southern trails

Jungle covered hills rise out of plantations and swamps and stand isolated from each other down here in the south. The locals work on plantations and rarely have reason to head into the hills– so the trails are less obvious and wild.

We ran in Krabi during Covid days and hadn’t been back since. It took a second to remember how different the runs are here compared to the well-mapped trails In the north where we live.

The runs are not predictable– what looks like a sure bet on Strava will often wind its way to a close at a pickers hut, a landslide, or a deadfall. You need to retrace your steps more often. The forest closes in and the way is narrow, tripping over roots an inevitability.  It takes me a while to wrap my head around this less hospitable kind of running. 

My body finds itself at odds with the humidity— you’re overheating and then chilled, passing through pockets of cold jungle air trapped in the folds of the hillside. The rains come and pass quickly, drenching you, and then moving on. You are always sodden.

My mindset isn’t one of speed– that’s how the roots get you. But you can’t slack off or else you will be out here forever and running close to dark is a worry that sits in the back of your mind.  

The terrain robs your running of all rhythm. You’re slowing down, picking up speed constantly. The only way to keep your head is to accept being there. On this trail that never brings ease. 

Bar the occasional guy out to check his rubber taps, I’m the only one here. Whatever the jungle reveals to me will be private.

– Liam Salter