THE EXPLORERS

To Peter Woodgate

Edward had wandered off whilst studying a creature that resembled a red squirrel. It couldn’t have been one, of course, because he was in the middle of a jungle in Myanma, not the Scottish highlands. A sudden monsoon-like storm had caused him to become separated from the rest of the group and he had started to panic.

    The exploration party were from Oxford sent to explore the indigenous flora and fauna and, in particular, to locate the elusive carnivorous plant nick-named “The Trumpet of Terror”. Only one person, other than the local tribespeople had ever seen this plant and that person was Martin Hardwick.

    Martin, an explorer from Swindon, had visited the area shortly after the second world war. Soldiers returning from The Burma Campaign had relayed stories they had heard from the native Burmese. The accounts spoke of a massive carnivorous plant some seven feet tall. These frightening plants, it was said,

ate not only insects but birds and bats as well. It was even claimed that small monkeys too had suffered the same fate if swallowed by the leathery trumpets, ending up in the gastric acids lurking at the base of the plants.

    It was said that they grew in the Kabaw Valley (translated as death) and Martin Hardwick had visited the area in 1947. He successfully located the plants, logged the details and took samples to study on his return to England. Unfortunately, preservation techniques at that time were inadequate and the samples were completely useless by the time he arrived back home. He did re-visit the area some five years later but sadly it had been de-forested and up to the present, no further sightings of this truly mystical plant had been made.

    Right now, however, Edward had other things on his mind and his main concern was to join up with the rest of the party. He was in the middle of the Kabaw Valley, there were poisonous snakes and giant spiders, huge stinging insects and he had no food and little water. On top of that statistics had shown that tropical diseases had either killed or incapacitated up to twenty five thousand allied and Japanese troops during the conflict in 1945.

    Yes, they were well equipped on this expedition but, supplies were with the group and alone he was in grave danger. Sight was pretty much useless here as the jungle was dense and the rainstorm had left a thick hazy mist that blocked out anything more than fifteen feet away. He had shouted, of course, but the myriad of bird and insect noises had drowned out his frantic cries.

    “Think logically,” he thought, as he started to shake, “don’t panic.” Edward fumbled in his pocket and took out his compass. He knew that they had been travelling east before the storm broke and, logically, if he headed in that direction, sooner or later, he would meet up with them.

    After about thirty minutes of hacking his way eastward, he heard the sound of running water, quite faint at first but becoming louder as he pushed forward. Suddenly, he found himself clear of the jungle and looking at a very deep ravine. Opposite a waterfall, the source of the sound he had heard, gushed from an opening to plunge some 200 or so feet into a pool at the bottom of the ravine.

    Laughter broke out and turning to his left Edward was relieved to see the other members of the group. Instead of worried-looking faces, they were all smiling. Apparently, they had bets between themselves on how long it would take Edward to catch up with them. Obviously, he thought to himself, they have more faith in my navigational skills than I do.

    After hugs and shaking of hands the rest of the party explained to Edward that they had met a couple of natives and, after stumbling through a conversation of semi-Burmese and sign language, they had obtained some wonderful news. The natives had explained that there was a colony of The Trumpets of Terror about a mile to the north and on the floor of the ravine.

    The group moved on looking for the path that would lead them to the foot of the ravine and, literally, into The Jaws of Death.

 

 

 

The group arrived at the bottom of the ravine negotiating, somewhat precariously, the very narrow path that led them to an area that appeared somewhat alien against the rest of the landscape. They approached a huge pile of rocks that were obviously the result of a previous landslide and cursed their luck when realizing it blocked their path. The rocks and soil protruded out from the side of the ravine wall and ended about 20 yards into the fast-flowing river that gurgled loudly as it raged past them on its unstoppable journey, before emptying its self invisibly into a vast expanse of lifeblood.

     Mick, the leader of the group turned to the rest and swore before asking, politely for any ideas they may have. In truth, if they were to continue their journey, they had just two options. One, they would have to climb over the huge mound and two, they would have to wade or swim around the mini headland. After a short debate, it was decided that the swim around was probably the safest one.

    There was substantial vegetation all around and after assembling some flimsy rafts, these were used to float essentials that hopefully would stay dry, they made their way slowly around the barrier that stood before them. Luckily they found they could just about wade up to their shoulders and, sensibly roping themselves together, they reached the other side safely. As they scrambled ashore each member of the group gasped in disbelief.

    The scene before them was like something out of a sci-fi magazine. Stretched out for as far as the eye could see were hundreds upon hundreds of the mystical plants, The Trumpets of Terror. It was thought that descriptions of these plants had been exaggerated, but, if anything, they appeared even more majestic.

They stood, some as much as ten feet high, line after line on the gentle slopes at the base of the ravine.

Excited as they were the group were professional and quickly sprang into action.

    A suitable site for the camp was found and after a celebration drink, just coffee, they set about the tasks vital to the success of this exploration. The group were all aware of the dangers that some plants could exert upon humans and, as beautiful as these plants were, they would be handled with care.

    The group would log as much information as possible on such things as soil samples, daily temperatures, other flora within their colony if any and, if possible, how they propagated. On top of this, they would hope to take away some junior plants for examination upon their arrival back home. Soil samples, unsurprisingly, showed very high acidity, but surprisingly, and more so on the largest plants, it was found that root structures were very shallow. Deep rooting would have been expected but it found that approx. 80% of the roots extended above ground. The soil was extremely soft and this begged questions on how they were able to grow to such heights.

    Edward and Jack, the youngest member of the group, had been assigned soil examination and sampling. This task complete Edward, in particular, had turned his attention to the root depth anomaly applicable to the larger plants. Before returning to the camp on the second day he took it upon himself to mark the positioning of a few of the largest plants with the idea of checking them the following morning.

    After the usual breakfast of cereal, he made his way to the area where he had marked a certain number of “the trumpets.” What he discovered was difficult to digest. Yes, they had moved, approx. six feet down the slope and Edward expected slide marks to show that the soft soil could not stabilize the plant.

However, the marks made in the soil showed more like footprints, ie, one in front of the other. He reported this back to the group who thought he must have been dreaming but, when investigated by other members, they agreed that it seemed some of the plants had walked. However, knowing that this was an impossibility, the leader simply logged the strange phenomena to be investigated upon the return to England.

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Back in Oxford, England, Edward’s son began reading a book. “What rubbish are you looking at now?”

Tom’s mother asked as she continued watching East Enders on the box. “You know it’s your bedtime and you have an exam tomorrow”

“But it’s a great book mum, Day of The Triffids by John Wyndham, and besides, I want to stay awake to watch the meteor storm that will light up our skies at about 10pm tonight.

“I don’t know” his mum replied “that science fiction rubbish ain't gonna happen. You’d be better off watching Phil Mitchell beat the hell out of Ian Beal.” She turned her attention back to the television as Tom made his way upstairs eager to read another couple of chapters before “the fireworks began.

   

Copyright Peter Woodgate