It's Here to Stay!

 The snow arrived last night and kept on pelting down for the day. Now, there's no running barefoot quickly across the deck without getting snow caught in your toes. Winter has set in. In fact that snow of last night has continued through the day, pelting down and covering every attempt I have made to shovel the sidewalk clear. I'm going to be upfront in saying that I really dislike the first week of snow when it first begins that process of really settling in. yes, this snowfall is here to stay. That means a new reality, four and a half months of snow and cold. I want to run for cover or just for sun and heat. I suppose that's why snowbirds exist - not birds but the people who leave, spending an entire winter in warmer climes and not returning until the last snowflake has melted. 

So, let's head out on the first done that, been there, trip of the year. Otherwise known as, 

In the meantime - here's this author's first footprint in the snow. Yes, I did it, walked out into the snow in my barefoot. Some things you just have to do. 🤷

Throw Back Monday - Seriously?

Today's throwback is taking us to Au Nang, Krabi, Thailand well over a decade ago.

Au Nang, Krabi, Thailand is a place where limestone cliffs seem to punch the sky before spiralling roots into the ocean. It is a place of caves and mystery, and where James Bond appeared in “The Man With The Golden Gun.”

In Au Nang there are streets lined with hotels and offers of kayaking expeditions to see the caves and monkeys. The offers are everywhere. You can't not sign up!

So, the journey begins...

After a forty-minute car ride from Au Nang, the road stops at the steps of a small, unpainted, house. To the left is a large wooden dock.

There's a longboat beside the dock with two Thai men waiting. One speaks no English, our guide speaks a little. It's a challenge for either side to communicate but doable.

The boat has two small plastic kayaks tied behind it. We get into the boat with the guide and head into a river that is hidden by mangrove tree branches that crowd together and hang far over the water.

Suddenly, the guide stops the boat. He motions in few words that it's time to kayak.

Seriously?

The river is dark and unwelcoming. I've heard there are crocodiles here and I'm not anxious to see one up close and personal - at least not in a small yellow craft made of mere plastic.

But, it's the yellow kayak or end the trip here. It only takes a minute to move to the smaller craft - two of us in one, the guide in the other. Now, the river's thick, dark placidity is creepy as I get in the kayak and both boats rock. I sit down and grab an oar. But paddling doesn't come naturally. The kayak jerks with false starts and splashing. Beyond that, it's quiet, the river wide and complacent in its pen of lush vegetation.

Minutes in and monkeys appear. One furry head pops out from between the thick tree limbs that stretch into and over the river. Then another emerges beside the first. Within minutes there are a dozen or so. But the first one is different. He's much larger than the others. While the smaller monkeys hang back, the larger one jumps onto our guide’s kayak. He immediately bares his teeth and charges for the bananas that our guide has stacked beside him. The guide holds him back with his paddle. The monkey pushes back. To our horror the guide gently smacks the monkey with his paddle. The guide stands, the kayak rocks as the monkey charges again. I want to intercede, tell the guide to back off before someone gets hurt. But in another minute it's clear that this is a dance the two, monkey and man, have played many times. As I realize this, the monkey grabs an overhead branch and swings up and away from the kayak. Weirdly, this seems to be a cue for the smaller monkeys. One by one they balance along slender branches, dangle mid air for a second or two, and then plop onto our guide’s kayak. There, they playfully jostle against each other.

The guide feeds them bananas and offers us none so we can't join in feeding the monkeys. I'm annoyed by this until he explains with minimal words, that it's too dangerous. Although I would have loved to join in feeding - danger or not, it's not an option for the language barrier takes arguing off the table. So I take pictures of the monkey’s antics instead. Overhead I glance up and meet the watchful eyes of the patriarch.

Soon the peace is disturbed as another monkey appears. A female obviously monkey matriarch, as she too, is bigger than the others. She lands in our guide’s kayak and explodes into action as she screeches and chatters, attacking one small monkey and then turning on another. Snarls and screeches combine with the guide’s shouting. The kayak rocks as the monkeys scramble away from both the angry female and the guide’s swinging paddle. She pushes one monkey as she snarls and bares her teeth moving the smaller monkey closer to the edge of the kayak.

I’m horrified when the small monkey finally dives off the boat. The female attacker dives in the water after him. They spin under water and wrestle end over end before resurfacing near shore, scrambling out and shaking like dogs. As I watch this I realize a few things, one that they can swim and two that this is a ritual not a war - for no one has been hurt. And now more monkeys are diving into the water from the trees. They swim and playfully wrestle as they get more bananas by hanging onto the edge of the guide’s kayak or scrambling into it.

One monkey crawls into our kayak. I’ve never been this close to a primate and am amazed at his little hand with its human-like nails. He glances at us and upwards to the trees and I realize that our boat is too far from a tree for him to jump. So we paddle to an overhanging branch and the monkey looks at us one last time before leaping into the trees.

With the bananas gone, the monkeys quickly disappear. Quiet closes in as the river moves through a canyon of limestone cliffs. The sun is muted by thick foliage and the rock that hugs the river. Soon we enter the cave where the water has carved ancient pathways.

The journey ends at the ocean. There, our longboat appears and the kayaks are tied behind for the return to our starting point. This was an unexpected adventure.

None of this was what I expected. Instead, it was an adventure to remember.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com