Three Island Challenge

Day 15

Magnetic sheets held me fast. I wanted to wake up and workout and other things. It all felt like too much. The gravitational pull of what I choose to call laziness. The inevitable awakening occurred. We set our sights on the island pocked Gulf of Thailand. Our sleek steed awaited. We climbed into the two holes on its back. One in front of the other. Stretched our legs into the hard, rubbery body cavity. Picked up the long arms, with their double-sided, water-displacing ends to carve figure eights in the air and surf.

The plan was to paddle to the three lumps on the horizon. Islands which Matt had told us were previously visited by three Swedes. In the double kayak. On Christmas Eve. So we knew it could be done. So much so that we didn’t pack anything for lunch. With success guaranteed*, I self-sabotage. Intent on increasing the level of discomfort, thus excitement. On that note, we shoved off into the surf.

Every stroke presented an opportunity for evaluation and improvement. The elbow angles effects on pectoral strain. Full body use. Muscle isolation avoidance. Self-evaluation as meditation. The gratification of successfully improved efficiency. Well, that’s what was in my brain. Also, the never-ending volley of inner though tennis. Of course, we obviously didn’t plan for this excursion. No lunch, no water. It wasn’t the smartest thing but it didn’t need to be. With the confidence in each other paired with a massive lack in danger, if something actually did go wrong it wouldn’t be fixed by having  a lunch on hand. Sweating in the sun called for snorkeling. The water was clear enough to make snorkeling simply a way of zooming in on what we could already see perfectly clearly from the kayak. Like putting on a much needed pair of glasses. We normalized the snorkeling experience and decided it was time to move on.

“Moving on,” involved us circumnavigating those three islands. Liz mistakenly expressed a slight fear of sharks in large bodies of salty water. I’m incapable of letting knowledge like that slide into disuse and encourage its slide into misuse. It was a hot and sunny day. Liz jumped into the water to cool off. I figured this would be a good time to test that fear. A quick succession of paddle strokes bore me farther and farther from her. And her from the relative safety of the kayak. Although, a full size great white shark would cleave through the hull in short order. We all know that the relation of isolation, in large salty bodies of water, to the number of nearby blood-thirsty sharks is positively-correlated. She tired out from the initial panic. She yelled unrepeatable things at me. She laughed. Her fear of sharks being closely related to the life or death fear reserved for those last couple steps up to the basement door after turning out the light. But if you stand on the steps in the dark, and listen to your beating heart, you can hear the fact that there are not unimaginable monsters lurking. Unless there are, and in that case, you didn’t stand a chance either way.

SCUBA Diving and the Cardiac Challenge

Day 14

Completed the Cardiac Challenge this morning. That being the name Matt gives his daily steep jungle run. Running on sand felt great on my legs and didn’t bother my IT band like roads have been. The uneven terrain flexed and stretched muscles and tendons in a much needed way. Beach gave way to road. the road immediately took on a steep grade. We stopped halfway up to do three sets of old school calisthenics (push-ups, squats, that sort of thing). From there I was told by Matt to run the rest of the way to the top as he was going to walk it. I set off, but the hill had other ideas. Untrained muscles and technique failure mixed into a volatile reaction. My calves waved signs and marched against the unfair treatment. In response to the calf strike, my posture threw in the towel as well. The civil disobedience ground me to a slow walk. Matt saw me slow and yelled encouragement. The kind words were a Christmas bonus to my aching body. The pace was picked up and dusted off all the way to the top of the hill. Matt caught up and congratulated me. I thanked him for the bail out encouragement. We ran together down the hill. Liz and I ate a small breakfast of eggs and toast prepared by the Paradise Palms Chef Extraordinaire, Matt’s Wife.

Our ride to the pier bounced all the way to the other side of the Island, on pot-holes occasionally interrupted by jungle road. The boat launched off of a long white-washed wooden pier. The pier was recently built up to contain a crowding of shops and restaurants on either side of the narrow walkway. The smell of fresh seafood accompanied our fittings for fins, masks, buoyancy compensator vests, and wet-suits. My memory’s abilities were questioned as we strolled to the dive boat. The unimpeded rays of sunlight eased my nerves. The boat was a big orange, two storied monster with other divers already milling around on deck. Once our equipment was stowed on the main deck we made our way to the top deck for a general overview of the boat and dive locations. We met our Cambodian guide, Pirom Proueng, to go over the plan for our initial dive. Multiple dives in a day are ordered with the deepest dive first, getting progressively shallower. The sought after wreck of the HTMS Chang being our first dive, with a depth of 28 meters (74 feet). This would be the deepest Liz has dove.

