I Do Things

credit: publicenergy

When I was 19 I dropped out of college. It was a difficult decision at first. Most people that I talked to were against it– they thought I would never go back. Ultimately, I asked someone I didn’t know very well what I should do. She said it didn’t sound like I had much of a choice. That made me happy.

I didn’t really have much of a choice: I was clinically depressed after the death of my dad and I was in and out of the hospital with what turned out to be ludicrously misdiagnosed mononucleosis. In the end I had surgery to remove my tonsils and went to Costa Rica instead of college.

When I arrived I had the idea that I would go camping in a couple of places and go to a wildlife reserve where there were sea turtles. By the end of the week I had ditched most of my camping gear and was staying at a hotel in Boca del Torro Panama. I had a weird convergence of events I met someone who lived a few blocks from me in Portland, a woman who new one of my closest friends from college, and a guy that worked at the same gas station as me in Las Vegas.

I decided I would drop out of Costa Rica too.

So, I took a trip to David, a mountain that was supposed to have good hiking. In David I stayed at a hostel where I met a guy from Ireland and a guy from Ohio. They were planning to take a common hike from a little outside of town to another town where we could catcha a bus and be back by dinner. This seemed like a fun idea, the path seemed very clear on the map and there were other people who would be takling similar trails. But, as you can tell from the title of this story it did not work out nearly that well.

The first hour was really great we walk along the road toward a farm, the view was verdant and gray-blue. People smiled and waved, we ran into some other hikers that were taking a similar trail. After terning off to the farm the trail became more interesting– weaving through the jungle. Up and down past streams an back into the sun. Around the one-hour mark there was a steam that we decided to rest by. I took off my shoes and put my feet in the water.

The other people forged ahead leaving Ohio, Ireland and me behind. As we crested a hill the trail opened out into a field. Tall grass surrounded a medium sized shack. There was a clear opening in the trees. We continued ahead on to the obvious path thinking we would soon run into the others.

Three-and-a-half hours later we have seen no sign of other people. While we were talking we failed to notice we were doing more tree dodging than path walking and the path had gotten less “common” and more jungle floor. Maybe we should have figured we were in the wrong place when we started seeing cows. Seriously! Cows in the jungle. Something was wrong. Ireland pointed out that if we were to catch our intended bus we should have arrived 30 minutes earlier.

Clearly we had made a mistake. As we were discussing what to do I heard a loud crack of gun fire. Ireland and I looked at  each other. Ohio smiled, oblivious to what was going on.

“I think we should go back the way we came, clearly we are on someones,” I said hoping they would agree.

“I think that’s best,” thankfully Ireland agreed.

“Why not just keep going this way till we find the road,” Ohio did not share our pragmatic nature.

“Well, we are surrounded by cattle and someone just shot a rifle. So, either we are on someones land or someone is trigger happy either way I think we should head back the way we know.” My normal optimism was consumed by a base desire for survival. Ireland spent about 30 seconds explaining that, yes, in fact, the noise we heard was gun fire.

So, we set off for David– now over four hours into a three hour hike.We decided to eat lunch once we were a reasonable distance from the cattle and possible shooter. This rest was a great relief, both the food and sitting down. My respite was cut short. In mid-bite I felt an intense sensation, like having a match put out on my arm. A purple and blue hornet-y thing was jabbing its ass-parts into me with great, and repeated, resolve. Aching, burning and tired I set out again with Ireland and Ohio– we were still over three hours from home.

We did, eventually, make it back to the shack and field. As we approached the road we came in on one of them saw a small sign 6 by 12 inches in a bush pointing the direction we were supposed to go so many hours earlier.

As we finally flopped out on to the road we were able to catch a final group of workers leaving the farm and convince them to give us a ride in the back of their pick-up. Now almost 8 hours into a 3 hour hike we rested shortly as the truck bumped down the road. That night I found the only place in David that was still open and would make me a milkshake.

And that is the story of getting lost in the jungle.