littlewoodenman

La Picucha Whipped My Ass Posted 2007.04.05 by Matthew with 11 comments

I don’t normally volunteer myself for a hike on 2 days’ notice, but when Jacob mentioned last week that he was going to climb La Picucha for the third time, I asked to tag along. La Picucha is the highest point in Olancho at 2,354 metres, and calling it a “hike” is a lot like calling the Space Shuttle a commuter flight. It was definitely the hardest trek I’ve ever been on.

To be fair, I haven’t gone hiking in a good, long while. The last time I remember going hiking didn’t actually happen because Kris hydroplaned and flipped his car into a ditch. Ah, good times. So, you could say I’m not in the best of shape. Still, I was eager to do some serious trekking through the wilds of Olancho.

I joined Jacob and his friend Bany and we started in Catacamas, at the Talgua Caves. The Caves are just outside of the Parque Nacional Sierra de Agalta, where La Picucha is found. Most people hike to La Picucha from the north, starting from the town of Gualaco. Jacob has done this twice before, and Bany has done it once. Me, never. The trail from the Talgua Caves (south of La Picucha) is new and not as popular.

Saying the trail is “popular” is a bit of a misnomer, though. Most Hondurans are not exactly poster children for outdoor activity (I’ve never seen any outdoor gear for sale here), and Olancho doesn’t see many tourists. To say the Gualaco side is more traveled really means maybe 6 or 7 groups make the trek in a year.

The trail on the Catacamas side is newer and less developed. As far as Jacob knows, no one has tried hiking from one side to the other before. After doing it, I can sort of understand why! We chatted with the guide who lives at the trailhead and he offered us some advice, including a hastily scrawled map. None of us could figure out what he meant when he gestured with his right hand while saying, “Izquierda. Izquierda.” (”Left. Left.”)

The first day—in retrospect—was pretty easy. There was a lot of climbing through pastures and cafetales, and the views were amazing. I even got to see some spider monkeys in the wild. I was both impressed and bewildered that campesinos live this high up. Not an easy life. We only lost the trail a couple of times, as none of us had ever followed this route, but some friendly locals were helpful in setting us on the right path.

We spent the first night in a shack in a cafetal high up in the mountains. When we got there it was locked, but Bany showed some ingenuity and popped the lock in about 20 minutes. It was worth it since it rained hard for the rest of the afternoon and overnight.

The dreaded Second Day. Oh. My. God. This was one tough slog. We had to hike uphill for an hour or two, stopping every so often to let Bany hack away at the brush with a machete. And this is on a “trail” that had been hiked just a few weeks before! In no time at all, we were climbing. And I mean climbing. Straight up. The approach to the peak is very steep, and requires getting dirty: pulling yourself up muddy hills on your hands and knees, ducking under or scrambling over fallen tree stumps, and hauling up the mountain one tree branch at a time. It really helps if its raining all day, too. And if you can do it with 30 pounds strapped to your back, hey, all the better.

Unfortunately, the bosque enano (dwarf forest) is usually covered in fog, as it was this day. There weren’t many views, but the climbing was pretty trippy—just you clinging for dear life to a mossy tree root floating in a grey void, literally nothing above or below you.

After a few hours of this we came out on top. I was tired, sore, sweaty, muddy, scraped and bruised. And there wasn’t even a beautiful view. There was nothing left to do but start going down the other side. At least it was a chance to abuse an entirely different muscle group for a few hours.

Descending is not so easy, either. The trail is muddy, slippery and hard on the knees. I lost count of how many trees I grabbed onto that day. There was lots of falling-on-the-ass and other less-than-graceful maneuvers, but eventually we arrived at the second campsite. I slept well that night.

I don’t know what happened on the third day, but I was out of it. I think maybe the previous 2 days had finally caught up with me, and I might have been dehydrated, too. Bany and Jacob were hiking at what, to me, was an insanely fast pace. I could never keep up, and was consistently 10 or 15 minutes behind. They didn’t look like they were suffering at all. I think they could tell I wasn’t in the best mood, but they were diplomatic about it.

The trail that day was, in retrospect, the easiest leg, but I was having a hard time. It went up and down like a roller coaster and killed my legs. I spent much of it alone, while the other two waited for me at regular intervals. They never said much, but encouraged me to keep going. I kept going, because we had to reach the highway in time to catch the last Juticalpa-bound bus. The hike quickly became a chore, and I wish I had stopped more to admire the views, which are beautiful, and to take more pictures. I guess I’ll just have to go back!

Eventually the trail gives way to an old logging road which meets the highway. The walking was easier, but the sun was out and it was pretty hot. Bany and Jacob had waited for me yet again, but sure enough, they all but sprinted ahead soon after. I carried on by myself, in an almost meditative state, wondering when the road would end.

At some point, I caught up with Bany and Jacob waiting by the highway. They had already changed into dry clothes. I was hoping I hadn’t been so behind that we missed the bus. As I was digging through my pack for a spare shirt, we heard the bus coming. Bany gave me a smile with raised eyebrows, as if to say, “That was good timing!” After that, we let the bus do all the work, and we were back in Juticalpa in under 3 hours.

It sounds like I’m complaining a lot, but La Picucha really was amazing. Yes, it put me through the wringer, but valió la pena (it was worth it). I scared Angel when I came home dirty, sweaty and bent out of shape. I didn’t want to hear the words subir (ascend) or bajar (descend) for the rest of my life. But, after kicking up my feet for a while, and chowing down on some pizza, I’m already contemplating a return trip sometime. Olancho does that to you, sometimes. Just… not next week!

Oh, and note to self: on my next trip I must bring some tweezers. The other day Angel graciously plucked at least a dozen garapatas (ticks) off of me! Those little buggers are tenacious.