More adventure

I woke up before six to arrive early with the guide to the park. The staff had left breakfast for me: a ham and cheese sandwich and lemonade. Nobody was around to make coffee.

We took the 'truck' to the trailhead at the park. Spoiled and self-absorbed American that I am, I thought that we might make the short ride in a 4 X 4. Well, the trip took over an hour, and the guide, the supplies and I were all in the back of a sort of flatbed truck that had been fixed up with benches. It looked something like those transports that armies in third world countries take their captives onto, to bring them to some place where they will never be seen again.

About half of the truck ride was on paved roads, the rest on dirt roads. And not well maintained dirt roads -- they were full of potholes, and we bounced up and down the whole trip. Joel, the guide, seemed to know everybody we passed. He was forever waving, whistling, and shouting greetings to folks on the side of the road. When he hollered at them that he was going up the mountain, it was clear that even though he has done this trip many, many times before, he was just as excited about going up this time as if it were his first time. Frederick Buechner once said something to the effect that call is where your deep joy meets the world's deep need. I think Joel has a calling -- and I'm deliberately using spiritual language here -- to take people to this awe-inspiring place.

When we finally got to the park entrance and the trailhead, Rocelio the assistant guide (the cook and manager of the mules) was already there with three mules. One was the pack mule that carried the food, supplies, and our luggage. Another was there in case of emergency. The third was in case I should need to ride instead of walk at some point. IN CASE...

Joel and I started on ahead of Rocelio who finished loading the pack mule. One mule came along with us, but not on a lead, just walking beside us. So it began...the first portion of the trail went through a sort of tropical hardwood forest beside the river. Joel was explaining to me what wonderful animals the mules were -- how intelligent, how gentle, how strong. So we walked along in the shade, enjoying the sights of a lush forest, the sounds of birds in the trees and the river flowing briskly in the distance. Man and beast at one with nature. What could be better?

What unfolded next was like something out of an episode of I Love Lucy, if she had done a Dominican Adventure sequence. The gentle,intelligent mule bolted off on her own -- running down a side path toward the river. Joel ran after her -- and since he was in such good shape, he ran FAST.

But not fast enough. After a good while the mule ran out from the path, and took off in the direction from which we had come. Joel was right on her tail. Even with my limited language skills, I could make out that he was yelling at me that he would be right back, to stay put, and not to budge from in front of the spot where I was, so as to keep the mule from making the same detour when she came running back.

So I waited. And waited. Finally Joel appeared without the mule. He was hoping (assuming) that Rocelio would track her down, and eventually catch up with us, bringing all three mules with him.

So off we went again. What I saw around me was really the whole reason that I had chosen this adventure in the first place. The scenery was truly breath-taking: the swiftly running river, crested in white, giant palms, vines hanging from the treetops. After crossing a small tributary of the main river, we paused at the first parada for a brief rest. A little further on there were a couple of cabins, and an old man who I assumed was a sort of caretaker for the government property. He gave me a walking stick with words that I understood to mean "you are going to need this!."

He was right -- the trail almost immediately became steep. Very steep. Most of the trail at that point was quite muddy, and what wasn't muddy was sandy, making the footing very slippery. Before long, it wasn't just the scenery that was taking my breath away. It was about two hours to the next parada, and by then, I was already exhausted. Exhilarated, too -- by then the scenery had changed and as we mounted higher, the flora became a forest of giant ferns and what looked to me like bamboo, but which Joel identified as caña brava, evidently some kind of plant distantly related to sugar cane, but not edible. Overhead we heard wild parrots, and, in the distance, woodpeckers.

Before long, Rocelio caught up to us with the cargo and the mules, and I was mounted upon one of them. Of course it was the selfsame beast who had earlier nearly escaped. This gave me pause. As did the fact that when it comes to land-based transportation, I prefer the kind that has a steering wheel and seat belts. A mule has neither. Lesson: riding a mule is not like driving a car. Or a bicycle.

Very quickly I was learning the meaning of the phrase, "It's going to be a bumpy ride." Later, I was to learn the meaning of the term "Saddle sore." Personally. But first, I had to learn the meaning of the charmingly inspirational words about how if you fall off a horse you should immediately get back on. The same sentiments, I assume, apply to mules as well. At any rate, they applied to me, and I got back on.

The trail got more and more steep, and more rocky. And the scenery got even more astonishing. Before long, there were no more palms, no more ferns, and we had entered a pine forest. We stopped for a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches and pink lemonade, which got stirred around pretty well on the mule ride.

I just can't begin to tell you how gorgeous and inspiring the scenery was. Wonderful. Most of it I saw from the back of the mule, but there are some portions of the trail that were too treacherous to take on the back of a mule, so I had to walk those. Most of those portions were on a part of the trail known as la vela, which means 'the candle.' I didn't get the connection, but then again, I was busy just trying to put one foot in front of the other without falling off the ridge and tumbling to a hideously painful death.

Eventually, by late afternoon, we reached our last parada of the day, La Compartición. This was an encampment in a kind of wide ridge between two mountains. It was pretty basic -- no electricity, no telephone, although there was running water. I spread out my sleeping bag on the floor of a guest house that could easily have slept 100 people. (It's amazing how much room furniture takes up. When you've got nothing but a floor, four walls, and a ceiling, you can pack a lot of people in. When you are the only person in such a place, it's downright spooky.)

Rocelio prepared coffee, then dinner, in the kitchen. Cookhouse would be a better term. Very basic -- there were a couple of deep cold water sinks, tables attached to the wall as a place to prepare food, and something called a fogón, which was a sort of concrete stand with horseshoe-shaped cut outs where the fire is lit. There is no chimney, but instead a kind of vented ceiling. the only light, of course, was the light of the fire.

We eventually ate a sort of stewed chicken, and a side of rice and pigeon peas. It was actually very tasty. It was just the three of us at the encampment, plus the three mules, and a ranger who spends ten days up there, and ten days down in the town below, alternating with another ranger.

Afterwards, they built a bonfire outside -- it was cold. I don't believe I have ever been anywhere that the stars shone more brightly than there at La Compartición.

Joel reminded me that we would need to get an early start the next morning, to get to the mountaintop in time for the sunrise. The conversation went something like this --

Frank: Que hora?

Joel: A las tres.

Now, mathematics is not exactly my strong suit, and listening to numbers in another language is doubly difficult for me. I often have listen two or three times when I hear a number in Spanish like "dos cientos cincuente y cuatro" -- is that five hundred and twenty or is it two hundred fifty? Or is it fifty something...

So the conversation continued:

Frank (expressing surprise) Las tres?

Joel: Si. Las Tres.

Frank: (holding up three fingers and counting) Uno, dos, tres?

Joel. Si.

I went to bed shortly thereafter.