Rainforest

Ladies and Gentlemen I have found true running heaven.

It lies a mere 1.5 miles from my hotel, a dull plod through rain-washed streets and a dangerous dash across several lanes of untended motorway. No need for i-pods here my friends; the forest calls you with its myriad of native tongues; whoops, screams, cackles, cries, tweets and twitters, the lazy splash of heavy raindrops onto giant leaves, the rustle of the canopy as its inhabitants join the 'rush hour' high above.

Violent storms ravaged the city last night, great cloudbursts flooding the poolside bar in an instant. The gods raged, fierce lightning and ear-splitting thunder crashing in as one. It felt as if the Earth should split asunder. I sheltered in my room, door open, a huge grin on my face as I watched the horizon fade behind a screen of slanting rain.

After yesterday's hot 'n' horrible stagger I decided I simply had to get back out there again, and soon. Karen from the event travel company Travel Focus joined me for a six-thirty kick-off. There had been others, keenly expressing a desire to join us from their safe perches around the bar, yet cometh the hour, cometh the duvet, or so it seems. Karen, young and fit but also relatively new to the world of running, looked relived as I assured her we'd take things easy. Learning the lesson of the parched throat I took a couple of bottles of water along, as well as a few bucks in case a cab ride became necessary.

We loped gently through the quiet city streets, once again following the guidance of the hotel city map. It showed a large park - the Parque de Metropolitano - to the north of our location. Between us and it lay a couple of rather thick lines denoting motorways. I felt sure there would be some man-made aid to traversing these, but alas we were left to scurry across the lanes and hurdle the central reservation. Mercifully the traffic flow at this time of day is light and we made it without adding to the collection of roadkill along the hard shoulder.

And then we left the world of men and entered a realm so wonderful as to take the breath away. Giant trees loomed overhead, huge ferns, birds of paradise and any number of weird and wonderful plants I'd never seen crowded in from all sides. The air was thick with static charge from last night's storm yet also rich in oxygen. A mere ten minutes running along the rock-strewn muddy trails this magical elixir flooded me with energy. My limbs felt light and moved easily, my lungs gorged on the dense air; this was a million miles from the painful struggles of yesterday.

The track took us on a long winding ascent into the forest. The entrance map suggested heart-stopping views at the summit, and we plugged away telling each other the views would be worth the effort. Just as yesterday I was drowning in sweat, only this time it was 'honest' sweat, not recycled booze, AND I had my water. It made a huge difference, and I had to hold back from charging the hill as my companion laboured. Karen complained of tightness in her calves, something that afflicts a lot of runners used only to the treadmill or flat trails when they get into the hills. We walked for a bit, drinking in the splendour of our surroundings. Colourful birds fluttered and squawked beneath the mighty canopy. Creatures called and squabbled in the dark green depths. Monstrous tree roots slithered across the trail, providing a wonderful assault course for our mud-splattered legs.

The summit provided all we'd hoped for. To the north a vast jungle spread out before us, mist clinging to the highest parts, a sea of greens as far as the eye could see. To the south the city spires; beyond the islands and shipping vessels. To the west the vast cranes of the docks sat like giant egrets poised over the ocean, waiting for cargo. I've stood on the edge of Sydney's Blue Mountains, gazed in awe at the spine of the Cape Peninsular from the summit of Table Mountain but this panorama ranks up there with the best of them. The locals have erected an aerial runway so that visitors can view the forest from canopy level; I'll make it before I leave. As we stood, silently feasting on these incredible views, I vowed to return over the next few days, swearing an oath to get up even earlier so as to take advantage of the cool hours and unique light of daybreak.

Reluctantly we started back down the hill. The downward trail offered more excitement with running streams criss-crossing the often steep, slippery descent. Tree roots offered occasional breaking points as we plunged down through the foliage, the brackish slime underfoot threatening to send the unwary flying off into the bush.

'Think there might be big spiders in here?' came a nervous enquiry from behind.
'Nah - the big snakes have eaten all the spiders!' came my flippant reply.
Still, it was a valid question and I resolved not to leave the barely-beaten track until we reached concrete.

I resisted the temptation to attack the trail, though I confess the intoxicating  O2 had filled my lungs and legs with power. Karen kept up which is great credit to her; she'd not encountered anything like this, whilst I had at least experienced something similar during my time with the Hong Kong Hash.

We emerged, sodden, muddy and grinning like fools, back on to the roadway. I reached into my back pocket to pull out a pair of translucent five dollar bills.
'Fancy a cab-ride back to the hotel?'
Soon enough a taxi came around the bend. We waved and he duly pulled over. As we splashed across the road the cabbie rolled down his window, horror writ large on his burned brown face.
'Hola! El Panama Hotel pour favor?'
The poor man gestured to his seats then back to our deranged garb.
'Eeeh . . . ' followed by an obviously apologetic mumble that I didn't understand, though the meaning was crystal clear. He offered a good natured smile, raised his eyebrows and floored the accelerator, tyres squealing as he shot off into the city, no doubt to tell his amigos about the apparitions that had accosted him on the edge of the rainforest. We deduced from this that we were unlikely to get a lift so we plodded the mile and a half back. Karen huffed and puffed a bit but in fairness she gutsed it out without complaint - 9.3 kilometres, an hour and fourteen minutes.

I'll be back for more, if not tomorrow then Thursday.
Lessons learned:
Take a cab TO the rainforest to leave more time to run trails (there are three marked trails on the city edge of the forest).
Definitely take water - it makes a huge difference.
Run after heavy overnight rain - the humidity levels drop like a stone.

Aye carumba, it's good to be out there again.

Comments

[bierzo baggie]

Wow, jungle-running, if it didn't already exist...you've just invented it. Excellent stuff!