So, after three hours hard trekking I came upon a cozy little spot deep in the thickness. Off to the left the ravine dropped hard, nearly vertically to the raging river below. I could continue upwards but at this point I'm thinking what's the point? I came out this way in search of a bit of solitude. You see I've been holed up in crowded Bogor for nearly two months. Even my trip to the beach was marred by constant human presence. I just want to get away from that, and I've found it. So, bust a squat here. Get low. Dig the life as lived by the ill jungle residents. Afore arriving in the tropics I had always had this perception of the jungle as a place of fever and sweat and diarrhea and hordes of insects, nearly every unpleasant thing imaginable. I am pleasantly surprised to find a place of peace and relative quiet. Life goes on in the jungle as it has for millennia.
The mist in the valley below is rising rapidly. Thick whisps are clearly visible, flitting past my eyes. Before long I'm in a cloud. The temperature drops perceptibly and my sweat drenched shirt begins to gather a chill. Falcons are dive bombing the ravine. Out over the valley a carrion hunter soars and swoops. I need to be a bird in my next life. I must know the feeling of splaying the feathers out to catch swirling drafts of thermal rise. A small flock of sparrows filter through the gathering fog. By now the tree tops are obscured in the mist, and suddenly I'm transported to a mystic space. No shit it begins to rain.
I packed no tent with me. The morning had been so clear. I allowed wishful thinking to skew judgment. Hunkered low in the bush with only rain jacket and pants, I've got my bag pulled tight against my chest under my coat. Please don't permeate. Too many valuables within that may be damaged from exposure to moisture. As the night carries on I'm shivering and thinking about death by exposure. Is it possible in these conditions? Not likely. Can't possibly be cold enough. However, this must be the most uncomfortable sleep of my life. Ironically this blog has easily chronicled the top three. A cramped night in Jason's truck and one hunkered under tarp over deflated air mat come to mind.
At first light I'm off. Gotta get off this mountain. The jungle heats up and before long steam is rising from my soaked clothing. Last nights chill rapidly fades. I've lost the way back immediately, from here on out it's all marginal orienteering skills (follow the river's direction, head down), logic, guesswork, and a bit of luck. To mister Drake: I'm sorry I didn't purchase that compass you requested. My pride and confidence over rule such necessities. In the distance the trees shake with monkey acrobatics. Not close enough to catch a good look but good to know they're alive and well. Funky flowers and colorful toads cross my path but no time to take the camera out. Besides I've lost the lens cap and I fear the bush will scratch the vulnerable glass. Unnecessary risk. Needn't record all things. Save them in my memory alone.
Watersheds I'm following trickle out or become overgrown. Progress is ridiculously slow. I know I'm not going in circles because I'm continuing downwards but I've been crisscrossing the ridges in search of familiar territory. I've decided I need to cross the ravine, which means going down through it. Watershed gets too steep, now I'm sliding down slope on my ass. SwipBam! and my butt is wedged between two rocks in the stream. That could've gone so much worse. Sweaty, muddy mess. In the gully I'm crab walking over rocky stream. Straps on my sandals break, now I haven't a choice. Barefoot it is. Take the ridge. I follow it for a bit but it's becoming clearer and clearer that I'm indeed lost. Settle down a bit. Reassess the situation. Don't panic.
Allright. I'm through trying to find familiar ground. It just won't work. Now I must follow a water source out of this jungle. Back down the ravine. It becomes steeper and steeper as I go. A rocky ledge followed by a drop off. Too steep to return, my only choice is down. In all my back country experience I'm beginning to genuinely fear for my life. Fuck this. I have to go down no matter what. Bemoaning the situation simply won't do. I have to lower my barefoot self onto uncertain ground. Hold fast to strong trunks and lower slowly. Bare feet seek stable ground, hands holding tight above. Fortune favors the bold, I'm stable. But this is no river. Only an overgrown, rocky stream. The hits just keep coming. Crab walk again over slippery rocks. How much longer must I travel so? This could take hours, days in fact. Can I last another night? No way to contact the boss, "Jason, can you find someone to cover for me? I can't make it in on Monday, I'm lost in the jungle." I was warned that this place eats the unwary alive. Have I finally met my end?
I'm having to rest every five minutes now. My feet are battered. The strain of crab walking is taking its toll on my thighs. No end in sight. I comfort myself in the notion that at least I'm in a beautiful place. Much worse way to go, or so I must convince myself. Wait. What's that sound? Oh, fuck now I'm done for. I'm at the top of a water fall. It's a sheer drop with no way around. Curses! But wait! A new hope! The opposite side of the ravine bears a watershed traversing the slope laterally. Not so steep. With renewed vigor I ascend and Eureka! I've found a proper trail. This is no watershed. Colored ribbons clearly mark a path. Can't be long now. Yes we must be close to the camp. But trails keep intersecting each other and meandering in what seems the wrong direction. Intuition tells me to take the ridge. Onward!
My gut is both right and wrong. No the ridge doesn't yield camp but I've found familiar ground. Now it's just a matter of time before I make my exit. Rest a bit. Finish the rest of the duku. Won't be long now. However, my feet are so battered at this point, every step is pure agony. I need shoes. But where? Finally I take out my knife and go to work on the empty water bottles I still have with me. Cut the tops and bottoms off, split down the length. Miraculously they actually function. Unbelievable. I limp my way back to camp. A man sees my condition, points to my feet "Apa?" (What?) I mention sandals and make weird gestures which I hope indicate breakage and discard. He seems to understand. I ask him "Sukamantri masuk apa?" (Sukamantri, enter, what?) I'm trying to ask where? but haven't the vocabulary yet. He seems to understand, pointing behind him and sure enough, my exit. I meander down the hill in agony. A man steps out and yells something at me, looking peeved. Busted. Another man comes out and gives me a stern scolding about hiking alone in the jungle, but other than that there is no real reprimanding. I like that. I prefer the freedom to choose my own way regardless of how reckless it may be.
After that the people were actually quite kind, offering me a chance to purchase refreshments, a place to change clothes, and an ojek to take me back. The ride down the rocky trail was excruciating and the subsequent angkot rides back to town arduous. Normally I would've walked the way from the angkot back to my home but my devastated feet wouldn't allow. An ojek took me the rest of the way and I promptly passed out. I was completely worthless Sunday and limping gingerly all of Monday. Thankful to be alive and deeply sore from my ordeal, I think I'll be a homebody for a few weekends to come. Enough adventure for now.
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