Caving in the Jungle

On Tuesday our program was to visit some caves.

They are in the jungle. I would try and describe their location as on a hill side, but this doesn't do justice to the real thing. Imagine walking down hill on a path that breaks through the jungle. As you walk in single file, trying to avoid tripping over roots or slippery rocks, around in mud up to your ankles and falling on your butt, the image of a hill doesn't sound quite right.

After a short while you stop noticing the insects, the plants, the birds and trees. In fact as you sweat your senses are so over used, things begin to look normal.

When puffing away as you run out of breath you can only focus on the boots that move in front of you.

The line stops, you look up and find your guide explaining about the tree in front of you. You get "sangre de drago" from the tree sap. A literal translation is "Drago's blood". This is used for cuts of all sorts, even stomach ulcers, as it has great healing powers.

Three thoughts cross your mind.

• Amazing. Why is our guide so fresh and clean when I am a right mess?

• Thank goodness for this rest.

• Oh yes - a great tree.

As we try not to slide through the jungle into a hidden hole, we are told we have reached the first cave. This one was discovered by a group of men thirty years ago, one of them, our guide's father.

We put our helmets on with flash lights strapped over the visors and the first group of ten goes in. After a few minutes the sounds fade away. Maybe half an hour later we hear them coming back.

The first mud monster appears, a great white grin contrasting with the rest of this alien.

The next group is ready and we walk in. The ceiling is around seven feet high, the ground full of mud and columns of stalagmites. (If I got this right, the stalagmites are the columns that grow upwards, the stalactites grow downward - or maybe the other way round).

As we look at the roof of the cave, we see movement as dark objects begin to slide away from our lights. Bats.

It is funny, but every time something out of the ordinary happens, it is always the same people who scream and the same people who love it. Anyway, with the screams four or five bats drop down, fly over our heads and cause further havoc.

We come to what appears a dead end. Our guide tells us to turn our torches off. We are in pitch darkness, and after a short while we manage to keep absolute silence. I feel completely cut off from everywhere and everybody. I like it but know I couldn't stand it for more than a few minutes.

We turn on our lights and the guide is no longer with us. Seconds later, before panic sets in amongst our screamers, we see a light that comes straight out of a wall in front of us.

The fun, and the mud, begins in earnest. We have to slide on our chests, not even on all fours, through an opening. It is easy to slide as the floor is covered with an inch of mud, or is it an inch of bat goo?

We come out into another chamber. It is like a scene from a science fiction film. Earth has been destroyed and space travelers come back after hundreds of years only to find ruins of skyscrapers.

Planet of the apes?

It is really beautiful and over far too quickly.

We return, exhausted but happy.

We visit two more caves, each one more impressive that the previous.Our guide explains that there are over 25 caves distributed round the surrounding hills.

After more than six hours wandering around caves and trekking through the jungle we reach a delightful, non polluted river. Without a thought we wade in fully clothed and enjoy the cool water.

Rafting in Pastaza

This was the highlight of the trip for me and I nearly didn't make it. The raft can carry up to 12 people and we were 16. Three got the jitters and so one had to be left out.

The gentleman in me came out and I decided to stay with the younger kids; but Amore came to the rescue as she had rafted here in November.

Now, as I mentioned in a previous post, the logistics for this adventure were amateurish. Luckily we all did have a helmet and a life jacket. But the rowing practice, weight distribution and instructions were on a hit or miss basis.

We carried the raft to the river, climbed aboard and launched the raft.

The first thing that happened once the current got hold of us is that we gently rested against a rock. The guy in front of me, from Argentina started to lean back in slow motion. I just watched as he played the fool. I have to admit I was surprised when he continued to lean over until he fell in. The two guides were still in the water holding the raft before climbing in.

That was the first baptism of the Pastaza. We had two more, the same guy, the same slow motion, different stages.

Once we started rowing he caught on fast, the only thing is he kept confusing his right and his left. When left was ordered to row, he rowed, being on the right. Little by little things began to get into some sort of order. "Left, row! Except for Norbert".

Then the river began to show its might. The adrenalin began to pump us up as we rushed into white water, with the raft bucking in diferent places, amidst squeals of laughter and a few frightened shouts. We took the first stretch with hardly a mistake. All over corrections we put down to experience.

A smooth stretch and a Norbert ducking.

