Having no wish to pee in front of a dozen-odd males, all but one of them Vietnamese, I wandered off towards the tree line, and found that to reach it I'd have to jump a small stream. I glanced at the reasonably flat bank on the other side and leapt. And landed, no joke, up to my arse in mud. I just sank. For what was probably about 20 seconds I just sat there, frozen with shock. There's nothing quite like finding out that the ground is not where you thought it was going to be. My first thought was "Bloody hell, how in God's name do I get out of this without anyone finding out what happened?" I started to giggle, realising how ridiculous I must look. And I still needed to pee.
I tried to pull my legs out by putting my weight on my hands- further muppetliness on my part, I admit- and my arms went into the mud up to my elbows. I froze again, and sat there some more, occasionally giggling a bit. I tried to pull myself together and realised that I needed to move somehow. Glenn was out of shouting distance and let's be honest, did I want him to come and find me half-buried in the riverbank? Not really. So, escape. A quick, hopeful glance up the bank showed that there were no obvious handholds. I was indeed surrounded by mud on an uphill slope. I was clearly not going to get out of this without getting even muckier. I sighed, pulled off my shades and cap and threw them up the bank, and began what I have no doubt was an extremely elegant wriggle/slither through the mud, with all four limbs, up the bank. I thanked God that on this occasion I wasn't wearing flip-flops- my boots were reluctant enough to leave the mud and they were tightly strapped to my feet. My flip-flops would've had no chance.
I finally wriggled my arse up to relatively solid ground and contemplated my next move. My legs were still submerged and the hand that I had used to impatiently push my hair out of my face had left a wet brown smear that was rapidly drying out on my skin. The small child, I-don't-want-play-anymore part of me wanted to just sit there and sulk for a bit, but I reminded myself that contrary to popular belief I was an adult, one that was frequently responsible for the safety of others at that, and reaching for my hat and shades I pulled myself all the way out and crawled, hands-and-knees stuff, onto the grass. I lay there for a second, panting. The Vietnamese midday sun is no weather in which to attempt such a strenuous feat. I looked down at myself. I don't think head-to-toe dirt is an exaggeration. Fewer clothes and I could have been a mud wrestler just finished her shift. Oh well, might as well do what I came to do- it had been a long and arduous mission, after all. As I found a convenient tree I saw three huge water buffalo coming to have a shufti at the crazy two-legged beast in their territory. This was a national park, after all. Not really what I needed, so, having done my business, I walked along the stream away from the buffalo, looking for somewhere to cross that might be a bit more stable. I spied a couple of large stones on either bank of the stream and mentally crossed my fingers. It obviously worked because the stone I aimed for stayed put when I landed on it. I scrambled up the bank and headed back for the boat and Glenn.
I was walking through some of the most incredible scenery in Vietnam. I’d had a few days off and decided now was time to go and see some of the wilderness that is Northern Vietnam. Not just Northern Vietnam, but the parts of the North that no one really goes to. So I’d enlisted the help of Glenn, who lived in Hanoi, spent most of his time motor biking around the north of South East Asia and knew his way around the Vietnamese provinces closest to China far better than me. We’d set off a few days previously, just me and Glenn on the back of a Russian Minsk motorbike (which, for your information, is the most powerful bike allowed in Vietnam, and aside from a 4x4 jeep, is the only vehicle that can handle the appalling roads up there), and our route had taken us to Ba Be National Park. If you ever get the chance to go here, take it. It’s like walking into Jurassic Park, but with fewer dinosaurs. But that doesn’t stop you from expecting a pterodactyl to round a corner of those staggeringly high, craggy cliffs. This park was so big that there was no way we could visit just for the day, so Glenn had organised for us to stay in a local house overnight, further into the park. We had just commandeered a small boat to sail down the river, through some caves and across a vast lake, and Glenn was getting everything ready. Maybe, given my current state of filth, I could jump in the lake to get a bit cleaner.
As I drew nearer I saw that he was already on the boat with the driver. The bank was high and steep, and I deliberately kept a short way back from it so that only my head would be visible from the boat.
"Want to hear something funny?" I called down to Glenn.
"What?" He called back, smiling expectantly. I moved forward and my mud-coated body came into view. I wish I could say his jaw dropped but he kept up an impressive composure. He's obviously seen worse things in his time than women covered in mud.
"It's a bit muddy over there", I answered, somewhat unnecessarily. I jumped down and boarded the boat. Glenn shook his head a bit.
"I'm so, so sorry", he said. I was incredulous.
"Sorry? Don't be ridiculous, what are you sorry for?"
"I don't know, you just...." He trailed off, as well he might. I burst out laughing and flopped into a plastic chair. He started grinning too. "Now I'm really glad you're not a princess."