Where is a machete when you need one?

“After you swim in the waterfalls, you must do the hike to Pelermo. All you have to do is walk up the side of the mountain and once on top, you can’t miss the trail to Palermo. You can see the road the whole time.” The Finish man explains with excitement. “The views are just amazing” This sounds like a great plan to me and my new English friends Angie and John. We decide to set out after breakfast the following morning.

A half hour taxi ride lands us in Cuevas, a quaint little town that is home to three tranquil and beautiful waterfalls. It’s a beautiful day and butterflies twirl around my feet as we make our way down the winding path. After a nice swim we decide that we should indeed try the hike that the Finish man recommended. We even think we have located the trail. My heart thuds in my chest as we climb strait up hill. The sun is hot on the back of my neck and within a few minutes, the cool swim under the falls is a distant memory. As we climb, a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains stretches out before us. After much huffing and puffing, we find ourselves at the top of the mountain with an amazing 360 degree view of the surroundings.

“So this is where the way to Palermo should be obvious” John says as we eat the croissants that we brought along. As far as I can tell, there is no path that indicates where a hiker should continue. But as promised, we can see the road and a town below. That must be Palermo right? We decide that continuing down the other side of the mountain will be our best chance at not getting lost, the road will be visible the whole time.

Making sure to walk in zigzags on our way down the other side of the mountain, we head in the direction of the road. About a half hour into our decent, we notice that the terrain is getting quite a bit steeper. Actually, parts of the side of the mountain fall away in sheer rock face. But it’s okay, we negotiate our way around those parts to manageable grade. It is at this point that we start asking ourselves if we should have just returned to the waterfalls along the path that we originally came up.

“Ahhh.” I hear Angie cry from behind me. “I just got bit by something. I heard a hiss.” Please don’t let it be a snake, I think to myself. I look up the mountain behind me. Angie is crouching down and clutching at her ankle. Not a snake, not a snake, I chant to myself as I make my way back up to check on her. When I reach her, both she and John are sitting down to have a proper look at her ankle. There is a good sized puncture wound and the area around it is swollen. But I can’t see two points of entry that are typical of fang marks. John and I convince Angie that we need to keep moving. If she did get bit by something poisonous, we are going to have a really hard time getting her down the mountain. We need to move now. We descend another twenty minutes and Angie is feeling better. It doesn’t appear to be a poisonous snake bite and I am thankful for it as we have taken to scooting down the steepest parts of the mountain on our asses.

We are near the bottom now and can see several farmers working in their corn fields. They wave at us. Only about 200 meters to go, I figure. But then comes the jungle. There is no turning back now, we will just have to continue on. I lead the way into the enveloping bushes and trees. Immediately, my hopes of a path or an easy route through are squandered. We are going to have to fight for the last 200 meters. Little do I know what a fight it will be. There are branches, branches and more branches. The branches have vines growing between them. The vines have prickers on them. I use both hands/arms to hold aside foliage long enough to step through. I can’t see more than two feet in front of me. All we can do is keep moving downhill. With every step, splinters penetrate our skin, branches lash against us, but we are making progress.

“I think we went the wrong way.” I joke. I move forward, still in the lead. I manage to push aside a very thick clump of branches only to find that I am dangling over a five foot drop into nothingness. I am already stuck with no option at return.

“Guys, I don’t know about this one, it’s really steep. If you can go another way.” I yell behind me. I take a deep breath and cling to the branches as I lower myself down the drop off. Once I release my arms, I am happy to find that my feet hit ground, not for long. I am sliding. It turns out that I have landed on wet grass that doesn’t hold me. Swoosh, water soaks the back side of my clothes. I slide along for several feet until thankfully I am saved by, you guessed it, more branches. Having been unable to find an alternative path, Angie and John slide down behind me. We are all sweating profusely. Their arms and faces are scratched, twigs are stuck in their hair. I know I can’t look that much better. Finally, we locate a gap (about two feet of space where we can look out) from the foliage. The farmers in the fields wave at us. We wave back. They gesture that we should go to the left. We quickly agree to take their advice. Back in we go. At this point I am vowing to purchase a machete for all future hiking. We continue to rip out way though the vegetation.

“Hey, we did it. There’s a corn field ahead. We made it!”

“Yeahh” John and Angie call out behind me. The last ten feet through the jungle are the least graceful of all. We plow ahead as though we have not seen civilization in months. Finally through the corn field, we pass the farmers as we make our way to the road. They are all laughing at us. We laugh too. The giggling continues, relief making us giddy. Once on the road, we are able to flag down a passing local bus. As we board, I can feel every eye watching us. I can hear the thoughts of our fellow passengers. Who are these crazy gringos disheveled, covered in mud, bleeding but laughing.

My new friends at the base of the mountain we just stumbled down.