White water ahead, and old grumble bags who was at the front and therefore having to use his eyes, his common sense and his rowing arm, refused to row. He was tired out. He passed the oar to his daughter who made a very credible effort and only splashed him a couple of times.

We were coming to the "Peña". This is a great big wall, studded with small stones, right on the edge of a curve. The river rushes at this wall with great strength and speed, amidst white water. No raft has ever passed this curve without crashing into the cliff. The left side rowers have to place their oars against the cliff and soften the blow. They did beautifully.

Grumble bags was the only one who lost his seat. That set him off again, but by this time we couldn't care less.

We went through a few more white stretches getting better and better at it, until after what seemed five minutes, but turned out to be 50 minutes, we saw our landing stage.

To keep up with traditions, Norbert decided then and there to slip into the water again, but this time decided to walk to the shore.

A safe landing, a quick toast to the river gods and a Grumble Bags ducking, brought an end to a lovely morning.

The Kids are Marching On

Kids really know how to enjoy themselves. Adults tend to try and analyze things too much.

Good old grumble bags, complained and criticized everything from the first moment - until he left three days early.

But even the rest of us adults had our moments. The heat maybe; the time it took to cross the river the first time; little things.

But the children not only did they enjoy every moment of adventure; when they should have been exhausted at night, they got their second wind and started playing hide and seek, tag and so on. When they finally slept, it was just as intense. Into the sleeping bag and good morning.

I don't know if you have ever trekked through jungle but it is tiring. Our average speed was a kilometer an hour and it felt like six. You have to keep your eyes open and be careful where you step or put your hands. That inviting branch is sure to be covered with a bug of some sort.

After two hours of walking, sliding, tripping you are worn out and covered in sweat.

The kids on the other hand go on and on and on. Our guide was amazed at their stamina. On our longest day, when we visited the caves and then plunged into another river we were really tired out. On the way back, another couple of hours, it was the children that led point and waited for us older and worn out grown-ups. Whenever we needed a break, which happened more and more often, we began to notice the magnificent sights that nature (luckily) placed in front of us.

To top it all, when we saw the old and dilapidated Russian truck that was to carry us back, the kids challenged us to a race. As understanding adults, we let them win.

The point here is to live each moment to the fullest, with passion and enjoyment.

A week in the Jungle

I am back - I have just spent a fascinating week camping in sub-tropical Ecuador, with the family and friends.

What a wonderful week.

We arrived late afternoon last Saturday and started pitching up our tents and organizing what was organizable.

We were received by our guide and his wife, a special forces officer who is just starting this business. A very nice couple who haven't yet learnt how to organize tourists who range in ages from 6 to 52. We can't all trek at his normal speed.

The first impression a "tarantula", received equally by words of wonder, amazement and admiration; and words of shock, fear and near hysterics. I wish I could have filmed it all.

A quick run down of activities, included:

• Crossing the Pastaza River on a kayak; there were 21 of us, and as usual one of the group was the typical loud mouth, complaining about everything - from the weather to the organization, to getting wet, the bugs, the world and even politics. He went white as a feather when chosen to be the first to cross the river.
• Swimming at the Gringo River, a small stream that feeds the Pastaza. Note: The Pastaza a few hundred miles later on joins the Amazon River on the other side of South America.
• Rafting a 3 point river (the Pastaza) in the afternoon. I loved it, and was absolutely thrilled.
• Exploring three caves, with bats, slime, stalactite and stalagmite columns. Loud mouth grumbling away and finally nobody paying attention to him.
• The younger kids kayaking, rolling over in the water by accident and then provoking the roll over accidentally on purpose.
• Trekking through the jungle for hours each day.
• Finding a legionnaire ant's nest. These guys are the equivalent to the African soldier ants that go through everything that stands in their way. We followed a platoon until our guide identified the nest. We left pretty damn quickly.
• Bugs galore, in different colours, sizes and shapes. We all enjoyed the 8 inch centipede. As we thought it was poisonous nobody touched it. Later on we found out it is totally harmless, but when touched by a human hand it curls up and dies.
• Amazing birds, the only one I could more or less identify was a hawk. But colourful and noisy individuals.
• A band of brothers - monkeys followed us for a couple of hundred yards in the forest.
• A full blooded tropical storm; with lightening and thunder flashing and roaring above us - until our tents were completely soaked.

All in all a spectacular camp out; in an amateur way this was great fun and an adventure to remember.

As we returned home the kids began to demand the next one. I just wanted a warm bath and to relive the week.