Me and Dad

Just a quickie cos I can´t resist, of me and Dad, 2 days ago enjoying the cool luxory of the Hotel Mariposa.

THANKS DADDY, it was wonderful!

My one day of luxory

It was by amazing fluke that the beach I ended up at the end of the trek, Playa El Rey, happened to be about 10km north of Dad´s house at Matapalo. So Saturday was an amazing day, filthy clothes and sandy dirty camp forgotten for a whole day as I was picked up and whisked off to Manuel Antonio and put in an infinity pool to drink fruit cocktails straight out of pineapples, gazing at the stunning scenery around me. Hence photo on right...

Getting back to camp after a whole day of being treated like a princess was a complete and utter horror, and I felt for the first time that I´m done with living so basically, and I am really ready now to slip back into my old life of little comforts. Having said that, I´ve been back at base for 24 hours now, the venturers are all fielded away from PMs by the fieldbase staff so we get some time to ourselves, and I think I can handle one more phase (just one more though...!).

I had a quick word with the country director before coming into town and I think I´m being sent up to the Miraflor region in Northern Nicaragua next, to work in another community. If this is confirmed tomorrow, then I reckon i´ll have had the best experience out of all the PMs here in Costa Rica, with three amazing phases offered to me.

Everyone´s tired but on highs after their second phase and tonight, following last nights´ fundraising auction, Sara, another PM and I, are off to a hotel on top of Mount Turrialba (dormant Volcano) for a good night´s sleep in a real bed, hot shower and continental breakfast tomorrow morning (CONTINENTAL BREAKFAST:!:! ARHGH so exciting!!).

Next update, post Nicaragua and more importantly, Pre Hugo´s arrival, mid April (yay!)

Also, massive thanks to Zanna and Will for posting me Glamour magazine which arrived half way through trek and was an absolute godsend, to Juliana writing all the way from HK which put the biggest smile on my face, mum for your letter and the very amusing newspaper article enclosed, Mils L, thank so much for Grazia! I am loving all the totally irrelevant articles about colours to wear in spring, kate and pete´s mishaps at the Brit awards etc, and finally but not leastly, MILS AND AMOS! Massive congratulations to you both on your engagement, and I am simply gutted that I cannot even celebrate with a tiny sip of champers out here, such is the strength of the alcohol ban. I did treat myself to a mars bar though and I am looking forward to a more adult and fruity celebration once I get back in May.

The wonders of trek

I´ve gone and done it! I am back, safe and sound in Turrialba having had the most adventurous three weeks of my life. Along with the other PM Fraser, I led 11 venturers safely across 275km (it was supposed to be 250 km but they added a day´s hike to make it harder) of jungle, mountain ranges, river crossings, misty mountains, rolling farmland, more jungle, more mountains, more river crossings, and then finally the wet lowlands, monsoons, walking in squelchy boots with rain dripping down the back of your t-shirt, and then to the most deserted wild beach I have ever been to, fringed with coconut trees (´pippas´) sea battered timber, snakes, monkeys and turtles.

(photo on right is about 5 minutes after arrival at Playa El Rey at end of Trek, all exhausted and filthy, stripped down to swimwear and ran straight into the scorching sea. I´m back row far right)

As a group, we coped with 50 year old Ordonance Survey maps which did not correspond to the roads and tracks we used (although I found this quite a good excuse for the times we went the wrong way so I didn´t have to take the blame...); areas where the plane flew over clouds, marked helpfully wich a white bubble saying ´nueble´or ´cloud´. 2 days with a venturer with diahorrhea and vomiting (which means carrying that persons weight), breaking a few key Raleigh rules (such as no hitching, no horse riding...) in order to orchestrate a Medivac (medical evacuation), being letched on by solitary cowboys (´see all those cows? see all that land? This is all mine´....followed by wide sweep of hand resting at your chest, and a toothy smile which cried out for you to inexplicably cry out ÝES PLEASE! I REALLY WANT TO LIVE HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOUNTAINS WITH YOU AND YOUR COWS´) Hitching in the back of a cattle truck (still part of the Medivac), betting with donuts, meeting Snow White´s assistant and camping in her house, gate crashing a birthday party on top of a mountain and falling asleep on Nelson´s porch with massive giant flying bugs which buzzed and then crashed into you all night, adopting puppies called Tang and Crema (brand names of food we eat here) who trekked with us for 2 days before we had to give them away, finding a shop that sold yoghurt on top of a mountain and all of us gorging ourselves, chain smoking at 5am to find the willpower to carry on walking halfway through the trek, and finally, having to antiseptic wipe a venturer´s bottom by the side of a highway in a palm oil plantation to give him an injection, just so he could carry on walking.

