The tide came in quicker than I expected; what was once a dry beach now resembled the very deep-end of a swimming pool. Grappling with the sharp end of a huge boulder, I levered my tired body up and over the pointy apex and started to slide down the other side, gear flailing as I fell. An afternoon exploring a deserted Island off the Malay coast, chasing monkeys and lizards, climbing the rocky coastline, and I had completely forgotten about the tide. The rented speed boat was due to leave in 20 minutes and I was at least an hour away, currently plunging to an untimely death. Lacerating my right thigh on the descent, I landed knee-deep in water and proceeded to collapse under the weight of my gear. Minutes passed, nothing. Not dead, just sitting in bloody water, my cameras still happily nestled in the depths of a Gourdon 25. A fine waterproof purchase if ever. Surrounded by razor-sharp rock face on all sides my only exit lay ahead – a narrow opening between boulders leading out to the strong ocean currents, a causeway carpeted by angry pebbles and inquisitive fish. This, my friends, was going to be something of an adventure.