Walking in the Jungle

It's time to pack up this house. Pam and Chris leave for the bus station at 5:45 am (we're usually awake by 5 anyway). Then Tom will spend the morning hauling the stove, fridge, table, chairs and mattresses to a currently unknown location. We are moving to Del and Jeannie's for the remaining 4 days. We are lonely already and with the departure of Pam and Chris hope to hang out with someone. The distance between homes has certainly made communication, transportation and serving more difficult. Like I said I am supposed to be packing. So I am blogging. I love when words that are nouns get turned into verbs by popular use. Language is fascinating. So we played tourist yesterday. We've never done that here. 

It was tourism Honduran style (ie confusing). We wanted to go see and maybe swim in one of the waterfalls in Pico Bonito national park. If you know Spanish, you can guess that Pico Bonito is the highest mountain in Honduras. When we drive into Ceiba, we can see it (it's not that high). We read the guidebook and it said that on the highway after Ceiba turn left into a pineapple plantation between the 174 and 175 kilometer markings. So there was no pineapple plantation to turn into. We stopped at a gas station and found that the locals had no idea what we were talking about (thanks to a lady who happened to know English and could translate). One guy said he thought the road was just outside the village (we were in the village of El Pino...yes that's Pineapple village) at a road with a sign marked SOS. We found the road and didn't even drive 1/2 mile before there was a locked gate and a guard with a gun (even the mall security officers here carry very visible guns). He was friendly enough though and pointed at road we could see. We forgot our Spanish dictionary and said we were looking for aqua and then pantomimed a waterfall. So we turned around and found the road we thought the guard had pointed out. There was a pineapple field on one side (wish I could post my pictures) and jungle on the other. Eventually the surroundings became groomed jungle---workers had clearly been mowing between the giant palm trees...mowing meaning whacking with a machete. We still aren't sure what the story was with that place. We drove on the winding dirt road hoping we were in the right place and wouldn't get in trouble. When we finally came to a stream we would have to cross in the car, we decided to turn around and try a Dole pineapple farm we had seen.

The Dole pineapple plantations covered 100s of acres at the feet of Pico Bonito. I didn't know pineapples grow under ground.....I still don't really believe it. The turn into the plantation had a faded hand-made sign, not unlike the ones we make for garage sales, that said something about Pico Bonito, a Dole sign and a private property sign. We turned here anyway and shortly met a locked gate, an unarmed guard and a sign welcoming us to a waterfall at Pico Bonito national park. The guard kept speaking in Spanish and between Tom and I we were able to discover the cost of admission ($6 per person) and that he would send the young man next to him as a guide for another $20 dollars. Given that we were out of cash and that the guide couldn't speak English, we opted to go alone.

We were the only visitors to that part of the park that day. The parking lot was nice and grassy, full of hungry mosquitoes and had real flushing toilets that smelled better than the average port-a-potty. We followed the rock lined trail and were soon traveling on a slippery rock-filled trail with steep steps and cables to grab so you wouldn't fall into the small rapids below. We literally crawled along wondering how long we could do this. We hadn't traveled even 10 minutes when the trail required a fording of the rapids, a climb up a steep ladder and cable. Tom went ahead to see if the trail was really as it appeared while we watched and Hadley sobbed and prayed for her dad's safety (the rapids were only thigh-deep and not dangerous but the slippery trail scared Hads). We opted to stop where we were and swim in the pools. It was cold, but refreshing. Lots of splashing and exploring and except for the time I lost my balance on a slippery rock and fell flat, cheek and shoulder first...a good time. (Praise God I didn't have camera in hand and my glasses didn't break).

We eventually returned to the parking lot to eat lunch. There, on the side, we saw the real trail. We had followed the one for workers who made the pipeline running along the waterway! We knew that the high school boys the week before said the trail was strenuous and took about 50 minutes. Our original plan was to take 1.5 hours to hike it. But we were already tired. After lunch of PB &J we decided to see how far we could get. The trail was strenuous in parts and the dirt was really clay that was bright orange. The jungle was loud, think of the sound of cicadas, only 20 times louder and able to eclipse the sound of the rapids. It was the music of frogs and bugs and who knows. The only wildlife we saw were one snake and several lizards. All of the wooden structures on the trail---stairs and bridges were in the process of being eaten by termites. We only hiked about half an hour before the girls were dragging. Now that we know where to go, maybe next time we can make it to the big waterfall.

That evening we treated ourselves to appetizers at Helen’s, a little resort on the beach. The ocean breeze was lovely and Tom and I and girls wandered the beach while waiting for food. It was dusk and the waves were big (we’ve gone to the beach every Sunday). Little crabs would get washed up by the waves. They would pause, recover and then scurry toward the next oncoming wave. It was fun to watch. Tomorrow we move to Del and Jeannie’s. They are house sitting at a beach house near Helen’s. The ocean is like the mountains for me-- a clear expression of the existence of God. I marvel at the waves and how god makes that water stay in its boundaries (most of the time). I can’t wait for the company and the breezes.

The girls with Maria

Kevin

We said good bye to tia Maria today. It was sad. I practice my Spanish every day with her by telling her what to cook and asking her questions. She is a dear woman and a reminder of the life of the average Honduran. She saves most of our food scraps for her dog or saves seeds from the peppers to plant. She rejoices at receiving our cheap little 8 x 10 mirror. Her son Kevin is 12 and has come to visit several time. His English is good and he plays well with the girls. But you can quit school at age 12 here. He plans to quit. His mom said he is excellent at math but needs remedial help in reading Spanish. Kevin says the school is bad and he won’t go anymore. He will work, but he doesn’t know where or what. When I think of all the opportunities my girls have to learn (he’d never seen anything like a drawing pad and a drawing book), I want to wisk Kevin and Maria away. But more stuff and opportunities isn’t necessarily helpful. I know that. Seeking the Lord is the only thing that can bring hope and blessings regardless of circumstances.

Jefferson is four. He's very intelligent, quiet and sweet. 

Jennifer is two. She is quiet and snuggly, but watch out or she will
drink from your water bottle and empty your backpack!