Sunday 1 April 2012

A goal reached.. Gocta mid level


 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.

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