The group was fairly fit to start with having already survived Phase 1, either a Environmental or Community project and the first two days were easy enough, hiking through Carara National Park (east of Jaco, Pacific Coast) with our lovely guide, Antonio. Before becoming a guide, Antonio used to poach in the park which meant he had a handy knowledge of all the tracks and trials and also enjoyed winding the group up by suddenly stopping and hitting his head, using the international sign for ´damn it, we´re lost´, at which point the group would become mildly hysterical and talk in hushed whispers about how we were going to machete our way out into the open.

Antonio left us on Day 3 at which point we had to carry the full weight of our packs (18-20kg for girls, up to 26kg for some of the boys) and navigate ourselves. One of my venturers is Darwin´s great great nephew, and as well as the fact that the longer his stubble and sideburns grew, the more he looked like Darwin, but he also had some sort of abnormal attachment and dependency on the map, never wanting to relinquish it to someone else. It was winding me up somewhat as I was keen for everyone to become Ray Mears-esque in their ability to navigate by the sun and stars, and the direction that moss grows on trees (oh yes...). However, the group ended up dealing with that themselves, banning him from the map and timing how long it took before he had to hold onto it again. So, that taught me that sometimes, you don´t have to get involved, you can let the group steer themselves, and that was a good lesson. (photo on right is me on left with 2 venturers, leaving Carara National Park)

By the time we got to the Dragon range, we had hiked about 75km and our fitness was improving daily. I have never seen or walked up such soul destroying mountains, around each corner is another hill, around each hill is another corner, each step is a tiny one, leaning in at 45 degrees, like a little squashed turtle, panting away.

Our ascent of the Dragon (2506m) took us into cloud mountain terrain, and thick thick clouds swamped us, clogging our lungs with watery air peppered with the grain of the trees they were logging up there. One night we stayed at a place called Tiquires, which lookes reasonably large on a map but consists of 3 houses in real life. To paint a picture, here is a photo of the cowboy´s ranch we camped next to...

When we woke the next morning we found Ulysess and his trusty steed, Apache, saddled to the hilt, and willing to walk us up the moutain towards the Dragon, as his cows and bulls were on the way. So, despite the sinister appearance, this particular cowboy town was alright.

Most days we walked 15km which took between 7 and 9 hours, depending on how hilly it was, but Dragon day was a whopping 13.5 hour day, walking 22km. By the time we had slayed the Dragon, the buoyancy of the group was high and everyone was thinking about the next stage - getting to the beach.

All was going well until day 12, when we were descending from a 3000m peak to 1000m and then climbing again to 2000m which was pretty nasty, all through thick jungle, when all of a sudden one of the venturers (not the Darwin chappie) dropped his bag, clutched his back and howled. I wasn´t sure how to react at first, afterall, it had been a shocking walk and everyone was tired, but he seemed to be genuinely in pain. I was quite keen for us to manage a Casivak (casualty evacuation), but it was another 6km to the night stop over, and there is no way on earth you can carry a stretcher, as well as packs for that length of time. Instead, we broke a prime Raleigh rule, and he and I hitched on the back of a logging truck to Los Angeles (sadly, just a football field, 4 houses and a pulperia). We hoiked up the radio and I spoke to the fieldbase medic who prescribed strong painkillers and said it was probably muscle strain. Anyhow, whether it was muscle strain or not, he couldnt walk much further and there it was that with trembling hands I had to break open a vial of magical fluid, suck it into the syringe, flick all the air out of the syringe and then jab it into his bottom, laughing hysterically with Fraser who was pinning the poor guy down (not fantatsic bedside manner, I must admit).

SO, it was that we arrived at our beautiful destination more or less in one piece. That without a functional SAT phone (we had one with us, but you couldn´t hear the other side talking, so it was completely pointless) we had found the right way, without even seeing a hot shower, bed or plate of delicious food. Having spent three weeks sleeping in community centres, beside rivers, in people´s spare bedrooms, washing our hair about twice, using wetwipes instead of showers, and surviving on the most basic of diets, I am chuffed to bits to have done it well, and this has definitely been my favourite phase so far.

Alpha 9 team photo

Team photo on the sand collection day (we each had to fill our backbacks with sand and carry it 1 hr back up the mountain to the site, absolutely exhausting work but made easier by a fun morning body surfing in the Pacific.

Next update will be in 3 weeks time after the end of Phase 2. I have been told I am going to be on the Dragon trek, so 250 km of hiking ahead of me...argh help.

I have the whole of tomorrow to prepare the food drops, learn to use a flipping compass and get some clean clothes sorted out. I also need to shake this bad cough that I picked up in Carona, so I´m also going to try to find a pharmacy. I hope these installments have kept you entertained, I will upload some hardcore blister photos at the end of March.