Diving again felt fantastic. I remembered diving being serenely quiet save for the whoosh of inhalation and the steady blub of bubbles on the exhale. Diving here, in the Gulf of Thailand, seemed louder for some reason. I was expecting a return to the vivid serenity of past dives. We remember the best bits of excellent experiences. I remember closing my eyes in the muck of a water hazard to the sounds of silence. I tend to forget the panic which flowed through my veins during most of my rescue diving training. Anyway, multiple schools of multiple fish species call the wreck home. The giant spheres of fish moved in unison. Picture a bat fish. That’s what bat fish are. We saw a lot of those strange creatures as we moved through the hold of the sunken ship and into the bridge. The steady feedback of sound accompanying each breath was metronomic. The mechanical regularity eased me into a state of calm observance of the watery world around me.

Liz was not dangerously low on air but was below our agreed upon limit near the end of the dive. We were already halfway through our safety stop and therefore extremely close to finishing the dive. Our guide, having a lot of air left, pulled around his “octopus” (extra) regulator. Liz removed her regulator and replaced it with his offered octopus regulator to breath together on his tank. The process of octopus breathing can confuse both the diver and the guide, it also drains the tank double time. Generally, octopus breathing is reserved for emergencies. We were very close to being able to safely surface. It wasn’t unsafe and it worked out. I wouldn’t have done it in that situation though.

Liz and I talked about eating meat after a lunch of pork, veggies, and rice. We constantly slip into the same conversation about once a month. Can we justify eating meat when we don’t physically or economically have to? As individuals, not governments. We usually decide that eating meat we consider sustainable is justified. We also don’t worry about our meaty mistakes when we don’t follow that doctrine to the letter. Because doctrines are dumb.

Jellyfish and a Light Dinner

Day 13

Woke early with intent to run. I remembered Matt saying he would run every morning. Joining him was my goal. I had forgotten something he had told me yesterday: he would be on the mainland this morning renewing his daughter’s passport. So I waited for some time for him to come outside and when he didn’t I did a short workout. Sweated my memory into working. Remembered. Decided running was overrated, got back into bed.

Motorbiked into the risen sun and a search for breakfast foods. It can be hard to find reasonably priced Western breakfast in Thailand. Breakfast being one of the few Western things we sought, we sought it hard. Our halt occurred at a place called Thor’s, right off the beach. Standard fried eggs and toast are elevated to a level beyond the ordinary when in short supply. I went over SCUBA diving basics with Liz over breakfast. We dive tomorrow. I’m nervous to live up to my minor. Truth is, It’s been so long since I’ve been diving. The ease with which all the SCUBA basics returned to the front lines from their respite in the green zone that is the back of my mind gave me comfort. Tomorrow holds promises. Expectations. Liz motored back from Thor’s, our breakfast spot. It is much more fun to drive the bike rather than ride the back.

We took our time getting in the water to snorkel right off the beach from our bungalow. There’s no sign of anxiety but on the slightest breath of wind blowing in from the mainland. Such a relaxed atmosphere lends itself to slowness. It being a rocky beach it has great snorkeling and clear water. Suburbs of coral rest under the canopy of waving, tall ocean grasses. These rural suburbs supplant themselves close to shore a healthy distance from the otherwise barren sandy environment farther into the deep. A theme developed for our swims in the Gulf as we both got stung by jellyfish an hour into our snorkel. Books occupied our recovery. Five people came by to take out Matt’s kayaks. That was a lot. The majority of the kayakers were in it for the fishing. They had poles and vests and bait.

With all the restaurants being a motorbike away, we decided on beer for dinner tonight. We have a hard time motivating as far as finding food is concerned. Matt conversed with us about geology and adventure. Talked about how we were raised so as to seek adventure as endlessly as we do. Matt was interested in this point as he is raising a daughter, currently 14.

We put the day to bed with a lullaby in the form of the audiobook, The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. We’re almost finished!

Motorin!

