Hill Tribes of Thailand- Day 5

Hill Tribes of Thailand

Hiking Through the Rain Forest

July 1992

This is the last piece of a five day series.

Day Five- Our last day in the rain forest

We got up as usual with the roosters. We walked to our final Village. this village was only a few miles away so we were there by lunch time. These villagers were ready for us. They were perfectly dressed in traditional garb which they changed into right in front of us. We’re told to watch all of our belongings. This village was close to Bangkok and much of the village industry centered around opium sales. So crime was becoming a problem.

We sat on the floor of the long house and we were all a little relieved. The five-day hike was over. After lunch, elephants were going to come to get us a take us back to the city. I could hardly wait to see those big beast of burden.

Sitting on the floor I suddenly felt a sharp poke in my ankle. It really hurt. Then Kathy winced in pain as well. We looked around and saw the culprit. A small boy had a bamboo pole and was underneath the house. He was poking everyone in his path. He was laughing away and I wanted to smack him because it pierced my ankle and now I was bleeding. Finally, someone went under the house and chased him away. He ran away laughing.

A few minutes later I noticed him again. He was on the steps, swinging at something. As I watched closely I saw him take the final blow needed to kill a baby chicken. He killed this chicken just for the fun of it. again he run off laughing. This was the only violence we had seen over last five days. I wondered what effect all this opium had on his mother and on him.

We were eating lunch when Rae announced “they’re here”. The elephant had arrived. two young boys who looked to be about 12 were the elephant guides. Our porters disappeared with all of our belongings. I don’t know what happened to them. But now all of our safety was put in the hands of these young boys

 The elephants came up to the side of the longhouse and we mount them on their heads. wooden seat rested on their shoulders. Two of us shared one elephant. I was the first one on the elephant.  I had to crawl on its head and take a side on the bench. it felt as If that bench had slid halfway down. I was afraid I was going to fall off. Once Helen got on the balance was back to normal. We settled in and we sat on this bench and this animal as if we were the queen of the jungle.

The ride was not relaxing. The seat was hard.  We had to dodge tree branches that unexpectedly scraped our faces. We got sprayed by urine from the other elephants. We got leg cramps because there was no place to rest our legs. And we had to cross the rapid river which was so deep that the water came up to the elephants’ eyeballs. What would happen if this big, clumsy animal slipped? Could it be washed away? And what if this damn two-ton animal slipped and I fell off and it rolled on me and crushed me to death. And then I thought what should be less painful: drowning to death or being crushed to death by an elephant that was drowning to death.

While I was having this moment of free-floating anxiety I noticed something. Our 12-year-old guide was on the other side of the river. He hasn’t crossed over with us. He was climbing the cliff on his side and shouting commands to the elephants in the water. The elephants were instructed to cross the river, get back up on land, walk for a couple hundred yards and then cross the river again and come back to the original side of the river. The original sided no path for a few hundred feet.  So we had to cross the river. But the guide couldn’t cross the river with us because the current was too strong. So the kid shouted commands until we were all reunited.

What is the kid fell and landed in the water and drowned? Who was in charge then? These elephants only recognized Thai and Ray knows a little Thai but she was no elephant trainer. So now I had to worry about the elephant slipping and drowning and me drowning and the guides slipping and drowning. I was filled with so much anxiety but I wished we were walking. This elephant ride was too stressful.

We got back to Chiang Mia in one piece. We were filthy and tired. We hooked up with Gale who was rested and clean and excited to be back with people who spoke English. She wanted to talk and we wanted solitude. We’d been inseparable for five days so retreat to a clean hotel room was a welcomed respite. I went back to my room to get cleaned up. The warm water soaked my aching body. The soap was smooth and fragrant. After five minutes in the shower I turned off the water and let all my filth slipped down the drain. That I plugged up the tub and took a long luxurious hot bath. I try to nap in the tub but my mind was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about these last five days.

Hill Tribes of Thailand- Day 4

Hill Tribes of Thailand

Hiking Through the Rain Forest

 July 1992

THIS STORY IS A CONTINUATION FROM YESTERDAY.

Day Four- Running Out of Water

Rae suggested we bath in the river before we started out today. She thought the cool water would be a welcomed comfort to all of us. I was finally to the point where I was willing to surrender to the moment. I went in completely clothes as it is standard protocol. That was pretty hard to do a thorough cleaning. But at least I was able to get some blood off my stained shorts.

Prior to getting into the water I confessed to Rae that I couldn’t swim. I sense that she just about had enough of it with my multitude of inadequacies. It was sort of the last straw. If I drowned today too bad. But I didn’t drown. It was refreshing and it felt great to get out of the water fully clothes and wet and sit on a rock and let the sun quickly dry me.

