Hat TonSai, A Forgotten Love Rekindled

When you think of a tropical paradise, what do you think of? Do you think of soft sand beaches, small islands as far as the eye can see, towering cliffs on all sides, mischievous monkeys, constant unavoidable songs from the jungle, hammocks, and warm salt water baths everyday? For most of us these adjectives would suffice. Add to the mix thousands of limestone sport climbs, cheap jungle bungalows, and none of those common tourists (only a hand full of young rasta climbers from around the world), and I would call it paradise. Welcome to Ton Sai Bay, where the saying goes, “I’ll leave Ton Sai… tomorrow.” Its beauty is one of a kind and can only be fully understood with personally experiencing it. This is where the dilemma lies, once you experience it you often wonder if you really need to ever leave.
The only way in or out is by long tail boat, and once you arrive you can’t help but think of being on a secluded island. After wading to shore with your pack, you wave to the boat and quickly start searching for a place to call home. As you walk up the rutted dirt path you pass a couple of small bars, two stores, Chicky Mama’s and the message board which reads over and over again, “Lost camera, stolen by monkeys, please return if found.” It is at this point you look up at the monkeys in the trees, laugh and start to plan for the unexpected. As the bungalow search continues you pass Base Camp, a climbing guide place, and The Backyard hangout, before you finally reach the cheap bungalows at the end of the road. You check in, unpack, and settle in to the timeless, worry free life style we all crave so much. Tomorrow… climbing!
Going into this climbing adventure, I was legitimately nervous. There were a lot of factors that made me question what I was doing. I wondered if I had the mental and physical strength to climb considering the fact that I hadn’t been an avid climber in a couple years. Add to that the fact that I was in another country half way around the world where rescue by helicopter wasn’t an option, in a place where the only advice for evacuation was, "Don’t get hurt." The evacuation process was often long, painful, and unorganized, with the only way out being by boat. Watching one of the local Thai guys fall and break his arm the first day didn’t help any, especially after watching the sad attempt at getting him to a doctor. Add to that the difficulty of the climbs. There were hundreds of climbs, but only a handful that were in both Siri and I’s ability level. Top roping was not an option, considering the only access to the top of the massive cliffs was straight up no less than 100m. And of those doable climbs, there were only a few that had safe protection. Ton Sai’s limestone cliffs are some of the most corrosive, and normal stainless steel bolts did not stand a chance. This observation was made after years of bolting routes with stainless bolts and only recently has there been an effort to rebolt with stronger, less corrosive titanium bolts. This was great news, but the only problem was you often didn’t know which was which. Add the fact that most of the easier climbs had been climbed so much over the years that the rock itself had been polished down to a glass-like surface. Let’s just say in Ton Sai, chalk is your best friend. If these mental hurdles were not enough, consider probably the most serious factor, my climbing partner. When it comes to climbing, trusting your partner is vital; after all, they have--quite literally--your life in their hands. Don’t get me wrong, I have full confidence in Siri’s ability to comprehend the concept and her competence, but these things do not make up for lack of experience. She had only belayed a top rope a handful of times before arriving in Ton Sai, and a lead belay is much more serious, and requires a great deal more attention to detail, focus, and intuitiveness. All qualities Siri possesses, but they are not enough in themselves, hands on experience and practice in fine tuning these qualities is critical.
Needless to say, all these factors instilled a lot of doubt in my mind, but that’s the game you play while climbing. It is one of the most effective ways to become aware of these fears and to practice controlling your mind’s reaction. Climbing is the ultimate mind game. You consistently and consciously put yourself into the most trying of positions where you battle between giving up and just making that crux move no matter the result. You know that time is no longer a factor, because in this situation too much time spent thinking could be the difference between making it to that next piece of protection and taking that next fall. So you face your fear, rid your doubt, and with that last bit of energy, you make that move… AAHHH! There it is, the savior hold. And the mind comes rushing back, only to be thwarted again by that next move, keep the rhythm, one move at a time, focus.
Right at this moment, when your mind is about to break, and you are about to give into your uncertainty and fear, you calmly take a deep breath, place that toe, place that hand and with a still, collected, and composed mind, you make that move. It is at this point that all else disappears, and your mind is truly free of all thought, and you truly feel alive, at one with the rhythm of life. It is unmistakable and unavoidable.
Ton Sai was an epic experience and another reminder of how powerful the mind is and how easily it can allow the illusion of fear and the distrust to take control of you. It reminded me of the concentration and focus needed to control my wandering mind as well as the importance in doing so. Ton Sai successfully rekindled my forgotten love of climbing. I think a return trip is necessary. Maybe it will involve a sailboat, a few good climbing friends, and a long break from work.

The Jungle Has Spoken

First, the spies-- tiny drones coming to gather our genetic information, sneaking in to even the most carefully masked sanctuaries, and leaving behind the burning sense that no place is truly safe. 

Then, the scavengers. Large armies of precise and well-informed soldiers, infiltrating every unguarded nook and cranny and stealing away with any crumb that might go unnoticed. Eventually, the slower but larger thieves of anything left carelessly unsecured, never to be seen again.

The mind games. Hours of constant piercing locust whistles at high decibels, running in shifts. Monkeys inching ever closer to the windows, their opposable thumbs twitching and teasing our flimsy barricades. Some shadow creature eating our soap at night, just a few nibbles at a time. The constant, seeping moistness slowly and methodically overtaking any exposed pages or tight spaces. 

