This is the kind of trip we were expecting
A key element in adventure therapy, supposedly, is control. But the other element is adventure. And adventure, strictly speaking, is an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity. And that is exactly what we got in Toro Toro.
It began on the very bus trip the night we left for the national park. This was the first time I had allowed the youngest backpacking group to travel to Toro Toro; they had finally grown enough to carry packs for significant distances, and they had proved their mettle on previous trips closer to home. I knew I could trust them to be troopers in the face of difficulty and to obey instructions, enabling us to go farther afield, and to do more daring things. The boys were excited and were fidgeting in their seats in anticipation, but within the hour we were stuck at a bursting riverbank, waiting for the floodwaters to lower before attempting a crossing. This happened once or twice on the typically 5 hour journey along dirt and cobblestone roads, and we ended up reaching town and pitching tents at 3am (9 hours later). Strictly speaking, I was relatively pleased at this arrival, since on prior trips we have been caught in mudslides covering the roadway, arriving midmorning the following day. Even better, the light rain in which we made camp had ceased by sunrise, allowing us to pack up and head out on our trek without drenching our gear.
The rather unchallenging descent into the canyon
As per the usual, we set out for the Waka Sinqa Canyon, saw some dinosaur prints, took some photos at the overlook, and had fun descending the stone stairs to the canyon floor. We skipped over boulders dotting the riverbed, and dropped packs and had lunch at the base of the trail leading back out of the canyon. We ran along the river to the waterfalls and jumped off big boulders into pools and took lots of pictures and had fun, despite the colder temps and overcast skies. Hot and sunny would have been great, but we made the best of it. To wait for a break in the weather might very well mean waiting till late March. So far so good. Normal. Routine even.
Just 10 minutes beforehand
Then came the signal from the guide to head out, and quickly. “The water is rising,” he gestured. The casual, happy look on my face disappeared. The words “rising water” are exactly what you don’t want to hear while in a canyon of any kind. The problem with canyons is that the water usually comes from a long way away, and the canyon serves as a funnel, increasing speed and depth simply because there is nowhere else for the water to go. They can be tricky in that the sun can be shining overhead, but be stormy upriver, and due to limited visibility, you could never know it until a wall of water crudely informs you. I am from northern Arizona, canyon country, where people who simply don’t know any better die from flash floods all the time. Not on my watch. So we gathered up the kiddos and raced back upstream to the crossing where our packs lay safely on the opposite bank. Trouble was, the water had already risen a good deal in the 10 minutes it took us to run upstream. We were cut off.
Do we jump?
A raging torrent now covered most of the boulders we had crossed over, shooting up over rocks and dashing angrily down the other side. A powerful leap would still get you across in one spot, but there was no way several of our campers would make it. We were joined by another group also cut off from the canyon exit. We searched for an alternate crossing but found none. Conferring with the three guides, we decided that really the only option we had was to wait for the rain to stop and the river to subside…fully knowing that it could take hours for this to occur. 10 minutes later, we made an about-face and decided to go for it. The water was still rising and the rain was not letting up.
A few of us leapt from boulder to boulder until reaching a spot where we could anchor to a rock with a rope and secure a crossing that all of the campers could make…even the middle-aged Europeans in stiff hiking boots. Our guide, Jesus (not kidding), tied himself off with the rope and wedged himself in the largest gap between boulders, forming a human bridge that hopefully would not be swept away. I stationed myself on the receiving end and tied in as well. Three more guys posted themselves along the rope, ready to haul us in should the water carry us off. It became a perfect adventure therapy exercise, one that is usually simulated in ropes courses and dubbed “the leap of faith”.
Unscheduled Leap of Faith and Trust Exercise
Our guys were the first to cross. Most of them made a seemingly effortless jump and seemed to revel in the additional hazard. At least one of them had a disappointed look in his eyes when he safely reached the far bank. Anderson and Wilfredo had their nerves tested, and definitely clung to Jesus and myself as they crossed; but they did it. For them it became a trust exercise as they placed their lives at the mercy of the rope and Jesus and myself. The real test came from one of the Europeans, who weighed a lot more than the boys, and who did not trust herself to leap to any degree, but rather clambered over Jesus and would have pulled me into the torrent had it not been for the rope.
