by Kitti Nemeth
Third Place – PureTravel Writing Competition 2025 Stories For Survival
Judges comments: A really thoughtful piece with lots of vivid description, transporting us straight to those steamy, slippery jungle paths. I loved the central message – essentially that it’s not easy to put yourself outside your comfort zone, but it’s always rewarding – and felt the writer did a brilliant job of showing us exactly what that looks like. It’s what travel is all about.
We had no fixed plan, just three volunteers in the Malaysian highlands, looking to fill the afternoon after a long shift. Someone mentioned a nearby waterfall, so we followed a faint trail on our phones, more out of curiosity than conviction. Robinson Falls. At the time, it was simply a name, a dot on the map, a distraction.
The path began gently, winding through quiet forest, the kind that invites conversation and casual steps. The air was cool and thick with the scent of earth. It seemed like an easy walk, and we treated it as such, until we reached a rusted gate, half-concealed by foliage.
Beyond it, the trail shifted. It dropped steeply into the jungle, darker, more uncertain. We paused. It wasn’t a required path, but it beckoned. One of my friends decided to stay behind – the weather was turning, and caution made sense. But two of us continued, drawn forward not by a destination, but by instinct. And then the rain began.
It was sudden and absolute. Within moments we were drenched, our clothes clinging, our steps increasingly precarious. The soil beneath us turned to sludge, roots and rocks became obstacles, not guides. There were no signs, no other hikers, only the relentless sound of rainfall and our own cautious footsteps.
The descent demanded full attention. It was no longer a hike, it felt like a test. My body moved forward, but my mind flickered with doubt. Is this safe? Are we lost? Should we stop? But something – stubbornness, trust, hope – kept us moving. Then, through a clearing in the trees, we arrived.
Robinson Falls stood before us – veiled in mist fierce and alive. Water surged down the cliffside in a roar, framed by towering jungle on every side. There were no platforms or railings, no curated view. Just us and this unfiltered force of nature. We stood in silence, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it.
That was my first jungle hike. My first real one during my travels. And it marked a quiet, powerful shift in how I moved through the world. This was the turning point. Not a dramatic moment of reinvention, but a subtle awakening.
Until then, I had gravitated toward the manageable, the familiar. But standing there, soaked and unsteady, I realized that the most meaningful experiences often emerge from discomfort. It is precisely in the unpredictable – the slippery paths, the spontaneous choices – that we encounter presence.
That moment taught me something I carried throughout the rest of my journey: that hesitation often guards the threshold of growth. What lies beyond it is rarely easy, but always real. After that day, I began to say yes more – to paths I didn’t fully understand, to places that asked me to let go of control. I wasn’t seeking adventure. I was learning how to notice life as it unfolded, raw and unscripted.
We set out in search of something ordinary, and found something enduring instead – a quiet, rain-soaked reminder that the moments which test us are often the ones that shape us the most.
Photo by Ravin Rau on Unsplash
