Patagonia

Exploring for two months, will revive this blog if it lets me put pictures in it!

Dialogue with a mosquito (while extracting hormones)

- Will you stop it, damn you?
- Oh, look who’s talking, you just tried to kill me!
- Well, I didn’t come to your house looking for you, if you stay wherever it is that you live, you wouldn’t risk me killing you..
- That is not true, millions of our kin have perished to the hands of vile human mass murderers, who used, moreover, chemical weapons that have long been banned by the Geneva convention.
- Well, some of “your kin” also kill millions of us every year (and what the hell are you talking about the Geneva convention anyway?)..
- But not me, I don’t carry no bloody (literally) parasite, I just want a little blood.. if you pour all your blood in a bucket, and then I take my share, you won’t even be able to measure it.. eheh, that is hardly going to kill you..
- See? That’s where you are wrong, my narrow-minded friend! Humans have an innate reflex, to try to catch, or wave away, small things flying to our faces. So if you buzz around me while I am driving, I may very well crash on a tree while trying to catch you! And your mosquito-centric perspective of course doesn’t consider this! It is as if I, not considering that you are not a human, would argue that I am not trying to whack you, but just patting on your shoulder, or trying to shake your hand..
- Hmm, wow, that is a great argument.. Especially coming from a ‘human’ who is imagining a whole conversation with a mosquito.. I feel sorry for you, how long have you been in this forest?
- What? Eh? I don't know, I don't know! Years.. I forgot..

…he walked along the muddy trail, the leaden sky muffling the sound of his steps, the low yellow sunlight contouring the cocoa trees, and in the distance, the green continuous forest canopy. Two hornbills passed slowly above him, like him directed to the forest. As the path started heading down toward the river, he saw the tree-house of the elephant watch. Since the last herd raided the plantations, injuring a man and killing two goats (and destroying a whole harvest), they had set up a continuous warning system. Every now and then, thundering detonations shook the suspended air. As he walked by, the sentinel slowly raised one hand in a solemn and silent farewell. He wondered whether the explosions were meant to scare potential elephants, or actual ones. Of course, asking would be out of the question, ruining the stillness of the moment, and the depth of the man to man interaction.. As a light and quiet rain started to fall, he reached the flooded river…

Road to the Forest

The goal of this popular game is for the Player to reach the entrance of the forest, in Way Heni, from the nearest sizeable town, Kota Agung (where WCS and National Park offices are). The Player drives a Yellow Motorbike (for example), eight years old, with slick tires, dead shocks, poor brakes and poorer lights. The Track can be divided into three stages, called ‘the Urban’, ‘the Mountain’ and ‘the Jungle’. Each level has its characteristic set of challenges, increasing in difficulty, and can be accessed only after surviving the preceding ones. Here follows a description of the most common obstacles you are likely to encounter.

Stage 1 - The Urban
- The Crouching People: they squat on the side of the Road, wearing dark clothes and slowly edging deeper into the road as the night falls.
- The Chicken: the Chicken waits on the side of the Road for a fast moving wheel to charge at. It is unclear what are the cues that stimulate the daredevil attacks. Among young Chicken, it might represent an Act of Reckless Youth, or perhaps a Rite of Passage.
- The Dog: the Dog behaves like common dogs, mostly trying to avoid being run over, but at times yielding to its sudden suicidal urges. It can often be found resting in the middle of the Road.
- The Goat: similar to the Dog, with much more pronounced suicidal drive, and erratic and unpredictable motion pattern. Moves in small groups.
- The Intersection: beware of them, as any sort of vehicle or animal might come out of it, at varying speed, but invariably and persuasively claiming right of way. Remember that in this Game, the Player has no precedence.
- The Police: the Police are an unpredictable force, sometimes behaving exceedingly politely and only causing a loss of Time, while other times it could automatically escalate into Corrupted-Pain-in-the-Ass. This costs the Player both Time and Money, and might in some cases also suck it into the Bureaucrazy Vortex.

