Post Traumatic Hike Disorder

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Santa lucia…quite possible the worst $45 a night I´ve ever spent. The trek up the mountain yesterday was trecherous. The trail consisted of an endless, vertical, poorly miantained slough of mud with the consistency of feces. Palms, vines, and pines jutted out and water trickled down the branches splashing my nose, and stinging my eyes. Bugs hoovered all around. I had hoped the hike wouldn´t be as bad as the Quilotoa Loop, but oh, was it ever. Luckily the torture only lasted an hour rather than last weeks 6. Sporting ill-fitting rubber boots that nipped at my heels I panted, snarled, griped and groaned the entire way up to the top. Rachel was extremely supportive and offered a hand whenéver the trail became exceedingly slick. Rachel has been amazingly patient with me throughout my development and chronic Post Traumatic Hike Disorder. It takes a truly special person to put up with all my whining and complaining. For that, I am truly grateful for Rachel and her tremendous spirit.

The lodge itself is very primative. There is running water, but that´s about it. There is no electricity and the showers and toilets…err…holes covered with modern plastic toilet seats are outside. Rachel and I are the only guests. We have a private non-English speaking ¨English-speaking¨ guide. I am not terribly disappointed, however, because after last nights trek up and this morning´s disasterous hike to the sugar cane plantation, I won´t be hiking any more.

I originally had intentions of embarking on an afternoon toucan watching walk but my post traumatic hike disorder has enabled me to fully appreciate the beauty of Toucan Sam on the Fruit Loops cereal box. Toucan Sam will suffice and there is therefore no need to torture myself with any further hiking. I can push my grocery cart with ease, straight through the heart of the cereal aisle in the supermarket and see a toucan each and everyday when I return to the States. I can even run to CVS and catch a glimpse of Sam on my lunch break, or pull up his website on my computer and save his colorful, smiling face to my desktop. There will clearly be no bird walks in my future.

Instead, I will be lounging in a hammock outside the rustic, wooden lodge with a good book and a hot cup of tea for the remainder of the day. Thankfully we depart tomorrow morning. (Make that THANKFULLY in all capitals). I think I will be utilizing the services of Manuel Mule to manuever my way down to civiliazion... regardless of the price.