Climbing The Equator

by Neville Shulman

  Some plants combine together to cup their leaves to catch the rainwater, and in turn these miniature water containers play host to insects and frogs and birds who quite happily share with each other. With flowering plants and fruits growing from the trunks of the trees, the rainforest animals are able to access them more easily. The animals will in turn help to disperse the seeds further afield in many ways, including being swallowed and passed through their digestive systems onto the rainforest floor. In this way there is a wide potential dispersal area. Of course many fruits or seeds fall to the floor and break open, or are assisted to break open by some helpful creature. Insects set up home inside leaves, and in return protect them from predators that could harm the plant. Pablo shows me a Viola tree, which has a deep red sap and looks like chicken blood. It’s very rich in nutrients and therefore attracts many insects. Patiently he explains about many features of other rainforest trees. The fruit of the monkey pot tree produces its fruit in a large round pod containing thin seeds laced with poisonous selenium. The chonta palm, which is a vital part of indigenous tribal life, is covered with thousands of needle-sharp thorns that can tear the skin to pieces if it’s not handled carefully and correctly. Even the sap of the very useful rubber tree congeals on exposure to the air, to prevent any insect from benefiting after biting through its bark. The insects get to know this and don’t bother, as there are other more edible items to forage for. There are many leaves that are self-protectively inedible, and after a quick bite to test are then quickly left alone.

  There are two types of liana vine that take control of a tree, the strangler and the trunk-climbing liana. The strangler starts at the top and climbs downwards, all the while encircling and tightening until the tree is literally strangled to death. The trunk-climber does the same but from the floor upwards. In both cases, the tree finally topples and decomposes into the jungle floor, and the lianas claim their jungle space. It looks as if the tree knows what’s happening to it but can do nothing about it. It’s a slow, sad death but can only be viewed within the context of the cycle of life and death occurring within the jungle and the rainforest. The giants of the rainforest, the kapok and the ceibal, tower over their thinner neighbours, and can usually reach open sky and also claim their right to greater soil territory and to the nutrients it contains. They sometimes greedily or cleverly, depending on how you look at it, claim most of the nutrients from their patch, so the other trees die and they end up in splendid isolation. In the rainforest it’s always necessary to understand how creatures and other life forms evolve together, in order to boost their own chances of survival.

  The whole area of the Amazon Basin is very malarial. The indigenous people are not immune to the deadly mosquito, and make up part of the frighteningly high statistic of one to three million people that die every year from malaria in Africa, Asia and South America. A staggering half a billion people are said to be infected annually. Half a billion pounds sterling is the unbelievably generous sum donated by Bill Gates, the Internet king, through his charity The Gates Foundation, to continue the urgent research needed to try and find some cure or antidote or preferably some preventive treatment. To emphasise this huge and very serious problem, the British and Norwegian governments have also promised to provide sums equivalent in value. A recent result of this ongoing research is that the scientists have discovered that the malaria parasite has the ability to trigger a genetic masking device, to prevent the immune system recognising it and therefore switching itself on in order to fight it off. If this masking can be prevented then it’s another step forward to encouraging the body’s own defence systems to respond automatically and possibly destroy the parasite. But malarial dangers continue to be enormous and the benefits of halting the spread of malaria would be equally massive.

  Finally there seems to be a scientific explanation which will help in the continuing fight to find a permanent solution to this terrible scourge of the traveller, whether professional or amateur. It seems some people give off a scent that attracts the mosquito, whereas others give off a masking odour which actually throws the mosquito ‘off the scent’. Scientists are trying to isolate the natural masking odours (there are several kinds) and will experiment in order to produce a formula to protect against the unloved mosquito. Possibly they could even work in the other way, producing an attracting formula would persuade the mosquito to bite into something that would prove deadly to itself, such as a pair of mountaineer’s socks.

  It’s so hot and humid that I long to stop and swim in a river or lake but Pablo doesn’t have to warn me not to. I know from previous expeditions how dangerous the waters can be. There are extremely tiny fish organisms known as the candiru catfish that lurk in them, and they are always looking for warm ‘nests’ in which to lay their eggs. It can be bad enough for a woman, but they can easily swim inside the urethra entrance to a man’s penis and then are impossible to dislodge. They have minute inverted spines enabling them to enter, but once inside then cannot be dragged backwards. There are frightening stories that the only cure is castration but in fact there are other lengthy, more painful procedures. You wouldn’t want to imagine them, however.

