Page 38 of The Big Race
“That was close,” Ray gasped, his face pale beneath his tan. “That water does not look swimmer friendly.”
“No swimming,” Khun Chai agreed solemnly. “Many things in klong water. Not good.”
As we prepared to move on to our next delivery, we witnessed the sorority sisters approaching their first stop.
Their boat was zig-zagging across the canal, clearly struggling with the currents.
Gemini was attempting to hand up their delivery baskets while Blaine argued with their guide about which plants were which.
“That’s not water hyacinth, it’s water lettuce!” Blaine insisted, pointing at a rosette-shaped floating plant.
“No, no,” their guide kept saying. “Look chart again!”
While they bickered, their boat drifted into a patch of floating debris. Something large moved within the refuse, and suddenly both women screamed as a water monitor scrambled up over the side of their boat, apparently attracted by the fruit in their delivery baskets.
“Get it out! Get it out!” Gemini shrieked, climbing onto her seat as the lizard investigated their baskets. In the confusion, their boat knocked hard against the pier, sending several of their delivery baskets tumbling into the water.
Ray and I couldn’t help but wince in sympathy, even as Khun Chai restarted our engine to continue our journey. “Should we help them?” I asked.
Ray hesitated, his competitive nature battling with his basic decency. “They’ll be okay,” he said finally. “Their guide will handle the lizard. And honestly, if we were in trouble, I’m not sure they’d stop for us.”
He had a point. The race had created some genuine bonds, like our friendship with the now-eliminated garbage collectors, but it had also fostered fierce competition.
We continued deeper into the network of canals, the scenery shifting subtly. Some areas were lined with more modern concrete structures, while others were jammed with traditional wooden houses. Occasionally we’d pass under a low bridge where pedestrians paused to watch us.
At the next section, we had to navigate through a floating market—dozens of boats selling everything from fresh produce to prepared meals, all jockeying for position in the narrow canal.
Khun Chai cut the engine again, and we had to paddle carefully through the chaos, avoiding collisions while staying on course.
“There!” Ray pointed to our second stop, marked with a blue flag—a small general store with a concrete platform extending into the canal. The blue-tagged baskets contained lemongrass, galangal, and what appeared to be small eggplants.
“I’ll do this one,” I volunteered, wanting to experience the delivery firsthand.
Before I could approach the platform, Khun Chai pointed to a bird perched on a nearby post. “Identify first,” he reminded me.
Ray studied our wildlife chart. “That’s a... pied fantail?” he ventured, pointing to the small black and white bird with its distinctive fanned tail.
Khun Chai nodded approvingly. With this requirement satisfied, I proceeded with the delivery.
Stepping from the rocking boat onto the platform was more challenging than Ray had made it look.
My legs, already tired from paddling, felt unsteady on the shifting surface.
A teenage boy emerged from the store to accept the delivery, carefully counting the items before handing me the proof-of-delivery token.
We continued through the canals, each delivery location requiring us to navigate natural obstacles and identify local wildlife.
At one stop, we had to recognize a species of canal fish being dried on racks alongside the house.
At another, we identified air-breathing catfish that were flopping at the water’s surface.
The fifth and final stop was the most challenging. As we approached a house with a purple flag, Khun Chai pointed to dark clouds gathering overhead. “Rain coming. Strong current soon.”
Almost as if his words had summoned it, the sky opened up. Rain fell in sheets, pounding the canal surface with such force that it created a mist above the water. The current noticeably strengthened, pushing us sideways.
“Engine no good here—too shallow,” Khun Chai said. “Paddle to final stop before storm gets worse.”
Ray and I took up our paddles again, fighting against both the strengthening current and the blinding rain. My arms burned with fatigue, but I matched Ray’s powerful strokes as we inched toward our final destination.
“We’re almost there,” Ray encouraged, water streaming down his face. “Just a little more, Jeffrey. You’re doing great.”
His words gave me a second wind, and I dug deeper, pushing through the exhaustion. Together, we guided the boat to the final pier, where we’d need to make our last delivery and identification.
The dock at this location was partially submerged by the rising water, making the approach particularly treacherous. As we drew alongside, a massive water monitor—even larger than the first we’d seen—slithered from under the pier, its tongue flicking as it scented the air.
Ray handed up the final baskets while I kept an eye on the monitor, which thankfully showed no interest in boarding our boat. With the delivery completed and our fifth token secured, we pushed away from the pier, ready to return to the main pier.
Khun Chai steered us on a different route back, avoiding the worst of the current. As we rounded a bend, we spotted the Fletcher and Adrienne efficiently completing their own final delivery. Their movements were precise and coordinated, much like our own had become.
The rain eased as we approached Tha Tian Pier, sunlight breaking through to create a rainbow over the canal.
We had worked in true harmony with the natural environment—paddling with the currents when possible, fighting against them when necessary, respecting the wildlife we encountered while learning about this complex ecosystem.
We reached the pier minutes before the military couple, scrambling out of the boat with our five tokens and wildlife identifications complete. The race official checked them carefully, then handed us our next clue.
“That was amazing,” Ray said as we tore open the envelope, both of us breathing hard from the exertion and excitement. “I’ve never seen a city like that—from the water, dealing with the animals and plants.”
“We were really in sync this time,” I replied, feeling a deep satisfaction that went beyond just completing a challenge. “No arguments, no second guessing—just working together with the environment.”
“Almost like second nature,” Ray said with a grin, squeezing my shoulder. “Like we’ve been paddling together for years.”