The way back

The memory of the rattan swamps is still fresh on our skins. We think of ways to avoid that area. Eddie, “not a strong swimmer”, opts for following the beach to a large road that cuts across it. I go for the obvious: I build a raft for my backpack and swim upriver. I think I found something important about rafts: layering. You have a lower layer that will sink, and an upper deck which will stay dry. It works perfectly. And rope, oh, how it is important in some circumstances..

All reports say that crocodiles no longer live on this river, and I guess I trust them when I start paddling with my skinny white legs in the brown calm waters. But as I hear a slow and heavy splash to my left, I wonder.. then it also dawns on me that nobody talked about the sharks that in some places go upriver.. I cannot turn easily, for fear of unbalancing the raft, but part of me wonders, again..

After a while I abandon the fears (it is sad how one can feel reckless and stupid, and not even brave..) and enjoy the trip. Silver langurs start, then stop and look, puzzled, wondering what is this strange creature. And they stay there, I can observe them at ease (as I am definitely not fast). Monitor lizards, basking on a trunk above the water, open one eye, and follow my progress, deciding not to flee. Birds fly across the open sky, when they see me it is too late to change course. Small electric blue dragonflies search the water surface and rest on dead leaves.

After a couple of hours I decide to go back ashore, I would need more time to be able to go all the five km to camp, though I would have loved to bring the raft home. Instead, I send it back down the river, wondering what other experiences she will go through. It takes me little time to find a comfortable natural trail running along ridges that soon takes me back to the trail system. It is funny how this periphery of the study area, usually felt as “wild”, seems now “home”..