  The rainforest is a place for me to reflect and to try and be alone within myself, even if for a few moments. Pablo seems to understand this, and leaves me alone quite often for some quiet moments of thought and reflection. It is scary at times as if he didn’t return I wouldn’t easily find my way out, but that is part of trusting him. The rainforest is always teeming with life and activity, yet there can be moments of absolute silence, so that nothing intrudes into your inner mind and you feel you could be the only thing existing there. There may be something watching you of course, but then again it may not see you, as, not being of its world, you do not exist. There’s a wealth of knowledge to be found in the rainforest, waiting to be revealed to those who keep their minds open. The poet and artist William Blake declared, ‘Some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is imagination itself ’. I see a very beautiful emerald-coloured beetle.

  There is a timeless question and koan that I always think worth re-visiting, and this is the perfect place. ‘If there is no one to hear a tree fall in the forest does the tree falling really make any sound?’ Does silence remain unless someone else witnesses the action? Yet the forest is always full of life and there must always be something to hear or to see the tree fall. Krishnamurti, the renowned philosopher from India, always implored us to ‘Look at a tree, really look at a tree.’ We rarely do, which is such a shame, as trees are full of history and life and deserve our closest attention. There is so much in every tree to observe and discover, its texture, its width, its height, the kind of leaves and nuts or fruits it has, the insects and birds that use it as a home, its proximity or not to other elements of nature, rivers, lakes, mountains. The list becomes endless and each tree is a book, perhaps an encyclopaedia, without it ever having to be cut down to become one.

  Night and day are very different in the jungle and many creatures can only move around in one and not in the other. There are so many nocturnal creatures who will only ‘come to life’ after dark, after spending the daylight hours sleeping and gathering energy. In the jungle you will usually be warned when night is approaching by the crickets and the frogs sounding off as dusk occurs, and then will be energetically awakened by the dawn chorus of the birds and perhaps the morning screeches of the howler monkeys.

  It’s great to learn to love the jungle and the rainforest. They are full of the past and must be part of the future. Yet an area the size of Austria is being destroyed each year. This is a result of indiscriminate logging, burning or slashing in order to provide more farming, or prospecting for oil and metals. It sounds impossible when you see how much rainforest there still is, but, if this rate of destruction continues, there will be very little left within thirty years.

  We do not have the right to neglect the rainforests. Trees touch and influence all our lives and as Kris
hnamurti stated we have to stop and think about what a tree really means. One large beech tree can provide enough oxygen for the daily intake of ten people. Every person in a town or city on average consumes the equivalent of twelve trees each year. One hectare of forest allowed to grow to maturity and protected will absorb the carbon emissions of 100 motor vehicles every year. These are facts and must not be ignored. George Orwell, in his book 1984 stated that, ‘The planting of a tree… will far outlive the visible effect of any of your other actions, good or evil.’

  The hardwoods, such as mahogany, teak and ebony, take hundreds of years to grow and mature so no amount of tree-replanting will compensate in the short term for their destruction. Only sensible and planned tree felling methods should be employed, so that the fragile topsoil held in place by the roots of trees and other vegetation is not allowed to vanish, as it cannot be replenished. These are all problems and concerns of such immensity that they cannot be ignored, and we all owe our commitment to influence governments and multi-national companies to think and act in responsible ways and never to think short term. The jungle and tropical rainforest took millions of years to develop and yet now could be wiped out in decades. They have rightly been called ‘the lungs of the world’ and without them all life is at risk. The signs and the effects are all around, and we ignore them at our peril. Protecting our future should always be part of any action taken by anyone at any time. Indeed it is an action to be taken at all times.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE MOUNTAIN IN THE JUNGLE

  ‘Fancy climbing another mountain, now?’ Pablo is grinning from ear to ear.

