Our Gibbon Experience

We've been rather busy, these past few days. What I'm about to tell you all will take some time. So go and make a nice cuppa (or perhaps a G 'n' T?) and have a few Hob Nobs at the ready. I'm about to take you all on an adventure into the jungle. Sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin. We'd first heard about The Gibbon Experience (no comments please Jamie!) on the traveller's grapevine and were very excited about the prospect of doing something which isn't in the Lonely Planet. It's basically a conservation project, which involves falang (foreigners, like us) paying a wad of money which contributes towards the employment of forest guards, to protect the wildlife from the hands of the naughty poachers. In return, you are guaranteed the adventure of a lifetime in the jungle of Bokeo National Park.
Gibbons are hunted for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they are sold as pets, sometimes to zoos or circuses as performers. The Chinese are particularly fond of them for their delicious meat and also for use in Chinese medicine. Once their bones are boiled, they are said to be an effective treatment for rhematism. As a result, the black gibbons are now endangered. We met Samsi (a monkey, not a gibbon, by the way) on our trek into the jungle. My fear that all monkeys are rabid was soon abated when she adopted me straight away. She lives by one of the treehouses we were on our way to visit and was rescued after being abandoned by a family who had once owned her as a pet. She instantly climbed up my leg and laid across my shoulders. (As I look at the picture now, I've only just noticed what she was holding onto). I carried her for some time as she was apparently tired from trekking all morning with another group. It proved to be a symbiotic relationship - she got a free ride home, my motherly instincts were satisfied AND I got a free nit check at the same time. 2- for- 1 deal.

Also adopted by the project was the most adorable baby bear. It too had been sold as a pet when it was very small and currently, it is very tame. When the time is right, she will be placed back in the wild, but only time will tell whether this will prove a successful transition. So on with the exciting bit. Our payoff was to have the opportunity to live in a network of jungle treehouses, access to which is only possible via a series of zip lines. I thought it was a bit of a scary prospect, but it was only when signing the disclaimer form did we realise the height above which we would be dangling. "Up to 150metres" was mentioned as was the usual waiver, absolving responsibility should there be any serious injury or death. Not the best sedative prior to jumping off a platform with only a poncey wire as backup.

In keeping with Asian regard for safety, we were shown how to attach our harness to the zip wire - once. We were then led to the platform as if being led to the gallows. Basically all the equpment consists of is a carabina (lovely word that) attached to a roller which is encased on its upper aspect with a piece of rubber tyre. You can push down on top of the rubber in order to brake, but mostly this is not necessary. You are then attached via another carabina to the harness - basically a nappy type affair consisting of straps which are tightened around your waist and each leg. This creates an unflattering bunching up of the trousers around the bum for the ladies and an hilarious codpiece type effect for the boys. It didn't help my concentration when the guide demonstrating the sequence did it with his flies undone. I should mention that you are also attached via a safety wire, which you make sure is clipped on each time. After being observed ataching ourselves a couple of times, we were on our own.

The first time, I was terrified. I just closed my eyes and went for it. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes and looked down, to see the many jungle tiers beneath me. God it was high! Apparently I giggled a lot and then started screaming. I was caught at the other end (Treehouse 1) and showed how to disconnect my safety wire and then attach this to a place within the treehouse, before disconnecting the roller. Andy, of course seemed to glide across the wire as if he was used to living in the trees (I guess he's not called Monkey Boy for nothing). We then had a quick briefing about safety and how the project operates by a couple of hippy-type volunteers who'd been employed to teach the guides English. Currently, you might point to a flower and ask "What's that?" to be told, quite proudly, that it is "A flower!" The briefing was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of two Dutch boys swinging into the treehouse wearing Tarzan-style capes. You can tell when someone is on their way, because the whole treehouse sways. Although many of the trees are maybe only 50 metres (ONLY?) high in themselves, you are often gliding over valleys which lie many many metres deeper still. I was about to find this out when we glided over to Treehouse 2. The wire went on forever (more room for error) and was ridiculously high. I know I often dispay a fatalistic attitude, but really this time, falling to the ground would mean only one thing. And it would hurt a lot in the process.