Stage 2 - The Mountain
- The Mudslide: the Mudslide blocks the whole Road, for an undetermined amount of Time. If the Player happens to be there when it happens, it will be swept off the mountain, automatically losing a life.
- The Flood: it can turn the Road into a single raging river, or it can dig multiple, intersecting, deeply cut rivulets.
- The Ocean of Gravel: a half-meter deep layer of sharp, medium-sized, dark grey gravel, which makes the going treacherous and wearisome. Its effects can be compounded by those of the Flood, Mudslide and Precipitous Freefall.
- The Precipitous Freefall: when driving along endlessly snaking roads up a mountain, most people might at some time have wondered why don’t they just make a straight, very steep path direct to the top. The reason is the Precipitous Fall. Going up, a powerful engine and well tuned-up bike is required. Going down, fine balance and a good relationship with Gravity are necessary. Especially when simultaneously facing one of the previous three items.
- The Bite-Off-the-Road: closely related to the Mudslide. The difference is that instead of adding material to the road, it removes it. The problem it creates is a chasm where you expected solid substrate. Particularly intriguing when occurring behind a Blind Curve. Piles of dead vehicles can be seen at the bottom of the abyss. It also makes you reconsider the name of the previous item (if that is a Freefall, what the hell would THIS be?).
- The Ballerina-Truck: the combination of Precipitous Freefall with Ocean of Gravel, Flood or Mudslide can produce the dreaded Ballerina-Truck. Normal road-leviathans lose grip on the road surface, hesitate for a nerve-racking moment, and slowly gain momentum usually heading in the worst possible direction for all parties involved.
- the Happy Motorcycle Breakdown

Stage 3 - The Jungle
- The Fallen Tree: Tree trunks of varying diameter may be delicately laid or chaotically splayed over the Road.
- The Overextended Python: similar to the Fallen Tree, but being made of animal instead of vegetable matter. As a consequence, the Overextended Python can move, albeit slowly. It can also be moved, being lighter than most Fallen Trees, but it can react unsociably to removal attempts.
- The Hanging Rattan: Rattan produce extremely strong, thin leaf blades adorned with hundreds little hard hooks. Originally meant to aid the plant in its rise to the light and warmth of the sun-blessed canopy heights, this device is also very efficient in ripping off clothes, bags or skin. Its thinness makes it hard to detect in time to avoid it. High speed enhances its damaging effects.
- The Invisible Pothole: its size and depth can vary from a mere shallow Jagged Depression to a Bottomless Pit. The mottled pattern created by the tree shades effectively conceals them, until it is too late. One would think that it is possible to memorize their location and avoid them in future runs, but of course new ones are added at each new run. More rarely, old ones are repaired.
- The Predictable Out-of-Gas: like in any old fashioned games, the Player must keep an eye on the fuel gauge. Running out of gas in the forest can be tricky and result in considerable loss of Time. It is probably helpful to have a motorbike provided with a Functioning Fuel Indicator.
End of the game: if you have successfully completed the three stages, congratulations. You made it to the entrance to the forest. Of course, before entering, you must defeat the Level Guardian, which in this case is the Flash Flooding Pemerihan River. If you safely cross it, you will be given a password. You will be able to use this password in the highly praised sequel to “Road to the Forest”, “Into the Forest”.

On mental sanity

My friend Yashar came visiting, and told me that I look dangerously close to a nervous break down. I do feel a bit under pressure and frustrated, so I stopped and took a look at myself. Here are some behaviors/feelings I experienced lately, that might be interpreted as “warning signs”:
- Rage: never before have I had to consciously calm myself down (well, once..) to avoid snapping, and for silly things (but they add up..).
- Lack of sleep and proper food: they surely exact a toll..
- I don’t take pictures anymore.
- Soap doesn’t wash away from my skin. Particularly the hands, so I thought it could be the chemicals I use, but no. I won’t mention the crazy hypotheses I have about it.
- I think rats hate me.
- I spend more and more time trying to ‘escape’: I want to watch movies (even pretty bad ones), and I keep daydreaming. Worryingly, some of these dreams involve my just and liberal (but firm) ruling of the world.
- A related point, I suspect I can control rain.
- But I am absolutely sure I am not able to fly.
- (I tried)
- (Kidding..)
Anyway, it is comforting to feel that I can go insane without losing lucidity..