Day 12

Paradise Palms. That’s the name of the bungalow resort we are staying in. Matt, the owner showed us around the night we arrived. Being right on the water you might expect that we had issues with people crowding the beach but you would be wrong. It’s actually a rocky beach in between two rocky points jutting out into the Gulf of Thailand. So the area has a great secluded vibe about it. We were glad about that. None of our experiences with the tourist crowds have been pleasant. So it was great to get away from that without staying up in the mountains, or underground. And we’re not above staying underground. Matt’s interest in getting to know us was awesome. We would always end up talking to him for a couple of hours at least about all sorts of things. Diving on wrecks. Sunken treasure. Underwater archaeology. The Gulf of Thailand has a number of ship wrecks from ancient trade routes with China. More recently, in 1945, a US Balao-class submarine and a Japanese Destroyer were sunk in the Gulf. After talking some more, there was mention of an intentionally sunk US/Thai naval vessel called the HTMS Chang. It was sunk in 2012 to act as a dive attraction and artificial reef. Liz and I accosted Matt with questions on how we could get out there and dive on it. There are a number of dive shops which operate trips into the Gulf from Koh Chang. On Matt’s recommendation we booked a dive trip. Matt has also experienced more American states than I have. Considering I live in America I felt an immense fear of missing out hearing about his experience. Besides the obvious FOMO, his stories of the American Southwest and West coast sealed a pact with myself to travel in my own country.

Liz and I had never ridden a motorbike so Matt was apprehensive about renting us one. A Thai tattoo is what the locals call the numerous injuries accumulated by skittish, mostly mindless tourists blasting out on a bike for the first time. Liz and I planned to ride on the scarcely trafficked Island roads. Considering the bikes are single speed and don’t require any shifting, they sounded like fast bicycles. Boy was I wrong. Just kidding! They were super easy to ride. Gave our bike a test ride down the street and back. It was exhilarating. An unexpected passion rising. Our time with the motorbike was one of freedom and discovery. Signs on the island are tri-lingual. Thai, English, and Russian. Apparently the Islands of Thailand are to Russians as Florida is to Americans. In a narrow sense anyway. Immense access to restaurants thanks to the motorbike afforded us an overwhelming array of options.

We found food in a place which seemed to mostly serve a resort. The Cape. The prices were high but that’s to be expected of a place called “The Cape.” The prices were forgiven thanks to the sunset view. The sun was a coin splashed with well mixed ketchup and mustard sliding into the coin slot of the horizon. My meal was a deliciously painful papaya salad. Painfully spicy that is. No drink for me because of driving the bike. Our gaze settled on a strange sight on the water. a Shallow boat holding a square table, set for dinner, into the the sunset surf. A couple sat astride the suspect stability of a table on what amounts to a canoe. Our breath caught in our throats as we waited for the climactic topple. Luckily for the couple, their dinner cruise seemed to go off without a hitch. Disappointment plagued me at the loss of a surely hilarious spectacle. Liz, being a less cruel person, was relieved. Celebration was had when the headlight of our motorbike worked considerably better than the speedometer which insisted we were never going any faster than not at all.

