The slow downward climb entailed holding up my weight with my arms while clinging to a root or branch and feeling the ground for a foothold. A few slips sent my heart pounding, and during one particular miss I slid a few feet, stopping as I sat on a small stump (The mark it left could have made a horrendous image on this page).
At long last, we reached our destination. The sun was already well hidden behind the mountains, and in the fading light, I took a refreshing, albeit cold bath in the river. Unfortunately, the icy water did very little to numb the pain I felt all over.
We set up camp beside the river. Nothing but the soothing rush of cascading water and the high-pitched chirping of a bird could be heard. Some laughter and coconut vodka helped ease some of our weariness that evening before we retired in cramped tents.
Despite my being energized the next morning, however, my muscles were still sore. We were heading back to the barrio after breakfast, confident that we would still have time to go the beach in the late afternoon.
The prospect of making it back early enough now faded. The pain I felt in my soles, the back of my legs, and my thighs slowed down every step. We followed the river once again, walking over boulders, sometimes cutting through a path along the mountainside. I'd lag behind, accompanied by the group's leader. Though I would sometimes catch up with the rest, after a few minutes, I'd fall behind again.
Even when I wasn't carrying my belongings, I was burdened by a growing sense of inadequacy. I wasn't fit for this sort of journey. What was I thinking? I could no longer enjoy the view of my surroundings because my eyes were fixed on every stone and crevice where my feet were planted. Every sigh and heave had its name: fatigue, indifference, and doubt.
The hours passed and I could hear nothing else but silence. Clearly, it was just me, the leader, and another companion left behind. With the sun setting quickly, I could only imagine the rest of the group waiting impatiently back at the base. Even when I was assured that there was one or two more river crossings to go, I felt like I already abandoned my self-comfidence back in the thicket where I had a nasty fall. The need to finish the journey continued nagging me all the way back.
Then suddenly, in the dimness, the silence was broken by voices that signalled the presence of a few locals passing us by. The faint flames from gas lamps dotted my field of vision. Finally, other familiar but friendly voices greeted our return.
After enduring nine long hours, when I felt my feet hit the smooth surface of the concrete pavement, I knew that I MADE IT!
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