  I am sweating with the heat of the jungle and trying to swat a persistent mossie away from its intended target area of uncovered flesh, so he persists. ‘Yes or no, are you up for it, are you feeling strong enough?’ I presume his remarks are just part of his Ecuadorian banter, perhaps trying to upstage one of my usual European style jokes which are usually about as successful as my focused intention for the mosquito.

  ‘Absolutely, I’m raring to go,’ I laughingly reply. ‘Just point me in the right direction and I’ll have my boots on in a jiffy.’ I’m not sure if he knows what a jiffy is but his grin if possible grows even wider.

  ‘OK then, great. You’re on. There are actually two mountains in the jungle. Either of them is not too far from here, and the choice can be yours.’ He laughs out loud but it seems it’s really no joke. Over the next few minutes Pablo explains more about these two mountains, and it does sound a really exciting challenge which I am determined to be up for.

  Although the other mountains of Ecuador are either soaring out of the Cordillera Occidental, west of Quito or towering from the Cordillera Oriente, east of Quito, with a few actually within the ‘Avenue of the Volcanoes’, there are two potentially active volcanoes much further to the east that are actually in the jungle region. One is Reventador at 3,562 metres, more recently and aggressively active, and the other is Sumaco at 3,723 metres, usually considered less active, although both have the potential to ‘explode’ at any time, so we must certainly be aware of that possibility and prepare accordingly. Neither is over 4,500 metres, which I had initially put as my benchmark of mountains to attempt or consider, but they are a fair height and it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. Pablo tells me we are roughly equidistant from each. A full day’s trek and bus journey is needed to see us through the jungle and bring us to their lower slopes. I decide to opt for the higher one, so Sumaco it is.

  Sumaco is located and protected within one of the National Parks. It’s known as a wild area and is relatively unvisited, having yet to prove of much interest to loggers and prospectors, and long may it remain so. The volcano was first climbed in 1865 by the Ecuadorian Jimenez de la Espada, and the British explorer George Dyott achieved the summit in 1924. Due to its remoteness and possibly the ‘call’ of the higher mountains, it has not been climbed often and as I like to experience ‘virgin’ trails, that also makes Sumaco very appealing. In Quichua Sumaco means ‘pretty beast’ and the contradiction is what appeals, as the mountain can enchant or terrify. I will have to wait to find out which aspect is waiting for me.

  I check my feet out – they have recovered well and the redness has mostly disappeared. I have been coating them night and day with Vaseline and Savlon and together they seem to have done the trick. I hope I have enough left to see me through to Chimborazo. Sumaco shouldn’t be a problem, however, and there’s definitely no ice to worry about. We quickly collect the necessary gear together, divide up our food and water, fill our backpacks to the brim and then turn in straight away, as we will need to set off very early the next morning. The alarming thing is that Pablo has provided me with a large machete and his is even larger. What size mosquitoes are we likely to encounter?!

  I awake to hear Pablo moving around in the darkness, getting the final food provisions packed, and I quickly join him. We strike out along an overgrown pathway that skirts a tributary of the River Napo and trek in semi-darkness for about two hours. There are constant rustlings and sometimes Pablo whispers, ‘Sssh, caiman, don’t make a sound.’ I try to obey but my heart starts pounding so loudly that any creature within 50 metres must surely hear it. How does he know it’s a caiman, perhaps it’s an anaconda. That thought is no more comforting though, and I therefore decide that any noises are the result of beaver action or perhaps the scampering of forest rabbits. Still I keep my machete at the ready and practise a few sweeping swipes at an imaginary adversary. Pablo doesn’t comment on my odd actions but as trailfinder uses his machete for the appropriate purpose of cutting aside the dense interlocking vegetation and vines that so often try to impede our proceeding. As it becomes lighter the sounds increase, and there is now a lot of activity overhead. I see the shadowy shapes of troupes of monkeys as they swing through the canopies. There are increasing bird songs and they all seem to be alerting one another that there are intruders making their way through their territory.

