Jungle Boy

Really, I didn't know those places still exist, where you are completely off the grid. No phone. No internet. No nothing. Just jungle. Dark, cold, and full of sounds I don't recognize. I know my coordinates, but a GPS is meaningless if there's no way out. But let's start at the beginning...

As usual, it was a nice Sunday morning. But today no riding. Instead I’m driving. Up north somewhere. I got the coordinates punched in the GPS. I need it, because I have no idea where I am, or where I’m going to. They told me it’s the perfect retreat to de-stress. I need that. They also told me “it’s simple and basic”. Now, in general I don’t mind that. Yes, I’m a city boy, but I’m not big on 5-star resorts with ice cold rooms where they give you fresh shower caps with the hotel logo printed on them every morning, as if to remember you that you smell bad. Basic is fine. The problem usually starts when they advertise it as such. Because it doesn’t mean simple. And it never means basic. It usually is an euphemism for the words “crap”, “grotty”, and other negatives. But the de-stress thingy sounded good enough. Just to be sure, I’ve taken the big eski in the boot, filled to the rim with the good stuff. It will help me survive the “simple and basic” part.

Excellent. The GPS now tells me I’m no longer on a road. Which is sort of true. You can’t classify this as a road. Funny enough, the blinking black and white finish flag on the GPS screen says that I still have quite a long way to go. Oh, well, let’s not stress too much about that, we’ll see where it ends.

Just to be sure, I also brought the map that they provided on the web. Map is a big word, it’s sort of a drawing of landmarks along the way, like “really big tree trunk, turn right”. Hello, may I remind you we’re in the jungle here? There’s really big tree trunks everywhere. Oh, no, this one is really big, that must be it. Hm, not too bad after all, that map.

Next land mark. “Do NOT cross this bridge. 90% of all people who lost their way is coz they crossed the bridge”. Sounds like a horror movie. A quick calculation. It means that at least 10 people have lost their way in an attempt to find the place, or else you can’t come to a “bridge” percentage of 90. Now I really wonder what happened to poor bugger number 10. How did he die? And what is on the other side of the bridge that causes such an extremely high mortality rate? Ah, there’s the bridge. Ouch! Not in a million years would I try to drive over it! It’s a wooden bridge with big gaping holes in the completely rotten planks. I wouldn’t even try walking over it.

A few landmarks later “pass the really really really small school” (which made me stop and look around for dwarfs, but no luck), and the “big pond” (compared to the really really really small school maybe, but it was not much), and the the road stops at a surprisingly modern looking sliding gate. This must be it!

The gate is not locked, so I slide it open, and drive in. A Nepalese boy appears. Nepalese? Yeah, I think so, because he doesn’t look Malay, Indonesian, Bangla, Indian, Chinese, white or anything else recognizable, and we don’t speak a single word in a language common to both of us. So much for the chit-chat. Still he doesn’t appear hostile, or even surprised, so I guess he must have been expecting me. Good. I park the car and take my backpack. And the Nepalese takes the 30kg eski like a true sherpa. Hence the association with Nepal, I guess.

After quite a hike through the jungle, following what looks like an unused overgrown single track, we come to a very small flowing stream. That we follow upstream for a few minutes, and there suddenly he is. JUNGLE BOY.

With a disapproving expression, yet without personal emotions, Jungle Boy just stands there, watching us enter his domain. Without a word, the trapdoor is opened, and the sherpa and I climb up the wooden deck of the otherwise glass and steel shed. He gives me a very eerie feeling. Not necessarily unwelcome, but just spooky. Never before have I encountered a wooden statue with so much personality. It sends a cold shiver down my spine…

Simple and basic. Yes, that would be a proper description after all. Not crap. Just simple, and basic. A bed. A fan. A mosquito net. A chair. A fire pit. An outdoor shower and toilet. I dig this. It has de-stress written all over it. I quickly check my hand phone. No signal. So much for e-mail, work calls, reading the news. I’m on my own. It feels… I don’t know, it feels almost scary. No, adventurous, that’s a better word. I look at Jungle Boy. He looks back. “Pff. City boy” he says.

I look around, but the sherpa is gone. Without a sound, without a word (which I would not have understood anyway). Oh well, never mind. Let’s de-stress. I look at the absence of the signal on my hand phone for a while. Quite therapeutic. My blood pressure is dropping already. Then I look at the map again. I’m at the cross. I can see a curly line passing through the cross, going up. No idea if “up” is north. Just “up”. Who cares when you’re in the middle of nowhere, with no intention to go anywhere. Hey, hold on. A bit further “up”, there’s another symbol on the map, in the way of the curly line. It must be a waterfall. Hm. Interesting. “Don’t do it”, Jungle Boy says, “It’s not worth it”. I look at him. His expression has changed now, into a sort of mocking challenging smile. “Screw you, Jungle Boy. I’m going in.”

Quickly I grab two cold ones from the eski and into my backpack, strap on the off road GPS (ok, ok, I admit it, I’m a real city boy, I did bring 2 GPS units), mark my location, flip Jungle Boy the bird, and off I go.

