When restricted mobility requires you to use a wheelchair or crutches, one of the least advisable things is to lose said wheelchair three months into a nine month round the world trip. After struggling through Asia using more forms of public transport than I had previously thought existed, we arrived in Bali and decided to hire a jeep and tour the island. Among other sights we planned to visit a small waterfall near Lovina in the north of the island.

After bartering with the attendant of the three dirt spaces loosely associated with the word car park we unloaded my wheelchair and began making our way down to the waterfall. We only had an hour and a half of daylight left but hadn't driven around looking for it for three hours just to go back now. Beginning easily, the initially inviting five minute nature trail to the waterfall took on a more sinister "lost in the darkest depths of the Amazonian Rainforest" feel.

After bouncing down a set of stone hewn steps we eventually found the waterfall and quickly enjoyed the sight in the rapidly fading light filtering through the thick undergrowth. As can often be the case when travelling, the journey to a "not to be missed" guidebook highlight is a more memorable experience than the sometimes anti-climactic destination itself. However, having come this far we were determined that this waterfall would have to be worth the effort. Taking it in turns, we waded under the pounding cold water to at least get a photograph to prove we had done it.

Soaking wet and with dusk drawing in we started our trek back, my friend Al pushing my wheelchair while I slowly struggled up the steep slippery path on my crutches. We were about half way to the top when we reached a particularly hazardous section. Al parked my wheelchair and positioned himself behind me in case I lost my footing. As he turned his back the chair saw its chance for freedom and made a rapidly accelerating rush for the edge, disappearing into the blackness below. Al and I looked at each other in silence as thud after thud emanated from somewhere below. Then silence. After a few long seconds in which our brains sped through the implications of what had just happened we both began to laugh, hesitantly at first, then louder and louder, piercing the silent darkness which had now completely insulated the hillside. There was nothing else we could do but to make our way back to the jeep and come back the next day to try to find it.

Early next morning we were back, armed with a good night's sleep, 50 metres of rope and the Indonesian word for wheelchair. Al lowered himself down the slope, through the trees and out of sight while I stayed at the top considering what options I had if we didn't manage to get the chair back or if it was damaged beyond repair. Al shouted that he could see some locals on another path just below and was going to see if they had seen anything. A few minutes later I heard Al shout something but couldn't make out what it was. Twenty minutes passed with no further communication, during which I became more and more concerned for Al's safety. Had he gone somewhere with the locals or was that last shout to say he had fallen and wanted me to get help?

Suddenly being pushed down the path towards me by Al with a thin bare chested Balinese man in tow, was my wheelchair. I have never been so happy to see an inanimate object. Al explained that he had been shown to the village nearby. A crowd of confused onlookers were gathered in a huddle around this unusual piece of wheeled metal which had been found earlier that morning, to their astonishment, at the bottom of a gully, minus an owner - 150 metres below where it had disappeared! Al then explained that to get it back he had agreed to their ransom demands of 100,000 Rupiah (about £7) - a small price to pay for the relief of having it returned safely. I happily paid the man who hurriedly went on his way to split the profits. To my amazement the only damage was misaligned back wheels (easy to rectify) and three missing spokes. A few items from my tool kit were missing, which I expect the villagers were putting to good use. But I couldn't complain, things could have been much worse. A few days later it was just an addition to the list of stories from far away lands of unforgettable sights, people and adventures to be recounted to intrigued friends back home. The kind of experiences that travelling is really all about.