Our last day at the farm, we all embarked on a dodgy jeep ride to the top of the mountain. Luckily, we made it around the tight corners and through the bumpy patches. A hazy view from the top obscured much of the valley and village below. We had the intention of redoing the grass roof on a building up there.

Som-o turned on one of the taps to get a drink and then discovered there was no running water. He decided that our meddling gang was up for the challenge of finding the culprit. We drove down another loosely termed 'road' until the path would no longer carry a vehicle and then began an hour and a half hike to the waterline.

The first part required descending into a swampy area. I grimaced as I tried to avoid stepping in the suction inducing mud piles. Eventually, I slipped enough times that I decided to forgo caution and go with the muck. Even though I had been hiking I injured it, I was conscious of the ankle that I managed to sprain while working in Thailand. It had put me out of commission for nearly a month and I wasn’t about to do it again.

Eight months ago, I had been exploring a tiered waterfall in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. My coworkers and I had hiked all the way to the seventh tier before we headed back down. Our guide had told us that people used the falls at the fourth tier as a waterslide, so naturally we stopped there. He had pointed out that we had to slide off to the side a little, unless we wanted to go back in an ambulance. His roaring laugh hadn't inspired much confidence. The Thai sense of humour was sometimes lost on us.

A group of young Thai men goofed around at the top of the falls, doing back flips and sliding down. The slide’s path had appeared clearly defined to us from below. However, we had still been nervous because we weren’t Thai and would probably make fools of ourselves.

When we saw an overweight, middle-aged Russian man sliding down in his Speedo, we figured we could give it a whirl too. We walked up the side of the falls, using tree roots as hand holds. The Thai guys smiled at us and offered us a turn on the slide. My friends went down before I did since I was terrified when it came to heights. I pushed away that sinking feeling in my gut, sat down in the falls and let the water push me down. The quick drop at the end hardly lasted three seconds before I plunged into the deep cerulean waters.

I surfaced with an enormous smile, laughing. That was positively exhilarating so we climbed up again. I was determined to go first with adrenalin pumping through my veins.

The Thai guys teased us, splashing large amounts of water in our direction. They shouted Thai phrases we didn’t have a chance of comprehending. I enjoyed the rush of falls flowing by and excited voices echoing, so I waded through the waters with a big smile plastered on my face. They kept cheering me on. The water moved pretty fast as I moved toward the area where I was supposed to start my slide.

I began to feel uneasy as the excess rushing water pushed me in the wrong direction, disconnecting my feet’s grip on the rock. I had seen the Thai guys run and navigate this rock easily enough, so I still had some hope that I could pull out of this slip and be alright. I tried my best to get as far left away from the ‘dangerous’ section as I could while simultaneously slipping down towards the pool.

Tumbling and twirling head first, I was thrown into the deep pool once more, much less gently. Something felt a little off as I plunged down, further and further. When I came to my senses, I was relieved at the lack of pain in my head as my biggest concern was a spinal injury.

I kicked my body toward the surface as soon as I orientated myself again. When I broke the surface, I looked up at the large rock/waterfall area, searching for my friends. They wore wide eyes and straight faces alongside the no-longer-jovial Thais. They all stared in my direction. It took me a second to realize that my bikini top was no longer doing its job on one side. I fixed it, waved up to them and called out, “I’m okay,” giving them a thumbs-up.

I took stock of my body’s condition as I swam back to shore. My head and neck were untouched, my arms could still pull me to shore, and my one leg was kicking away while the other ankle hung limply in the moving water. My main concern was making it to shore and I could figure out the severity when I arrived.

I pulled myself up on the rocks and my body began to shake violently as soon as I put pressure on my ankle. I knew to avoid doing that. I sat on a rock and fixed the silly striped bikini once more, still paranoid, while I waited for my worried friends.

I told them I had probably sprained my ankle and was going to make the hike down to the parking lot to have some lunch. They joined me for an unpleasant descent. We did make it to a restaurant where I paid for a bag of ice and rested my ankle.

All I could take away from this experience was that I was an extremely fortunate individual. I had toppled down a waterfall and would only need to heal this ankle. Then I could go back to my regular life as an ex-patriot teacher. A head injury had been avoided and I was eternally grateful.

The tour guide had tried to ease the pain with some tiger balm, a herbal rub found all over Thailand that despite the name, contained no tiger parts. The most effective pain management solution was the consumption of a few beers later that night and a trip to the 30 cent whiskey bar with a pack of travellers, including a single British military guy two years my junior. The rest in an air conditioned room before and after may have also played a role.