Sad news 2: Ahmad and the river

Ahmad was the vet that followed the research on small cats. A well-educated, quiet and serious guy with a nice smile. He disappointed me with his examination of the ratufa squirrel. After working for several weeks he finally took some days off, and decided to go out. It has now been heavy raining for several weeks and all rivers are flooded. I had to “rescue” people that were stranded on the other side of the river from camp (we have a truck inner tube we use as a boat). When Ahmad got to the last (large) river to cross, something happened, probably his feet got trapped in the mud at the bottom, he couldn’t overcome the current, went down and was swept away. Opo, the station manager, had crossed before him, found it hard to swim across, but had made it, and asked him if he felt he could do it. He was ready to hand him a long branch to help. He jumped back when he saw him struggling, but by the time he reached the backpack to which Ahmad was clinging, he was gone. He searched around, people came from the station, bringing the inner tube to explore downriver. Next day we all went to help, painful dynamics with search & rescue teams, incredulity, profound shock, sadness. They found the body 400m downriver, trapped under a log.

Cats

I have seen another clouded leopard. It was regal, lying on a low branch waiting for a prey to walk under it along the trail. As it often happened to me before, I “somehow” perceived its presence (not sure if it is some instinctive warning system). Very large. I pretended not to have seen it, turned around and quickly got my camera out, but when I turned again (5 seconds later) it had vanished, like a ghost, not a sound, not a trace (apart from claw marks on a trunk).

Frustrated, I kept searching for my siamangs, then decided to wait under a feeding tree they often went to. As I sat there carving my new project (a hornbill), I looked around and saw another cat, peacefully resting 12m from me! We spent about a whole hour sitting like that, respecting and appreciating each other, then he stood up, looked around and left walking beside me. I now know that it was a marbled cat, an extremely rare cat of which virtually nothing is known. Apparently only another researcher has ever had a comparable experience (after spending days on a hideout, and then scare the cat away with the shutter noise of the first shot). It was a memorable experience, something that can in an instant erase tons of frustrations and bad moments of this period.

Few weeks later, two students from Massachusetts came to study small cats (all felids except from tigers), and there it was the dilemma: they are nice people (and fellow researchers) and I wanted to help them, but at the same time I really didn’t like the idea of them trapping and sedating the animals that honored me with such great sightings..

Sad news 1: Polly the ratufa

Ratufa is the scientific name of the giant squirrel, a rather beautiful, colorful, cat-sized squirrel with a bushy tail longer than the body. During a thunderstorm Alice (the other researcher in here) found a baby ratufa on the ground, probably fallen from her nest. She had still closed eyes and was screaming for help, and she took her home. In the next 2 days we took her where she was found, hoping her mother could take her back. After unsuccessfully trying to find her mother, we decided to adopt her. Finding some food that could suit her was harder than I expected: milk was categorically rejected, egg yolk was even worse. Water with cane sugar was accepted but not a viable long-term solution. Grated apple mixed with ground peanuts was found to be the optimal meal (thanks to the “expert” friends who provided advice through instant messages). She loved it though at first was not particularly skilled in eating it. And here I could go on with a hundred stories on peculiar behaviors that she did, so lovely, so special, just as a stereotypical proud and boring parent. I will restrain myself to just a few: she stood on my shoulder when traveling, on the head if walking fast, and inside my hair bun if raining; she responded to my “calls”, climbing frantically all the way to my mouth and stood there, concentrated, “duetting”; she would curl into a ball to sleep (my hand the favorite spot by far), and be completely trusting (I could then walk around without disturbing her sleep). But this is a very sad story: we left for 3 days, and when we came back she had lost weight, didn’t want to eat, spent most of the time sleeping and being inactive, and in two days rapidly faded. A vet that was following a study on small cats was no help, disappointingly. It particularly hit me because when I try to do something I really want it to succeed, and I really tried hard to raise her, and had become very, very attached to her.

New baby (siamang)

Aming, very successful female, gave birth to a healthy baby. To know if it is a male or female we'll have to wait about another year. It is difficult to take good shots because when they are so young (here it is about a week old), mothers keep their legs bent for fear of them letting go and falling.

Medical bulletin #3 – fish

We carry lunchboxes in the forest. As I ate my fish (alone, with radio), I felt this funny unpleasant numbness on tongue lips, then gums and all the mouth area. It lasted a while, then was gone. I wondered about the strange spice they must have used. When back to camp, Alice (the other researcher) arrived, sporting a uniform red color (even the pupils!), heart pounding, fearing a heart failure, which luckily didn’t occur. The others had an assortment of headaches, dizziness, pains. It was the fish. Trying to interpret the information we were given, first there was “yes, some people are allergic to that” (uh, at least it is cool, mysterious tropical fish..), then “well, it was just rotten fish” (no! come on, not even the charm of the exotic fish), finally a combination of the two: it is a type of fish which, if not cooked right away, produce a toxin which stays even if you then cook it (killing the bacteria that activated the toxin). Apparently the blood of the fish is used as poison for arrows (somewhere, as usual information is not the most accurate).

