Death Railway

I'm 41. That means I have done 41 Father's Days, most of which I can't remember and I'm pretty certain my Dad does not remember either. Socks, jocks, golf paraphernalia.....er.....more jocks.

It had nothing to do with Father's Day, other than the coincidence of timing, but this year I gave him the gift of nothing more than my company. What I received in return for my meager gift was perhaps one of the great journeys of my life to date!

My Dad is a Vietnam Vet. I am immensely proud of him. I too have served in the Army Reserves, which clearly pales by comparison with active service. Whatever the case, Dad and I have marched together on ANZAC day for many years. However, I am terribly embarrassed to admit that I have been marching wearing the medals of my Dad's late Uncle John without any real understanding of when and where he served, what he went through and what became of him. It was remiss of me to not show Uncle John the respect he deserved by taking the time to discover and appreciate what he did for his country before parading down St Georges Terrace with his medals pinned to my chest.

I shan't beat myself up as ignorance has given way to understanding. 

Anyway, my Dad suggested sometime last year that he would like to visit Death Railway and see where Uncle John was held as a prisoner of war. He wanted to make his best possible effort to see, first hand, the exact locations where Uncle John was enslaved, beaten, tortured and eventually fell victim to Cholera and died. 

The tropical jungles of 'nam were no challenge
compared to the concrete jungle of Bangkok

To do that meant travelling to Thailand. Dad is no stranger to international travel but he was less than enthusiastic about going to a city with 12 million people and then finding his way on the rail lines that, back in the day, took the POWs up into the high country to the infamous Hell Fire Pass. So in a classic case of the Blind Leading the Blind I put my hand up to go with him. 

My Father chillin' in Bangkok

We had an absolutely fantastic trip and a life changing experience together. 

Normally stressed and frantic in the never ending pursuit to help others, Dad was totally 'chillaxed' while his progeny (me) worried about currency conversions, haggling, Tuk Tuks and from what street vendor the next meal was coming from.

Expecting Dad to charge forth at sunrise to achieve that days mission with an intrinsic military sense of urgency I was stupefied to observe his laid back appreciation for the whole of the journey he was on. He was enjoying the 'here and now'. 

The crescendo was our journey to Hell Fire Pass and Hintok Cutting. Hell Fire Pass is the section of the Thai-Burma Railway that is probably the best known of all of the mountain passes carved out by  the frail hands of humans struggling to merely exist in the most abhorrent conditions whilst their will, fortitude and flesh was lacerated by the Japanese soldiers. Hintok Cutting was the second largest of the cuttings and the place where Uncle John finally succumbed to his illness. 

Hintok Cutting

Hell Fire Pass

We walked about 4 km along the old railway line and stood on the original sleepers feeling compressed and claustrophobic wedged between the vertical rock walls that our countrymen had carved out by hand under incomprehensibly trying conditions.

Our journey ended at the now Hintok River Camp which was the site of the Hintok River Hospital where Uncle John passed away. Having a beer on that deck hanging out over the River Kwai was our first opportunity to come to terms with all that we had been witness to. Though I am desperate to take my family back to relive this journey again I am glad I did it the first time with my Dad.

Ladyman's Selfish Toad Theory

Hamilton's Selfish Herd Theory states that individuals within a population attempt to reduce their predation risk by putting others of their species (i.e. their buddies) between themselves and predators. This theory, to explain the gregarious nature of many animals, is said to contrast the more popular idea that animals grouped for some mutual benefit. 

I wonder how often, in how many species or situations the real causation behind the grouping of animals has been completely overlooked. Sure, for a flock of lambs the fluffy little nipper in the center of the flock is the last to get eaten by the big bad wolf. And it is probably warm and cozy in there too. 

What if you are not hiding from predators? What if predators were the least of your worries? Take the Cane Toad for instance. Cane Toads give nary a thought to predators and don't make any particular effort to disperse when you come upon them of a night (or during the day for that matter). Grouping to avoid predation? I think not. 

At the end of the dry season water is scarce and from my experiences today (traipsing around the Kimberley looking for pooling water for Gouldian Finch) Cane Toads are living breathing divining rods. So when you come across a bakers dozen all crammed into a crevice that is seeping the ever-so-slightest amount of moisture you can be sure they are grouping in competition for a limited resource - water!. 

If you are not a social beast but your survival depends on a resource that is in very limited supply you are going to do whatever it takes to get access to that resource. And if you are not prone to aggression you are probably not going to fight your nearest neighbor to the death to get what you want. 

So when Cane Toads find some moisture the result is a bit of a case of 'stacks on the mill'.  

BUT the big question is do they confer any other advantages from their gregariousness?? I'd wager that these clever little buggers would benefit from the massively reduced water loss that occurs as a direct function of the reduction of exposed surface area when they are all piled on top of one another in a close confined space. 

Have a look and decide for yourself. Cane Toad Crush

And for those who are not big fans of this feral (though I am not happy about their impact, as a biologist I do admire their capacity for survival) here are a few around the periphery that did not make it.