The Evacuation Drill

Saturday, 4 June

On the sixth day I was able to get up and out to the beach pretty early. The monkeys were there, and I got in two and a half focal follows. The half was because the group decided to move to the other side of the island by way of the rocky shoreline. I stupidly followed them a ways before realizing, again, that I should not follow monkeys on rocks. I made it to an inlet where I decided to abandon the follow and made my up to find a shrine! It was a nice surprise, and in hind site I should have spent a longer visit there for better luck later in the day…

I made it back to camp and realized that I was pretty tired, and that it was barely noon. Six nights on the island and seven days of hiking is quite exhausting! The previous day I found out Andrew and Co. wouldn't actually be making it to the island until Monday, but as always I could make it back to the station whenever. So, I figured since I needed a rest, I might as well recharge at the station, both myself and my electronics, as there was still no sun/solar.

I had been apprehensive about going back mainly because I didn't know exactly how I was going to manage that. I started sorting through my gear into a take and leave pile and eventually packed two bags plus two empty water jugs. Then I went to my phone, which was dead.

Crap!

I also realized it had started raining pretty hard, which was not good news for getting back. I resorted to the beeping charger, which miraculously stayed silent just long enough to get my phone turned on. While I was waiting for it to charge I noticed a glow coming from my backpack. I assumed it was some electronic, maybe a headlamp that accidentally got switched on, and reached in to find a zipper compartment full of liquid. I admit my first panic was that the wine was leaking. Upon realization and relief that this was not the case, and that it was just water from my camelback, a second wave of panic came, upon realization that my backpack full of electronics was full of water. Jumping to action, I yanked out the glowing lantern, whose response to getting wet is apparently to turn on and refuse to turn off, my go-pro case, and what I can now attest is a bona fide waterproof bag of all my other technology.

By the time I accepted this mess (because there is no drying things on Koshima), it was only light rain and it looked like some sun was peeking through the clouds. Hooray! Maybe this would still work.

I reloaded myself, the packing mule, and ambitiously tromped down to the beach, which looked a little wavier than earlier, but still not rough. Might be OK. Then came time to make a call. I first tried one of the fishermen over skype, but I couldn't get any Internet service. And, my phone was dying. In desperation I turned on my roaming data and made what I'm sure was a 20-dollar phone call, telling Andrew my phone was dying and asked if he could call a boat for me. Text or email back, I said, because my phone was dying but I could use the tablet. I continued hauling my bags over the slippery wet rocks to where I figured would be a good loading zone. Then I checked my phone, with less than stellar news.

‘The boats aren't out today, they asked if u can wait until Monday morning.’

Yea that's fine, I said, I'll just rest up here on the island.

And then my phone died. Again.

I tried using the tablet to communicate that I was doing well, just tired, and had made some progress learning monkeys and practicing data collection, but there were too many raindrops for the touch screen to work. I sheltered under a rock to type out a few messages, but when I went back to the middle of the beach there was no service at all.

I began hauling my now even wetter gear back to the cabin, to unpack, and try interneting again to no avail. I sat down to write out these recollections over a beer that I had been chilling inn a stream all morning. Then I spilled my beer, at which point all of this passed the threshold from horror to humor.

My bad fortune I received in Yokohama has been actualized.  “You departures will be bad.  Those you are waiting for will come late. There will be no happy moments.”

On the bright side, two male monkeys have been hanging out at the hut all day, and have been occasionally lipsmacking (a friendly monkey gesture) at me. One of them, male 102 'Minku', I've ran into a few times. I think he likes me.

Minku, at the beach.

Minku, on the hut.

Minku, my version of Castaway's 'Wilson'