Sensing is Believing
A Blind Man Experiences North Thailand

I have never done anything quite like that in my life before. But the prospect of elephant riding, river rafting and jungle walking certainly had a magnetism and I was not disappointed. One thing I can say with true conviction is that you don't need eyes for a trek - just a comfortable rucksack, some functional footwear, a stalwart partner and a trusted guide. All these things I was fortunate to have when I undertook the trek.

I am 38 years old and have been totally blind for 20 years. I am a pretty extrovert kind of a bloke. I get up to most things but I don't think I was quite prepared for the sensory bombardment I got from the trek. What a fantastic experience to feel an elephant's trunk and tusks, to tickle its ears, to hear it snorting and to sit upon its neck with my two hands resting on its head. They are magnificent animals and, for a blind person, a very sensual tactile experience. I like to think that I've got a sense of humour, and Khunmoi (my elephant for the trek) certainly had one - swinging her head and trunk, wrapping her ears around my legs, warming them, and trying to pull my foot into her mouth with her trunk! This gave me and the people I was with, cause for much mirth. It is difficult to conceptualize just how big an elephant is when you cant' see but I certainly got a sense of just how large she really was. I think I'd like a guide elephant please but getting in and out of at taxi, or on and off the bus, might prove a little problematic. Go well, Khunmoi.

The jungle has its music, it has a symphony by day and a nocturne at night. The sounds of cicadas, a gentle breeze rustling the bamboo leaves and the music of the river were the sounds of the day. The rhythmical tramp of feet on twigs, rocks and earth filled my ears and the birds provided the chorus. As dusk approached it was time for the night creatures to take the stage. Frogs, lizards, monkeys all sang a lullaby as did the animals belonging to the Karen hilltribe people we stayed with. There was no electricity where we stayed so the only sounds were natural ones. The cockerels, of which there were many, informed the sleeping village that the dawn was on its way. They set the pigs grunting and the cow to offer a solo. The grinding and sieving of the rice and the washing of clothes by hand were the percussion section in the jungle's orchestra.

I shall never forget sitting amongst the tribesfolk, not being able to understand a word of what was being spoken but all the time feeling assured in the knowledge that communication and dialogue were certainly taking place. I took a harmonica and a flute which the children took to instantly. They were fascinated with my white cane and captivated by my Braille watch, which they examined with great gentility. The daily rituals gave a flavour of old age and tradition. Their way of living and working has probably not changed that much for centuries.

You don't need a white cane when you are in the jungle. What I did was to improvise a new method of being guided. Boon, my guide, cut two bamboo canes which my fiancee, Gill, held onto the front of, one in each hand. I held the same canes but at the other end - rather like carrying a stretcher. It proved to be very satisfactory in what was otherwise an extremely tricky environment. Because we couldn't progress at the same speed as our sighted counterparts, it gave us a chance to talk at length to Boon. He described in detail the flora and fauna we were amongst. I never knew sunflowers cold be so big and I think I smiled a lot when Boon gently placed my hands on a particularly large specimen.

Through the paddy fields chock- full of rice ready to be harvested, up and down steep hills, walking through the river, climbing over stiles and negotiating little log bridges was no easy feat. I think Gill was a lot more fearful than I when crawling round the hills and walking along the sides of steep drops - many of which she didn't tell me about until we were safe on level ground. I think that was probably a good thing as my anxiety levels would have gone through the roof. Gill's certainly did!

I carried a lot of water and boy did I need it. The heat is quite something but the reward at the end of the day was a swim in the Mae Taeng river - what a great sensation, to peel off a sweat soaked T-shirt and dive into the cool relief of the river. We sat around the campfire after a supper of traditional chicken curry, drinking beers and exchanging songs. I would sing a Welsh folk song and Nob, one of the other guides, would reply with a Thai song. Those are special memories.

I had never been on a bamboo raft until I came to Thailand, so imagine the joy of drifting lazily down the river with the cheeky overhanging branches trying to steal my baseball cap. Still, it was lovely to stand there playing my flute to the passing banks and then to step forward to the front of the raft and actually power and steer it. I don't think they will let me drive a boat on old father Thames but, hey, this is Thailand, land of smiles.

I'll never forget Boon and Nob for teaching me so much, and for making me feel so safe and secure, and Annette for making it all possible, for showing me a world I might never have experienced. I will be coming back to Chiang Mai just as soon as I can. Thank you Chiang Mai.