Medical bulletin #2 – wasps

Well, having realized I didn’t mention a few other exotic problems I had, eheh, and having lost all inhibitions about boring people with health issues, here they go.

I was attacked by wasps. Of course, aggressive highly painful tropical ones. I am told that if you are stung many times, what initially was only the pain of the sting, may become an allergic reaction. Well, I can confirm that. This was the third time, and I received about 6-8 stings. After I ran away from the bloody tree, I felt, besides the pain, slightly dizzy, heart pounding uncomfortably fast (130/min), sweating, weakness and a dozen more symptoms. I decided that in spite of the importance of following that group, I “would have to let them go”. In the end I lied down for about two hours, waiting for things to improve (was alone, didn’t have a radio, of course). After that, I was able to slowly make it back to camp.

Heart of wood

There are these pieces of wood, scattered on the forest floor. They are usually large, sleek, abnormally heavy and resistant to cutting. At first I thought they were termite nests, since when I managed to break open one, the wood had been replaced by earth, and inhabited by termites. But if you went beyond the superficial layer, you find wood, pure wood, exceptionally compact and smooth. I am not sure how these pieces came to be. Some theories (absolutely speculative) suggest that they were tempered by forest fires, or the wearing of time and rain (and other organisms). I decided to take a large one to carve a box. It is amazing how hard it is to cut through it. The saw gets stuck every little while, I need to put oil to ease its way, and still, it gets hot [I know wood, and I am used to cutting..]. Fascinating.

Rant 2: shipments & packages

Next rant is about supplies. Some of them need to be shipped from the USA. The first shipment was ordered in Jul 07 and reached me in Jan 08, which is the sole reason why I am still here instead of celebrating the end of the data collection. Shipments arrive to the airport, where one has to go, clear customs and pick them up. For the first shipment, I arrived and was asked 1,200$ of custom taxes to release it! It took me a whole day and a half to reduce that to 600$, the third day to get to 200$ and the fourth to convince them to get it for free. The best was the first guy, who filled out the fake form saying I had to pay 1,200$: after it became obvious that he had tried to cheat me, he still wanted to be paid 35$ for the form, which he had to fill out using resources, computer, internet connection!

Last week, a second package arrived. I alerted WCS office, but the shipping company instead of calling sent an email, which was kindly disregarded. So after a week that I expected the package, I went out of the forest and found that it had actually arrived a week ago. After asking if WCS could send somebody to take care of this, which was rudely refused, I took the bloody night-bus and started my fight in the cargo area at dawn. I thought I could make use of the broad experience I had gained, but not at all. I release the documents, go to the customs building, discover that there is another one, I make my way to the big boss in only five steps (last time it took me about 14), he says he will help, he cuts the taxes in half but that still leaves 300$ to pay. He says I should then talk to the other office (the bigger boss). They take me back there, I am directed to a creepy office with pictures of people arrested with illegal drugs (not the big boss, whom I met the previous time, surrounded by a godly aura, in a celestial blue office full of curtains and airplane models). I explain my case again, tailoring it to the new audience, they decide to help me, call the first boss, make me write an “autocertification letter”, and send me back with some hope. After another eight bureaucratic steps, they all go to pray and then lunch, except for a mother-like woman who keeps working on my application, and offers me water and “gorengan”, mixed fried foods. We then go inspect the stuff, with an overweight and frightened officer, then back to customs, other four steps and indeed I can go get the package without having paid anything. Having protested that I had not been properly warned of the arrival of the package, they waive the storage fee as well. The package of course is in the middle of nowhere, and I am on foot, eheh. But the nice girl who signs the last document offers to take me to the bus stop when she gets out of work, in 20 mins, at 5pm. This hardly an exciting tale, yet, sadly, in the state I am in, it takes the place of great adventures and accomplishments. To improve the post with some meaningful conclusive remarks, I can say that in the world there are people that are useful and helpful, and others who are not. And I am being fortunate enough to meet several of the first kind. In this instance, among dozens of idling useless burocrats, there were some that, only out of their good heart, went out of their way (and out of the law too) to help me. I must also stress the fact that I was never asked a bribe by any custom officer (because one must fight commonplaces).