Here I was, eight months, four x-rays, and three hospital visits later, trekking through swampy territory with this Thai, Finnish and Canadian group. We left the swamps to travel up the mountain some more. We had to follow the water’s path since we were seeking the waterline. At one point, we reached a small but steep waterfall that we scaled with Som-o acting as a spotter.

We found the spot where the waterline collected its water. Som-o dug and kicked in the small puddle-like area that was supposed to supply the water pipe. He had thought that the area might be plugged with leaves. It turned out that the fact that it was dry season was the main concern. At least we were in the know.

Tired, hungry and irritable, I was less okay with the discovery that I had suspected all along (no water in dry season, shocker!). I tried not to let it show while we sat down to lunch. Perhaps, I could save face after all.

Nueng pulled out the fish and meat dishes. The leftover breakfast went to the two boys. I watched this with sadness, knowing that it was the only vegetarian part of the meal aside from the rice. Som-o and Nueng couldn’t have known because I didn't say anything, nor did I intend to. It was just bad luck on my part. I sat with the big jungle leaf holding my sticky rice, taking swigs of water as I began to experience exactly what my friends had had to deal with all year in Thailand.

Sometimes they had gone to the cafeteria at work and had come back with a plate of rice because the school had put meat in every other dish, despite knowing we had several vegetarian staf and students. I had really felt for them then and even more so now that I was on the receiving end. 

I had to remind myself that I was making a choice, and this was the consequence of my choice. If I wanted to eat well this meal, I would eat meat. If I wanted to stick to my principles, I could have the rice and water. I stuck to my principles and went mildly hungry.  

In the beginning, we had planned on walking up to the road then down a far easier path back to the jeep. Following some logic I didn’t quite understand, Som-o argued we needed to go back down the way we came. That should have been fine as my ankle had held up alright and the weather was nice. There was just a waterfall area that we had to descend that had me in panic mode.    

We got to the trickling waterfalls and I just stared down the rocks we needed to scale to get to the bottom. My heart raced as my palms began to sweat more profusely than usual, considering the humidity. I was beginning to feel light headed and could feel tears pricking at my eyes. The thought of a waterfall brought that tumble to the forefront of my mind.

Hunger still gnawed at my stomach only to intensify my discomfort. When I tried to pacify it by looking down, the boys were at the bottom already. But this was their home in the mountains. I was a prairie girl. I had to drive a minimum two hours in any direction from my home to find hills. My skill set did not match.

I looked up at the Api and her tentative, careful movements as she attempted the descent of the winding path. I sighed as my frustrations began to grow. She was in her seventies and taking this all in stride. I knew as a young able bodied person, my fears were on the irrational side and that I was overreacting. But if she fell from this height, she could likely not get back up on her own.

My grandmother had fallen at her age from a standing position and broke her hip. How would we bring the kind Finnish woman back down should anything happen? Where was the nearest hospital and how on earth would we get help? We were at least an hour from any city.

We continued the descent freehand, using rock holds and tree roots. Having no harness or rope for support was dangerous, not to mention the backpacks and water bottles weighing us down. Nueng was also being a good sport as she was weak from having operations to remove her cancer in previous years. Doing this downward trek was severely irresponsible in my opinion. It had been my job to assess and minimize risk as a lifeguard for three years so I tended to err on the side of caution.

Som-o spotted me in case I fell on the way down. Nueng held onto the water bottle and lunch containers I had been carrying. I stayed as close to the ground as I could as I walked the curved path leading to the waterfall. I got to the vertical rock wall next to the water fall. The host had tied a bandana at one point as a grip. I dug my fingers into the dark crevice between the rocks. My other hand reached for the rough tree root. My foot brushed the rocky surface below as I supported my weight with my upper body until I found a corner where my shoe could tentatively rest. I tested my grip a couple times before I redistributed my weight onto my right foot, prepared to find a home for the left one.

I continued this alternating three pronged approach until I reached the bottom with a smile. Moments later, I hopped down near another section of waterfall to sit on a rock and calm my nerves and racing breathing. Som-o climbed back up to help Api down who again did slip on the curved path. My heart beat fast until she slowly stood up to make it down the wall as well. He and Nueng were the last to come down and I cheered them on.

The rest of the hike back through the forest and swamp was a cake walk. I could say I made another attempt at staring my fear of heights and waterfalls in the face and won, just barely.