Up the Mountain

Last week one of the founders of MaderaVerde came to town. Brian Boggs is a wood artisan in the States that cares enough about the forest and the people around them to get involved in this project. He was here conducting a workshop on how to improve the quality of certain products our artisans are making. The visit was packed with a ton of interesting stuff, probably too much to write about in a blog posting, so I decided I’ll write about the highlight of the week: A trip up the mountain in Las Delicias.

Las Delicias is one of the communities Madera Verde works with. It is situated at the base of the Gracias a Dios mountain range and near a very rich forest. Madera Verde has a management plan for that forest and has permits to cut down some of the wood for commercial purposes. The purpose of the trip last week was to take the artisans up to the forest with the “guamileros” (wood cutters) to cut a tree. The idea was to have the artisans teach the guamileros how they need the wood cut.

A group of about 15 of us left La Ceiba early in the morning and did the 45 minutes or so trip on paved and unpaved roads, a creek, and a lot of rocks to Las Delicias. Max and I had been there about a month ago and it was great to see some of the familiar faces from our last trip. I was excited to see the family with 10 girls we met last time. Theirs is an interesting story: the mom had four girls and was a widow when she met this guy with 4 girls whose wife died too. They fell in love, got married and had two more daughters together. A Honduran Brady Bunch. They do say it is sometimes hard to keep track of what all the girls are doing and have found out that the older ones sometimes cut class from school to meet up with boys (the girls are between 2 and 14 years old). I wished I could spend more time with those girls and somehow help them understand how important it is to finish school, to think about the future, that there might be something better than the poverty they currently live in. Those girls walk about half a mile on a dirt path with their plastic, bright-colored flip-flops everyday to go to school. However, our trip there wasn’t to visit with them this time, we were headed to the mountain.

As soon as we started walking, I noticed for the first time that I was the only girl in the group. I also realized that the artisans are all skilled hikers that grew up running up and down the mountain, I felt they looked at me with doubt. I worried I would be too slow to keep up. The first half of the “trail” was a narrow opening in the grass where farmers walk their cows up and down the mountain. It was filled with mud and cow poo, and before long, my tennis shoes had two inches of mud stuck to the soles which made them very slippery. I wished I had worn my hiking boots, what was I thinking wearing those shoes? I slipped a few times (luckily never fully fell) and put my right leg ankle deep in mud. Halfway thought the trip, I had awarded myself the dirtiest person award. And yet, I was being able to keep up with the group (even if only with the slower half) and was having a great time. The herds of cows passing us only scared me a little when a bull seemed to be pointing his horns in my direction, but they were all too busy climbing the mountain to worry about us passers-by. I was feeling good, I had kept my composure trough the mud sliding, I had kept up with the speed of the group, and I had not screamed when I saw the huge bull inches from me. Of course it wasn’t all going to be that easy.

On top of the hill we reached a rope bridge to cross the river. It was about 30 feet above water, and a thunderous river flowed below it. I thought that it wasn’t Peace Corps, but an episode of Fear Factor on which I was a contestant, but no safety net below in case I fell, no paramedics to help me in case of an emergency, and no million dollars if I made it to the end. I decided I would walk the bridge last, when there wasn’t anybody on it, and with Max to hold my hands. I didn’t feel any comfort when some of the guys started shaking the bridge when someone seemed scared while crossing it, nor did I feel any better when they told me last time one of the ropes broke while they were crossing it and they all got a good scare (there were other ropes holding it they said). As I waited, I noticed that I was sweating profusely. Was it because of the effort to climb all the way there or was it the anxiety of crossing the bridge? I didn’t know.

If this was an action movie I would write that the bridge broke while I was crossing it, that I was left dangling in the air, holding on to the rope that was still attached with all my strength while Max was holding himself from my legs. The river would be filled with piranhas and a handsome super-hero would come and save us seconds before the last string of the rope I was holding broke. But this is a real story, and like most real life events, we were both able to cross the bridge without any major mishaps. Sooner than I realized we were back on firm ground, hurrying up to catch up with the others. Catching up wasn’t an issue at all, just around the corner there was a line of our friends waiting while the ones ahead of them climbed down a 20 feet descent with nothing to hold from. Max, using his great logical abilities figured out what was the best way to go down and I used his feet as anchors to follow. In the process I dirtied any remaining clean spot on my clothes, but we had finally made to the three we were looking for. I looked around me and noticed the look of acceptance they guys gave me. I had made it there too and they were impressed.

The next couple of hours were spent cutting the wood and learning the most efficient way of doing it. Our plans had been to cut down two trees and then cut them into lumber. However, in the end, we only cut one fallen tree into lumber. It was a very hard wood, and it was difficult for them to cut with the chainsaw. After a few hours, we were done and each of the guys grabbed one of the seven foot long planks and started the hike back. I passed on carrying anything back; it was already a big enough job to carry myself back. I followed Max at a safe distance, since I didn’t want to get hit by the wood he was carrying. I felt a lot more confident on the way back, and even the rope bridge didn’t seem as scary. Of course I still waited until everyone else crossed so I didn’t feel the bridge moving by someone else’s steps.

Back in town we jumped in the river to clean up and played in the water a little. We headed home tired but happy. The day had certainly been a great adventure.