After doing another great big line, we were well and truly high (great joke, I know). We then split into two groups and started our trek to Treehouse 3, which was to be our home for the night. We couldn't believe the facilities - it was nicer than most hotels we've stayed in over the past 4 months. Set out were futons with lovely duvets, pillows and mozzie nets. In one corner was a mini kitchen with a gas stove, plenty of nice nibbles and, best of all...a bathroom!! The long-drop toilet was indeed a very long drop, and although the lack of privacy was a little disconcerting at first (we were sharing the house with a girl called Chrissy from Brighton and two guides), you soon got used to it. Of course, you can't use loo roll in the jungle, so you have to "Do it the Laos Way" i.e. water and hand! The best thing though, was the shower. After the long trek, it was the best shower I've ever had. Looking out into the trees whilst washing my bits, I felt like I was doing an advert for Herbal Essences shampoo.

The rest of the afternoon was spent just sat in the tree, listening to the amazing cacaphony (love that word too) surrounding us. It was truly deafening, I didn't know that we'd ever manage to sleep. There had been a couple of snakes living in the tree, but thankfully they'd moved out by the time we arrived. The treehouse was equipped with a very informative folder, containing lots of information about the animals housed in the jungle below. Lots of scary facts about the snakes and just how poisonous they are etc. etc. yet no practical knowledge on what to do if one comes into the treehouse. You can always count on the people who set these sort of projects up to be ridiculously pc and devoid of any humour. The introductory page said "We really frown upon use of the word "trekking."" Apparently it has connotations of using the minority groups as some sort of "Ethnic Zoo." It says you should never take photos of locals unless you can 100% guarantee that you will give them a copy. Call me picky, but I really don't think these places have a postal address. Anyway, the ultimate line and I quote "Rather than "trekking" we would prefer it if you use the term "treeking." Treeking??!! I mean - come on!!!

After reading the "Storm and Typhoon" policy, I did feel a bit apprehensive should such a situation arise. But I reasoned that we were only sleeping in the treehouse for two nights, so it would be pretty unlucky if we were forced to evacuate.

In addition to my growing cynicism, I must be getting old, as I placed little faith in our 16 year old guide. A bit like when old ladies can never quite believe the age of policemen or doctors. These doubts were confirmed in the middle of the night, but more about that later. After our guides had made us a tasty dinner, they got into their duvets and promptly fell asleep, with the candles still burning. We decided to retire to our beds as we knew we'd have another day of very hard trekking (sorry, treeking) ahead of us. It was amazing just lying there, listening to the nighttime antics of creatures you couldn't see, only imagine. Sometimes, the noises were quite alarming - especially hearing a Barking Deer somewhere beneath us. It was so loud, we thought it must be a massive creature. We soon drifted off into a lovely sleep, safe in the knowledge our mozzie net was securely tucked in around the edges, ensuring any snake, mozzie or spider attack would be safely thwarted.

Around midnight, I awoke to the appearance of lightning somewhere in the distance. I thought I'd go to the loo to investigate. I quit enjoyed watching the pink sky light up in the distance and the low grumble of thunder and felt relieved it was so far away. I returned to bed and continued listening, silently hoping the storm would travel in the opposite direction but also enjoying the comfort of my lovely bed. But as I listened, the thunder seemed to becoming more than a faraway growl and eventually I nudged Andy, my apprehension growing as the number of seconds between thunder and lightning decreased steadily. We agreed we'd just sit it out - after all - the guides were still fast asleep and surely they were tuned to nature much more than us. Suddenly though, the storm it appeared was upon us and the treehouse began to sway a little. We were still quite calm as we prepared to wake the guides, when suddenly they woke up. The following sequence of events must have only lasted 5 minutes, but it seemed to go on forever.

