Into the Hills and onto the Tribes: Part One

The clouds were gathering overhead and the sky
darkened as we scrambled out of the river, laughing
and wet, with arms outstretched to receive the lunch
waiting for us. I was especially famished. The trip
down the river on a bamboo raft, propelled by the
current and steered by poles was as exhausting as it
was exhilarating.

Jumping at the opportunity to steer the ten meter long
raft I took to the helm like a fish to dry land. After
repeated near misses and one bamboo splintering
collision with a rock I got my sea legs and drove us
forward. We slipped past debris, rocks and shallow
outcroppings as smooth as silk until, of course, I got
cocky.

When given the option of an easy passage and a more
difficult one, without even thinking I steered us down
the path of danger, and it was going smoothly. Making
one small adjustment I drove my bamboo pole into a
grove of saplings, lodging it firmly between a couple of them.
Painfully it banged on my shins as I skipped backwards
before finally leaping over it leaving my passenger to
fend for themselves. But "David Beckham" saved the day
and quickly dislodged it while everyone else prepared
to flatten themselves against the raft. Miraculously
we made it through the eye of the needle no worse for
the wear.

The rapids behind us we floated lazily down the river.
I had grown complacent and was practicing yoga when a
shallow spot made itself apparent. Quickly I dropped
the stance and picked up the pole to clear us. As my
attention was directed forward I heard the sound of
splintering wood and the scream of a passenger behind
me--suddenly the raft was about sixty kilos lighter.

Two days early we had all walked into the jungle,
naive as newborn kittens. Tainted by our western
upbringing we assumed safety was a call away and
first aid easily administered. Still, as I packed, I
thought to bring my compass, my knife, and basic first
aid. I was the only one--not even the guides thought
to bring supplies.

We happily and carelessly walked passed the women
toiling in the fields, we crossed the streams on
fallen logs, sure footed and with a spring in our
step. The sun above blazed on but we were shrouded by
the leaves of the jungle. But the down hill slope
leveled out and as we headed up the first of many
hills the bamboo forest gave way to sparsely foliaged
trees and steep hillside steps. We headed straight up,
in a path cleared by years of water runoff. The rocks
had worn smooth of the years and we slipped and slid
with ever step, our walking sticks our only salvation.

When I think back on those that didn't make to the end
I am surprised that our Spanish companion did. With
each step he fell further and further behind.

To Be Continued...