Rae suggested we all grab a bottle of water and then be on our way. We had 8 miles to cover today. It was then that our guide announced that we were completely out of drinking water. We had used the last of it for breakfast. It would be two more days until we had clean bottled water. So what were we to do?

 The cook unpacked a wok and took it down to the river, filled it with water and boiled it. Another porter went around the village and retrieved the empty bottles we have freely given up to the locals. When the water boiled, we filled up a bottle for each of us. I had a bottle of water pills so I dropped a few of them into my gray water which looked and tasted like gray pool water. This was unpleasant and a sobering moment about the importance of water. I was afraid of becoming very sick and I contemplated fighting the balances staying hydrated vs swallowing up parasite. This trip was getting dangerous.

We started walking and I went on automatic pilot. I didn’t think about it. I just put one foot in front of the other and I kept moving. There’s no sense in complaining. Tomorrow at this time I will have finished all of my walking. But right now my feet really ached.

Mid-morning, we stopped for a break near a stream. We decided take our shoes off and soak our sore feet in the cold water. I noticed my toenails. they were all a dark color but I made an assumption they were just stained by the die from my socks. But then Dave accidently rolled on my feet and I shook in pain. When I looked up my toenails again, I saw they were all bruised. I put so much strain on my feet that I damaged every nail. I knew within the next couple days every toenail was going to fall off.

Rae looked at my feet.  she panicked. she was worried that I couldn’t complete the hike. So she gave me her sneakers which were a size bigger than mine. Dave gave me two pairs of his dirty socks and I cushioned my toes as best I could. Rae took my my cheap Kmart sneakers that offered no support. They were a size too small and off we went both of us limping for the rest of the day.

That night we were having dinner with the village chief. he began to point to us and then to his son. Our guide told us that the chief hoped we can fix his son. The boy, about 15 years old, had cut himself by accident with his own machete. his arm was badly infected and he refused to go to the hospital which would be a four-day walk for him. Apparently a village elder went to the hospital once and never came back. So the hospital was a place to go for the dying.

We all looked at his arm and nearly threw up. I am no medical doctor but that arm was oozing with gangrene and I thought the arm should be amputated. It was just filled with infection.

Rae did her best to convey to the local guide that if this boy didn’t go to the hospital, he could die. But her suggestions fell on deaf ears. The boy was going nowhere. His only hope was us: a bunch of dirty, old, tired Americans with their own personal pharmacies of drugs. We pulled our resources and try to figure out what we had. As we were getting our plan together the village spirit man was summoned. He was going to pray over the boys and then over us. And then we could begin to help the boy.

We had some vodka that was used to clean the wound. Ray was going to be the attending physician. Dave and I held the boy down. Helen service as Rae’s assistant and she headed over rags and drugs and anything else Rae thought she needed.

The boy cried in pain and so did way. None of us thought this was the solution to this very serious problem. But that chief was so hopeful and grateful. We did the best we could. We loaded him up with our antibiotics and extra strength pain killers. One of us had a small towel was still clean. Ray wrapped up his wounds with the towel and a broken shoelace she found in her backpack. We laid out a 10 -day plan of medication. when we’re finished the spirit man prayed over us again. We all went to bed shaking by this experience. I felt no hope for this young boy.

THIS STORY CONTINUES TOMORROW.

Hill Tribes of Thailand- Day 3

Hill Tribes of Thailand

Hiking Through the Rain Forest

 July 1992

This story is a continuation from yesterday.

 Day Three- Crossing The Bridge

Rae and the guide had a discussion about a bridge. It was obvious that Rae didn’t want us to hear the details. Her avoidance of the issue peaked my interest. Why did she whisper to the guide whenever he mentions the bridge?

Finally, mid afternoon, we got to the bridge. It crossed the ravine that dropped over 200 feet and it’s been about 30 feet long. Underneath were rapids that could sweep an elephant away in an instance. Thank God for the bridge. But the only problem: the bridge was nothing more than a wide fallen tree that had conveniently fallen into a perfect location across the ravine. This good fortune opened up all new accesses for the locals. But there was no flat surface, no guardrails, no safety net, nothing, just a damn fallen tree that fallen to The other side.

 Our porters went first. Carrying our heavy loads, wearing flip-flops, they walked across with an ease that was admirable. It looked so easy and it was obvious that, unlike me, they didn’t waste any emotion on that one thought of slipping on a slug and falling and dying instantly. They did not focus on the thought of sneezing halfway across and breaking their concentration and losing their balance and falling and dying instantly. They didn’t think about the potential of a rotten soft spot in the middle that was just on the verge of cracking when the next bit of pressure touched it, causing the tree to collapse and fall into the raging water and then dying instantly.

They just walked across as if they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. Several them cross together. No one stopped. No one stammered. they quickly got to the other side, ready to continue our journey.

