Two nights in a row we were caught out, still on the way back in the boat, after it had gotten dark. Then the rain started, and we optimistically pulled a tarp over us, giggling as we get completely soaked anyway. The driver's assistant in the back frantically cupped water out of the boat, while whoever was up the front held a flashlight out to help the driver see where he was going. It didn't do much more than highlight just how much rain was coming down!

I thought it would be much safer to go on another big trek (hee hee) so I donned my gaiters, grabbed my water bottle, and joined a forestor and a bunch of locals from the Pig clan, ready to accept the task - 10 kilometres in, 10 kilometres out.

I made it to 7 kilometres in, nursing a raging stomach ache all the way. I tried not to tell anyone about it. We stopped when someone spotted a goanna about 20 metres up a tree. Bush knives were thrown; we ducked to protect ourselves. A local shimmied up the tree and shook it until the prey fell onto the ground and into a circle of hunters with their knives at the ready. It began to flee but didn't stand a chance.

Wow. Now I really had a stomach ache. One of the team was happy to hang out while the others went on to mark the last 3 kilometres. So we waited. And waited. I started to note the position of the descending sun, trying not to appear too anxious. (None of us had the time of course - hippies!).

Eventually the locals looking after us said, “The sun is setting. We must go.” So it was a race against darkness as we stumbled and fumbled through 7 kilometres of the most beautiful forest. I saw the goanna bobbing in front of me the whole time. I had no idea how far we had come and the shadows were darkening, the sounds thickening and my uncertainty was tigthening. Oh, okay, it was mixed with pure glee at what an incredible adventure this was!)

Ah, those sweet words, “We can rest for 5 minutes. We only have 2 kilometres left.” Although we had to jump across a river which our guide thought may be home to a crocodile (he saw tell-tale bubbles), I felt fantastic.

We watched the sunset (what a sunset it was...) and waited in the canoe in the darkness that followed. Slap, slap, grr, wish I brought repellent!

Realising the others were not coming back anytime soon, we paddled to temporary camp to wait. At about 8pm we heard their very alive voices and 10 minutes later the most outrageous storm thundered directly above our head! Timing!

I've never enjoyed kidney beans so much.