Junglepixiebelize - Recollections of a Gringa Pioneer
Nancy R Koerner - Copyright@2021 - All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Monkey Fall Down and Go Boom"
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Getting to Marsh’s property by dory had been easy. Of course. For the most part, rivers are flat. So, even though I hadn’t actually seen the Cristo Rey Road from the Hawkesworth Bridge, I could picture it: a gently-winding road of red earth, level and picturesque, neatly edging the eastern bank in bucolic splendor.
Ummm…wrong! Once we took the turn south from Santa Elena, the Cristo Rey Road would wind away from the river, over-and-around mountainous hills and through valleys, with never a single glimpse of the water. Furthermore, calling the Cristo Rey a “road” turned out to be a charitable euphemism at best. At this time of year, the narrow jungle track was a harrowing journey of cock-eyed roadbeds, steep limestone ascents, slick greasy marl, deep ruts, muddy bogs – and one outstandingly bony, stony, moonscape of boulders and scoured troughs called Monkey Fall Hill. And I would find out that the big naked rocks were not the only treachery; there was also the ubiquitous presence of loose, marble-sized limestone gravel over the expanse of the entire hill that would roll and spin under the tires like ball-bearings. |
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The first raw gut-check kicked in about halfway up, when I realized just how dangerous Monkey Fall Hill could be. White-knuckled, I sat in the passenger seat as the van churned uphill, trying, and failing, to make progress. I could feel the potential disaster, and found myself making ready to bail out the passenger door with my baby slung over my shoulder should the van fishtail out of control. And then, it did. For a few heart-stopping moments, we started to slide backwards and diagonally, regardless of the fact that the truck was still engaged in forward gear. Then, regaining traction, we again began to climb, but still gaining only a fraction more ground than we were losing. And there was no way to offset the intolerably low clearance. Constant screeches and bangs rang out as the unforgiving boxy frame scraped limestone boulders – wheels spinning, stones spitting – alternately bouncing-up then whacking-down on the raw bones of Monkey Fall. How we avoided cracking an axle I’ll never know. In retrospect, the fact that we got to the top at all was miracle of trajectory, momentum, guardian angels, and dumb luck. Perhaps we should have made sure the great white mechanical turtle could actually *reach* Marsh’s property *before* we’d agreed to rent it. (Again. Stupid gringo.)
Having reached the crest, the tortuous track immediately tilted downward, and we slipped and slid into a deep muddy valley, hemmed in by tall grasses and bush where an overflowing feeder-creek created a wallow of sticky red clay. Somehow, we managed to slog through. But, for miles beyond, up the deeply-rutted inclines and down into quagmires of mud, the entire route would be more-of-the-same until we finally found the barely-detectable bush trail that would take us in the back-way from the Cristo Rey Road to Marsh’s house.
This whatever-it-was-passage did not even qualify as a "four-wheel-drive track." We were practically using the van as a bulldozer. The metallic screech-and-squeal was like nails-on-a-chalkboard, the high-bush raking and clawing the siding, the underside still banging down on bare rocks. The top-heavy van leaned and lurched from side-to-side to such an extreme, we almost lost wheel contact and thought we were going to tip over. After pushing through perhaps two hundred yards or so, we finally had to accept that the route was impassable. No matter that we were still hundreds of yards away from our new home. No matter that, indeed, we could not even see the house from here. This vehicle was not going to make it.
Hot and sweaty, and not just a little traumatized, it was the second major gut-check for me that day. Knowing what had to be done, I remember squaring my shoulders, taking several deep breaths, and hoisting what I could carry on my back. My husband did the same. And thus we began the first of what would be dozens of individual treks that day (and the next), carrying our goods and belongings on foot through the jungle path. And because I had no option for child care, I would also be carrying my 19-pound-baby each leg of the trek, for starters. Both directions.
Having reached the crest, the tortuous track immediately tilted downward, and we slipped and slid into a deep muddy valley, hemmed in by tall grasses and bush where an overflowing feeder-creek created a wallow of sticky red clay. Somehow, we managed to slog through. But, for miles beyond, up the deeply-rutted inclines and down into quagmires of mud, the entire route would be more-of-the-same until we finally found the barely-detectable bush trail that would take us in the back-way from the Cristo Rey Road to Marsh’s house.
This whatever-it-was-passage did not even qualify as a "four-wheel-drive track." We were practically using the van as a bulldozer. The metallic screech-and-squeal was like nails-on-a-chalkboard, the high-bush raking and clawing the siding, the underside still banging down on bare rocks. The top-heavy van leaned and lurched from side-to-side to such an extreme, we almost lost wheel contact and thought we were going to tip over. After pushing through perhaps two hundred yards or so, we finally had to accept that the route was impassable. No matter that we were still hundreds of yards away from our new home. No matter that, indeed, we could not even see the house from here. This vehicle was not going to make it.
Hot and sweaty, and not just a little traumatized, it was the second major gut-check for me that day. Knowing what had to be done, I remember squaring my shoulders, taking several deep breaths, and hoisting what I could carry on my back. My husband did the same. And thus we began the first of what would be dozens of individual treks that day (and the next), carrying our goods and belongings on foot through the jungle path. And because I had no option for child care, I would also be carrying my 19-pound-baby each leg of the trek, for starters. Both directions.