Rant 1: permits & visas

This blog runs the risk of becoming a cross between a medical bulletin and a psychotherapeutic exercise. This is one reason why I have been reluctant to add new posts. But now I think I should just embrace its latter function and go ahead and vent, and friends will worry about my mental state and let me know when it is really enough..

So today’s rant is about the renewal of research permits and visas. Here is the procedure. Write a request (and provide lots of documentation) to the dept. of research and technology (RISTEK), in Jakarta. If successful, go and get the research permit extension. Take that to the Police central office (also in jkt) to get a travel permit, which you will need to then go to the ministry of internal affairs, to get another document, which you will need to take to the dept. of forestry, which will release a permit to enter the national park. This is already a complicated procedure, but, eheh, there is a catch: to get the travel permit from the police, you need another document, sort of a residence permit, which you can get, in the region where you work, i.e. Lampung, Sumatra. So you have to travel to jkt (a nice 10 hrs of night-bus), get document #1, then back to bloody Sumatra, get #2 and then back to jkt! Several of these steps don’t really require my presence, so I asked my ghostly counterpart (WCS) to help, by sending somebody to get these documents, but they were quite blunt in not helping. I asked RISTEK, and managed to get hold of a girl who said she would do the steps 3-5 for me. But then she said it would take approximately 8-14 days! So in the end I had to go and do all by myself.

Additional little frustrations and some gratifications:

- After two nights of no sleep, arriving to jkt at 5.30 a.m., waiting for the office to open, being admitted by the guard, going up to the right floor, finding nobody, going down and being told that well, of course nobody is there, since today is a national holiday..

- Telling WCS I need them to send a fax to Immigration, with large advance, and after one week still waiting for it, but

- The Immigration officer, at that point, having pity and giving me the visa even if that thing was not arrived.

- During the countless hours waiting in an office, being shown a piece of paper, hoping it is the document I so desperately need, but no, it is a job offer for his son, just graduated, in a plantation, in Sarawak or Kalimantan, what do I think of it?

- Or being introduced to two interns, who are supposed to practice their English, and talking to them for two hours about the state of tourism in Sumatra and the best ways to improve it.

- But, being driven to offices I must get to, by the officer who was on his way home with his son (on a very fancy SUV), or by the job-offer guy (on a ancient Vespa).

- Having to pay the usual 30$ bribe to the police to get the travel permit, but

- Managing to get a receipt for that!

Tigers

Conservation is a great and important thing. Of course, when we talk about dangerous animals, most people living in safely urbanized areas may not think of some aspects of living in close contact with these animals. I am having the chance to experience this now. Five tigers were captured in Aceh, North Sumatra, where they were causing “conflict”, eating cattle and people and terrorizing several villages. The plan is to put them radio-collars to be able to track them (via GPS), and release them elsewhere. Elsewhere happens to be about 25 km from our field station. Tigers can cover about 30 km/day. The GPS data are almost top-secret, only three people have access to them, which makes sense, given the risk of them falling in the wrong hands. But now, in addition to the “conflict elephants” (four, infamous man-killers), we have “conflict tigers”. Encountering one is bad for two stupid reasons: one, you cannot really claim to have seen a really “natural” tiger, it wouldn’t count, it has a collar.. And two, while the behavior of “normal” animals, that live relatively undisturbed in the forest, is somehow predictable, I would really not know what to expect from these tigers, who already had a taste, in many senses, of men..

Health (Medical bulletin #1 – centipede)

“…you should really marry Agus.. That way, he could spit on my wound..”

One would hardly imagine he will pronounce such a sentence in his life.. and yet, here is another experience granted by that great place that is an Indonesian forest..

How do we get there? Well, I was bitten by a centipede. I thought that it would just hurt a lot, but remain localized, maybe swollen. But I was wrong, a plague-looking sore (I spare you the pictures) started spreading behind my knee, soon making it painful to walk, and then, on the third day, convincing me to go out while I still could on my legs (also following the concerns of the field assistants, who somehow don’t cherish the idea of carrying my dead-weight again).
I always appreciate local traditions, so before going to a proper doctor, I inquired on the traditional medicines that would be used in that case, and here are the two best ones:

