“Now this is a jungle trek’ I thought to myself pushing through the thick underbrush which was still soaking wet from the previous night’s rain. Ahead of me lay what appeared to be a solid wall of green. Trees, leaves, bushes, all came together in a manner that seemed to prevent all forward movement but at my feet a narrow ruddy orange path of water weary clay told me different. The jungle pressed in all around me and there was no way to avoid contact with it. A few steps in and I was soaking wet but the mile wide smile on my face betrayed my true emotions.
Finding jungle path no. 7 had been a bit of an adventure in itself. You see, the maps they have for the area aren’t quite accurate. The maps themselves even say so. What looks to be a single road weaving through green on paper is in actuality another beast entirely. It was only thanks to arrows and numbers scratched into the back of a stop sign that I was able to find it at all. Yes, some helpful soul had scratched directions into the back of a stop sign because there was no other way to know. The only reason I even discovered these god sent directions is because as I wandered aimlessly through one side street after another I happened to turn around and look back where I had come from.
This was the first time but not the last time I was to use that method of figuring out where I was and where I was going (ie directions scratched in other signs).
Time was somewhat tight. My decently early start at 9am gave me a window of about 4 ½ hours before the afternoon rains were scheduled to come. Despite the deceptively blue skies which I was able to occasionally glimpse through the thick canopy I knew things would change just after lunch. The map said the hike took about 3 hours, but you never know…
Meter after meter I moved forward through wet leaves on a narrow path constantly moving upwards. Occasionally the jungle would open up to give me a breath and allow me to see its inner workings. They called this place a secondary jungle because the growth was young and the trees barely more then saplings but I was still impressed. I could almost hear the soundtrack from the movie Predator running in my head and with every step I expected the masked hunter to step out from behind a tree.
The occasional cry of a bird somewhere over my head was the only sign of life. All around the trees swayed back and forth in a wind I could not feel but desperately wanted to.
Up and up I climbed. The path turned from a gradual rise into a sudden incline. My pace went from a brisk walk to a hand over hand climb as I gripped the slippery branches tightly in efforts to make it to the next level. Puddles had formed everywhere in the jungle clay adding color to my shoes as I trekked through them. Many of the ‘steps’ were actually tree roots that by the nature of their shape had trapped eroding dirt and had been compacted over time by passing travelers. Convenient, yes, easy to use, not really. This was not a place I would call handicapped accessible.
I came to a crossroads and was again stumped on what to do. The sign said one thing and pointed one way but something inside my gut said another. I knew I was 100 meters from the so called peak of Mt. whatever and the sign pointed at a path that led distinctly downwards so I did what most intelligent people do in situations like that, I did the opposite of what the sign said and went the other way.
Lucky for me I did. Just like the sign said the peak was 100 meters down the path, just not the one it said it would be down.
The view wasn’t that impressive but that wasn’t the reason I was there. The challenge of climbing a mountain through the jungle was what I was after. How many people can claim that they’ve done that? Well, now one more person can.
I took a few minutes to look around and had to chuckle. From the peak there were two paths down (not including the one I came from) and neither of them was labeled in any way shape or form. They were just black gaping mouths in the jungle wall with narrow paths leading off. The good things was that they both led to the same place, meaning out of the jungle, but they took very different routes.
With a shrug I headed back down the trail. I was actually planning to take a different, and actually marked, trail back down, jungle trek no. 8 to exact.
Jungle trek no. 8 was described as a ‘vigorous trek’ for the ‘physically able,’ and as I scrabbled my way down the steep escarpment I understood why. There was no way I would ever want to try and climb up this way especially after adding the resistance of gravity against upward movement. Climbing down was challenging enough for me.
My hands were always out at my sides ready to grab a branch or tree as I half slid half walked downwards. At many points a stream added its slippery opinion to the path making life much more exciting.
I had to feel sorry for the few people I met coming up the way I was going down, especially the ones who weren’t carrying water and were already sweating like dogs.
By the time I made it to the bottom my legs were aching from the effort of keeping my balance despite natures insistence that I not. Even with the smothering smells from the jungle around me I could still make out my own distinct odor. It had been a pretty tough climb. My mind made a quick check of today’s routine…yes, I had put on deodarant.
Paths no. 7 and 8 had filled my adventurers stomach to the point of bursting but now my other stomach, the one that demanded food, was calling my name. As I slumped into a chair at an Indian restaurant on main street the soft pitter patter of rain began. ‘First food, then shower,’ were the only two coherent thoughts occupying my head as the rhythmic sound of rain falling lulled me into a rain stupor while I waited for my food.
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