Berhala Island - Borneo, Malaysia

I have been obsessed with National Geographic since I was a kid. At the beginning of every month, I would sprint to the front door as soon as I heard the brass flap of the mail drop clank and the shuffle of parcels dropping to the hardwood floor to grab my newest issue. Poring over the glossy pages, I actually felt as if I swam with great whales, rode lumbering camels through the deserts of Pakistan, and trekked across the mighty Himalaya themselves. Each issue opened the window on a world so dramatically different and exciting than my dull New Jersey suburb.

Fast forward about 25 years: This past July, my girlfriend Lisa and I were plotting our next move on an Asian climbing trip and needed to get out of Indonesia before our visa was up. As we gazed at a map of the region to plan our course, I saw that a short flight would bring us to Malaysian Borneo. With steamy jungles hosting deadly pit vipers that can stop a man's heart in less than ten minutes, secretive villages that can only be reached by dugout canoe and miles of exotic coastline, Borneo was exactly the Nat Geo-esque adventure I had been longing for my entire life. And as if that wasn't enough, we had heard rumors of exceptional sport routes pocketed throughout the Malaysian state of Sabah. Sold!

When we arrived in the metropolitan hub of Kota Kinabalu (KK), I was certain we had arrived in the wrong country. No way were we on the island of Borneo – perhaps we had mistakenly touched down in megatropilis of Singapore. Instead of lush jungle, there were congested freeways. The secretive villages were now strip malls. And acre after acre of land was neatly dotted with rows of palm trees, waiting patiently to be processed into palm oil. I shuddered at the thought of how much habitat had been lost in the name of this "progress." While I certainly did not expect all Malaysians to go on living in grass huts forever, I struggled to see any balance between nature and society. It seemed that this community had adopted our bad habits along with Western ideals. At least in this part of the country, dugout canoes had been traded in for shiny Mercedes long ago.

I was disheartened but not ready to give up on Borneo that easily. There were still some adventures to be had, and we were going to find them. When I saw Lisa pointing excitedly at her computer screen, I strolled over to see what she had found. My jaw dropped to the floor. About six hours across the state on an island known as Berhala, there was a sandstone monolith rising 130 meters out of the sea and stretching out for over a kilometer. And the best part – about 30 sport routes had just been bolted.

Upon further research, we found that the bolting project was being led by Simon Amos, a British expat with driving passion to put Malaysian Borneo on the map as a climbing destination. Director of Fieldskills Expedition Services (www.fieldskills.com), Simon is an accomplished explorer, expedition leader and medic. When he's not rigging cameras in the canopy for Jeff Corwin, organizing treks for visiting expedition teams or mountain biking through jungle villages with his friends, he's working on the creation of KK's first true rock gym – Sabah Indoor Climbing Centre. Honestly, I don't think the guy ever sleeps. For one of his latest projects, Simon was commissioned by a hotel developer to front the recreational sports portion of an upcoming project on Berhala's east beach. This venture triggered the audacious decision to bolt on this virtually undiscovered island.