Liz…By: Nick

DAY 11

Today, the plan was, to attempt a journal entry from Liz’s point of view. I tried but we were travelling and I encountered too many interesting things to focus solely on my guesses at Liz’s thoughts. We hurriedly packed everything this morning at 4:30. As we waited for our ride to the airport I (Liz) worried about the taxi being late to get us. A wave of relief passed over me (Liz) when our car pulled up. K was so awesome, I thought in the car; I loved getting to know her. We rode in silence albeit the ringing of caffeine withdrawals in my ears. Boy I could use some coffee. The airport was small and check in was easy despite having to pay to check our large backpack. As we walked into the terminal, I spotted a coffee kiost. I made a bee-line for it. Nick seemed hungry but he didn’t get anything from the kiosk. He seems a little hangry. Oh great, now he’s playing pokemon. Ha ha I’ll snapchat a picture of him and send it to everyone. That’ll be funny. As we exited the Don Meung Airport in Bangkok, we walked directly onto a bus to the Bangkok bus station. Nick and I had to sit apart. Gosh, he’s good looking. We almost got off at the wrong stop but were stopped by one of the bus drivers. She made sure we made it to the bus station. She was so friendly. She was the first to help us. As we exited the bus she vaguely motioned for us to walk down a dimly lit alleyway. This sure doesn’t look like a bus station, I (Liz) couldn’t help thinking. Our confusion was palpable. Within ten strides a woman approached us and asked if we needed help. She was wearing a bright red skirt, and a cute white blouse. She looked like she was shopping. We extolled our lost lamb-itude and she motioned for us to follow her. Our guide led us like pack horses. After showing us to a ticket window for buses to Trat, which is where we were going, poof! She was gone. In her place stood the driver of our bus. He took our reins and showed us where to buy food, then to the bus. Every once in a while our bus would stop as if winded. Like carrying passengers wasn’t what it was built to do. Not too long out of Bangkok, the bus stopped for one final breather. Instead of pushing onward, our bus collapsed in a heap. I don’t know what was wrong with it but either way our bus broke down. The bus gave up at a highway side restaurant. The food was hot pork soup, ordered for us by two kindly older ladies from the bus. They were on their way to a funeral in Trat. Our conversation with them was a bit of a friendly mess. Their English was a little hard to understand, but we managed. One of the women gave us her card for her jewelry business in Bangkok and said to call if we needed anything while there. We had been steeling ourselves for a potential night at the roadside when a replacement bus showed up rather quickly. The bus was totally full. Like peas in a sweltering pod. This was the first bus I had been on that didn’t have the A/C cranked to 11. 11 degrees Fahrenheit that is.

I sat next to an interesting man from California. We got to talking about his time in the peace corps in West Africa where he learned to speak French. He used his French to do work in West Africa and globally, mostly for non-profit organizations. He has friends who started an organization in East Africa to raise awareness for HIV. He worked on many projects after Africa. One project was taking emotionally disturbed youth boogy boarding off the coast of California. The kids loved it and so did the organization sending them; this caused the excursion to grow exponentially. He said they grew too fast and had to disband the outings due to the logistical nightmare. This was his way of cautioning against growing too fast, as we had already discussed my involvement in starting a non-profit organization. I told him stories from our paddle forward trips and my time pursuing a career in Law Enforcement. He was blown away by my experiences and took down our websites. After a stop I was able to sit next to Liz again and that man’s name frustratingly escapes me. A taxi took us from the Trat bus station to a pier. Supposedly we could catch a ferry from this pier to Koh (which means Island) Chang. It took us a considerable amount of time to figure out that it was the wrong pier. The taxi dropped us at one of the many run of the mill ‘travel agencies.’ These agencies’ sole purpose is generally to charge way more than necessary in a totally uncalled for, pushy way. We turned from the agency and were greeted by a street jam packed with food, clothing, and trinket stalls. We did a lap and were enthralled with what turned out to be a festival honoring the king of Thailand. It’s cool to be somewhere with a king. Storybook cool. I don’t know enough to say whether or not it’s real life cool too. (Now that future me has been to the Thai National History Museum I can say that, I’m still not sure). We were searching for the actual ferry when a young, teenage couple pointed us towards an older woman who was just closing up shop. She stayed open to help us. Turns out we needed to catch a ride to the actual ferry dock; we needed to wait for that ride. Even though she was about to close, she went back to a kitchen and made us pad thai with chicken and mango. Our driver arrived to take us to the ferry. She spoke English. As we waited for the ferry, the sun set a gorgeous orange-red fire in the sky. The ride over to Koh Chang was uneventful and dark. I couldn’t help but wonder whether I could swim to shore if the ferry happened to go down. I’m pretty sure I could have, but never needed to find out. Turns out Liz was thinking the same thing! We taxied our way to Paradise Palms, the resort we are staying in.

Last Day in Krabi Town

DAY 10

Ao Nang beach had an extremely low tide today. Way low. Silhouetted figures squat (presumably to look at things) out where the surf used to be (they might be pooping). We searched for a chocolate shake after walking the beach. Chocolate shakes are hard to find here. Eventually found some ice cream and a blender. After hand gestures and drawings we communicated the combination.

