Where the wild things are
Posted: 20 May 2010
We both ponder the axes. Look at each other. Look at the axes. "Shall we go?" I muse, fingering the tip of some sort of boar-hunting arrow that lookslike the AK-47 of wood-based weaponry. "Yeeeees," agrees JL, lurching purposefully towards the door with the kind of intensity that means he's made his own imagination rear up like a spooked and fuzzy drunk from the bathtub of his mind. We bid our farewells and leave. It's not you, it's us.
The rest of our time in Biebrza is spent in wonder. This place really is a throwback, a perfect little bubble of pre-history in a world where modernity has stuffed its sticky little fingers into every crevice of our lives. We thread the X6 through areas that resemble rainforest, through glades and hollows, through mud and sand and water and rock.