Sorry for the lack of blogging folks, I've been busy and without access to a keyboard! Anyway, back to Cajas.
The next day we began our journey back to Laguna Mamamac. It took us longer than on the first day. Looking at the map we worked out that Wilson had taken us on a huge a shortcut the day before. Some hours later we got down to the edge of the lake and set up camp, encountering some difficulty with Paul's novel shaped tent. Despite not seeing anyone both days the spot was apparently popular for randy campers, with the remnants of a fire and some condoms littering the area. By this point we were already soaked and we decided to batten down the hatches and set about work the following morning. That evening an eagle of some description crash landed outside our tent and made a massive commotion which was pretty startling!
|You don't say.|
Jobs done earlier than anticipated we decided to stay that night and head off early the next day as we wouldn't make the refuge before nightfall. It rained hard that night, and I was already down to my last pair of dry socks, having totally given up hope on ever having dry shoes again. Dawn crept over the mountains and we shook off the night's damp sleep, eventually got the tent packed up in the tiny sack it came in, and headed off into the mist back to the trail. About half way back Alejandra found another wetland that needed mapping and we stopped whilst she disappeared into the never ending fog. After 20 minutes we were bloody cold and starting to worry a little, but just as we were discussing our chances of finding a body in the bogs, her baseball cap appeared over a hill and I breathed a sigh of relief. Back on the trail again and having stood on the wrong patch of mud a couple of times resulting in every footstep squelching, I gave up trying to avoid puddles. The final slope before the downhill part to the road was visible and seemingly close, but there felt like a limitless number of ridges to climb up and over before we finally reached the last one. Two hours after the last wetland, we sat atop this final ridge catching our breath, eating peanut butter for sustenance, and looking back across the park. Where the mist thinned you could see the track that we'd followed to Mamamac and it looked deceptively close.
|Base of operations|
|Apart from the rain it was epic|
Cajas had been stunning, but hard work, and that night I slept like a narcoleptic log in my warm and dry bed.