Once safely across the still-rising river and filled with adrenaline, we shouldered packs and began the precarious ascent up the canyon wall via little more than a goat trail. Now, we know this trail; we have done it many times now with other groups, but that does not lessen the actual danger of loose footing combined with heavy packs that throw off your balance. It is the perfect exercise in group problem solving and teamwork, since at no point are you able to go it alone. At several places you have to pass packs along an exposed rock face before clambering up, and it was great to see the stronger guys helping out with their brothers and the ladies.
Just a morning foray into the caverns…with a rising river
The next unplanned adventure came at the caverns the following morning. One would think that a cave would be an excellent place to go when it’s raining. And normally it would be, but in this case, a creek runs into the mouth of the cavern and becomes an underground river for kilometers before exiting in a waterfall in the side of a canyon. Now, being trapped in a cavern or drowning in one are my two biggest fears, and here we were, actually testing them out. I got the complete assurance of the guides that there was no danger, but still was on edge the entire circuit. I think Jesus somehow knew this was the case, because once we were well inside the caves, he casually turned to me and pointed behind us, “water’s getting louder.” I shot him a crazed look and asked again, “is that a problem?” He shook his head no and moved ahead. Then why the heck would you even mention it? So the remainder of the tour I spent straining my ears to hear the distant pounding of the river, and had to fake a smile and steady tone of voice to make sure I didn’t become a contagion of fear. Nobody seemed to notice.
Oh yah. Under the earth. Can’t see the sky. No escape. High water. Casual.
Heading toward the exit, one follows the actual river as it pounds through the cave to one side. Once I saw it I was greatly relieved, simply because I could see the danger and could make my own judgement as to just how dangerous it was. The psychological war against an unseen fear is waged entirely in the mind, and it is up to each individual to determine just how fearsome the enemy becomes, and how much power you give it. I have a feeling this will be a useful lesson for me in leading the guys in combating their own fears.
The last adventure resulting from high water came on the trip home. After nearly being left by the bus (I was picking up breakfast for the group at the market), we trundled away down the cobblestone road to the first river, and waited. For more than an hour. I was slightly put off that the bus hadn’t waited 5 minutes for me to bring the breakfast, but being American it’s hard to get mad at them for being punctual. We we joined presently by 4 other busses, and finally one of the drivers got out and waded into the river to see exactly how deep it was. Absolutely everyone exclaimed in disgust as we watched the water reach his knees…and no further.
It’s kind of like what I imagine a barn raising would be like.
It was the third river that truly held us up. Not to be fooled again, the drivers waded in to find that it reached their wastes and was moving fast…so fast that the roadbed beneath the water had effectively been carried away, leaving large boulders and holes in its stead. I’m not sure who decided it would work, but everyone piled out of the busses to start chucking rocks into the breach, each man hoisting the biggest rocks he could carry, and sometimes working in twos. The boys were no exception, and jumped in to work alongside the men (and native ladies shot putting impressively large rocks with great accuracy into the river). It was a moment of great solidarity and teamwork as the populace united in a common purpose, and I’m really glad the boys were able to participate in this rather inspiring demonstration of humanity. But after two hours of 100 people filling in the riverbed, the bus drivers were unconvinced, and sat down on the bank in apparent capitulation. At exactly this moment, a Caterpillar road grader rumbled around the corner, to everyone’s shock and delight. How it had come to know that this road was impassable was beyond me (one doesn’t simply put a call into the county transportation department), and where it had come from was also a mystery; there is no reason for it to have been within 100 miles of this river. Don’t question your miracles, just run with it.
We got a fire going and were able to sleep out under the stars the last night! Before it rained again.
And so it was that we rolled into Cochabamba 12 hours after setting out. Wet, tired, quite hungry and a little bit spattered with mud. It was the most unconventional trip to Toro Toro, full of unforeseen adventures and challenges…even more than we had bargained for. In a way I was pleased that God had taken the reins and totally disallowed me a predictable, nicely packaged adventure trip. He’s fun that way.
Fundación Aventura 