Tapanti, a few kilometers from where I was staying, is recommended for those looking to escape the crowds. It's no surprise, given the roads that lead to the entrance. Broken black-top gave way to gravel and bridges barely wider than my car.
I paid the tourist price of $10 and chatted with the ranger. He recommended a river-side hike but I asked about the mountain hike. "No, no" he said, waving his hand. "It's no good, too many trees have fallen and it's muddy." I said ok, got in my car and drove straight to the entrance of the mountain hike. I stopped to take a shot of this sign that reads "Drive with caution, wild animals about."
I parked on the road side near the mouth of the path. The name translates to the "Fallen Trees Path."
It was straight up from the start - a combination of tree roots, wet clay and soggy river bed. It was tough going. I was dressed completely inappropriately - jeans, new black sneakers and a tee shirt. I'd brought an umbrella and was happily using it as a walking stick. I was beginning to doubt my choice of path - it was slippery and wet. I'd figured since the rainy season was in the rear view mirror I'd be ok. I later learned there's no rainy season in these parts, it rains all year long - 26 feet per year.
When I wasn't carefully planning each step of my ascent, I soaked in the greenery. According to the handout the ranger gave me, there are magnolia, burio, pink ira, alder, miconia, papayillo, sombrilla de pobre (beggar's umbrella), figs, oaks, bromeliads, orchids, mosses and 229 species of ferns.
After thirty minutes I heard some noise ahead of me. I saw a grey-haired man decked out in fresh hiking gear, a telescopic hiking pole in each hand, wheezing his way up one slow step at a time. He stepped aside to let me by and I spoke to him in Spanish but he just smiled in response. He was very pale.
Ten minutes later I caught up with his sidekicks - an elderly couple equally decked out in fancy hiking gear. I said hello and detected a French accent. They were visiting from Switzerland. We chatted for a while and I let them know the ranger had not recommended this hike. They asked me why and I told them he'd warned of fallen trees. They laughed "that's the name of the path!" I kept on and quickly put them well behind me. I was looking forward to the top of the mountain and the views therefrom. It was never to be. After an hour the path made a hairpin and I started back down.
This is about the best view I got - across to a neighboring mountain covered in low cloud. The hike down was even worse - steep, slippery, muddy. After 45 minutes of descent I arrived at the moment of reckoning, the reason for the ranger's warning. The path dead-ended at a wall of green. I looked around and realized that a large tree had fallen, entangling all the smaller trees, vines, and bushes to created an eight foot vertical barrier. I looked for paths around it but found none. I thought about back-tracking but laziness overrode fear.
I scaled it relatively easily and hoped for an easy way down the other side. I threw down the umbrella, rolled up my jeans a bit and looked for a safe landing spot. 'This will be a good part of the story' I thought. I found a small foot hold 8 inches down and from there took a deep breath and stepped off. Luck was with me. I landed on both feet, slid for three feet and grabbed onto a small tree. I grabbed my umbrella and continued my descent. Then I thought about the Swiss trio behind me. No way they'd make it over - they'd have to double back. Their 2 kilometer hike was about to double.
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