Day Two – A Bridge not too far enough

The second and final episode of the Dishonourable Edward Pastanga and Fluffy Fudgepacker's epic journey to reach the in myth-shrouded 100-Year-Old Wooden Bridge.

The first episode received rave reviews so far (zany romp, wonderful story, verbal diarrhea, etc.) and has been submitted for the Booker Prize 2024!

It was still dark when I arose. The chill of the air con gripped me, and I blindly sought the remote control to extinguish its frosty gusts. Gusts of different kind emanated from the guest room where Fluffy had taken refuge. I entered the room and quickly opened the windows.

Outside, in the desolate waters of the pond, ravenous fish patrolled near the surface, hearing the movement of the humans outside they naturally assumed feeding time was nearby which, on reflection, is not really very natural.

My dearest made us coffee while Fluffy and I discussed our plans for the final leg of our epic adventure. With dawn fast approaching we enjoyed the pre-dawn coolness and the noises of the birds and bugs as they awakened to the new day. Our coffee was interrupted as the first wave of bugs in the form of flies, engulfed us. Irritating and bothersome we decided to move inside again before the second wave, midges, woke up.

Coffee’d, showered and refreshed we once again consulted our magical oracle for the most promising route to the revered 100-Year-Old Wooden Bridge. Google informed us it was a 20-minute drive from our current location and so we collected our gear. Try as I might, I was unable to convince my dearest to accompany us as a guide. I worried that the way would be twisting and treacherous and we would be in need of her assistance. However, she had been there before and thought it to be a bit crap so refused our treaties.

We set upon our way and began to put distance between ourselves and the farm. The already thin population and traffic began to thin even further and we entered an area of nothing but farmland and rice paddy of astounding greenness that stretched to the horizon. Our magical oracle directed us onto an overgrown track next to a canal with gravel and potholes. There had to be an easier way so we backtracked and entered a mysterious maze of roads of a large village that was strangely absent of people. Likely they were not out of bed yet since it was very early on a Saturday morning. Somehow, we navigated this maze without any major events and reached a dirt track that rose steeply upwards.

Gallantly, we approached the steep incline on foot and passed a local shop where an old woman greeted us cheerily. She waved us onwards advising that the steep incline was drivable, but, since the car belonged to my daughter and she would assuredly murder me if I damaged it, I advised Fluffy that we should walk this last bit.

Upon reaching the top of the incline we were greeted by the sight of green rice paddy fields stretching into the distance, the paddy fields were split by the majestic 100 Year Old Wooden Bridge raised about one meter high and less than a meter wide dissecting the rice paddy fields in two. We cross a short bridge that traversed the canal to reach the edge of the fields and the entrance to our goal.

We studied the structure and admired the craftsmanship while noting some of the dodgy nailing and considering it for an application for World Heritage Site status. There was no-one there save a pickup with a man and what I can only presume was his wife and teenage son. They were unloading equipment into a wheelbarrow, clearly, they were the keepers and maintainers of the 100-Year-Old Wooded Bridge (and most probably the owners of the dodgy nailing).

The woman was about roll out her wheelbarrow full of equipment onto the wooden planks that made up the bridge. I asked her if it was safe. She looked at me quizzically. I asked her if she was going out to walk on the bridge. She yelled back at her husband who was at the car that these crazy farangs could speak Thai. Fluffy and my Thai language skills were mostly limited to the ability to order beer but we accepted her suggestion that we go first onto the bridge. Fluffy, caution to the wind, strode out purposefully onto the planks of wood that creaked and bent under his weight.

I followed tentatively at a cautious distance. We moved out into the endless paddy fields taking photos with our phone cameras as is the want of people in the 21st Century.

After what seemed like minutes because, it was only minutes, we had reached the end of the bridge. We snapped some more photos and walked back, our mission completed.

Our epic journey that we had set upon just the day before had reached its conclusion and we had succeeded. We now just needed to reflect on our accomplishment at an Amazon coffee shop and have a latte with some blueberry cheesecake.

As we finished our latte, Fluffy and I decided that would should commit our travel experience to print and to blog. As I reflected on our journey and the trials and tribulations we had been through, my mind wandered back to my sweetheart waiting for me back at the farm. She had been right all along, it was a bit crap and we might need to reconsider that World Heritage application.

Written by the Dishonourable Edward Pastanga

On this day of our Lord 30th of March 2024

Part 1:

https://www.art58koen.net/single-post/day-one-the-fellowship-of-the-bridge