Setting the Record Straight

I was supposed to post about the tail end of our adventures in Borneo, which happened to be the antithesis to our jungle experience, but that is going to have to wait because based on some comments from my family in particular I feel the need to complete the picture of our Bako experience. I know you are probably thoroughly sick of our Borneo vacation, I mean jeez how much can two people say about one week, but bear with me for one more story. Plus, this is meant to indulge those who refuse to believe, and rightfully so, that the Casey they have known forever did not appear in Borneo. So for all you who want the truth about my cowardly behavior here is it is.

For the record, I did ask lots of questions about crocodiles to anyone who would entertain them and I did think often of the Wild Man of Borneo – I was hopeful dried fruit would do – but truthfully once we were in the thick of things the only worries I had were breathing, not falling on my face, and ‘when the hell is this trail going to end’. Even when we had to pitch a tent in the middle of the jungle, after not finding our turn off point before dark, I did not panic too much. I did plead to keep going up one more hill at least because I did not find the lowland muddy trail we were on ideal and I did not like the idea of abandoning my pack in the middle of the woods (did Sven mention that – we dumped my bag threw a rain sheet on it, and hoped for the best) but once we pitched the tent the biggest gripes Sven heard from me were about the mosquitoes and heat. That’s not to say that wild animals did not haunt my dreams but I think the hard downpour, the sheer exhaustion, the dehydration (did Sven mention that we had no water that night in the sauna of a tent – we drank the juiceboxes of milk we brought for cereal and sucked on fruit that we were actually too exhausted to chew), and the overwhelming heat really did make me feel, for one of the first times in my life, that my fears were the least of my worries. In the battle for who got more sleep that night I think I even won.

But so as not to disappoint you all, there were definitely some classic Sven watching Stacy in utter frustration and wonder moments on the trail and these came on the infuriatingly steep, slippery, and I know this sounds strange – perplexing downhills. At the beginning I was cruising along just fine, showing off even on the uphills and not slowing Sven down much but as I got tired things got ugly. The pack I was carrying was too heavy for me and it was becoming a liability. By about hour five, my legs were wobbly and my balance terrible and I was starting to become quite pathetic on the downhills. Okay, utterly pathetic. I could not seem to take a single step without thinking about it carefully for at least a minute. I was so scared that I was going to pitch myself forward or step on a slippery rock or branch and go tumbling that at certain points I was just paralyzed with indecision. This was partly because the trail truly was hairy and you could not move forward without utter concentration -you needed to really puzzle out where the best place to step was and how - but it also had a lot to do with my inner coward. In my tired mind going downhill with an unbalanced pack became an exceptional challenge and boy did I make it look like one. Even I was embarrassed as Sven moved forward smoothly and I slid on my butt, held on to thorn filled trees, stood staring and thinking, and essentially crawled down the hills. It was then that Sven’s patience gave away. On about the third hill (not the third hill over all but the third one where my performance was deplorable), with darkness coming on, Sven sat down at the top of the hill behind me set his timer and proceeded to elaborate on the patheticness of my performance – ‘it took you almost a half an hour to go down that hill, just move, what is wrong with you, so what if you fall, it is getting dark, we are going to be camping without water in the middle of nowhere if you don’t pick up the pace….’ And I of course responded with ‘I am so tired, I am trying, I am not quitting, I know I am being stupid but my legs are so unbalanced, I don’t know where to step, if only I did not have this pack…’ And on and on it went until darkness came and saved me from my misery.

So there you have it. For all you that could not believe that I managed the jungle like a brave, strong trekker without fear or complaint you can rest easy knowing that the Casey you know and love showed up on the trail that day. And though no one voiced it, for all you that were worried that Ben managed the 9 and a half hour journey without losing his patience, keeping his cool, and remaining thoroughly emotionally supportive and empathetic throughout, you can rest assured that such a person does not exist and it was the Ben we all know and love on the trail wishing bad things would happen to the ranger that let us come out there, gritting his teeth with impatience as I moved at a snail’s pace down the hills, and vowing that the next thorny leaf that snagged him would DIE! StB