Imayo

Earlier this week I took a trip to Imayo, a village located next to the volcano. Although I went for work related purposes, I had plenty of free time to relax. I had heard that there was a waterfall in the area, and I soon found a few men to guide me there along with two other environmental workers. In all there were six of us, hiking through the bush, up and down the narrow trails. I was in the head of the group, along with another local boy. We pushed the pace hard and soon found that the others could not keep up. We decided to go ahead, and the others agreed that they would just see us at the waterfall.
The hike took us through thick forests, covered in moss and ferns. An occasional opening in the canopy would reveal the steep hills around us, jutting up into the clouds. Occasionally we would walk across an area of bare dirt, previous landslides which had wiped out everything in its path. After about two hours of quickly scrambling through the hillsides, we came to a fork in the path. The boy was hesitant about which way to go. If we chose to sit and wait for the other’s to come, we might be waiting an hour, so we decided to push on. I trusted his decision, being that he lived in the bush his whole life. We went deeper into the bush. All signs of villages disappeared, and the trail was becoming less obvious too. After some contemplating, I realized that I was alone in the middle of no where with some one I had just met a few hours earlier, and I wasn’t sure if he knew where we were going.
We came to a river, quick flowing and filled with huge boulders. I crossed it cautiously as the water pulled at me legs and tried to drag me down. Once reaching the other side, we followed its bank until it became impassable. At this point we had to cross to the other side and follow that bank, until once again, it became impassable. Previously I had been able to keep up with him while hiking in the bush, but I couldn’t match his ability to move so effortlessly through the boulders. Pushing myself as fast as I could, I would come to a bend in the river and he would be gone. I had no idea which way to keep going, so I would shout for him. After hearing his voice I knew what direction to go. Ten minutes later he would be gone again, and I would be lost. I thought it was only a matter of time before this unknown person decided to just leave me where I was. I kept faith in him though. Man-Tanna are good natured people, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be in the middle of no where with this complete stranger who doesn’t speak English but carries a very large knife. At this point I just wanted to get to the waterfall and see the other members in our group. I knew that if I saw them at the waterfall, it meant that they had taken a different route than we had. If they were following the same path that we were taking, they had no chance of reaching the waterfall before dark at their pace.
After a few more hours of muddy, sweaty, river crossing hiking we reached our destination though. The bush opened up to an emerald pool being slammed by tons of water plunging down from above. The crashing water created waves at the shore. I walked behind the waterfall. A few small trickles of water fell on me, feeling like someone had aimed a fire hose at my head. I can only imagine that bearing the full force of the waterfall would instantly render you unconscious. I started making my wake back from behind the waterfall, very cautiously stepping on the stones. With all of the mist in the air the rocks were as slick as ice. I managed to fall, jabbing my toe into one of them, and breaking off the front of my big toenail. Just then I saw the other members of our group arriving. Wincing in pain, I couldn’t help but to be happy that they had followed an easier trail to get here, meaning the walk back would be much less taxing. After what seemed like only a half hour at the waterfall, it was time to head back before the sun dropped. But we were told that we would take a completely different way back this time, simply following the river the majority of the way.
Right on cue, the rain came. Being that I was already soaked from swimming at the waterfall, you would think that the rain wouldn’t bother me. But we were in the stream and valley filled mountains. A little rain can raise the main tributary very quickly. We started walking, my toe burning with every brush against a plant. This was going to be a long walk. Three hours of hiking on unsteady boulders and crossing a now roaring river, all in my flip-flops. Numerous slips, falls, and frustrations later we were still crossing the river, perhaps for the tenth time now. Ash from the volcano was continually falling from the sky, covering the plants and sticking to my wet legs and sweaty face. Crossing the river temporarily washed away the fine black ash, but it would quickly come back. Three hours and we had reached the trail heading up into the bush back to the village. My legs felt like rubber by now, but it had been worth it.
It’s easy to complain about the weather and other unfavorable conditions, but I can’t deny the fact that hiking through pristine forests, hanging out at waterfalls, and staring out at an ominously glowing red sky from a near by volcano at night isn’t enjoyable.