At long last I have reached the mid level platform of Gocta
waterfalls, but apparently I must thank the heavy rains, a new landslide and a
horrible accident for the privilege.
Seems the landslide area I encountered on my visit to the lower falls
gave way again beneath the heavy rains in January. As before a small path was cleared through
the area for tourists to pass, but one unfortunate soul tumbled down the
incline resulting in severe injuries and a lengthy hospital stay. Tour operators and villagers differed in
opinion about the necessity of further path repairs, so the mid level platform
became the new “default” tour, meaning the village lost it’s place as the
departure point.
Our driver for this trip was typical, high speeds, inappropriate
passing, and zipping along the hairpin curves.
Safely arrived at the alternate starting pueblo of San Pablo on a reasonably nice morning, our
group was led by a tiny female villager.
It became quickly apparent that this powerful woman was not one to
indulge lollygaggers and duckling cooers (like me), giving her fast flowing
Spanish trail info blurbs whether we had all caught up or not. Not sure whether it was because of the
inexperience of town folk dealing with tourists (see above) or if she had
chores waiting back home.
This path is mostly “up” to the falls, passing high cliff
faces... all along the route the valley
was ringed with high waterfalls. It was
beautiful. A hard rain the night before
meant the path was muddy, and in sections it behooved you to pay attention to
your foot placement. The trail colour
through the first half varied from pink to yellow to white… and believe me
there were plenty of beautifully coloured rocks I wish I could have picked up
for my garden. Old habits etc.
We stopped at three viewpoints along the trail, the first of
which I gratefully, but not gracefully, planted my but on to a bench in order
to catch my breath. Not wanting to
continue to trail the young things I moseyed on along past the secondplatform
while others enjoyed a spectacular vista.
Mini power unit did not like this.
Not too many uphill meters later we left the open rock and
sand landscape and were enveloped by the greens of a Sierra Tropics
rainforest. Wet. Wild.
Wonderful. Footfalls were
softened as we tread our way over paths deep with humus (when not bogged down
in the texture of a changed mud), and the sweet jungle smells began.
Our third viewpoint was an offshoot path headed down towards
the lower falls. On an area cleared of
vegetation we could sit for a few minutes and I was mesmerized by the view in
which the falls in their entirety were the main show, surrounded by their
abundant vegetation. At one point I tiptoed over to the edge and
realized that there was nothing supporting the vegetation below me. I was more or less out on a limb over a mega
drop to the canyon bottom.
Retreat.
Bugs? Not terribly
bothersome. The monkeys and exotic birds
also gave us a wide berth unfortunately.
Our weather varied, with tropical sun breaking through the
clouds sometimes, sprinkles and tropical deluge. Not knowing what to expect from either the
weather or the trail I was dressed in long underwear and fuzzy, and had a
backup fuzzy and poncho on hand. Overkill
for the conditions (don’t think I once used my backup fuzzy), but I have been
surprised before.
The last bit of trail was not as well groomed, and the final
approach involved a slightly treacherous last bit of rock scrambling, including
inching around a large boulder on a mud shelf a few inches wide. A couple of narrow and slippery ladders later
and I found myself on a large flat stone outcrop, enveloped in a cold heavy
mist. The roar of the water was loud as
I donned my parka and gingerly stepped around the last turn and was stopped by
the blinding spray. Every time I tried
to wipe away the spray in my eyes, like windshield wipers against the heaviest
of rains, they filled again blinding me.
There was simply no “viewing” the falls so closely.
The sheer power of the water at this level far exceeded that
which I experienced at the lower level landing, where evaporation, mist and
spray dispersal softened the impact. No,
the full water volume, straight down to a hard landing birthed something, well,
mighty is a good word for it.
Carefully tracing my footsteps back, I shimmied around the
large boulder, and then headed down. I
expected to head further down to a pooling area located at the point where the
waters began their journey to the lower landing far, far below. (I have seen pictures of Janets’ family doing
so recently), but my tiny militant commander refused to allow this. Too bad because I had a packed lunch ready
for a picnic.
The descent occurred in alternating deluges, and we found
ourselves walking down paths turned into rivers. Seemed I am doomed to repeat the wet boots
saga this year.
A detail I have left out is that shortly after starting the
climb my hip decided to start acting up.
The pain jabbed going up the stairs on the trail, but by climbing up the
steep two ladders to the falls I really did a number on it. Very, very painful going down, especially the
stairs.
Winded going up.
Dragging a leg. Out of
shape. Getting old? Perhaps I should be making a reservation at
the house of drool wipe?
As usual I am the last one to make it back into town…
feeling wet and satisfied.
Pee break and then it was time to load into our transport
for an even crazier drive back, dodging the rocks strewn onto the road by the
days downpour. We passed a couple of
trees covered with large black birds, I imagine they were just waiting for the
rain to pass until they could retake to the skies.
Evening coffee plans to meet up with one of the guides went
awry somehow, which really was for the better because I was pooped. I spent a few minutes talking to a bored
Janet at the hostal. Carlos had taken a
group on tour hours away and late getting back for a meeting of the Peruvian
version of the PTA, of which he is treasurer.
How I remember those days of trying to fit it all in. Like most “elders” I wish I could impart the
wisdom of experience… tell him to slow down and enjoy life.
Which I seem to be able to do now, 25 years later.