And the parachutes bloom
POSTED AT 10:41 PM

We've all returned, intact, safe and sound. But I think the experience is not something I would be forgetting in a hurry.

It was supposed to be jungle orientation training, and jungle orientation training it certainly was, but I didn't expect to be pushed as hard as I was. It was basically a 4 day 3 night exercise - two days of navigation, one day of climbing a mountain and one day of descending it, with a river crossing to end it all. Pretty easy eh? Especially since everybody was saying that we'd all be back by the third day - or even the second day if we're good enough.

I guess I was lulled into a false state of confidence by my own experience back home. Unfortunately for me, the terrain over in Brunei is vastly different from what we get back here - imagine bashing through the primary jungle at Bukit Timah Hill all the way to the top, and then coming down again. And repeat for the rest of the two days.

I've always had problems with the heavy load during route marches and the like; I think the packs we carried for this exercise were the heaviest that I'd ever come into contact with. Because we'd be spending all 4 days out on our own in the jungle, we were carrying 72 hours of rations, and a good 3.5 litres of water per person, on top of all the clothes, equipment and miscellaneous other stuff that we were already lugging around.

Navigating in such close terrain proved to be quite a challenge. Fresh out of the starting blocks on the first morning, it wasn't long before we joined the "where-the-fuck-are-we tribe", as the instructor had put it rather aptly. Walking around in circles, we had no idea where we were - it really was just climbing up and down knolls looking for clues as to where we were. To make things worse, it started to rain, really dampening everything from our uniforms to our morale. Can we say snafu?

Thankfully, navigation is 90% skill and 10% luck, and I think we really lucked out this time, as we stumbled up one slippery knoll to find an intermediate checkpoint, to which we had our location. Voila! Within half an hour we were back on track and at our desired checkpoint.

So that was the navex. The mountain climb was a whole different issue. 400m vertical height, and steep inclines everywhere - this really would be a climb rather than a walk up the hill. Added with the load we were carrying, it wasn't pretty. I think this climb was THE most intense physical exertion I'd ever put my body through. After 2 days of Navex, exhaustion, lack of rest, poor nutrition, I was ready to pack it in. It really never rains but pours, and when I sprained my ankle a quarter of the way up to the top, I had had it. Enough was enough. I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and tired of rationing my water.

Which brings to mind a phrase which I've mentioned before - When the body cries enough the mind says never. With hindsight, it's clear that a lot of this training is more mental than physical. It's about just how much your mind can push the body on when everything's gone to ratshit. An obstacle is there to be overcome, but the mind has to believe that it's capable of surmounting it before the body can do anything.

I didn't join the army to give up on myself. And I wasn't about to start doing so then. I really don't know how I did it, but somehow some resolve within me kept me going. Reaching the top, I felt no euphoria, no sense of achievement. Only exhaustion, and perhaps only a slight tingling of goosebumps.

The climb up wasn't the last of it. We got lost again on the way down. We spent 1 hour 19 minutes going up; we spent 7 hours coming down. There's no water on the mountain, and the physical exertion of the ascent had drained most of our water, so we were forced to do the descent on very little water. I only truly understood the value of water during those 7 hours. Any physical exhaustion that we felt was amplified ten times over by the lack of water. With no clear end in sight, with no water and with the sky rapidly darkening, all I could do was put my trust in the navigator ahead, stumble on blindly and hope for the best. If we didn't reach the river before last light, we would be faced with the ugly prospect of spending a very thirsty night on a 45 degree slope.

I'd have thought that this kind of fubar situation would be a good time to reflect on things, perhaps like how the ascent taught me so much about my limits. But we were all to exhausted and thirsty to do any thinking; it really was mindless climbing all the way.

After hours of stumbling, sliding, falling, thirsting, we finally reached the river at 5.30 on the third day. Last light would come around 6 to 6.30. It was too late for us to cross the river that day, and the disappointment we felt was immense. But again there was no time for self-pity, we had to set up our harbour position within the hour, or we'd be doing it in pitch black. I think we were all running on fumes at that point - too mentally drained to bother about the other, earlier groups, who were celebrating the end of their exercise on the opposite bank, too mentally drained to dread another cold, hungry night.

I think I felt a little older on the flight out. When the lights of home appeared on the horizon, the feeling of immense joy within my chest cavity was undescribable. I've always loved the homeward bound journey from anywhere; but I think this one was really special.

Don't tell me it's over
POSTED AT 12:55 AM

The last week has been an extremely trying time for me... I think I've lost touch with myself - I really don't know what I think anymore. Perhaps this is not the way to do things, but as it stands things have progressed in such a fashion that there's no way back anymore. I just hope that whatever instinct motivated me to decide as such will prove itself to be true over time.

I guess, as always, it's a matter of striking a balance. How the scales should tip, now that's the part that nobody knows. Only time will tell.

Headaches and heartaches
POSTED AT 08:24 PM

Been feeling rather out of sorts over the weekend... I think I'm falling sick. I woke up on Saturday morning with conjunctivitis, and my left eye feeling as if it was too big for its socket. And now I'm getting a supreme headache - must have been all the durians that I ate earlier.

Can't wait to get a good night's sleep. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have enough strength to last me through the week ahead. After the previous week, I think I could do with an easier time this next 7 days.

I want an Ipod mini!! I must admit I've always been one of the cynical few that felt that buying an Ipod would be buying into all the hype and marketing, and that you can get similar products with equal or superior performance and specs from other brands. Well, I had the opportunity to play around with one of my friend's Ipod some time back, and really, these things you have to see for yourself. I became an instant convert the moment I cradled the little beauty in my two hands.

So now I can't stop thinking about it day and night. This is bad, isn't it?
Feeling: sick

The way ahead
POSTED AT 07:43 PM

Yet another week come, yet another week gone. When routine turns repetitive, it's usually the little extraordinary events that keep you going.

Somehow, weekends seem to pass all too quickly. It seems that the more time I have, the less things I get done. At least, I have an eventful week ahead. We'll see how it goes.

Still dreaming of that Ipod.