The young guide lept from his bed and began shouting "Quick, quick, evacuate now," whilst simultaneously running around the treehouse, knocking billy cans and plates over in his wake. "Harness on now!!" he was shouting, his eyes wide with panic. He attached himself quickly and sped off down the wire ("So long as he's O.K!," I thought), leaving the other guide to help us get ready. My hands were shaking so badly, it was a pretty tricky manoevre. Of course, we were still unused to putting on our harnesses - let alone doing it in the dark. I unsteadily made my way to the platform and the guide hooked me onto the zip line...in the pitch dark I might add!! Screaming at Andy for the torch, I had to see for myself I was secure before I lept into the blackness. All the while the guide was shouting "Go, go, go!!!!" I felt like I was in the Army - and coped with the situation by pretending I was in a film. I was picturing a scene similar to so many other films where I was the short chubster recruit who seemed to be rubbish at all the exercises. This could only mean one thing - in the face of adversity, I would succeed against everyone's expectation (I think the other ending is to go mental and get sent home on medical grounds).

I counted to 3 and then off I went, unable to see a thing. It was like a flying dream, real yet unreal. In some ways it was less terrifying in the dark, because you couldn't see how high up you were. I landed at the other end and made my way to the ground shelter, which is reassurringly fitted with a lightning rod. I sat there, anxiously awaiting Andy's safe arrival. It seemed to take forever, but soon we were all safely evacuated. I attempted to berrate the young guide for being so alarmist - there was no way he should have been such a panic merchant. It had only made the situation worse. Imagine him as a nurse! "Shit, you're having a heart attack!!! Oh my God, you could die at any moment! Quick, sign this consent form, go go go!!!!" No matter, we were out of the sky and this was the main point.

We then huddled together and attempted to sleep. Of course, the wildlife posed more danger at this level and so little sleep was achieved by any of us except the guides. At one point the young one sat bolt upright and said "O.K. You go back to treehouse now." But the storm was still upon us, which didn't make much sense and anyway, we were all very reluctant to move. Using the wire whilst in the eye of the storm is a definite contraindication as you put yourself at massive risk of being hit by lightning. Thankfully we ignored his statement, even though he repeated it once more. Considering the speed at which he began snoring again, we concluded he had been sleep talking. Turns out, he also sleep walks!!! Did he not declare this on his occupational health questionnaire when they took him on? Only in Asia would this be condoned.

Daylight came at 5:30 and we were all desperate to return to our treehouse as we'd had so little time to enjoy its luxury during the night. We could hear the distant singing of gibbons in the distance and hoped we'd see them for real later on. After breakfast, we set out early on our trek to Treehouse 4, which was to be our home for the next night. It was all a bit gruelling - some very steep uphill climbing. Still, Private Chubster managed it, all the while realising what a flagrant waste of money the David Lloyd membership had been. It's pretty tough exercising in such a hot climate - lucky for me, Em had given me a Platypus reservoir bag for such occasions. You fill it with water and place this in your rucksack. It is attached to a hose with a one-way valve which you use to drink through whenever you want. Brilliant device - thanks Em!! En-route we did manage to spot a couple of Black Gibbons frolicking in the tree tops. They were screeching the most deafening tunes, which was just mental - very funny. They are all black at birth but once they reach puberty, the females go a yellowy blonde (sounds like Whitehawk).

Treehouse 4 wasn't quite so luxurious, with no kitchen or bathroom. To access these facilities, you have to get on the zip line and then do a very steep climb down - a bit of a nightmare for nocturia sufferers. I found this the most scary of all lines. I went first, stupidly assuming there'd be a guide there to assist me at the other end. No such luck. As I arrived (stopping several metres short of my destination and after shimmying along using my hands - knackering not to mention scary) I realised I was stuck. With my rucksack on, I was wedged on the very narrow platform, unable to get myself properly into the treehouse. Eventually I worked it out, but every time I entered Treehouse 4 I encountered terrible problems and it's fair to say I panicked somewhat!