Met a man named Eros (air-rroash) in the lobby of our guesthouse. From Slovenia. Sandwiched between Italy and Switzerland. I have to note the country’s geographic location, as I couldn’t recall where it was when he asked. And, he seemed pretty smug about that. Went to get dinner with him at the night market. He talked a lot about Slovenia, which sounds like a lovely country. Eros told us about how a Pakistani immigrant lives with him and his wife. This man wakes up and takes hours longer than anyone else to do everything: make food, get places, sleep, etc. Eros couldn’t understand this lifestyle. ‘How can he not watch TV?’ Eros told us about how he made a joke to the Catholic Pakistani immigrant. The joke was about how the Catholic sacrament is a form of cannibalism. The Pakistani man did not understand the joke. Eros is 41 years old. When in Bangkok, he spent the night with a friend. He was kept awake by the noise of his friend throwing a party. He told us about how he was also kept awake by the incessant knocking on his door by three women trying to have sex with him. He’s married so naturally he refused. One of the women’s husbands was there. He wanted to split the money Eros would hypothetically pay his wife for sex. After dinner, Eros said he was going to buy a little whiskey to help him go straight to sleep because he was very tired.

We got to know K, the owner of K’s guesthouse where we were staying. She spoke English well. She was helpful, nay integral, in planning our Krabi adventures. K went to New Zealand and had a terrible experience. She rented a car which turned out to have bad brakes. She was driving a little crazily, because the brakes were only working when they felt like it. Someone called the police to say she was all over the road. So, she got pulled over. Her thought was to take off her seat belt and step out of the car to talk to the police man. She ended up with a ticket for not wearing her seat belt. At this point she was very distraught. She didn’t like the food much either, said there’s only so many times you can eat a burger in a week. K gave us both a big hug before we left.

Tiger Caves in the Haze

DAY 9

Visited a place called the Tiger Cave Temple. This place has that name because a well known tiger used to live in a cave on the premises. The roar of the tiger, boosted by cave-acoustics, could often be heard in the nearby village. Buddhist Monks live there now. Monkeys moved in after the tiger left, as well. Steep, tall steps end in a lookout. An ominous haze blotted out the horizon. Supposedly there is an ocean and islands beyond the haze. There were many bells to ring. I know almost nothing about Buddhism which leaves me with a lot of questions every time we visit a temple. Beyond the temple there are more caves and jungle trails. A Polish dad and son excitedly pointed out a monitor lizard to us. I traded in my David Sedaris book for “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami. Night seafood market. encouraged to sit and eat. that’s how they get you. Next to the estuary. Great place for people watching. A man from California asked how much we paid for our beer. He then went on to tell me that he has been here for a couple of days with his wife and moustache.

Kayaking the Estuary

DAY 8

Our mission today was to kayak the mangrove estuaries. We got picked up early from our guesthouse; transported to a long wooden hut, extending over the estuary as a sort of pier. On the car ride over we met a couple from Canada also travelling through Thailand. Their names were Alex and Vanessa. Our meeting came right after Liz and I decided that getting to know as many people as we could would be a goal of ours. After we went over paddle strokes and safety our guide asked if we wanted to wear life jackets. I was surprised by the choice. This would have been mandatory in the States. Our guide went over paddle strokes, steering, etc. Patience for this came from being in his shoes the last couple summers. Liz’s position at the stern of the kayak was determined when our guide said that the stern is the, ‘captain’s seat,’ and that the, ‘gentleman should be the captain.’ Our paddle took us through mangrove forest and beneath soaring karsts with the shadows of caves on their faces. The rising and falling tide, over thousands of years, has created low-tide lagoons. Caves mark the entrance to these lagoons. High tide fills in the caves and hides the lagoons. The soundtrack to our paddle through one such cave were the echoes of calls and shrieks coming from the jungle behind and ahead of us. Staying the night in the lagoon as it fills with tide and cuts you off from the outside world would have been a surreal experience. There were two more caves we paddled through. Cones of stalactites and stalagmites bordered the channel through the cave. Sunlight shimmered off the water to be reflected in waves of light on the ceiling of the caves.

We exited the kayaks in order to hike up to a graffiti ridden cave which used to be underwater. The graffiti was labelled and described on plaques. It was very old graffiti. We were surprised by the amount of cave paintings. Some fading, some still stark in color against the beige walls. 15 minutes later we were back on the water heading to the pier for lunch. Kayaking again was to wake my body up from a dreamless sleep.

