THE DEATH HIKE

In April I thought I had already experienced my one and only death hike when K made our group walk the entire Vegas strip 12 times in a row. That was nothing compared to today.
       I was to meet Darwin poolside at 9am for our hike to the waterfalls. Cascadas de Latas, they´re called, which basically means waterfalls in a can. Don´t ask. Anyway, he finally shows up at 9:30 with no excuse why he´s a half hour late. What he does explain, however, is that his family can´t go to the falls with us and niether can he. No excuse as to why, but he does offer up his 13 yr. old brother who can guide me up the trail to the falls. Oooook, I say. We ride his moped across the street to pick up his little brother who´s name just happens to be Stalin. Stalin is not much taller than my waist, has a mustache, and mumbles inteligibly. 
   The three of us ride the moped up the road for about 15 minutes and Darwin drops us off. The entrance fee should have been $3 for the two of us but Stalin gets us in for $1.50. We have now entered the secondary jungle which has trees younger than the primary. There are two trails. One real, marked trail and the one Stalin decides would be more scenic. At one point we were hanging onto measly vines while trying not to slip off the cliffside into the rushing waterfall below us WHILE AT THE SAME TIME fighting off swooping bats. Apparently someone before us had the same stupid thought that this  trail¨was a good idea but had fallen off  the cliff leaving his hat behind as a memorial. Stalin decided he wanted that hat, so he climbs down the side like a monkey to retrieve the hat. He calls from way down below that he thinks he´s discovered another way to get to the second waterfall. I tell him there´s no way I´m going to follow him that way and to get me the heck out of here. We have to backtrack the entire way because the fake way he took me dead-ended into another batcave. Imagine that. By this time, I was drenched in sweat and it was litterally dripping onto the ground. Stalin mumbles something about girls not usually sweating like that and he can tell I´m not Ecuadorian. I´m really losing my patience with this little man.
        All in all, the hike took about two hours. Stalin made us jump across one narrow part of the stream so we could pick up the REAL TRAIL! From there we reached the main falls in about 20 more minutes of wading through mud and more slippery rocks. The whole time I just knew it wouldn´t be worth all this trouble, but as we rounded the last bend and I saw the huge waterfall with the sun beaming through it, I decided it was worth it.  I had my bathing suit on underneath my sweaty clothes so I threw them off and jumped in the deep emerald pool with the other 20 tourists or so that had used the CORRECT trail. Stalin never got in the water but instead guarded my clothes and shoes for me. 
         On the way back we used the real trail and I only slipped and fell into the mud twice. Now I looked Ecuadorian. Back at the entrance Darwin  and his moped were waitng to pick us up. We rode into town and I bought Stalin some lunch for being a good guide watching my things while I swam. Darwin had to go back home. Come to find out, he has a son he was taking care of today.
        Stalin and I ate our lunch together in mostly silence. I can´t understand two words he says but I do gather he doesn´t like what I  bought him for lunch. The fish is too dry, he says. Nothing but bones. Goodbye, Stalin. And tell Darwin thanks for nothing. I´m hot and tired and ready to leave Misahualli.
                   I take the bus back to Tena. Tena is again full of people shopping, eating, playing, dancing in the streets. Although it´s only 45 minutes away and a 60 cent bus ride, it feels like a different planet. One that has a hot shower that I so desprately need.