us began to change again. The thick massive trees gradually gave way to more naked bonsai-like plants, and the undergrowth grew sparser. At Bonsai (1,705m), our progress was slower than normal. We had been hiking for 10 hours and there was no hope of us reaching the peak before dark.

My spirits took a dip when the guide pointed out the peak in the distance. In the forest, darkness falls faster than usual. The sky grew gloomier as my heart grew more anxious to reach our next campsite. Soon light faded away and we had to be aided along by flashlight. At 7.30pm, we were at the foot of Botak Hill (1,943m), the second last point just below the peak.

It was then that the unexpected happened. The heavens opened up. At that altitude, being soaked by pounding rain was no fun. Although I had a jacket on, I was soon thoroughly drenched and cold to the bone. The path up the next incline turned into a gushing stream, the waters churning over my shoes as I sloshed and stumbled upwards, ever upwards.

The looming hill beyond me was illuminated in the intermittent flashes of our torches and the lightning streaking the sky. I began to wonder what I was doing up there, instead of sitting cozily at home in front of the TV.

By 9pm, we had reached the flat plain on top of Botak Hill, and still we were 2.4km away from the peak. The guide said it would take us another 1½ hours to reach at the pace we were going. Thoroughly exhausted, we decided instead to camp at Botak Hill and advance to the peak the following morning.

When we had set up camp, I crawled inside the tent to get out of the cold. It rained all night, and I had a fitful sleep as water seeped into our tent, causing a minor flood. We spent half the night scooping the water out and trying to keep warm by drying our jackets over the meagre flames from the gas canister.

Day 3

We advanced towards Gunung Tahan's peak at 8.30am, feeling sprightlier in the brightness of day. Low shrubs fringed the path, so shade was scarce. It is funny how the means is often more interesting than the end. After all that physical exertion and enduring a night of cold and rain, reaching the peak (2,187m) turned out to be an anti-climax of sorts.

The campsite at the top is nothing to rave about: it is just a flat piece of forlorn-looking ground surrounded by low growing vegetation. However, the feeling of achievement and sense of pride lifted the weight from our heavy legs and made the whole trip worthwhile. My friend summed it best when he remarked, "We're standing above everybody else!" – Gunung Tahan being the highest point in Peninsular Malaysia.

That morning the clouds hung heavy, obscuring the view of the mountain ranges in the distance. Just for a few minutes, however, the clouds parted and we managed to catch a glimpse of the landscape. The air felt chilly and fresh, a refreshing change from the city smog.

After tarrying for almost an hour, we retreated to Botak Hill to pack up and head back to Kem Kor. Going downhill, we were not so enthusiastic anymore. We had accomplished our goal, and so the rush to get to the top had worn off a little. My legs were on auto-pilot by now; my mind numbed from fatigue.

We endured another 12 hours of trekking before we reached Kem Kor at night. A drizzle had started by then and I had become a perfect illustration of the expression "turned to stone" – I was literary too exhausted to move.

Day 4

Upon reaching Kuala Juram after noon, we thought we would be heading out to Gua Musang for a sumptuous dinner. However, our transportation had left with a note saying they would only be back to pick us up the next day.

We groaned at the thought of either hiking 13km back to Sungai Relau or spending one more night in the wilderness, now that we were left with just a few pieces of dry bread. Our good guide provided the solution to our predicament. He trekked alone all the way back to Sungai Relau to fetch help for us. After wandering dispiritedly around the campsite until night, the sound and sight of the 4WD was heaven-sent.

As the vehicle pulled away, I looked back at the receding shape of Gunung Tahan. In the darkness, it looked foreboding and mysterious. Will I ever come back again? Probably not. But did I regret setting foot on it? Absolutely not!

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