Expotour's checklist for things to
bring made some decisions easier: warm hoodie and fleece jacket
obviously weren't needed even at night, which eliminated some weight
already. Against my better judgment Johann insisted I take my small
laptop so that I could keep the blog writing updated, and we both
took our books: we were bound to have long evenings. Other than that
we travelled light. Still, even four shirts, a pair of long
pants and a long-sleeved shirt, four pairs of socks and underwear
plus toiletries each add up to some weight, especially since I was
not carrying anything. Johann's backpack, while not as heavy as for
back-country hikes at home, was big enough.
When we had finished our lunch in El
Mamey Jorge laid out the plan for the next few days for us. We would
reach our first camp sometime before dark (which means by six or
shortly after here) after an eight kilometre hike, with a couple of
stops for water or fruit in between. It sounded completely doable.
The other table in
the small restaurant was occupied by a group that had just returned, with a few
stragglers coming in while we ate. They were in a celebratory mood.
When we were lined up and ready to go one of them came up to me and
handed me a walking stick cut from a branch. 'Take it,' he said,
'it'll be your best friend on this hike.' I'm not much used to
walking with a stick, but I took it. There would have been more
sticks to be taken over, but nobody else felt the need – maybe
nobody else was approached with such conviction either – and
Johann, too, didn't think he needed one.
As I said, Johann had insisted to carry
my notebook, so I had no choice of using it, did I? That first
evening I actually managed, but unfortunately that was the only time.
It is quite different to write from the immediate experience rather
than looking back. Here, then, is what I wrote the first night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 |
| The bunks |
 |
| and the hammocks, overflow beds and almost always used by the guides |
It's 8:30 in the evening
here in our first camp on the trek to the lost city, and I'm in my
bed already. People are starting to brush teeth
and get ready for bed all around me, though a group of more fit
hikers is still playing dice, another is talking.
The insect concert is in full swing,
and here and there the croak of a frog is thrown in. In the wash
area, close to where my bed is, an army of black-winged insects has
taken residence around the light, and two huge moths, as big as my
hand at least, are fascinating to watch. One of them I found on its
back in the sink, obviously lured by the water; not a very fortunate
position for a moth at all. I hope my turning it over and setting it
in a place to dry its wings helped to restore it to flying condition.
We reached the camp close to six
o'clock, me being the 'weakest link' by far, though Johann is staying
with me – and so has been Jorge, our guide, patient and
encouraging. It was tough, very tough in fact, mostly because I have
such trouble catching my breath on the uphill of which there was
quite a bit this afternoon already, even though, I suspect, it was
nothing compared to what expects us tomorrow. Will I make it? I have
the full intention, but I'm not sure I will. It'll be taxing me to
the maximum of my ability.
But it's beautiful here! Today, we
hiked through farmland,
still relatively open, mostly consisting of cow pastures. The small Brahma (?) cattle with their huge drooping
ears and large eyes look shiny and sleek, white, brown and grey, some
black, some spotted. At one of the stops we got watermelon to eat,
and a beautiful white bull was waiting at the fence, obviously well
aware that he'd get the watermelon rinds. The juice was running out
of his mouth while he chewed, enjoying the juicy treat as much as we
did.
Much of the first hour and a half was
uphill, though not too steep, and even there I had trouble catching
my breath already. Then came a short respite before the next climb,
which took us to 620 m from about 200 m– not much, I would have
said before, but the humidity and heat make it tougher. In no time at
all we were soaked with sweat, and my face had turned an interesting
shade of red.
 |
| Red-faced and happy for the break: Lucy and me |
We reached the 'Mirador' – outlook –
after what seemed an interminable climb, rounding one bend after the
other on the steep, dried-mud trail. The view was indeed amazing. The
green flanks of steep hills stretched far into the distance. Next
followed a steep downhill, narrow and winding with a washed-out
channel down the middle; this would be pure torture if it was
raining. I'm not sure how we'd have managed; it's bound to become as
slippery as soap if it rains. Hikers share the trail with a few
motorbikes and many mules. The latter are used to transport
everything to the camps and back, from food for the hikers, propane
for cooking and anything else that is needed to huge bags of empty
bottles and other things returning to El Mamey. The mules and
motorbikes don't make the trails any better, of course. I'm trying
not to think about the way back up ...
At the bottom of the steep ravine with
its high mud walls the view opened up, and the tin roofs of the camp
lay below us in a sea of yellow and red flowers, maybe five or ten
minutes away. What a welcome sight! We crossed a small river via a
plank bridge – and were waved on by Jorge.
Oh no – this wasn't
our camp yet! He promised that it wasn't much further, another
fifteen or twenty minutes, but what a disappointment. Our legs were
sooo tired. To keep going after we thought we were done for the day
was as much a mental as a physical effort, maybe more. On top of it
we were faced with another hill to climb. How good to finally arrive
at our destination, not far away, as promised. The others were
largely finished taking their showers, cold water only, of course, as
everywhere here along the coast. It is refreshing in this climate,
but I still don't like washing my hair with cold water very much.
Thankfully we found two bottom bunks – even the thought of climbing
the four rungs of a ladder was too much at this stage. The beds were
all fitted with mosquito nets, a sure sign for the presence of these
pesky creatures, but there is no concern regarding malaria here at
least.
Tomorrow we'll be hiking 15 km, and
much of it will be uphill. We'll do it in two parts, with about a two
hour break in between to swim, eat, and visit an indigenous village.
That should be interesting – IF I make it.
We have a very nice group, and
everybody is very supportive of us 'oldies'. There are Tobias from
Germany, closest in age to us but still twenty years our junior,
Patrick from Holland, Lucy and Ciarán
from Ireland, Sylvain and Sebastian from France, Theresa, Christiane
and Ronja, also from Germany, all of them young enough to be our
children, almost our grandchildren, and Johann and me, plus, most
importantly, Jorge and the translator, Daniel, an artist who
supplements his income with the translator job. Jorge has been
staying with us, waiting patiently when I catch my breath, telling me
to take small, slow, even steps (joining Johann in that advice).
'Tranquillo', he tells me time and again: take your time, don't
worry, you'll make it.
I do feel bad for Johann who carries
the extra heavy backpack, and I berate myself for not having insisted
that the notebook stay back. Too late now. He doesn't have to pace
himself to stay with Jorge and me; the weight slows him down to about
my pace. By now I'm convinced that we'll need every piece of clothing
we brought: my shirt was so soaking wet that I cannot imagine that it
dries before morning, maybe not even before the end of the trip. It
is very humid even now, and I expect we'll take all of our clothes
and towels that now hang to dry off the lines as wet as they are now.
 |
| The dining hall |
 |
| These fish are fried whole to a brown crisp. We got them a few times during the trip - very tasty! |
There is beer for sale here, and almost
all of us took advantage of it – did it ever taste good! The food
was wonderful, but the portions way too big for me both for lunch and
dinner. At dinner – here – we got a whole fried fish, rice, a
patacone (fried plantain), salad, and a chocolate bar for dessert. If
I don't make it it won't be for lack of food! Time to close this
down: it is ten to nine, and the night will be over at five.
There is a TV running in the dining
hall!! The people running it were watching soccer, and in between the
kids were watching The Little Mermaid. Hard to believe, here.
No comments:
Post a Comment