Today we would hike the bamboo forest between mile markers 9 and 10. After finding the spot on the side of the road that would lead us to the path we began our hike. Who would have ever known that you would have to go through sugarcane-like plants to get to this path. This is definitely a path the tourist don't take. Looking up all you could see was tall reeds reaching to the heavens. These are not like the little bamboo plants we grown in our back yards. I realized I was falling further behind at each stage. The hike up the hill was the most ego-crushing climb I have ever experienced. Breathing laboriously, I cursed my cardio-vascular weakness. Joey did much better, following Susan with persistence. They stopped every so often and waited for me to catch up. The magnificent views back to the facing lush tropical mountain's welcomed in my pain.While resting, I brushed my hand on a plant and was rewarded with a stinging sensation. Poison! It washed off, but the feel of needles poking through my skin remained. Great!!! My body received what food it could, and I polished off one of the water bottles. Then I quickly found a few Advil. After what seemed like only minutes, we had to carry on. I put each foot in front of the other, gasping for oxygen, head throbbing. The trail rose gently here, but the going seemed just as hard. I trudged up the dirt road, staring down at the yellow tents, which receded further and further into the valley hundreds of feet below. Why couldn't we have stopped there? The urge to lie down on the side of the trail and let my consciousness slip away became unbearable. Anyone who has hiked long distances, or run a cross-country race, or performed hard physical labor for days on end knows this feeling - the death-urge. It is often this way. When we are in the midst of life, in the very thick of effort and action, we think death is closest to us. But this impulse was ignored. There was so much left to accomplish, so many places to see. My legs so weak. Finally, a sprawling camp appeared, dozens of hikers and tents. Our tent nestled snugly in a small grove of what I called sticker trees. They produced large size thorns resembling our common sand-spur in Florida only in giant form. I was ready for sleep as soon as I took my pack off. I honestly don't know how I got through dinner that night. The glimpses of the equatorial sky peeking through the clouds made a night of stargazing tempting, but any thought except sleep was impossible as far as I was concerned. As my mind quieted amongst the chatter by friends of Orion and it's possible meanings, I slipped into sleep. I rested on a piece of lava rock which was not the most comfortable of formations. The next morning when my friend's astronomical inquires were satisfied, we continued past a lagoon and up another path. The backpack which felt light earlier that morning, felt like a bag of stones by noon. When the clouds had cleared on the east side we could see down into a tremendous river valley. Clouds rolled around us. The light mist touching my face. Windows periodically opened into clear sky. A tourist helicopter made its way down the canyons thousands of feet below us. The clouds kept clearing. The air seemed to glow in the angled evening light. Then Susan pointed to our left. A rainbow had formed on the clouds behind us, which were creeping over the trail we had traversed a few hours before. "Amazing!" But then, more. "Look, our shadows!" I waved my arms. "Oh my God." Our silhouettes were projected on the rainbow as the sun's flat rays broke across the peak we stood on - God shadows on the multicolored clouds. I never really believed that was possible. Now my passion for rainbows was magnified and the spiritual meaning behind then revealed. We waited there for nature to reveal itself, not really anticipating anything more. The panorama continued to unfold languidly, more magnificent than my eyes could believe. In less than an hour, I had been given more than could ever asked for. I was completely satisfied. Never mind that perhaps greater moments were to come. A few hours later, I witnessed the constellation of Orion hanging upside down over moon glow. The next morning I stepped through the Gate of the Sun and saw what I had believed was the goal of the journey. A day of wonders with miracles, fellowship and fulfillment, light and love. Yes, I was tired, more tired than I had ever been in my life. I had earned enough of the bittersweet beauty of life than I could handle and would happily have ended everything right there under the waterfall.
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