Two close calls

by Trish Wah (New Zealand)

I didn't expect to find New Zealand

Whose great idea was it to go out for a big night before an early morning hike? Probably mine actually, but hey, I blame Hannah. After all, she talked me into the trek up Volcan Concepcion. Not that I needed much convincing. I love a good hike, especially in my jandals. (That’s what we call flip-flops in NZ.) Anapurna Circuit, Langtang, Mt Rinjani, Salkantay - all done in jandals. A one day walk up this hill in Ometepe? Easy. Up at dawn, hungover, and completely unprepared for the day ahead, we jumped in the minivan with the guide and a few randoms. Everyone had proper hiking boots, and there’s me practically barefoot. It’s always a good way to get a laugh - that crazy kiwi chic. We’re told it’s a good eight-hour hike. Walk in the park. No hat, no sunscreen, no shoes. What could possibly go wrong? Off we go, and it’s perfect. Across the farmland through well-beaten tracks, into the jungle, through the trees, over the roots and branches. I’m in heaven. I’m feeling confident, striding ahead, so comfy in my jandals. Free of that cumbersome, hot footwear. The birds are singing, the monkeys are howling, we’re chatting and laughing. It’s getting steep, but I love going up. I’m thinking this is great for my quads and butt. After a few hours we were climbing vertically, a cool wind reminding us of our human fragility. And then we hit the shale-covered, precipitous slope. I’d never thought about what would happen if you started to slide on this stuff. I start sliding, and fast. Once that happens, it accelerates. Everyone else had powered on towards the top, I was so close too…then I wasn’t. Instead I was veering down the side of a mountain with no way to stop. Thank God for a small outcrop of long grass. These wispy stalks were few and far between, and looked as hopeless as I felt. I grabbed at it, totally expecting it to loosen from the dirt and come for the ride with me. But no, it was tough stuff, it didn’t falter. I clung on and managed to dig my feet into the gravel. Heart racing and legs like jelly, I glanced down and shuddered at the gravity of my situation. A German guy, fully equipped with the whole get-up, including poles, was on his way back down, Smart guy. Playing it cool, I decided to join him and very carefully began descending. Once we hit the tree line, he was off like a shot. Todo bien, I’m back on solid ground, what could possibly go wrong? I grab a nice looking branch to use as a pole and head off on my own, no longer shaken up. This is easy, steep but fun. Loving my pole, I charge down, way too confident and not paying nearly enough attention. Climbing over big old tree roots, my trusty branch is taking all my weight. I feel like a great adventurer without a care in the world. A split second later, not so great. My jandal gets caught under a root and I hurtle forward with all my energy. No time to move the pole, it plunges into my pelvis, with force. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life, never felt such intense pain. I can't look, I'm so sure I have totally impaled myself. It had obviously plowed itself deep into my abdomen and I was going to bleed to death. What a relief to see I was only badly grazed, although the black bruise that developed later suggested some internal damage. Still no one from the group had caught up, which was weird. I began to convince myself that I was now lost in the jungle. Exhausted, I fell again, this time landing on my wrist. The thought of it being broken didn’t even phase me. Then I saw them, the fields we crossed on the way in. Praise the lord, I’d made it. Sore, dirty and humbled by nature. Next volcano, I’m wearing shoes.