THE BACKPACKER - DAY 3
Camp 2, approx 20km from Camp 1, Somewhere in Northern Thailand
I hardly got a wink of sleep last night due to Phil grinding his teeth. In desperation I put a stick of Wrigley’s gum in between his teeth - but this only induced a coughing fit that lasted twenty minutes, before he reverted back to type and started grinding his teeth again. I ended up plugging in my Ipod as a distraction and fell asleep listening to The Strokes. I think I’ve got tinnitus now.
Breakfast is coffee and a couple of health food bars – you know the ones: full of nuts and seeds and obscure dried fruit. They’re quite tasty, actually. I have two and three mugs of coffee with sugar. I don’t normally take sugar but after last night’s sleepless nightmare I need the energy. I am a bit pissed with Phil, as he looks the picture of health and I feel like Stephen Hawkings sickly brother.
In no time at all the camp is dismantled and we are on our way. I think the sheer effort of carrying a heavy rucksack in such heat precludes anyone from too much conversation – either that or this is introvert city.
On the journey I approach Hy and state my views re: the excessive smoking. He merely grins and thrusts a pack of cigarettes into my hand and points to my groin. It’s safe to say my point has completely gone over his small head.
The walk uphill is slippery and arduous. Although it is extremely warm I have no idea why my bum, in particular, is getting fiercely hot. I leave it for another twenty minutes or so before I can take no more and am forced to approach one of the guides. Once again I have to endure a hideously embarrassing situation and show Hy my bottom – who in turn fails to recognise my anguish by cheerfully calling over Lo to have a look. Fighting back tears of laughter, they tell me in their horrible broken English, that my bottom must have touched the leaf of a poisonous plant when doing pooey-pooey. As I recall, I did use some leaves as toilet paper. Lo gave me some horrible smelly, yellow jelly to apply that gave me instant relief – though I did have to endure the indignity of it staining my khaki shorts bright orange in the offending area.
The strange high-pitched hissing noise as we walked along turned out to be Thijs breathing. Unbeknownst to him, Matt had hooked the not inconsiderable weight of his own tent and sleeping bag onto the back of Thijs' rucksack. It’s quite literally a super wheeze – but I shall have to watch Matt.
At one stage I thought I might get through the day without making a social faux pas – but no. During the last stage of the day’s trek, the lovely Maria was in front of me, just wearing a vest. I couldn’t help but notice a large leech on her back and thought it was only decent to get rid of it. Although I’m a non-smoker, I quickly lit up one of the cigarettes Hy gave me and stubbed it out on the little bugger. Maria’s scream could be heard in the neighbouring country. It transpired the ‘leech’ was a mole i.e. a skin blemish. If ever someone misjudged a situation. The poor girl didn’t stop shaking the whole night – despite having the yellow jelly smeared several times over her wound. I suspect I am persona non grata with her now – or the Swedish equivalent. I’ll try and make it up to her tomorrow.
Jack the Lad, Matt, managed to remove his tent and sleeping bag just before Thijs collapsed with exhaustion. I’m sharing with him (Matt) tonight so I’ll have to sleep with one eye open. But Jeez, I’m tired.
I hardly got a wink of sleep last night due to Phil grinding his teeth. In desperation I put a stick of Wrigley’s gum in between his teeth - but this only induced a coughing fit that lasted twenty minutes, before he reverted back to type and started grinding his teeth again. I ended up plugging in my Ipod as a distraction and fell asleep listening to The Strokes. I think I’ve got tinnitus now.
Breakfast is coffee and a couple of health food bars – you know the ones: full of nuts and seeds and obscure dried fruit. They’re quite tasty, actually. I have two and three mugs of coffee with sugar. I don’t normally take sugar but after last night’s sleepless nightmare I need the energy. I am a bit pissed with Phil, as he looks the picture of health and I feel like Stephen Hawkings sickly brother.
In no time at all the camp is dismantled and we are on our way. I think the sheer effort of carrying a heavy rucksack in such heat precludes anyone from too much conversation – either that or this is introvert city.
On the journey I approach Hy and state my views re: the excessive smoking. He merely grins and thrusts a pack of cigarettes into my hand and points to my groin. It’s safe to say my point has completely gone over his small head.
The walk uphill is slippery and arduous. Although it is extremely warm I have no idea why my bum, in particular, is getting fiercely hot. I leave it for another twenty minutes or so before I can take no more and am forced to approach one of the guides. Once again I have to endure a hideously embarrassing situation and show Hy my bottom – who in turn fails to recognise my anguish by cheerfully calling over Lo to have a look. Fighting back tears of laughter, they tell me in their horrible broken English, that my bottom must have touched the leaf of a poisonous plant when doing pooey-pooey. As I recall, I did use some leaves as toilet paper. Lo gave me some horrible smelly, yellow jelly to apply that gave me instant relief – though I did have to endure the indignity of it staining my khaki shorts bright orange in the offending area.
The strange high-pitched hissing noise as we walked along turned out to be Thijs breathing. Unbeknownst to him, Matt had hooked the not inconsiderable weight of his own tent and sleeping bag onto the back of Thijs' rucksack. It’s quite literally a super wheeze – but I shall have to watch Matt.
At one stage I thought I might get through the day without making a social faux pas – but no. During the last stage of the day’s trek, the lovely Maria was in front of me, just wearing a vest. I couldn’t help but notice a large leech on her back and thought it was only decent to get rid of it. Although I’m a non-smoker, I quickly lit up one of the cigarettes Hy gave me and stubbed it out on the little bugger. Maria’s scream could be heard in the neighbouring country. It transpired the ‘leech’ was a mole i.e. a skin blemish. If ever someone misjudged a situation. The poor girl didn’t stop shaking the whole night – despite having the yellow jelly smeared several times over her wound. I suspect I am persona non grata with her now – or the Swedish equivalent. I’ll try and make it up to her tomorrow.
Jack the Lad, Matt, managed to remove his tent and sleeping bag just before Thijs collapsed with exhaustion. I’m sharing with him (Matt) tonight so I’ll have to sleep with one eye open. But Jeez, I’m tired.
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