May 20, 2021 – Mashpi (Author: J)
Today was one of the most memorable days of our trip – not necessarily in a good way, but I think it makes for a good story. Things started off innocuously enough. Although we weren’t meeting our guide until 9 a.m., we were up before 7. After failed attempts to go back to sleep, we accepted that our body clocks were on Amazon safari wakeup mode and went to breakfast.
We chose to dine outside again to enjoy the lovely views of the forest. Napo is fairly all-inclusive, with all non-alcoholic food and drink included in the price, so we had cappuccino with breakfast. We also had a nice selection of pastries, fruits and cheeses brought out to us and were offered a choice of hot items from a menu. It was too much food, but we did our best to eat everything.
After puttering around for a bit, we reported for our hike early. I think someone must have then radioed Gabriel, because he came running from the staff quarters. He assumed that maybe there had been a miscommunication about the time, but we assured him that we were just excited to get started.
Our plan for the morning was to hike to a waterfall for a swim and then take a “shortcut” back via the dragonfly skyride. We assumed that shortcut had the common US meaning: a shorter available route. But it seems that at Mashpi, “shortcut” refers to a route just as long as the original with the added requirement of wading through waist deep water for an extended time.
We set out on our hiking route, a steep but doable route to our first waterfall. There, we stripped down to our swimsuits and spent some time splashing. Then it was on to our next stop. To keep our clothing dry, we hiked between waterfalls in our swimsuits and rubber boots. It wasn’t far to the second swimming hole, which offered both a deeper pool beneath a waterfall and a shallower area. The current under the waterfall made swimming difficult for P, so he chose to splash in the shallows and use soft wet rocks to draw on himself and the riverbank. When we tired of swimming, we dried off and changed into our hiking clothing. Naively, I took particular care to make sure everyone had dry feet before putting on our socks. Wet feet are the path to blisters after all.
Since it had taken us no more than 30 minutes of hiking time to get to the second pool, I assumed it would be a hop, skip, and a jump back to the dragonfly because . . . shortcut. Imagine my surprise then, when after 10 minutes or so of hiking, Gabriel mentioned we had to cut through the river. He then showed us how to stand on one leg and empty water from our boots. I was starting to get suspicious about this short cut.
We entered the river and began trudging along. I did my best to keep to shallow areas to so my boots would stay dry. P, who is a bit smaller than me, had no such option. His boots immediately filled with water. And then he took the first of many falls on the slippery rocks. The water was deep enough that he went under, but the poor kid was determined to keep a stiff upper lip.
This was not my shining parenting moment. I was so concerned about keeping myself dry that I didn’t really give though to how scary falling into a river fully clothed in heavy rubber boots might be. Soon enough, though, we came to a spot in the river so deep that I had no choice but to step into a deep place. My boots filled with water and I filled with rage. I then foolishly decided that the solution was to pick up the pace. I didn’t pay attention to my footing, stepped on a slippery rock and went under. As I hit the rocks, I felt a shooting pain in my left arm and a surge of terror that I was submerged in water. But I didn’t lose it until I was back on my feet and saw my soaking wet camera. “This isn’t waterproof,” I said softly as I began to sob. My 8-year-old son, who had, himself, repeatedly fallen, was now comforting me. D, a stoic Midwesterner – he did not even cry at his own father’s funeral for fear of making a scene — was mortified.
But when you are stuck in a river, you have no choice but to keep on sloshing. That is what we did. After a hiking time at least as long as our hike down to the waterfalls, we arrived at the dragonfly. We were wet and, in my case (and probably P’s), in pain. We then climbed up the tower and started the loading process. Gabriel helped P into his seat on the skyride and, as he did so, it lurched like a bucket hanging on a string (which, I suppose, it was). As you may recall from my earlier posts, my family does not like heights. Seeing my son in mortal peril – or what passes for it to someone with a phobia of being up high – I took sensible steps to protect him. I left him alone in his lurching basket while I proceeded to have a panic attack. It featured shaking, hyperventilating, and repeatedly sobbing, “I can’t do it.”
While it is possible that I would have eventually calmed down enough to get on the dragonfly, the decision was made that we would instead hike back to the lodge. It was another 20 minutes uphill in soaking wet clothing. D actually carried P for parts of it, something that was no easy feat given the steepness of the path and the large size of the son. By the time we arrived back at the lodge, I was no longer panicked. I had reached the point of embarrassment that I had let my family down and subjected an already tired and hurt kid to a steep climb.
Poor Gabriel was probably thinking that he was going to be fired. He handed us off to the manager, mumbling to himself, “Most people love hiking through the river.” At this point, I foolishly declined medical attention in favor of lunch. The story of our misadventures had already gotten around, although the common understanding was apparently that my family was just not very good at hiking. Did I offer a sarcastic reply when the waitstaff asked if the hike was “too long?” Perhaps. Did that further embarrass D? Definitely.
Having had the benefit of lots of time to reflect, I have been able to forgive myself a little bit for the panic attack. Despite my fear of heights, I am usually able to keep myself calm enough to endure (but never enjoy) something like a skyride. I had no history of panic attacks before his incident, in fact. But on this day, after months of enduring the pandemic, and stuck inside a body that was both soaking wet and injured, my brain just really needed to let go of some stress. I have been pretty decent at coping since then (other than occasional nightmares in which I abandon my son to plunge to his death from a platform in the jungle). So maybe the panic attack was a good thing.
I have also started to view Gabriel’s suggestion that we take this particular hike more charitably. I initially couldn’t imagine that anyone in their right mind would actually enjoy wading through the river. But perhaps for a taller person who could accomplish the hike without repeated falls, it might be enjoyable. It was not the right hike for a family with an 8-year-old and a 5-foot tall mom, though.
After lunch, D was still pretty mad at me for showing emotions in public, so he decided to stay in the room. P and I went down for our afternoon visit to the Life Center. Everyone was pretty surprised to see us. In fact, they needed to radio for Gabriel again since he assumed we were boycotting future activities with him.
Anyway, we really enjoyed the Life Center. There’s a deck there for birding, as well as a butterfly house where they raise the insects for release into the forest. We saw a tayra, an agouti, a good number of birds, and even some more howlers. P loved it and poor Gabriel was a good sport throughout. I would have to imagine it was awkward for him, but he never let on.
After the life center, we headed back to our room to relax for a bit. Then we had dinner. I cannot remember the details of what we ordered, but I do know that everything was good. But the portions were so large that I could not finish my main dish, something that caused the head waiter to come over to make sure everything was okay. I explained that I was saving room for dessert, which mollified him only slightly.
Then it was off to bed before another early wake-up. (In case anyone was wondering, it took my arm about a week to recover. There was no lasting damage, but I probably should have seen the first aid person on sight at Mashpi. Our feet recovered eventually too, helped along by the fact that I always bring blister bandages on vacation).
Travel Monkeys 