The Final Frontier

With Nai Thon now in the rear view mirror, now comes the part of the journey that gets really trepiditious. After three days of ignoring advice to avoid the coast, I wasn't the least bit worried about this last lap. For the first time all week, I was told the coast wouldn't be a problem. Oh my, oh my, was that ever lousy advice. The rocks seemed to get bigger, sharper, and steeper the closer I got to the airport. I came to this point, where I had one place to go--up and over. This next cliff pictured is much bigger than it looks in the picture, and I had no way around it. On the bright side, at least I was wearing really uncomfortable sandals, which is what you want for rock climbing. I saw this as the last challenge, as it would surely be better on the other side. Surely it would be better on the other side, right?



After carefully scaling this wall, I came to a point that was impassable. There was a series of cliffs larger than this one, with large valleys of water in between. I had only one option, and that was to go straight up through the mountain and find the road. After getting to the top of the rocks, I had to walk up a steep wooded hill. When I was walking up the rocks, there was never a problem with footing or grip. On this hill, however, I was walking on loose dirt. I found a tentative path up the hill, which consisted of pulling myself up from tree to tree. A couple of times I had to use a root to drag myself to the next tree, which was hard work. It didn't help matters that the pretty green bushes in the picture had sharp prickly leaves.



Finally I got high enough up where the ground was even enough to walk on upright, and I found a path. I followed this path further up the hill, through the jungle. The path eventually dead ended, much like the road earlier that morning. At this point that morning had seemed like it happened a lifetime ago, in a different place. I cut through the thick trees and brush until I found another path, which dead ended again.

For the next few hours I roamed through the jungle like an animal, moving from one path to another--thoroughly lost. I have to mention that it was sweltering underneath these trees, and I was out of water. Following path after path, none of them leading anywhere, I neglected to stop and take pictures. Besides, I never found a good place to sit and pull my camera out of my bag. At one point I nearly walked through a gigantic spider web. I saw this thing at the last second, hit the brakes, and backed up. It was then when I saw the biggest, nastiest looking spider I had ever seen anywhere, zoos and discovery channel included. I wish I'd have taken a picture of this guy, but I was no longer thinking like a tourist. I was rather thinking that I needed to get the hell out of this jungle before it got dark. Thus I didn't stop to rest or take pictures. There was only one option at this point, and that was to keep walking. I was no longer a tourist, and this was no joke. It was now a matter of survival.

As I got deeper into the jungle there was a loud, eerie ringing sound, which sounded like a siren. It would get very loud, and then just stop. I believe this noise came from some type of exotic bird, or locust type creature. I can tell you all this much: It wasn't doing my nerves any favors. This was beginning to get scary. I was thinking to myself: "Great move, Dr. Jones. You've finally done it this time." At my very lowest and thirstiest, I lost concentration for a moment and jammed my arm into a bamboo stick that protruded into the path. After pulling a splinter, or spike, an inch long out of my forearm I considered yelling for help. The problem was two-fold: 1. Who was going to hear me? ( and even if they did they might not understand) 2. It's impolite to raise one's voice in Thai culture and I might offend someone.

At this point crying was not an option so I had to press on. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was really thirsty. After hours of walking up, down, back, forth, and around the jungle (conjuring images of the Blair Witch Project), I heard the sound of my salvation. There was a distant hum that had the distinct sound of road noise, which was like "The Moldau" to my ears. I followed the noise and the path got wider. Soon I found myself on a wide clean path and would have skipped had I the energy. I finally came upon the road and had never been so happy to see pavement. I saw a nice Thai couple and asked them which way was the airport. They said it was about 5km up the road, and I thanked them and began to walk. Then once again, the kindness of strangers prevailed. The man I talked to pulled up next to me on his scooter and offered to give me a lift. I arrived at the airport with three hours to spare, thirsty, sweatty, dirty, hungry, bruised, scratched, and utterly exhausted.

I drank about five gallons of water at the airport and had a tremendous feeling of gratification and accomplishment mixed with a sense of relief that I hadn't felt since I finished my Dickens thesis. I had survived the coast and the jungle. No doubt now--I would make it safely to Bangkok, and then to Seoul. Now only one question lingered: What on Earth was I going to do for 24 hours in Bangkok?