Today, I
walked 35 kilometres.
I did it
carrying a 12 kilo pack.
I was
supposed to have walked only 20 kilometres, pack free.
HAR-HAR.
The disorganisation
of the night before continued as I embarked upon the morning’s journey with a
team of six freshly risen students, one local guide, the old tour leader and my
key saviour in avoiding him, Shazad. The students were issued with a litre
of water each, and embarked on their journey to one of three checkpoints;
supposedly 5km away. Manageable in the early sunlight hours, without becoming
dehydrated. However, some chaotic error with a tyre puncture, lack of a backup
car and the non-purchase of clean, bottled water left me very scared and very,
very angry four hours later. We hiked somewhere are 8 kilometres in the sun for
hours, with heavy packs and such little water that I was desperately worried
one of the kids would pass out. I poured two packets of Oral Rehydration Salts
into my last 600ml of water, and passed around a cup to make sure that every
one of the kids got some form of rehydration once the water had run out.
When we met
up with the other groups, I refused to let them push the kids on without water
until someone drove into the village we were at with some water. Danger and
warning signs were constantly springing up in my head, and I shepherded all
seventeen of my charges into the shade until some water arrived. Oh, it
arrived. Barrels, like those from a large water cooler, were delivered,
collected up from the local river. Dirt, organisms and particles included.
“Oh, it’s
been chlorinated” they said.
Seventeen
Dubai students peered curiously into their bottles, hearing echoes of their
parents’ warnings not to EVER drink anything but bottled water. Ever prepared,
I flicked out my pack of water filtration tablets and the kids started queuing
up to have one dropped into their bottles. Still hesitant, once more I had to
reassure every one of them that they probably wouldn’t die of dysentery today,
and to wait twenty minutes for the tablets to settle. I had their trust, based
on the number of times I’d already flipped out my medical kit, and they gingerly
drank from their bottles for the next leg. In the meantime, I’d made it VERY
clear that we would NOT be given local water again on the hike, under any
circumstances. My white-westerner fury began to edge itself out from under the
flexible traveller calm for just a moment, as the safety of my kids was put at
risk. Alas, we pushed on, knowing that at least they all had something that could hydrate their
systems.
Now, being
the only female staff member on the trip, I found myself being the ‘pusher’ of
the group, having to motivate those kids at the back. I was always scooping up
those lagging behind and encouraging them to undertake a task that they
themselves were not sure they could physically complete. Alas, that left me at
the back with that same man who decided that the hike was the perfect time to
discuss my physique once more. Apparently, he was surprised that I could do the
hike. He told me that he didn’t bring a backpack on the hike, because he
thought he’d have to carry mine. He told me that I didn’t look like I had done
any trekking before. He told me that I didn’t look like a runner, and if I was,
I should have lost weight from my running. He told me that I must be doing all
the wrong things in my training, and that when he was an athlete, he was doing
it right. He told me that when I stepped off the plane that he wanted me to
model designer clothes for him; that he would have liked to have designed
clothes for me.
By then, I
preferred to walk with Shazad.
Wonder why?
Shazad
delighted in discussing the fact that Australia had recently been beaten by
India in the World Cup. Not one to usually care much for the cricket, I took it
as a chance to get the hell away from the other discussions and started proposing
the fact that Pakistan would probably win the semi-final against India that
afternoon. It was ON then, and
finally, there was something else to be discussed, with someone else. We
motivated the kids by demonstrating pack-on skipping, lunging and jogging
techniques, showing off all the energy we had left while they were moaning about
the weight of their packs before escaping into our own little private iPod worlds
at the front of the pack. I had to leave the kids for a while, to let them
motivate themselves, or push forward with the other leader, otherwise I really
would have lost it.
I dropped
back to the middle of the pack and I walked into the next village with my music
on and the most incredible smile on my face, just feeling completely at peace
with the tranquility and beauty of this quaint and charming place. The trees
rose up around me; those quirky bendy ones with the neat little baubles. The greenery
was stunning, and the air was warm but clean. I was actually grinning and enjoying the meander along the red, dusty
track down the centre of the houses admiring the colour and construction of
houses and huts along the way. At some stage during my wander, I must have
slowed down, because the next thing I knew, the tour leader was talking to me
at my side. I took out my headphones.
“Your smile
is so beautiful. Not everyone can wear a smile like that.”
You just screwed up my moment buddy.
A real, uncanny, lifetime travel moment; and you screwed it.
We made it
to a new checkpoint, where the little village shop was selling soft drinks and
glucose biscuits, and the support car was available with *shock* BOTTLED water. We had the opportunity to
stop for lunch, but wanted to press on, as we were the last group and already
behind. Boosted up by sugary goodness, toilet breaks and twenty minutes to sit
and ponder whether chocolate or vanilla biscuits were better, and the concept
of Thums Up vs. Coke. Essentially, we were in good spirits. At that point we
were told that the GPS said we’d covered 26 kilometres.
Hang on. Today’s
schedule said 20 kilometres. Total.
Oh, and there’s 8 kilometres to go.
Now, when
you’re an adult, you can deal with stuff like that. You can motivate yourself
and tell yourself it’s just another hour – it’s all ok. Try telling that to six
hardworking teenagers who have already dedicated pretty much everything they
had to get to that point. They felt like they’d been lied to. There’s only so
much you can say to try and talk about how much they have already achieved,
then you have to resort to “c’mon, you can do it.” It felt so awful trying to
push them all over again. Even my pack was starting to hurt, but I refused to
give it up for someone else to carry.
One girl began to cry and wheeze, mentally unable to get past the task ahead.
My iPod and some old Usher tunes pushed her on for a while. Then she broke the headphones.
Bloody hell.
She had an
anxiety attack. The last river crossing, and about twenty minutes away from our
destination in Tapola, she dropped to the ground and cried and wheezed and
panicked her way through the next ten minutes. The leader kept saying the likes
of “oh stop crying, that won’t help” as I pushed on with more motivational
strategies that got Andrew’s backside up a mountain. A little positivity never
goes astray really, and another ten minutes later, we were pushing forward for
the last leg. The boys in our team edging the girls on, only for the fact that
they found out that a television with the semi-final had been arranged for when
they arrived in camp. Shazad and I wagered who would be sleeping outside their
tent depending on which team lost the game that night, and we finally made it
into camp where lunch was being served and the other teams were waiting with
cheers and congratulations. The kids swelled up with pride as they dropped onto
seats and started shovelling rice into their mouths, while I couldn’t wait to get
eight hours of dirt and mud off my skin.
Some kids
went kayaking in the water nearby, while others washed and prepared to head up
to a village house to see the game. I took an hour to inhale about four cups of
chai and write in my Moleskine before heading off to ‘shower’ in the quite
ingenious ladies’ washing area. When I came back, feeling light-hearted and refreshed
in my traveller’s gypsy pants and a singlet for the evening, that man who had
messed up my travel moment just hours earlier asked to take a photo of me,
right there and then.
Unimpressed,
I stormed off to watch the cricket.
That’s
right, I voluntarily watched an entire
game of cricket…but that’s a story for my next post.
