After a long day of plain enough sailing, we anchor in a bay. I join the landing party of five. A river cuts through the pale yellow sand beach, but the river runs a deep red, as if it's draining out from a scene in Braveheart. Only Pascale and I are game for a good trek. These islands aren't inhabitated, so when you land, the island is all yours, and largely untrekked by others before you. Traversing the terrain is mostly easy, but where rivers run or once ran, it's jungle-like and tough to push through.
Photo: Frithjof Behne |
Thirty minutes later, we're still battling to get there. Even so close to the boat, we know that when we lose the light, we can't move at any speed, nor can we be rescued. We, or at least I, am back up to, then past, simmering. We're given the choice of traversing through the last of the thick, and now very irritating, dense jungle crap, or going the long way around. With the sun setting, we choose the hard & fast route. We make it back to the beach no more than ten minutes before darkness.
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