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.