  I had expected a full day’s heavy marching through the jungle, but we finally break out of it to reach a cleared road. Pablo announces with another of his mystical smiles that we can actually save ourselves several hours, hard slogging by getting a bus to the village of Humani, which is on our route. Taking a bus to cut down our trekking time is definitely ok by me but we still have to continue for another hour before the lumbering vehicle overtakes us and, responding to our frantic waving, pulls over to take us on board. There are some dozen passengers already on the bus, all with huge bundles, many of which bulge alarmingly in several directions all at once and emit very strange sounds. Pablo tells me they contain chickens or pigs or other livestock, although a few might have snakes that have been caught to take to the local witch doctor. The machetes they all seem to carry are even more perturbing. They are twice the size of mine.

  When we reach Humani, Pablo asks the driver to wait, which he is quite willing to do as timetables don’t really exist here and the driver is very willing to stop for coffee and much more, depending on whom he knows in the village. Pablo knows two guides here and he wants one to take us up Sumaco but disappointingly neither is here. We will need to look for one nearer to the mountain but there’s always the possibility that we won’t find one to hire, which could cause us problems. Pablo hasn’t climbed Sumaco for over two years as it’s so remote, so doesn’t know it well and could easily lose the way. It seems several trekkers and climbers have been lost before and it can take several days to find a way through and back. Pablo tells me that there were two climbers who never made it back to any of the nearby villages, but that hopefully they continued on through the jungle on the other side and reached a road to get a lift from a passing vehicle.

  The driver is ready to move on and after taking on board even more strange moving sacks and bundles and a few women wearing scarves or hats and voluminous skirts of many colours, the bus trundles off. The road has now become a trail and at times it seems to be covered by vegetation which has spread across the t
rack in an effort to link the jungle on both sides. Soon we reach Guagua (baby) Sumaco and Pablo again tries to find us a guide. No luck again and he is beginning to look worried. I pull out my compass and continually set down various positions as the bus winds its way noisily upwards, in case there’s a real need to try and find a route back. I even buy more water in the store just in case! It’s not his intended way but with a little haggling and some earnest discussions the driver agrees to take us further up the trail to Pacto Sumaco which will save us several hours hard trekking. We are in luck once we get there as Pablo finds a guide who agrees to take us up the mountain. He speaks only some local dialect and it is difficult to understand him, but he knows the region well and that’s what really counts. I think his name is Bosca or something similar, and he has few teeth and a thin wiry body but is strong and quick and we have to move fast to keep up with him. He arranges the Park entrance fees and we are allowed in. It’s up to us from now on, or rather, it’s up to Bosca.

  Bosca’s aim is to get us up to our first camp, take us to the summit the next day, and then return very fast as he has some reason why he needs to get back to his village within two days. We can’t get from him exactly what it is – it seems to be something to do with a wedding although we can’t work out whether it is his or his son’s or his brother’s. Everyone is going and we are invited as well. We are in no position to argue as he seems to be the only guide available and without him I have the feeling we may be here for days. He’s ready in moments and quickly bounds ahead.

  The trail Bosca takes us is along a lengthy area of cut logs and it’s very hard going. There are no signs and it’s so easy to get lost and without a guide I think Pablo and I couldn’t make it through. It’s hot and humid and soon water is pouring off me. However I take my dress code from the others and don’t change into shorts as the long grasses can hide a multitude of insects, all of which could feast for hours on my whiter skin. We cross several small brooks and then reach the hill going by the name of El Mirador, its name indicating the spectacular views over the jungle, and from there we drop back down several times before re-climbing other high sections. Again we are dipping in and out of jungle, it’s hard machete work mostly and we take it in turns, although Bosca and Pablo do the bulk of the cutting. The bamboo areas are particularly difficult to penetrate as they are thick and unwieldy and don’t move easily as we push through. We are climbing slowly upwards as well and my back pack feels like some rainforest creature has hitched a ride, as it is getting heavier by the minute and my back is bending under the strain. There are some very high strangler fig trees and many trees have coverings of blooms. We come across a small but spectacular waterfall which I would love to enter, but Bosca gestures there’s no time and insists we must keep going. ‘Jaguar look, jaguar.’ They seem to be his only words of English or certainly those he uses every time he thinks I’m slowing. The words are accompanied with a fierce look, presumably meant to instil fear and he points into the jungle, as if the animal is about to hurl itself out at me.