Laying there, I guess my first thought was "Wow - that was really stupid." But, the ankle still worked, so I got up and looked at the branch, thinking "What if it had split, and impaled my leg?" (I always have these thoughts after it too late to do any good with them.)
But, since I was still able to walk, (Though that ankle would still bother me a bit for another six weeks.) I continued down the hill. After another 15 minutes or so I was really close, but I ran into a similar obstacle - a large rock on my right, and the razor-wire fence on the left, but I was just barely able to squeeze through the gap in between, with only minor damage to my shirt because of the wire. Down some more, now that shirt is almost completely soaked through with sweat, and I'm completely covered in, I don't know - grass seeds? Jungle detritus? Sticky, itchy, plant crap.
But now I'm so close I can even see the faux decoration on the faux pillars. I stumble a bit farther, and stop to try to figure out how to get the rest of the way, since the stupid things are, naturally, on the other side of the fence. Good thing, too, as a few feet farther would have probably taken me over the edge of the cliff, which was hidden in the undergrowth.
Now, a reasonable individual might have decided that it was a good idea not to try and cross the fence into the security zone, but I hadn't put myself through all that for nothing, and, after all, it was only a little ways over. And I'm sure that if I could ask the guards, they would let me through, I mean, what's the harm, right? So... looking around I did find a spot where I could snake my way underneath, with only a little more damage to the cut-up shirt. And there, in all their artificial magnificence, where the concrete supports made to look like stone and the remnants of the steel cables that supported the bridge. I took a bunch of photos, making sure not to get any of the dam in case I got stopped later. (Seriously, who cares? If you really want, you can even get lat. and long. coordinates and print images off of Google Earth. (That's what I did, anyway.)) I only ducked back into the jungle once when I heard a truck approaching on the other side, discretion being the better part of valor, after all.
Time to go back up. I can tell you that even in 112 degree heat, hiking with a pack in the deserts of WY, (Yes, it did happen once on an arch. survey.) I have never been so hot in my entire life. Even the Turkish sauna in Amman (That was a slightly bizarre experience that I'll share later.) seemed pleasant in comparison. Maybe it was not having any water, or maybe it was the humidity, but the slog back was exceedingly miserable. Never mind having to go under, around, and over all the obstacles from before. (The tree branch held together enough I could use it to climb back up the rock.) It got to the point where I would walk ten steps, lay down in a shady spot, or just the grass, rest, then do it again. I started to wonder what heat stroke was like. Probably like hypothermia - irrational thinking. But at what point in this venture was there any? The thing that kept me going, besides not wanting to lay down and die, was remembering a little stream that formed a beautiful little pool under a bridge I had seen earlier. (Beautiful may be an exaggeration, but you'll remember my heat-induced delusional thinking.)
Finally, after about ten years, I made it to the top. I was half expecting armed guards to be there waiting on the road for me, so I was pleasantly surprised to find there weren't any. A quick hike up the road brought me to the bridge, and a short crawl through one of the concrete culverts underneath brought me to my swimming-hole. It took about three seconds and I was naked as a jay-bird, splashing around in the cool, refreshing water. I briefly considered that the black wiggly things in the water with me might be leeches, but they were actually only tadpoles. And tadpoles are cool - they don't hurt anything. I spent as long as I could there, wishing I could drink the water (I wasn't that delusional.) and rinsing out my clothes.
When I was done, I got back on the road feeling like a new man, which probably helped my cause when a couple young army guys on a motorcycle stopped and asked me where I had been. I told them the truth: "In the jungle - it's too bloody hot! But there's some very pretty butterfly's over by the stream there. I don't imagine you could give me a ride?" They gave me a slightly puzzled look, then an apologetic look, and continued down the road.
Eventually, I found a tuk-tuk that drove me back into town past the first security gate, without stopping there. It was for the best - I wanted the guard to see me, which I think he did, so he didn't think I was still inside, but I also didn't want to have to answer questions about what had taken me so long. ("Well, after crawling under the fence and taking a bunch of photos I was really hot, so I went skinny-dipping...." )
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