The ever-watching eyes. The threatening calls of the frogs right outside the door, and the loud barking alarm of the gecko at any sign of our attempts to escape.

It is enough to drive a person mad.

Finally, a warning: A few small and very carefully placed piles of dung left on our doorstep to be discovered in the morning, every morning, the perpetrator long since hidden...but always watching.

Nothing is secure. Nothing is safe.

The jungle has spoken.

So here we are in Tonsai, Thailand, an isolated climber Mecca nestled among the sharp limestone rocks separating jungle and sea. We are here with a whole slew of young and shapely tourists from around the world, to spend two weeks seeking adventure in the daytime and sleeping in a moldy bungalow at night. We got here on February 10th after spending our first few days at touristy Karon beach near Phuket (hiking to the Big Buddha, rock scrabbling, and snorkeling), then two days and one crazy night on Phi Phi Island. It is a relief to be away from the crazy dirty pricey chaos of really touristy places, though even here isn't authentic Thailand (and still a bit out of our $15 per day budget). There is so much good climbing here, lots of hiking and exploring, spectacular landscapes and magical jungle. Every day brings a new adventure, and an opportunity to face a fear or push the boundaries of my comfort zone. I am coming to understand Fear as the tangible experience, something which can be tasted, touched, smelled, examined and understood from all angles. I am becoming more accustomed to the experience of my own fear, and this acquaintance process is helping me to be more comfortable in any situation (though it probably doesn't help my social prospects much when I smell this bad). I am learning that the best kind of fun is a mixed feeling of excitement and apprehension, where I want to go forward and backward at the same time. We went on a day hike to a lagoon, which I had not been informed would involve several hours of climbing up and down nearly vertical mudslides with nothing but a slimy rope and sharp rocks to hold on to. I was in flip flops and a white t-shirt. A few others turned back, but we made it, and it was breathtaking. Once we finally got back into civilization I was sweaty and covered head to toe in streaks of red mud, my hair disheveled and my arms sore. I felt like a jungle warrior. The next day we went deep water solo climbing with a local outfit. We were taken by boat to some cliffs rising out of the ocean, and given some wet shoes and moldy snorkels. We swam to the ladder dangling over the water and climbed on the slippery rocks until we lost our strength or slipped and fell into the water below. At first I was nearly paralyzed by the height of the rocks and uncertain about my arm strength after the previous day's trials, but by the end I was climbing harder routes than I had ever tried before and jumping from 20 feet or more. I have always been fearful of heights, but another day I rappelled myself for the first time off of a 20-meter high cave mouth, and became familiar with the feeling of lowering myself backward into an abyss of air and emptiness. I climbed up a cliff on a bamboo ladder and walked along a rim of no more than a few feet, looking at the 400 foot drop to the rocky waters below. I climbed higher and higher, without stopping or falling even when the jagged rocks cut into my fingers and knees. Each day brings a lesson in letting go and holding on. I let go of my fears and mind games, my expectations, my doubts, my sense of self and its limitations. I hold on to the rock, and nothing else.

Neal has talked to me of climbing as a meditative experience, and I am beginning to understand what he is talking about. The whole sport is about clearing your mind of everything that gets in your way and taking a big step into uncertainty. It is about respecting the forces which are greater than your small body, which transcend the minor issues of daily life and give a taste of purity, of truth, of power. Climbing is always a risk, as is everything in life-- nothing is ever truly secure or permanent. The point is to let go of that need for security, the hand grasping at something solid and unchanging, and to trust instead in the mystery itself (Grace). Focus only on this one moment, the Here and the Now, nothing else, and if you do that, then your thoughts disappear and there is silence. In that silent emptiness you realize that there is nothing left to fear, and you just float right up the mountain. 

In between climbs and other adventures, I have been reading a book about a woman called Peace Pilgrim. From the 1950s to the 80s she traveled across America on foot, with no money and no possessions except the clothes on her back. She only ate when food was provided, only spoke to those who approached her, and slept where she lay down. Within a few years she was booked at speaking engagements across the country, at churches and universities and house parties, speaking about the path to inner (and eventually global) peace. She was a very spiritual person, though she didn't associate with any particular religion or practice. Her own journey to inner peace took her fifteen years, with a lot of ups and downs and a few big leaps. She discovered that her life had become burdened by too much materialism and needless responsibility, and she slowly abandoned that way of life. She taught the importance of bringing one's life down to Need level, and speaking one's own inner truth. I came by this book by chance, when some unnamed friend left it for me to find in my backpack, and it has been a source of constant inspiration and upliftment ever since. It supports my attempts to set my fears aside and gives me tools to live each moment with love, intention, and gratitude. Peace Pilgrim says that it is a misconception that fear is necessary in our lives, and that good sense can do the same job without the baggage. She also says that no problem ever comes to you that does not have a purpose in your life, and that it is important to have a meaningful attitude in your actions, or else you will suffer. If you live by the laws that govern all of nature, your life will be simple and at ease. "God is always reaching toward people (grace). With your own free will, reach back (faith)." This path sounds (and is) really simple, but it requires a lot of letting go, and letting go of things which may appear to bring comfort and gratification for the sake of higher joys. Just like in climbing and meditation, you must shed all of these layers which obscure the truth and lay yourself bare for all the universe to see. 

I am inspired! I am on the journey! Can I live this life? Only time will tell, I suppose, but it can't hurt to try. Even if I never become an expert climber, at least I can appreciate the rock beneath my feet, the open air and the unobscured view.

"Inner Peace is where Peace begins."-P.P.