Page 21 of Explorer's Revenge
SIXTEEN
MAEVE
Iwake before the sun. The birds and insects chirp happily, and after a quick breakfast, I break my camp down and repack my bags. I take a little bath to treat myself, since my skin is already sticky with sweat from the heat. It mainly consists of using the wipes from my bag and changing into clean shorts, but it’s surprising how that can make me feel like a new woman.
Tying a scarf on my head to keep my hair back, I set off into the jungle. It seems like the deeper I go, the thicker the foliage gets. It’s obvious no one has been here in a very long time, maybe never, so I take time shooting more footage. I carefully climb a tree to film from high above before continuing on my path.
By midmorning, the heat is almost unbearable, and I’ve worked through my first water canister faster than I would have liked. I need to ration my second and last, since I haven’t seen a water source since the waterfall.
I hide my second bottle to stop myself, and instead, I eat some of the nuts I brought to keep my hands busy. I have to reapply sunscreen and insect spray a few times, and my feet grow tired as I become bored. I search for something other thangreenery, like any hint of this lost city so I know I didn’t waste a week just walking across a random island.
It has to be here. He wasn’t lying, right? No, he saw it, and he was terrified.
Recalling his reaction makes me impatient, which is a flaw of mine. I crave adrenaline and exploration. I love days like this and have spent many just walking trails and sightseeing, but it’s lonely without someone beside me.
I’m just starting to feel a little tired and dejected when I hear something.
Tilting my head, I close my eyes and concentrate to make sure I’m not hearing things, which is very common with explorers on isolated areas.
No, it’s definitely the sound of water. I head in the direction I think it’s coming from. The ground turns muddy and tilts down, then the trees break open, and I smile. It’s a river!
“Yes!” I shout as I slide down the embankment to the water. It’s dirty for sure, almost greenish in color, but water is water, and in this kind of environment, beggars can’t be choosers. Pulling out my canisters, I down the last of my supply and fill them up, adding tablets and letting them clear it. I could boil it, but this is easier and safer. The last thing I need is to get sick on a remote island where I’m alone. I could easily die from something as simple as vomiting out here.
Eyeing the river and the shoreline, I look for any wild animals that might attack me, then I pick up some rocks and toss a few into the water. When nothing emerges or snaps, I shrug. There are no bubbles or signs of anything hiding. They could be under the surface somewhere, but everything out here involves risk. I have waded through enough swamps with crocs and alligators not to be too worried anyway. They aren’t the monsters people make them out to be.
They are beautiful creatures, just misunderstood.
I could continue trekking through the jungle, but this river is flowing in the same direction I am traveling in. I can cool down as I go, and hopefully it will lead to something. I place my phone and cameras in my waterproof bag and bury it deep in my pack before doing the same to my food, then I strip my outer layer off and add that as well. Holding my backpack against my chest, I slip and slide down the rest of the embankment, and I splash into the water. It’s shallow at first, and then it drops off.
Moving my bag in front of me, I use it as a floatation device to save my arms and just kick my legs until it grows shallower, then I basically walk and wade. It changes a few times, and I end up swimming most of the way as I scan the jungle on either side, looking for any hints or signs.
The water is nice and cold compared to the heat of the jungle, and I know I’ll be shivering when I get out. Luckily, I have other things to change into. I wish I could film some of this, but it’s also nice just to experience it. Some things should be kept for myself, and although I try to replicate the feeling of exploring like this, it’s impossible unless I’m doing it myself.
I can show them, but I can’t make them feel the way the sun warms my skin or smell the wild wind. They can’t feel the unknown, excitement, and pure joy like I do now.
I swim for another hour or so. The river winds and becomes narrow at some point before suddenly widening, and I can stand. I sling my pack on and look around a full marshland. Checking my compass, I see it’s heading the way I need to go, so I set off across it, taking my camera out and shooting some footage.
“Okay, so I just traversed a wild river that led to this marshland. We are still heading north across the island, so hopefully we’ll come across something soon, but look at this—water and trees as far as the eye can see.” I pan the camera around. “No other person in sight.”
A snake swims past me, and I film it. “Plenty of wild animals though.” I spend the next thirty minutes shooting some footage of snakes, spiders, and even a monkey or two before putting my camera away and focusing on my destination.
The water is hip deep now, clearly a flooded area from the looks of it, with trees growing up and out of it as the ground squishes under my feet.
My legs are aching and tired, but I push forward. I’ve had a lot worse, and this is precisely why I work out, so I can push my body to its limits. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but when it gets hard, I just tell myself it’s mental, and there are so many people in the world who wish they could do what I do. Those who might have limitations or struggles, just like my father, would do anything to be here, complaining their legs ache. My dad would suffer any exhaustion, pain, or wet socks to see what I am seeing.
Also, when I’m old, if I manage to get to that age, I won’t care about how tired I was. I’ll only care about what I saw and experienced. Life is too damn short to hold myself back or talk myself out of it. I’m lucky I don’t have a voice that tells me to. I know so many others do, and I think they are stronger than I am because they fight and overcome it to get to the same places I do.
Whether the battles are mental or physical, I am in awe of everyone who wakes up each day, no matter what they are going through, and survives it.
After taking more pictures, I eat some snacks and keep wading forward. My arms have goose bumps, but it’s better than sweating my tits off. There is nothing worse than underboob sweat.
A noise makes me frown, so I scan the area and see bubbles floating past me.
I turn slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. The sound comes again, and I see bubbles about two feet away. Itcould be a trick of my imagination or random fish, but I wait just in case.
Most wild animals will attack if they are hungry, their nests are disturbed, or something scares them. Otherwise, they tend to leave you alone—it’s humans who are usually the assholes—so I wait, hoping whatever it is goes on its merry way.
As time crawls by, though, I swear I feel something watching me.
