On the last day of our Kuskalla Retreat, we ventured into la selva (rainforest) of Tingo María, one of the entrances to the Amazon basin. Tingo means "union" in Quechua, and refers to the confluence of the Huallaga and Monzon Rivers. When the town was founded, the residents decided to honor a well-known woman named María who lived at the river crossing.
Once outside of Huanuco, our van passed roadside homes and tiendas with identical fruit displays. Porches were lined with green-striped zapallos (pumpkins) that looked more like watemelons and won’t be used for pies or carving.
The steep mountain sides became more and more green, lined with tightly packed rows of hydrangea bushes, which from a distance appeared more like puffs of cotton. The vegetation became wild and sprawling as we approached a mountain-top tunnel. Emerging out of the dark, we were suddenly surrounded by heavy fog and low hanging clouds. We had entered an entirely new environment - la selva.
Descending into the rainforest, we dodged giant pot-holes created by heavy timber trucks. I kept my eyes closed to avoid quick swerves, but caught glimpses of banana trees, with their carpet sizes leaves, and a welcome sign for a town called Tres Estrellas (Three Stars).
A bit disoriented, we arrived at a house overrun by chickens and ducks, and waited for our guides while snacking on banana chips … completely unprepared for what was ahead of us.
At first, just your basic Adirondack hike with rocks, mud and dense forest. Until… the first clearing revealed towering trees and Tarzan vines, a lime green canopy with filtered sun beams and a pair of chatty mariposas (butterflies). Brilliant turquoise with black trim, each wing was the size of my palm, flapping like cymbals from one edge of the clearing to the other. “Welcome to our home!”
We met our first catarata (waterfall) with a mix of terror, confusion and excitement. “You mean we’re climbing up that vertical drop, right through the water?” Before the fright set in, we each submerged ourselves in the small lagoon at the base, with our clothes and sneakers, and then, onward.
Without the usual commands of “Belay on! Climb On!” we each mounted the steep rock in a harness connected by a rope to our guide high above at the top. A second rope, connected to a rock or root, was thrown down for each to use during the climb.
It seemed like the laws of gravity (and safety) were put aside as we each met the cascade of water. Surprisingly, the rock was less slippery than the muddy surfaces below, but otherwise I questioned if this was really the best route.
Somehow, faith and pure enjoyment took over and I forgot my anxiety. Even during a frightening moment of miscommunication when a loose rope dropped me into a pool of water with a sore bum, I recovered quickly and laughed it off. Fortunately (and I mean by the Grace of G-d), nothing serious happened.
After climbing four waterfalls, burrowing through a few cave-like rock formations and dodging fluorescent colored grass hoppers, we arrived at our destination - a long cascade emptying into a hollow rock sanctuary with a sixteen foot pool of fresh mountain water ready to wash off the mud and sweat of our journey.
The steep mountain sides became more and more green, lined with tightly packed rows of hydrangea bushes, which from a distance appeared more like puffs of cotton. The vegetation became wild and sprawling as we approached a mountain-top tunnel. Emerging out of the dark, we were suddenly surrounded by heavy fog and low hanging clouds. We had entered an entirely new environment - la selva.
Descending into the rainforest, we dodged giant pot-holes created by heavy timber trucks. I kept my eyes closed to avoid quick swerves, but caught glimpses of banana trees, with their carpet sizes leaves, and a welcome sign for a town called Tres Estrellas (Three Stars).
A bit disoriented, we arrived at a house overrun by chickens and ducks, and waited for our guides while snacking on banana chips … completely unprepared for what was ahead of us.
At first, just your basic Adirondack hike with rocks, mud and dense forest. Until… the first clearing revealed towering trees and Tarzan vines, a lime green canopy with filtered sun beams and a pair of chatty mariposas (butterflies). Brilliant turquoise with black trim, each wing was the size of my palm, flapping like cymbals from one edge of the clearing to the other. “Welcome to our home!”
We met our first catarata (waterfall) with a mix of terror, confusion and excitement. “You mean we’re climbing up that vertical drop, right through the water?” Before the fright set in, we each submerged ourselves in the small lagoon at the base, with our clothes and sneakers, and then, onward.
Without the usual commands of “Belay on! Climb On!” we each mounted the steep rock in a harness connected by a rope to our guide high above at the top. A second rope, connected to a rock or root, was thrown down for each to use during the climb.
It seemed like the laws of gravity (and safety) were put aside as we each met the cascade of water. Surprisingly, the rock was less slippery than the muddy surfaces below, but otherwise I questioned if this was really the best route.
Somehow, faith and pure enjoyment took over and I forgot my anxiety. Even during a frightening moment of miscommunication when a loose rope dropped me into a pool of water with a sore bum, I recovered quickly and laughed it off. Fortunately (and I mean by the Grace of G-d), nothing serious happened.
After climbing four waterfalls, burrowing through a few cave-like rock formations and dodging fluorescent colored grass hoppers, we arrived at our destination - a long cascade emptying into a hollow rock sanctuary with a sixteen foot pool of fresh mountain water ready to wash off the mud and sweat of our journey.
