Journals from Abroad
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Journal: Trevor Downey: Ecuador
July 25, 2007
 Serafin's mountain group |
I have always marveled at the courageous Indiana Jones, but after this weekend, someone has taken his place. Likely older than 60, Serafin doesn't share the youthful vigor of Harrison Ford in the movies. With nothing more than 30 meters of nylon rope and a machete, Serafin took a group of 12 students up, over, and back down a mountain in the middle of the subtropical forest in northern Ecuador. Serafin led the way with the machete while the rest of us behind. For two hours uphill we surveyed the trail at our feet for both quartz crystals and hidden gaps in the path.
We rested at the summit, certain that the walk down would be easier, as the sun and humidity continued to wear on us. We never guessed we'd be losing sunlight and longing for warmth anytime soon.
The descent began amiably, more open planes and fewer hidden obstacles. Soon we could hear the running of water from the mountain stream which we would follow down.
 The mountain climb |
The cool water of the stream felt good after melting all morning. The slippery riverbed rocks made traversing from bank to bank difficult, but these troublesome stones soon became the least of our worries. When coming to points in which we couldn't continue downstream - generally near a waterfall - we would diverge from streamside, backtrack, and Serafin would slash away to find a trail in which we could use the rope to rappel along the side of the cascade. Each time more fun, each time more dangerous, and always without the standard helmet, safety harness and expertise mandated for similar excursions in the U.S. Yet we proceeded to follow Serafin through the forest, confident he had blazed these trails before.
With the sun and temperatures dipping, all noticed that the return trip was lasting twice as long as the ascent, yet no one had a clue, including our guide, how much adventure remained. Optimism that we'd arrive at Nanegal soon weakened as we came to our most treacherous spot. At this point, the sides of the mountain rose high above the stream's banks and made way for a series of three raging cascades that cut across the gorge.
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It was getting dark, and the wetness of our gear encouraged us to find warmth promptly. Some members of the group suggested we regress to find an alternative route, but Serafin demanded we advance. His proposed method did little to gain support, but we followed nonetheless. Serafin had us tie the rope around our waists, wrestle through the rapids just above the cascades in order to reach the other bank and scale down the rocks to bottom. Dubiously, he devised several safeguards to protect us if we lost the battle against the torrent. Thankfully, none were tested and all crossed safely. This obstacle wasted much daylight but the remaining trek required no more unconventional safety measures.
We made it back, but not everyone was sure we would. Many were preparing to spend the night somewhere, preferably dry, on the mountain. Alas, Serafin, who had lead us into trouble, brought us to safety. We all shared our gratitude for his efforts, and a definite desire to never tag along with him again.
