Heide and Mark : June 9, 2004

Well, I'll confess that I've offered a large number of reasons to justify us taking this big holiday, but to the best of my recollection, there wasn't one that cited "commando training" as a great reason for the trip. However both Heide and I are now fully trained Jungle Warriors following our first few days in Thailand. We camped out (in reasonable luxury at a pleasant hotel, but I shouldn't let facts get in the way of a good story) in the town of Krabi. Naturally one would expect hostility in a place so humourously named but it was not to be. I think we'd won the hearts and minds (and wallets) battle early here before we headed out to enjoy a most vigourous few days of action.

It started with an hour or so crashing through the swell that the torrential, and apparently unseasonable, rains had brought. We boarded a boat, similar to a giant canoe with a small outboard motor tied to the end of a long broom stick. We huddled together under the cover of some discreet blue tarp as our kit bags took on more water than the Titanic. As I mentioned we were aboard our landing craft for about an hour before we rushed the shallows and beached the vessel. We jumped down and ploughed ashore. No enemy were sighted as we made our landing and secured the beach.

After hauling ourselves and our sopping kit clear of the sand we took a jungle path east towards our target of Hat Ton Sai. All was relatively easy going. We passed a beautiful secluded, but really wonderful stretch of beach, which was deserted on account of the uncommonly high tide that all but covered the golden sands and pushed on without much hitch to the end of Hat Rai Leh. Just one more headland to cover and we'd be home, where we could be dried. And, now came the problems. At first we couldn't find the track that would lead to our destination. I thought I'd shown off my true Chindit colours by finding a small path that was most probably used only by locals, well local mountain goats anyway, which may lead to our goal. Alas, it was not to be. After I'd dumped my kit with Heide, who was holding our position on what was left of the beach, a fair bit of scrambling led to... an illegal dump site. Beautiful. Still the right path had to be somewhere, didn't it? Well the answer would seem to be "yes" but I'll be buggered if I could find it. We had to reassess our situation. Clearly this called for beer, purely to keep the old liquid levels up and refresh the brain you understand. So we called in for a blissful cold one. From our vantage point we could see the headland that we had to cross, well even with my eyes you can hardly miss an enormous craggy limestone outcrop that juts directly from the sea soaring a good few hundred feet to block our path. There was no way around this natural obstacle, well at least without a boat, which of course we'd dispensed with a while back at a different beach. There was only one thing to do and that was go over the top. Pah, and the ANZACS reckon they had it rough at Gallipoli!

Ever onwards and upwards. Well that's certainly how it felt. We scrambled up rocks, hauled ourselves over thick, slick, juicy mud that was sluicing towards the sea on account of the monsoon, which we had to do with the aid of ropes. All the while we were fighting off nasty biting jungle beasties and being further hampered by the still increasing weight of our sodden packs. Eventually we crested the cliff face and were delighted to find only one or two more "problems" (or should we be upbeat and euphemistic, if not actually pompous and call them "opportunities"?) Firstly, was how the heck we'd get down the other side as we'd gone and left our parachutes at home and secondly was how we'd then make it to the target, as alas, it wasn't exactly "just over the hill". The first problem was easily enough overcome. Thrust forward and use all your weight to mud ski down the slope. Eight point two seconds later we were at the bottom only to be confronted by a slightly larger problem. Well much larger actually. It was the Indian Ocean. It was waist deep and angry. Still what's a few billion cubic feet of shark infested water to a pair intrepid fools. Quite a bit actually. Especially as we'd sort of forgotten that passports, money, guide books and cameras were not in fact waterproof. Doh! Still in for a penny in for Bhatt as they spend in these parts. So we pushed on. And were pushed about, into more of those enormous cliffs we'd just overcome.

Ahh, well in the face of adversity heroes are apparently born. Not us though. We just pushed on getting wetter and wetter all the while laughing at ourselves for being so utterly inept and for pushing our beautiful Gore-Tex boots way beyond their capabilities, by about three and a half feet actually. Well they're not going to keep the tootsies dry when you're up to your middle in ocean are they? Still we did finally make our destination and there would be nothing a nice hot shower wouldn't put right. Except, that we couldn't have one. There was no hot water. Indeed there was no electricity. These are rugged parts. So a cold shower and hand washing of the freshly soaked and salted kit it was then. And I'm sure that'll all dry easily in the rain! In truth, our room, despite the deficiency on the modern lighting front, was really pretty comfortable, although we were given the worlds largest bath towel as our bedsheet, I'm guessing it's either to soak up sweat, well lets face it the aircon isn't working without a power source or a barbed gag by the hotel owners who witnessed our arrival.

You know, it's not so bad as I sit here and reminisce, it was after all only the beginning of the adventure. We still had to survive and then get back to Krabi. We decided to opt for a "round-the-front" rather than an "over-the-top" route home. I'm not sure if this was a wise option or not. We had to dart through tight crevasses, over slick and bloody sharp (literally) rocks, through the water (oh what a surprise) and dodge the overhangs. When we we're about half way through the tide turned, quickly. Oh joy. Stuck between a rock and a wet place! What are you going to do? Well the sandy stuff called and with a surge of Herculean strength we pulled ourselves to the shore. Exhausted, battered, bruised, indeed bloodied but almost home! Now all that remained was to secure a ride back to Krabi and bosch, bosch, we'd done it. Only the boat drivers were going nowhere. Not with only two ragged looking punters anyway. So we had to wait and plead, and plead and wait, until they decided that there were enough folk wanting to make the trip to warrant getting out of their hammock. Cheers guys.

We both have to say that we think this stretch of coast would be absolutely amazing in the appropriate climatic conditions and despite the effort expended in getting there (and back) it really was very much worthwhile. After all we're commandos now! For our next adventure we're going chasing the good weather over on the east coast. Stay tuned for the next gripping installment...

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