A tale from Echo 3

Blog by Kai Wallace-Mayer

The first thing I asked after being made comms officer and agreeing to write about the environmental project was: “do I need to start writing now?”

That is the wrong attitude for this project, and for Raleigh in general, I wager.

If you come out to Huskaradi, you had better be ready to work. I won’t lie to you, the environmental phase is a long one, but it is rewarding in its own way. The days are long, but the hours are short, and they say that the best night’s sleep is after an honest day’s work. I can neither confirm nor deny the sleeping bit, but there is most definitely enough hard, honest work to go around out here.

This brings me to the mornings and, by extension, the venue. The scenery is nothing short of amazing. From the densely forested hillocks in the distance to the orange sunrise over the reservoir, every morning will leave you breathless. Even a task as simple as fetching water becomes an adventure when the pump you’re looking for sits on the shore across from a mountain that looks straight out of a storybook.

In the evenings you’ll be doing your best to shake the dust of the trench from your clothes, before sun goes down over Huskaradi and all gives way to campfire stories and slightly wacky games, some of them perhaps involving flashlights and terror. You’ll lay down in your incredibly comfortable basher and be lulled to sleep by the lullaby that is India at night, combined with the subtle whisper of the reservoir’s flow.

There’s a reason why they call this phase ‘environmental’. You’ll be getting very intimate with dirt, soil, and mud during your time is Huskaradi. Not to mention the elephant calls and specially prepared explosives going off every other night with the hopes of warding the great grey creatures away. Working (and singing) in the rain will become common place to you, and by the end of the phase you’ll be so well acquainted with making your motions over a hole in the ground that you won’t want to go back to a normal toilet again (that is a joke).

Leaving Huskaradi, you’ll feel nothing but sorrow, though that sorrow will be diluted by the joy that camaraderie brings, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Tears may be shed, hugs and handshakes will be exchanged, and everyone will be rife with anticipation for another great phase. It only gets better, venturers, so carpe diem, good night and don’t let the elephants bite.

I am Kai Mayer, and this has been your Echo 3 comms report.