Between the Fields
The drizzle turned to an unrelenting downpour, but despite the unfavorably wet conditions we had to press on. From our brief respite in Dananao we set off towards the even more remote tribal village of Tulgao.
Immediately, I learned something about rice fields. Pretty as they may be in pictures and postcards, when you get right down to it what we’re really talking about are little swamps walled in by mud. Sometimes, the walls between the fields have a few rocks, or a little grass, but even then the ubiquitous ingredient is most definitely mud, and mud is slippery. Especially when it rains.
Take a look at the picture to the right. The narrow little path to the left of the middle field is our trail. Swamp to the right, 10 – 15 foot dropoff with a swamp to the left, and a slippery little track of mud separating the two, just waiting for that little misstep or slippage. Oh, and you can’t step on the grass-it’s a trap. The grass grows out from the side of the wall and only looks solid, but should you be so foolish as to put your foot down on it, down you will go.
It required massive focus and concentration to deftly place one foot in front of the other, make sure it wasn’t going to slip on the slick uneven muddy surface, then advance with the next foot, and so on and on and on. Between rice field after rice field. I had visions of losing my precarious balance and plummeting into the field below, my camera equipment instantly and irrevocably massacred by a swamp of rice.
Inevitably, it happened. I slipped.
In all the glory of slow-motion, I lost my balance, and every sentient cell in my body cried out in unison: “fall to the right!” There’s just no way I wanted to plummet those 10 or more feet into the field on my left. My body lurched itself to the right with all the panicked effort I could muster, and my right leg plunged into the swamp.
Thankfully–and luckily–that was all it took. Only my leg went in. Cursing profusely, I pulled it out, now covered and dripping from mid-shin on down with a thick coating of fresh, slick mud. Which only made it that much more slippery going forward.
Je regrette que quelqu’un n’ait pas pris de photo de vous quand vous avez glissé. Cela pourrait avoir été le moment kodak!
Must be amazing to be immersed in a land (great choice of a verb, n’est-ce-pas?) where the loudest noises are the splash of rain on the rice paddies and the swish of the wind through the trees – punctuated of course with the odd colorful expletive.
I want to walk on the padi field path! What a challenge! It sounds fun.