Skidding on my chest, crashing through bushes and bumping over rocks. Face first in the stream like Michael Douglas in "Romancing the Stone." Why did I come to this godforsaken place?

If I had a cell phone, I'd call a helicopter to get me out. Charge it and worry about how to pay later. Cell phones haven't reached Siberut yet.

I wipe mud from my eyes and drag myself to my feet. Nothing is broken, but I'm badly bruised and completely waterlogged. I walk down the stream until it merges with the path I was following before the landslide.

I have no idea how long we've been on the move. Everyone is silent and drained. Most of us have experienced leeches and falls, cuts and scratches.

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