Leadership on an expedition isn’t about standing on the highest rock—it’s about bringing people home safe, proud, and a little wiser.
Several years ago I led a group of school children and teachers up Mount Kinabalu (Low’s Peak, 4,095 m) in Sabah, Borneo. It’s a beautifully structured two-day climb: Day 1 from Timpohon Gate (≈1,866 m) up to the Laban Rata / Panalaban huts; Day 2 is a pre-dawn push across the famous granite slabs to catch sunrise on the summit and then descend back to the park.
That first day, everything went to plan. We checked into the mountain huts, ate hot food, and bedded down. A few students felt the altitude a little—normal for the jump to ~3,272 m—and one had recently recovered from a cold (news to me after a call home). We agreed to evaluate her at 4 a.m. and only continue if she felt strong.
By headtorch at 4 a.m., she said she felt good. We set off. The upper mountain is a different world: thinner air, steady cold (often near 0 °C at the top), and long traverses of bare granite with fixed ropes guiding you towards Sayat-Sayat and the summit cones. It’s spectacular—and unforgiving if you’re depleted.
Two hours in, the combination of altitude and wind chill caught up with her. Before the trip, I’d set a clear protocol with our local guides and adult staff: if anyone struggled, I would dedicate myself to that student while the guides led the rest of the team to the summit within park rules and timing cut-offs. (Kinabalu has long required accredited guides, strictly controls daily permits, and keeps the summit route time-boxed for safety.)
Making the tough Decision
So I made the call: we retreated a little to shelter near the rest huts above Laban Rata. She slept, rehydrated, and warmed up. As we descended into thicker air, her condition improved quickly—a reminder of how fast symptoms ease once you drop altitude on Kinabalu. When a local guide could continue supervising her descent, I moved to re-join the main group—as they descended from the upper plateau. I had missed my summit opportunity but wasn’t overly bothered, as I had stood up there about 5 years prior on another trek.
I didn’t stand on the summit that morning. And I still count that climb as one of my best leadership days.
What That Day Reinforced for Me
Your summit isn’t the summit. Success is the team returning safely with their goal met—even if your own summit bid stops short.
Plans beat heroics. Pre-briefed roles, guide ratios, and “if-then” decisions let us act fast when a student faded. (Kinabalu’s setup helps: minibus to Timpohon Gate, clear staging at Panalaban, fixed ropes on the slabs, and experienced local guides who know every marker on the ~8.5 km route.)
Respect the mountain’s tempo. On Kinabalu you typically start 2:00–2:30 a.m. for sunrise. It looks straightforward on paper, but that final 2.4 km from Laban Rata to the summit across open granite can feel endless in cold, thin air.
Local expertise is non-negotiable. Kinabalu’s guide culture is world-class. Their professionalism—shaped by decades on the mountain and, sadly, hard lessons—underpins safe outcomes. (After the 5 June 2015 earthquake, the community rebuilt routes and tightened practices; today’s Ranau summit trail and quotas reflect that safety-first mindset.)
Practical Kinabalu Notes if you are planning a trek
Permits & beds drive the plan. Historically, daily climber numbers were capped by available beds at Panalaban/Laban Rata and park limits; you book accommodation and permits well in advance through licensed operators/Sabah Parks.
Altitude & weather matter. Expect 6–14 °C between Timpohon and Panalaban and around freezing near the peak; a warm hut dinner helps, but a pre-dawn wind can sap energy fast.
Terrain changes with elevation. You’ll pass rainforest to cloud forest to sub-alpine scrub, then that iconic moon-scape of granite—the big mental switch is when vegetation disappears and the rope lines and paint markers lead you into the dark.
The Leadership Takeaway
I didn’t “lose” a summit that day—I kept a team. The rest of the group earned their sunrise. One student learned that turning back can be wise, not weak. And I was reminded that the most important peaks in leadership are often invisible: preparation, trust, clear roles, and the courage to give up your own summit so someone else can safely reach theirs.
