As we set out, one problem soon became evident: we did not have a sufficient supply of water. I had anticipated needing three or four liters of water for myself during the journey (I sweat a lot), while the others could get by on one or two. However, the gallon jug we had bought the night before “to refill our bottles” was understood by Tom to mean, “used to fill our bottles before we left,” while I understood it to mean, “refill our bottles during the hike.” The gallon had been left at the homestay. No stores were open this early in the morning for us to buy water, so I continued with only one liter.
During our walk toward the base of the mountain, we passed a heavily agricultural area of town, with cows, goats, and sheep on and along the road in various places. “This is the old city,” Roger said. “Olanchito was founded here in the early 1500s, and the old church is the only thing left now.” The new church, in contrast, was built in the early 1900s, along with the new central park and much of the city.
Finally reaching the base of the mountain, we had to cross a rocky mountain stream. Having removed my shoes, I eventually decided that letting my pants get wet was not much of a concern, considering how much I was sweating already. From the other side, we resumed the hike on a horse-trail.
Eventually we reached the half-way point, a grove of banana trees, and I began to feel something strange under my right foot. While we rested, I found that one of my hiking shoes had, in fact, broken through across the bottom, allowing rocks, sticks, etc., to protrude through to my foot. So for three-quarters of our travels, I had only one fully functional shoe.
The machetes were not quite as necessary for brush-cutting as we had been led to believe, but only because the trail we were taking had already been cut recently by others. In a few places, however, we needed the machetes to cut away obstacles. Shortly after the halfway point, we came to an impasse for horses where the trail became nearly vertical, in the form of climbable steps of spaces filled with dirt between tree roots. At the top of this stretch, however, evidence of horse traffic resumed, implying that alternate routes existed.
So far, the hike had been through dense tropical forest, muggy, buggy, and shrubby. At a certain point, however, this microclimate came to an abrupt end, replaced by an evergreen forest with very little underbrush. The air was now cool, clear, dry, and breezy with few bugs. Tom and I especially enjoyed this comfortable environment by imagining ourselves back home in the States again, while Roger could certainly enjoy the pleasant weather and sunlight.
Nearing the summit, a golden eagle that probably nested nearby flew closely overhead while filling the mountains with its calls.
At the peak, we stopped to enjoy the incredible view of the city in the valley below.
Being short on time, we traveled much more quickly during our descent from the summit, though in my opinion going down a mountain is more difficult than going up one. Controlling our speed and trying not to fall was very difficult, and besides this, I was quite dehydrated with my shoe quite broken. Several times I stopped to wring out my shirt, from which easily more than a liter of sweat dripped to the ground. Not only my legs, but also my arms, became incredibly shaky from the lack of water, and my stability in balance waned greatly as a result. The trails were extremely rocky with most of the rocks between baseball- and basketball-size, making each step precarious and painful without adequate shoes. Often, our previous steps would dislodge rounded rocks, which would then roll underneath or in front of our feet as we walked, a great hazard to our balance. Also, many of these rocks would simply start rolling as we stepped on them. But this was our only trail.
Finally reaching the city, I quickly regained strength and stability in my muscles after drinking substantial fluids, including water from a bag rather than a bottle (this is a cheaper way to buy water). At the homestay, I took a cold shower, ate lunch, and packed hastily until we left the house for the bus station with Maritza. Rather than boarding the bus, however, Maritza told the bus to wait for us to return and then drove us around on a quick farewell tour of the city, buying us each an Olanchito key chain.
Now on the bus to La Ceiba, we were shocked to be leaving the city we had come to call home for a month.
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