Until then, enjoy the start of spring and the pitter patter of the easter bunny. Also, I hope all wedding plans are going well for those getting wed, Zanna and Will, Charlie and Liv (ARGHARHGAHRGH) and MASSIVE congrats to Archie and Sabina for the safe arrival of their baby girl, what awesome news. Hugo, thanks for putting up with me being away and out of contact for so long, I love you to bits and Kate, safe travels in New Zealand. Oh, and Maryn, you win the prize for being the most awesome friend, sending me all those essentials, absolutely perfect for my second phase.

Next update, end of March, Turrialba

Photo of site at end of project

This is the result of 3 weeks hard work, really awesome to see how much progress we had made, especially as this whole area was thick jungle when we first arrived.

The Community Centre

The whole purpose of Raleigh going to Carona in Conte Burika, was to help build a wooden community centre, 8m by 6m, on a raised stilted platform.

I knew it was going to be tough, but nothing really prepares you until you try it first hand. First of all, there was the searing heat to contend with, sapping you of any energy you have. Then, there is the bland and protein free food- always rice and beans, rice and spaghetti, rice and beans and tuna and occasionally, maybe twice, we had a fried egg. After a while, we discovered fruit trees - guava, oranges (which look like lemons) and unripe mango which is doable if you add lots of sugar, and amazingly, stem ginger roots buried under the earth which made for a comforting hot toddy the days I was sick with a streaming head cold.

The actual physical labour of the project was harder than anything I could have imagined. The sites where we collected wood were between 30 minutes to 1 hour away and one by one, we had to carry 54 heavy (50-60kg) foundation logs (lighter colour), and over 200 cedar logs for the flooring of the building. The logging alone took us the best part of the project, and we felt as a result that we were carthorses, feeling totally redundant when the children and women villagers came to help and carried six times more wood than we could manage.

Once all the wood was down, we had to saw off one end of each bit, to even it out so it would all fit together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. After that, we had the pleasure of hammering it all together, so the end result, after 3 hard weeks, looked like this (see next image, computer wont let me download here...)

The Guaymi

I am on a bit of a roll here with random photos - this was taken 3 days ago when we were given a day off following three weeks intense physical labour, (seriously, i have never known anything quite like it) to bond with the community and learn their local dance. I am in yellow looking like a muppet at the back, trying to keep in rhythm... The traditional Guaymi dance bears a startling resemblance to the congo that we drunkenly do around the table on christmas eve. You can see the bright colours of the traditional dresses of the Guaymi women, and you will be pleased to know that I have been given a rather tasty bubblegum pink version (sadly no photographic evidence) which I hope to wear to the next Oban ball.

Back from the back of beyond

So, not quite the image you may have been expecting, but this is a photo of me, and one of the venturers, using banana leafs as sun protection, having had a bit of a shocker on our 20km walk to the settlement of Carona when we left on 15th Feb. Essentially, when a guide tells you to walk on and they will catch up, the lesson is not to believe them. A second and equally valuable lesson is to carry life jackets, throw ropes, a sat phone and at least 2 litres of water per person when you do this 20km walk because things can, and do, go wrong.

We left Banco at 4.45am as planned and started walking fairly swiftly, concerned about the tides. When, at about 10.30am we realised the cliffs were ahead but the tide was well up, we were sooo close to the village that we decided to press on. Although I am a strong ish swimmer, nothing prepared me for the huge suck of the ocean as I tried to get past the rocks, literally gripping onto the crab infested cliff with my fingertips, both feet being sucked out to the open sea, daypack on my back getting totally soaked. Adrenaline pumping far more than I´ve experienced in a while, 4 of us managed to get across. The other 8 were stuck, the tide was rising by the second and we lost our confidence at getting any more people across. So, the four of us walked on and realised to our horror, that we had another set of cliffs ahead of us, and we were now trapped on a small beach with a rising tide.

With my hard earnt Westway rock climbing skills, I managed to scale a crumbly side of a waterfall and the rest of the group follwed and we sat there for ages not knowing quite what to do. On the other side of the first set of cliffs, the other PM had SAT phoned into fieldbase to let them know the situation. I think my group of 4 had a good time on the whole - we had fresh running water, puritabs and a concentrate powder called Tang that you empty into your water to flavour it. Soon enough, me and the boys had dammed the waterfall creating a lovely pool to put our feet in, stripped the nearby banana trees of leaves and laid them down on the stony ground, and fell asleep.

It was 2.30pm and we´d been there 4 hours waiting for the tides to retreat, when I woke to see one of the indian guides standing over us, looking at me. After a fairly confusing exchange between my bad spanish and his bad spanish, we put on our boots and he walked us up the sheer mountainside, grabbing onto roots and shoots, sweating more than I ever have in my life, to the top of the hill. It was only once we were there, that I understood that we had walked too far, that we had missed the turning to the village and that if he hadn´t found us we would have waited for the tides to go down, and then carried on walking. To Panama. Other guides went back and found the other 8 and by 5pm, 12 hours after setting off, we were a complete team in Carona, exhausted, on a high, and loving the adventurous start we had had.