At what point do you admit to yourself that perhaps the better course of action is to backtrack rather than push on?

At what point do you ?give up? the hope of a brighter future and of a happier ending?

At what point do you accept your ?lot? and turn back along the well-trodden and beaten path?

That point came for me on a Sunday afternoon as the sun was going down in the Khao Phra Thaeo National Park.

My initial gladness that the sun?s heat rays were lowering was tempered by the realisation that along with it would soon come darkness.

I had someone managed to pass Station 8 ? a sign that announced the nearby location of a plant of note ? about thirty minutes previously.

Although to call the rectangular piece of plastic a ?sign?, would be technically accurate it would however be misleading.

A sign is a physical indicator of a location; it should provide information of its whereabouts and perhaps even point to the next place of interest.

Unfortunately, this is not the case in the National Park. There are no signs to indicate the route one should be taking, no arrows or coherent placement of Station numerals.

So as the sun retreated behind the hills, I examined my options; a large tree had fallen across the path that led straight, and the path to the left seemed to be in ascent, when what I really needed, considering the impending nightfall was to start descending around and down towards the exit.

The ?map? that is begrudgingly handed to you at the entrance once you pay the 200 baht entrance fee indicates that the ?nature trail? is shaped roughly in a circle, so as long as one sticks to the path, then one should ultimately return to whence one came.

The only problem is that, with the absence of arrows, signs or any kind of legible system, you have no way of knowing of whether you?re actually on track.

When a purple ?sign? flashed in the distance somewhere to the left or right, I?d like to think that it was somewhat down to my inner tracking system, something innate, a survival instinct that kicked in to keep me straight. I?d like to think that, but it was probably more to do with blind luck.

So as I stood in my flimsy flip flops, with the sun beating down upon me and the evening fast approaching, I had a choice to make and one that had somewhat garnered an extra symbolic importance with every step I took: At what point does a man?s endeavour turn from brave to stupid?

To judge merely on whether it results in success seems unfair, is it then perspective? Is it more important to attempt and fail or recognise the low chances of reward against the high levels of risk?

As I stood and contemplated the chances of my pleasant Sunday afternoon stroll turning into a Thai remake of the ?Blair Witch Project? meets ?Deliverance?, the clincher was a large empty sign board I had seen a few hundred metres earlier. It would have been the perfect place for a sign, but instead served as a free advertising spot for local xenophobic youths.

?*%$? the rich foreigners and their houses. Leave the jungle alone. All will return to what it once was.?

Although there were a few grammatical and spelling mistakes, the message was clear, as was my precarious predicament. I had no signal on my phone; I hadn?t seen any fellow trekkers since I arrived and the paths that I walked along looked like they had seen no heavy-footed homosapiens in quite a while.

I turned back and retraced my steps. I have no idea how close I had come to completing the route, but I did learn a lesson nonetheless that Sunday morning.

If one judges a thing or person?s effectiveness on one?s own criteria, then one is also subjecting oneself to the same high level of scrutiny.

There are fewer signs in Thailand, but that is not necessarily a reflection of lower expectations or lack of guidance. It is merely that paths are different in Thailand, and the direction you take is only your choice to make.