Out in the wilderness

On Thursday 4^th June we were abandoned on a hilltop in the middle of the Bornean rainforest with just the two of us, 3 dogs, 2 cats, a rather beautiful Samba deer (that they rescued from a local who had shot her mother) and 300 hectares of our own rainforest to babysit. And of course lots of creepy crawlies.

(Clairey, this one reminded me of you on Mantanni!) ;)

Far from the brave bush men and women we’d hoped to be, we became very practical, sensible bush man and woman, and sat down and made some plans. First rule was that neither of us would go anywhere by ourselves, in case of surprise animal encounters (mainly snakes), and we would always wear trousers and shoes and socks when not in a building. We then raided the first aid cupboard for the emergency medicines that we would require in various scenarios, placing them in easy reach (the coffee table), and accompanied with a first aid book (which we both took pains to read all parts relevant for the most likely mishaps we might encounter), and some money in case we needed to persuade someone to drive us to town. We also made an action plan of what we would do in the case of a snake bite. We were prepared. Wilton, Taunton’s 16^th Guide and Scout groups would have been proud of their protégées.

What started as a rather foreboding initiation into life in the rainforest, gradually morphed into what can only be described as a rather charmed existence for the two of us.

The three dogs, which admittedly on paper would give Garfield serious reasons to tremble, turned out to be rather wonderful company. From day one, anything we did would be accompanied by old and rather regal alpha dog Lou, Max the ridiculously playful Doberman-rottweiler cross who will do anything for a tummy rub, and likes giving us a continuous stream of marvellous presents of anything that will put in his mouth, and Ben, a huge, clumsy, lumbering, homosexually-inclined 2 year-old Alsatian with skin-issues, permanent ear-infection, and a partiality to humping poor Max, much to our amusement. Considering Bro and I have never had much exposure to dogs, we took to these three instantly, and Bro and Max formed a speedy and mutual bromance from the minute the laid eyes on each other.

So our days consist of a mixture between daily chores, set tasks that we’ve been left to do by Sarah and Stephen, and any free time left over to relax.

Our chores include feeding all the animals (no mean feat), powdering, treating and showering Ben, checking the water butts/filters etc, cleaning out Megan, strimming, watering the plants and managing the generator.

Feeding Megan is perhaps the most time-consuming of these. Megan is an orphaned deer that Sarah and Stephen rescued from a poacher from the nearby village and hand-reared. She is now two years old and fully grown, and she is simply beautiful! Feeding her requires both Brodie and I to spend about half an hour, twice a day, foraging for leaves, ferns or grass. She’s a big girl. She’s so inquisitive and friendly, and sometimes when you’re in with her it suddenly hits you that you are rubbing the ears of a fully-grown Bambi, and that is just magical.

The rest of our time is filled with doing tasks left behind by Stephen and Sarah, ranging from treating the wood on the house, to digging drainage ditches.

There’s something remarkably romantic about being here, surrounded by forest in every direction, with just the two of us and the animals for company. You have time to think, and reflect, and absorb, and cheesy as it sounds, just be together. It’s such a wonderful luxury that I constantly keep reminding myself to soak it up, capture it and keep hold of it for when I’m home and am busy and stressed and don’t have time to just stop.

Although when I say romantic, I don’t mean two blissful lovers, floating about on a peaceful cloud in their secret getaway…I’m talking dirty and noisy and smelly and sweaty and hot and humid and tiring. The thermometer says 32°C IN THE SHADE and we’re mainly working outdoors in the direct sun at constantly over 70% humidity. All day. That means getting through two shirts a day. It means flies buzzing around your head. It means socks that smell like death. It means one very stinky, sticky, smelly, sweaty Emma with the-shampoo-I-bought-in-KK-doesn’t-clean-my-hair-so-it’s-permanently-greasy hair and an impressive a-la-pre-pubescent-teenager spot collection on the entire upper half of my body and face. Throw in a cold shower, an ‘oriental’ toilet (a hole in the ground) and ridiculously squeaky bunk beds, and you get the gist of it. That said, this grotesquely unappealing girl gets to spend 24-7 with her equally disgusting (albeit disappointingly less spotty and decidedly less smelly) boyfriend of seven and a half years and that, my friends is bloody awesome.