Things slow down dramatically when we, the tourists, were up to cross over the bridge. We came to a complete stop and my comrades join me in my unhealthy free-floating anxiety. none of us felt comfortable with this bridge. none of us wanted to cross. We wanted to throw up. The others didn’t speak up about their fears. They didn’t have to. They knew they could count on me to be in a panic and to be very vocal about the whole thing.

So when I went on and on about dying and falling and drowning and smashing my head on the River rock, of floating away to uncharted waters, they shook their heads in agreement. Nothing more needed to be said by them. I had spudded all of their fears.

 “Okay”, says Ray, “here are your choices. One, you can turn back but it’s a two-day walk back by yourself. Two, you can stay here and become part of the vegetation. Three, you can climb down the ravine, cross the rapids and climbed back up. But the sun is going to set in two hours. You don’t want to have to cross the river in the dark. But really I don’t think you’ll make it across the river. The waters just too wild. You’ll drown. Or four, you can cross the bridge and move forward and you’ve already crossed the bridge like this. And that bridge wasn’t as wide. You’re just thrown off by the height”.

 “And the raging river underneath”, I added as if that point of emphasis was even necessary.

“We’ll take it slow and I’ll walk with each of you individually. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll walk sideways. We’ll walk as slow as you want. We’ll walk at your pace.

Rae wanted me to go first. I think she thought if she could get me across first, the others would see that even I could make it across. If I could make it, they could too.  A porter came back over and took my backpack. The other porters stood silently, watching with a disbelief that we were so afraid. But the same time they welcomed this unscheduled break. They sat quietly on our stock and shared cigarettes.

Rae stood to my right and grabbed my elbow and forearm. There was no space between us. We stood sideways on the tree trunk. I could hear my labored breathing. I felt my heart pounding heavy against the wall of my chest. I stood with a tension that raced through my entire body.

“Now remember”, she said “if you drop your walking stick don’t lean over to retrieve it. Let it fall. We’ll just get your another stick on the other side”. I detected a hint of panic in her voice. She realized that my good judgment or my knee-jerk reaction could and would be the difference between life and death for both of us. I dropped my walking stick down the ravine and watch to disappear in the rapids. I surrendered myself to whatever Rae wanted me to do. I just had to trust her.

We walked sideways on the tree and took baby steps. Rae cheered me on and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t look down and couldn’t see what little progress we’re making. It seemed like hours to get across the log. At one point my eyes started to burn. They really hurt and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

“Something’s really wrong with my eyes.  They’re burning up,” I blurted out.

 “It’s the salt”, Rae commented.

 “Salt, what salt,” I wanted to know.

“You’re sweating profusely. You’re sweating like a pig,” she says this with a tone that indicated I was right on the brink of exceeding my limit of her good care. So I just shut up and sucked it up. I focused on the fact that this was probably the first time in my life I ever sweated so much.

We made it to the end and I collapsed on the ground. Rae clapped for me but I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate my shameful, scary moment. I just laid there, exhausted from the adrenaline rush.  I wanted to go home.

She went back and got Helen who came across in a panic but not quite as needy as I was. Dave and Amy came over together, arms locked. I guess they decided they were going to cross together or go down together.

Once we were all across, we sat together in silence, in a moment of solidarity. The four of us had pushed our limits and we have survived. But we also reflected on how easy this was for our porters. Our moment of victory was overshadowed by moments of shame.

We moved on. As we walked along the river I watched people bathing in this water. They were washing their clothes and their dishes and themselves. They soaked themselves, soaped up, held their noses and submerge their entire bodies in the water. Women squatted along the banks of the river and pounded their laundry with rocks and then they rubbed the clothes together with the vigor that could’ve ripped the clothes apart.

 Children played in the water. And teenagers brought their cows and other livestock right into the water and wash them, cooling them down from the heat of this afternoon sun. A few men were out in their handmade dugout boats, fishing. Small girls were gathered buckets of water to take back to the kitchen. Dogs chased boys into the river. And large water buffaloes defecated in this water. Piles of saturated dung floated around them.

I hadn’t thought much about their dependency on water. I hadn’t thought much about my dependency on water. But here it was right in front of me. This river was the life of the entire village. Without access to this water this village wouldn’t survive. Yet the water was dirty by my standards. And who baths in a river? But I got a whiff of my body odor. It had been three days since I showered. I shower every day and I pride myself on never showing more than that because that’s wasteful, so American.

And now it’s been three days and I smell and I haven’t washed my face or hands during this time. I feel really dirty, filthy but I long for a nice hot bath, an ice cold Coke and a good magazine. Soaking in a hot tub is a great way to spend the evening. But the only bathing option for me right now for the next two days is in this cold river with floating water buffalo dung. No thanks. I’ll wait two more days to get back to the city. Taking a bath in this river was just too repulsive for me.

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW.