Woken by rain today. Lots of it. We were due to climb the mountain and I was already concerned about my fitness levels. The added pressure of a slippery jungle floor makes me wonder if it will even go ahead.
When I finally get up around 6, I’m surprised to find the ground dry. Though perhaps I shouldn’t be — the soil here is very sandy. Apparently what woke us was just a shower rather than the huge downpour it sounded like, and the climb is still on.
We set off in the boats again, some distance from camp. The “hill” is apparently in three stages. The first is Venom Hill — which doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence — then a second climb and finally Mapari Mountain itself.
I am slower than the faster ones (which sounds obvious written down) and there is a group that quickly forge ahead. Randolph draws the short straw and stays with us at the back, which is where we lose Christine who decides it is all a bit too much.
Another of the guides, Mahadeo, stays with me and convinces me that I can do it, while carrying my cameras in a rucksack on his front together with his own gear on his back. I have two walking sticks and my small rucksack.
The rainforest smells damp. Vegetation, wet earth and heat. The trees are enormous, close together and layer upon layer of green. There is no horizon here, nothing distant to focus on, just the path directly in front of me. Mud, roots, branches, tendrils twisting across the forest floor and even fallen trees.
It is incredibly hot. Like walking on a treadmill and Stairmaster fully dressed in a sauna with a backpack. Even though it is still fairly early in the day, I am puffing and blowing and sweat is running off me.
Mahadeo is endlessly patient. Pulling me up steeper sections, taking my hand helping me down slippery parts and waiting while I stop to drink water and catch my breath. Every now and then he tells me, “just a little further,” though I’m not entirely convinced he means it.
We have been left far behind by companions older and considerably fitter than me, but eventually I do make it to the top.
I am very pleased that I added dehydration powder to my litre bottle of water. The guys have fruit and biscuits at the top and I sit and partake before I even properly take in the view.
Which is stunning.
Trees as far as the eye can see and beyond. It really is breath-taking.
Photos are eventually taken, though when I get my cameras out all the lenses fog immediately in the humidity. At the time, completely exhausted, I can’t work out why everything looks blurred.
Somewhere amongst the trees we spot squirrel monkeys. Seeing these little monkeys in the wild is such a thrill. They are part of a bigger troop hidden higher in the canopy, but I manage to catch sight of a mother carrying her baby as they cross a gap in the trees. Somehow I even manage to photograph them.
Then begins the arduous journey down.
There are times on the way down when I genuinely don’t think I’m going to make it. Mahadeo is extremely patient and helpful. They say the journey down is quicker, but for me it just feels never ending.
My legs are trembling and I spend most of the descent concentrating on not slipping over. I watch the others seemingly hop, skip and jump downhill while I cautiously pick my way through the mud and roots. I am definitely not a mountain goat.
By the time we reach the sandbank where it all started, I find, as expected, a single boat waiting for Randolph and me as everyone else has already gone ahead. The whole thing has taken roughly four and a half hours.
I feel like a queen as I am whizzed along the river in my private speed boat. The cool breeze helps me feel almost human again.
Then, once nearly back at camp, we come across the others. The Harpy eagle has returned to the nest and the chance might never arise again, so once again we climb back into the rainforest.
It feels like a long way, but it really isn’t. It is uphill again though, but the rest in the canoe has helped enormously.
Everyone is already there. The Harpy eagle is perched on a branch above the nest with her back towards us.
She is much further away than I expected. Harpy eagles are one of the largest birds of prey in the world, powerful enough to hunt monkeys and sloths, yet despite her size she is still surprisingly difficult to spot in the canopy and I need someone to point her out to me.
My lens is only just strong enough, but somehow I manage a few photographs. Fingers crossed they are sharp.
I am once again chauffeured back to camp in my private speed boat, but by now I am completely exhausted. I don’t even finish my dinner before heading straight to my hammock for a sleep.
After a short sleep I head for a swim in the cool water. It helps enormously.
If I ever come back here, I never have to do that mountain again.
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