I follow the stream “up”, which according to my GPS is in fact north-east. Since the stream is the only track without extremely thick vegetation, I just wade through the water. It’s never more than ankle deep, so that pretty cooling and easy. After a good hour or so, the stream suddenly opens up into a wider pool of water. The pool is a sort of natural basin, and its overflowing feeds different streams going in different directions. And the basin is constantly re-filled by a very nice, not too big, very cooling, waterfall. What a spot! I take of the backpack and everything, and jump into the pond. The de-stress is complete when I pop one of the brewski’s and sip it. Excellent!

After a while I’m getting chilly, so I dry and dress myself, and sit on an old fallen trunk to look at the scenery. Looking up at the waterfall makes me wonder where all that water is coming from. Can’t be only rain. It hasn’t rained in days. Must be a spring then. Interesting. Must find out. Must climb up. Good plan. I strap on the pack, put on my shoes, and start climbing the rocks up the fall. Easy. Well done, Dutch boy. After a few minutes I’m up there. Hm. The stream is now bigger, with lots of rocks and rock plateaus in it. So I continue upstream. Jumping, climbing, crawling, splashing. Some of the rocks are slippery like an eel, especially when they are just below the water surface. Some are very rough and pointy. But I continue my way. Up. And up.

I’m looking at the sky, and suddenly I realize that the sun is going down rapidly. Darn. That was a very bad mistake. I really don’t look forward to climbing back down the rocky slippery stream in the dark. I did bring my brand new military grade tactical HD 250 lumen torchlight of course. Going to the jungle was such an excellent excuse to finally buy one. But still. I decide to climb until the top of the next waterfall and then go back.

This is a particularly steep one. I have the feeling that on the top I will finally find out where all this water comes from. Crap. My foot slips from a rock, and I start loosing my balance. Looking down makes my stomach churn. A fall at this point would be a very, very bad one. A broken leg in the jungle is not a great thing. A broken skull would be even worse. While grasping desperately for something to hold on to, I claw at the rocks, and push myself as close to them as possible. After sliding down for about 2 meters, I finally come to a stop. At the cost of a few bloody knees and hands. But at least I didn’t fall.

Suddenly I realize the situation I’m in. It’s not good at all. It’s getting dark, I’m alone, and I’m in very dangerous situation. Triple crap. Ok, stop worrying now. Climb, boy, climb. I crawl my way up further, very careful now, until I come to the top of the water fall. Looking down makes me want to slap myself. You dumb reckless idiot. Never do that again!

I sit there for a while and think what to do next. Go back? Dangerous. Go further? That will only get me further from home. I know my coordinates, but a GPS is meaningless if there's no way out. I’m screwed. I would like that second Corona now, but with a lot of physical stuff to look forward to, I decide against it. Better get into a safe place first. I turn around to scout what’s further up.

And I stare right into the face of a fat Chinese boy. Sitting on a rock. He stares back at me. While eating his prawn mee. With chopsticks. Slurping. He pauses the noodle gobbling process for a while, and gives me a smile. Exactly the same smile that Jungle Boy gave me. Then he says “don’t climb further. It’s not worth it”. Jungle Boy!

The whole scene takes me so by surprise that I almost lose my balance and tumble back down the waterfall. I’m speechless. Then my brain catches up; the fact that there’s a boy here, is weird. Or is it? If he’s eating prawn mee from a bowl, then that can mean 2 things. Either he made the bowl himself out of jungle clay, caught a few prawns from the stream, and cooked them up. That would make him the ultimate survivor. His belly says otherwise. There must be a place selling prawn mee. And that means there must be a road. Ha! I’m saved!

I smile back at the fat boy, and climb past him. There I see a wide open shallow pool. And just behind it a parking lot. And leading to that a gravel road. Well, so much for isolation and adventure. I clean my bloody limbs a bit, and set out for a walk back. It’s a long walk back, but it’s just the only path there is. No junctions, no side roads. So I walk. After a while it gets dark. There’s a moon. That’s good, it provides more than enough light to walk on the gravel road. A bit disappointing that I cannot really test my torch light, but I’m more happy to be on the road again.

2 hours later, pitch dark, I’m hungry. Suddenly, I cannot believe my eyes. I’m on the other side of “the bridge”. 90% of all people who lost their ways have crossed the bridge. Well, I did lose my way. But the statistics do not really apply to my case. I cross it. It’s actually not that bad of a bridge. Or maybe my perceptions have changed after today’s events. I know it’s still a long walk, but I now how to get back to my shed. It takes me just over an hour.

I climb back onto the deck. The sherpa must have been here and lit the fire pit. Not bad. I take off my backpack, and pop the second beer. With a violent burst it shoots out a massive fountain of lukewarm foam. Jungle Boy is grinning. “Told you so, Dutch Boy. It’s not worth it”. I grumble a bit and wipe off the foamy bear. From the eski I pull out an ice cold new one. And a big juicy rib eye, which goes on the rack over the flames. “You’re wrong, Jungle Boy. This was so much worth every single agonizing minute.”