Up at the crack of dawn, relatively no hang-over. We (Barney, Jorge, Yong Jon, Kate, Clare, Jackie - all nice guys - and I) set at nine and on our way up stopped at a market (I grabbed some beers and a bottle of Sang Song for the campfire) and a small village for some rice. Everybody I was travelling with seemed cool, including the guide, Pong, who was Karen (hill-tribe) and from the area we would be travelling through. The first treck was about four hours before we reached the village where we would stay the night. The views were something-else, although, a lot of the time I was scanning the ground for creatures to catch - th's cobra in these ere' woods, y'know. Kill a man in twenty minutes, medical attention or not. I didn't see sh*t, bar a centipede and a huge fly about the size of my thumb. When we to got to the Karen village the people seemed really pleased to see us, especially the kids and dogs (the chicks and pigs hated us). The huts where the Karen people lived (and where we stayed) were made mainly of bamboo (some timber) with tin roofs. No electricity. Toilet is a hole in the ground. I decided to go for a mission of my own, into the jungle, to see if I could find a snakes, but the vegetation started to get to thick and I only had my cr*p-ass victoria knoxx swiss army knife which would struggle hacking a tooth-pick in half. I returned back to the village, situated along a river, in a gully, green as far as the eye can see. I had a wash and shave in the river when I returned and we all had rice, chicken and beansprouts and some other bits for tea: quality jungle cuisine - damn good meal. As the night progressed people started flaking out from the hike and left me and Jorge, one of the girls, to drink the Sam Song. We ran out of candles and booze at exactly the same time, and took it as a sign to go to bed. Gunned, I slept outside on the deck, to be at one with nature and to listen to the storm as it raged on in the distance and the rain drummed on the tin roof. Pure relaxation. Five hour treck tomorrow.