1. You must find a person (a woman is preferable), who was once married, then wasn’t anymore (it doesn’t matter if widow or divorced, though perhaps the latter is more powerful), and then re-married, with a person who is instead married for the first time. Once you get hold of that person, she can spit on your wound, which is sure to cure it. [Hence my suggestion to Alice, Agus being a suitable (a mix of subtly fascinating and slightly disgusting traits) “candidate”, notwithstanding his being married..]
2. You find a kirai tree, extract its sap, boil it and make a sticky potion with which you can dress the wound. This was suggested by a radiant and excited Ismail, who then proceeded to show me the broad and thick scar that this method had left him. Having ascertained that all of the people who had it except from Ismail were cured by “non-traditional” doctors, and that it would be harder to find the re-married woman than a doctor, I decided to go for the latter: found a rather creepy purple-orange-haired old man, who looked at the wound and said “four days”, which happened to be true. He gave me lots of medicines, which I despise, but which cured the bloody (literally) thing in a few days.

Surfing 2

My parallel life as a surfer continues, and it is now not confined to my mind. Here is an update on my latest achievements:
- I gave up the idea of carving my own surfing board. Materials are important, and as much as I love wood, an 80-kg board is far from ideal.
- I went to Uluwatu, Bali, a famous surfing site. I discovered that waves have names, and that there is an official terminology, rather different from the one I had creatively come up with. I didn’t try the 8m high waves (I had one of my mysterious fever attacks), but I sported a perfectly appropriate, worn surfer t-shirt.
- In Kuta, I eventually tried. I was modest and wise enough to renounce to a real board and go for the sissy one, the one you stay on your belly. Immensely frustrating experience. I thought I “knew” the waves, but I seemed to be constantly in the wrong spot, either taking the waves in my face or seeing them pass and break far from me. In the process, I got insanely tired, and badly bruised my belly and chest. Becoming the cool surfer is harder than I thought.

Dengue

I guess few words about dengue are necessary.

It is a disease, similar to malaria, also parasites carried by mosquitoes. I got it. First day I tried to give the example to my assistants, you must work even if you don’t feel perfectly healthy. I ended up crawling back to camp like a tired zombie. Next day I was not able to feel my pulse anymore (too light and fast, over 125 beats/min, against my normal 65 – sadly we don’t have a thermometer). I stayed two days in camp hoping to recover, slightly delirious, only drinking water with sugar, cyclically shivering and sweating. When I wasn’t able to walk anymore, I accepted to be carried out. This involved eight assistants, a sturdy bamboo pole and three sarongs (cylindrical pieces of cloth, traditional Indonesian garment). In addition to the 5 km the poor guys had to walk, the river had flooded, so they had to carry me on their lifted arms to keep me dry (and safe from the waters).

I was taken to Gisting’s hospital, a very comfortable place where I laid seven days (of which I only remember five), constantly attached to an infusion. When I was able to stand, I was taken to another, larger hospital, where they tested me and confirmed I had dengue. I stayed three more days there, then I couldn’t take it anymore (I didn’t have music, computer, books, and I had quite enough of introspection) and left. After two more days I managed to walk back into the forest where I completed my convalescence.

THE picture

I promise I will soon update this blog, several things occurred that prevented me from writing. But this picture I must post, I am inordinately proud of it. I swear it has not been prepared or retouched. I thought it should be shared with friends.

Flood 3: in the forest

(or: ‘nobody will say he has done a stupid thing without me!’)

Opo decided to go play with the ‘boat’, which is an inner tube and two plastic paddles (visible in this rare photographic document of the event). We go. The excuse is a big tree that the last flood left across our bridge, obstructing the way. We hope we can take it out. Clearly, we cannot, it doesn’t even flinch with three people jumping on its tip. We then try to follow it in the current, and take 2 hrs to paddle our way back upriver. It is amazing the amount of spiders, insects, centipedes, lizards and snakes that are stranded on logs, half-submerged plants and ourselves. It is epic, perfectly recalls many Amazonian novels. It is also an excellent chance for an entomologist (better than those bastards that smoke entire trees killing everything that lives on it).

We go further upriver, with the idea of then running down the fast current to camp. Then we see a heavy log coming down. We decide to let it to go first (safer). Then, instead, we end up catching up with it (less safe). Then, I decide to jump on it and “surf” (rather not safe – but a lot of fun). I fall three times (the bloody thing keeps rolling) and manage to climb back up, I am all happy and excited when Opo, suddenly quite far, makes me notice that I am past camp, so I must dive and struggle to get ashore (quite downriver from camp). Excellent. Tired.