We spent the afternoon laughing hysterically about the night before, dozing and swimming in the waterfall below (this was the only way to wash at Treehouse 4). Chrissie was a bit bored though and decided she fancied yet another gruelling 3 hour hike (madness) so off she went. Our new guides informed us they would be sleeping in the kitchen at ground level and so we would have the treehouse to ourselves - the honeymoon suite! As we ate our supper however, we became aware of the sickening distant murmour of our nemesis - a storm threatened us once again. Luckily, we managed to persuade our new guide, along with the cook, to stay the night with us in the tree. We wouldn't have felt confident making the decision to evacuate on our own - especially when the evacuation process itself seemed so dangerous in the dark.

We felt our chances were much improved with this guide - after all, he was Chief of the village (see pictue below) nearby (at only 22!!), so he had to be responsible. So we taught the guide how to play shithead (our favourite card game) and then they disappeared down the zip wire to return the leftover food to the kitchen. This meant however, them taking Andy's harness with them. As we nervously continued our card game, the storm seemed to be getting nearer. The guides had been gone for about an hour and our concern was swelling once more. What if the storm was suddenly upon us and we only had one harness? In desperation, we shouted down to the guides below and soon enough, they were back with us. Panic over, at least for now.

Off to bed we went, feeling like Lady Luck was smiling on us this time. Wrong again!! I awoke with a sensation of feeling wet (nothing to do with bladder response to fear). It was pouring with rain. Andy had been awake for some time, listening to the approaching weather. Suddenly, from nowhere there was the most almighty crack of thunder, with lightning occurring simultaneouly. It lit up our expressions which were frozen in caracature with terror. This time, we were properly scared. We were in the eye of the storm and there was nothing we could do about it. The only saving grace was that there was no wind. In addition, our Chief was observing everything with a quiet confidence. "It's O.K." he said comfortingly, "No wind." We set forth producing our own turbulent air space within the mozzie net - a mixture of the green beans we'd had for supper and fear that made me literally quake. We busied ourselves by moving our bed out of the rain and before too long, the storm began to depart.

As we ate our breakfast, we hugged each other and agreed it was good to be alive - if we survived our final trek back to the village, we would have made it. I know this sounds very dramatic, but I've honestly never been so scared. Andy, who as you know is usually the image of cool, was terrified too, so I know I'm not being a drama queen this time.

The trek back to the Chief's village was another mini adventure in itself. Because of the rain, there were lots of interesting bugs about - check out this crazy type of bug! More annoyingly though, there were leeches!! We were well prepared and wore our long trousers and boots, except being forever vain, I'd fallen short of tucking the old trousers into the socks. After a while, I felt a sharp needling pain in my knee, which I duly ignored for a while. Surely a leech wouldn't bother to climb up my leg before it latched on would it? I though I'd have a quick peek and sure enough, one was merrily sucking the life force from me. Now, being an avid Ray Mears follower, I know that you are supposed to burn leeches off - if you pull them they can leave their face embedded in your flesh, which can get infected. Nice. However, it seemed this was the method favoured by the Chief, so I went with it. It was only later on that I noticed an area on my thigh (about the size of my hand) which was soaked in blood. I hadn't felt a thing - what rank creatures.

We arived at the village in once piece but I felt mildly disappointed that Ant 'n' Dec weren't there to meet us with a glass of champers. Safe in the knowledge I'd fared a lot better than that All Saints bird, I didn't care that I more closely resembled Carol Thatcher in appearance. We've just had the most extreme adventure of our lives and in all probablility, we were maybe never in any danger at all (apart from the anaemia caused by my FIVE leech bites). That said, it was truly brilliant and we've done something that so few others have. I have absolutely loved Laos and would like to say "Kwaap jai lai lai" to the people of this amazing country.