During and after lunch we talked more with Alex and Vanessa about Canada’s plans for the XL Pipeline. Liz has more knowledge which grants here leverage for stronger opinions on this subject. I sat back and agreed with what was being said. Alex and Vanessa go to a lot of festivals, music and otherwise. They have been to burning man. We talked about festival culture and their experiences at them. Festivals are something I never really considered or desired. It sounds like a fun trip into a different world. Once back at our guesthouse, Alex and Vanessa are staying at the same place as us, we decided to get dinner together. We walked to a restaurant near the huge Krabi night market. Conversation turned towards my opinion on the US prison system after I talked about studying and subsequently turning away from law enforcement. I talked about the problems with the system. Prisons are a symptom of the larger societal problems convincing us we need them. They are an institutional response to social fear and misunderstanding of the human condition. Shame and guilt convince “criminals” they deserve prison, pushing them towards a darker existence. Fear and anger convince the public that those in prison are receiving “justice.” I was happy to discuss something I have strong opinions about.

We walked the Krabi night market, tasting foods and half looking at goods. Alex and Vanessa were leaving for Bangkok the next day and would be there while we are there. We made plans to let them know when and where we arrived.

Snorkeling?

DAY 7

Transportation to a snorkeling tour came in the form of an open back troop-transport style bus. Arrived at our next waiting zone. Tossed the frisbee around in a shadow pocked stand of conifers. Sardined our way onto a boat. First stop, hanging out on a beach for a bit. Liz and I constructed a sand castle for the local crabs. Did we put in a moat? of course. What about a draw bridge? yeah. Fortifications, check. Look out tower? hell yeah. Castle with courtyard? please. The crabs will learn a valuable lesson about real estate come high tide. Until then their little crab lives will be sunshine and security. Snorkeling was off the boat over a small section of reef. Not a ton to see. What it lacked in visuals, the experience fully made up for in exuberant physical joy. Diving down. Pushing, stretching my lungs. The pressure of the water on my straining muscles. Pure bliss. Now I’m really stoked for scuba diving. Last stop was another beach. Liz and I swam around a jutting karst a ways from shore. halfway around we came upon a low-tide exposed cave. We had no choice but to check it out. The darkness made me cautious. Cave water feels different than regular water, thicker somehow. We remembered ourselves almost too late. Our swimming was race pace as we rounded the karst and made our way to the boat.

Liz and I are looking for purposeful adventure. Execution of some sort of mission. We discussed our motivations now that we’ve been in SE Asia for a week. We’re looking for the same thing. Our remaining time will be marked by planned pursuit. This trip and these travels have already helped me to realize a clearer vision to what I want out of this life. And that’s exciting.

One Week

DAY 6

Switching rooms from a dorm style hostel to a 3 bedroom, private bath, with a balcony. And it’s cheaper. I’m not sociable in any outward sense so this was good for me. I don’t mind people being around me. That’s just it thought, they need to be around me rather than the other way around.

Dog drama on the beach. Breaking news: stray dog takes ball from child; enthralls all beach goers. A group of youths attempt to de-escalate the situation with a classic bait and switch. Given no other choice, and clearly running out of options, the dog releases his hostage in exchange for a meat slice. So, the beach was fun. Long tail boat out and back. Liz and I got papaya salads and crab cakes. Watching the other people interact with each other on the beach is always fun. Tossed disc around in the sun, cooled off in the bathwater warm water. Made it easy to pee. Lay down and read. So absorbed in reading I forgot where I was. Looked up and surprised by the karst formations and sheer cliffs surrounding the beach. Whenever I’m actually in a place I’ve literally seen in a magazine, on a similar day the photo was taken, I feel reverence for maybe 2 minutes then the reverence is replaced with a need to use the landscape. Climb on the cliffs, swim/paddle the ocean, fly in the sky, dig in the sand, speak to others. Barring those things, reading suited me just fine.

Headed to the Krabi night market when we got back. We were in a noshing mood. Nothing can stop us when we want our nosh. First course: Fried rice with fresh crab. This wasn’t your everyday, supermarket, imitation crab meat either. After perusing and tasting, we headed to a reggae bar called FUBAR. We were told of live music there that night. The band was local but they played the hits of the 80’s and 90’s with a reggae twist. Our noshing just wasn’t enough. I had to grab some late night pad thai as well.