In the Face of Collapse: Christopher’s Story of Courage During the 2015 Kinabalu Earthquake
On June 5, 2015, a 6.0 magnitude earthquake shook Mount Kinabalu and changed the lives of everyone on the mountain. It left behind grief, trauma, and stories of quiet, determined courage. As we mark the 10th anniversary of the tragedy, we hear from those who were there – mountain guides who carried not only the physical weight of their climbers, but the emotional weight of a community in crisis.
Christopher Peter Ebi, a mountain guide since 2013, was one of them. That morning, he was leading a school group from Pahang. By nightfall, he was helping clear a new path through broken rock, leading a group down the mountain in the dark, and returning again the next day to help retrieve the bodies of those who didn’t survive.
Before the Earth Moved
Christopher’s story with the mountain began when he was just 13 years old. He spent his teenage years at Kinabalu Park before moving away for university and work. But his heart stayed close to the mountain, and by 2013 he had returned to serve as a mountain guide.
On the morning of the earthquake, he was guiding a group of students and teachers from SK Mentakab, Pahang. Everything seemed normal as they summited and began their descent.
The Sound Before the Shaking
At around 7:15AM, while descending from the summit near the 7.5KM mark, Christopher heard what sounded like an airplane revving up, followed seconds later by a loud, cracking noise. Then, the mountain began to shake.
None of them had ever experienced anything like this. The ground trembled. Rocks fell. Trails disappeared. The climbers panicked, and so did the guides. But even in fear, Christopher’s first instinct was to find and protect his climbers.
“They were asking me, ‘What happened?’ But I didn’t know. This had never happened before.”
Stranded at the Summit
(Photo: Vee Jin Dumlao)
For the next ten hours, they were stranded. From 7:15 in the morning until nearly nightfall, Christopher and his fellow guides tried to calm and care for the frightened climbers.
“Some were crying. Some were laughing,,” he said. “I lost my mind for a while. I didn’t know what to do.”
But even in his confusion and fear, Christopher kept going. The guides shared whatever food and water they could find. Biscuits. Sips of water. Supani and Safrey, two other guides, discovered a small pond from which they could collect more.
They did what they could with what they had, and they waited.
The Call That Broke Him
As dthey waited on the mountain, Christopher's phone began ringing. Former climbers from Sarawak, West Malaysia, and even Europe reached out, checking if he was okay. Each message weighed heavier on his heart.
Then came the call from his son.
“Bapa, balik lah. Saya mahu Bapa ada di sini.”
His son’s plea – “Papa, come home. I want you here.” – broke something in him. He cried. Even now, ten years on, the memory brings him to tears.
Decision Time
(Photo: Nurul Hani Ideris)
By mid-afternoon, the guides met to decide what to do. Sabah Parks had informed them that a helicopter would arrive from Miri the next morning. But there was no food, no supplies, and injured climbers among them. The night ahead promised cold, hunger, and danger.
“What will happen to us until the next morning without food? We didn’t have anything... it might get worse after,” Christopher remembered.
By 4:30PM, Safrey made a decision. The risks were high, but the longer they waited, the more they stood to lose. He asked Christopher to announce it: they would soon begin descending.
Clearing a Path Down
At around 5:30PM, Christopher and a small group – including Safrey, Supani, and one other guide – began preparing the descent. Christopher went to the Sayat-Sayat checkpoint to retrieve ropes, then asked another guide to bring more.
He tied a rope from the 7KM mark down the slope, where small rocks were still falling. The main trail had collapsed. There was no clear way forward.
So, they cleared one. The small team moved ahead, guiding the climbers through unstable ground, leading the descent while other guides protected and supported those following behind.
A Long Descent Into Darkness
It was not just a physical challenge, but a mental one. In total darkness, through unfamiliar and dangerous terrain, they moved carefully and steadily.
They reached the base by 1:00AM. Christopher was exhausted, unable to eat. Someone offered him a soda, and he drank it in silence. Then he went home.
The next morning, he returned. Not for another group, but for his friends.
Some had not made it down. Recovery missions began. “They lost their souls up there,” he said quietly. Returning to that space was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
“I Didn’t Want to Be a Guide Anymore”
When Mount Kinabalu reopened to climbers in December 2015, Christopher was ready to quit. The trauma was too deep. The pain still raw.
But then, a family from Singapore, who had lost loved ones on the mountain that day, requested that Christopher guide them.
He couldn’t say no. “Maybe they liked me as their guide,” he said, “That’s why I’m back.”
He returned to the mountain. He has been guiding ever since.
A Final Message
Christopher doesn’t share his story often. For years, he avoided speaking to anyone about that day. The pain is still close to the surface.
But he shares this now with a message: “Please respect wherever you are. Not just Mount Kinabalu, but other places as well.”
In his words, we are reminded that Mount Kinabalu is not just a peak to conquer, but a place to honour, and that the guides who walk its trails carry more than backpacks. They carry memory. They carry grief. And they carry us.
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