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Green hell clean water4/29/2023 ![]() ![]() We take the lightest items like his birdcage, papers and whatever else we don’t want to get wet and then we proceed with the bulk of our stuff. So we strip down to our boxers and I go across first. So we decided on a system, Sammy would carry the packs since his balance was much better and I would swim off to either side of him and make sure that I would help steady him and offer an extra hand to hold up the pack should he slip. Sammy agreed and we paced up and down the creekside but didn’t find any suitable alternatives, this was it. ![]() I continued and as I did the water continued to do so as well. Another few steps forward and the water was at my chest. Still, to either side of the log, it was at least another 2 meters deeper. As I progressed the water flowed up past my knees and to my my waist. I edged forward, splaying my feet to hold my balance. ![]() The underwater log was thick, but slippery as hell. I tested the water first without my pack. Sammy spotted a log that had fallen across the water but had sunken over time and was submerged perhaps a meter under water. The worst one required us to hike hours out of our way upstream, cross 2 smaller creeks and weigh our options very carefully. We crossed another 20 0r so creeks today. We only started the trek 45 minutes ago but I already need a rest, this is a very trying experience and not an especially good start to the day. I finally slither up the embankment like some primordial creature. He cuts clean through a medium tree trunk, shaves off the branches and then pokes it in my direction. He raises the machete high and swings it down with all his force. I can’t help but feel that I really don’t know this guy and here I am helpless, stuck up to my waist in mud, with my pack over my head and this grinning sadist with a machete fingering the sharpness of the blade. “What’s taking so long?”, Sammy reappears, wiping the sweat from his brow and cleaning the machete on his plant leg. The brief, unthinkable thought of ditching my camera equipment and saving myself passes through my mind, but I quickly dismiss it…no, I’ll go down with the ship… Of course, as I lift the bag higher, I myself sink lower. I undo the straps on my bag, not so much to save myself as to preserve the electronics. The quagmire is like quicksand, I can’t extricate myself. The cool, fetid water started inching up my pants consuming all dry clothing in its path. I clawed at the muddy ground, leaving deep fingernail ruts. I had made it, but the heavy bag threatened to pull me back down into the water! There was no purchase. I just managed to clear the water, the mud spilling up and over my boots. I took a tentative step forward, and then another, lost my balance and hurled myself forward. Sammy walked across no problem and disappeared on the other side. To begin the day we started on an easy one that was only a meter or so off the ground, but it was pretty thin and there was a steep mud bank on the other side. However, “Onwards!” The machete tasted plant blood today as we hacked our way forward, moving at a sloth’s pace. Today’s creek crossings were even more challenging and painful. We had only been hiking a day, but the straps of my pack had worn a rash around my waist, and my shoulders shuddered at the thought of shouldering more than their fare share. We drank Fever tea to temper the pain of the long and gruelling march. Sammy crossing one of the worst creeks we had to pass, you can also make out the rickety bird cage strapped to the back of his pack ![]()
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