The Mountains of Santa Fe, Panama

I Followed A Man With a Machete Into the Jungle

To my surprise, I didn’t have much hesitation about following a stranger with a machete into the jungle. It’s so common to see men walking up and down the roads with machetes that it’s become part of the landscape.

But of course, being female and solo, and an avid consumer of crime shows, thoughts cross my mind that perhaps the choice I make becomes a news headline when my body is found hacked in pieces by the river. It’s not unheard of. There is still an unsolved mystery about two Dutch girls, Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon, who were found dead near Boquete via the El Pianista Trail.

I was not looking for a full guide but had the kind old man not walked me down the path, I would have turned back because the mud at the start of the trail was like quicksand and there weren’t many places on the sides of the trail to get better footing. But having him lead the way gave me assurance that I could do it.

It was one of those chance encounters with a Panamanian Angel as many refer to the divine synchronicity of a Panamanian magically appearing right when you need them; like the time I got my car stuck in a ditch.

On this angel encounter, I’d parked my car and asked the old man walking toward my car, “Eso es la cascada?” Which I thought meant is this the waterfall? And the man nodded and proceeded to walk along the path. I assumed maybe he was going in that direction and so I stayed behind at my car to give him some headway. But he was actually waiting for me. And since I didn’t know how to say no, he became my guide.

Angel stepped deliberately, slowly and gently. I followed in his footsteps. He even hacked away a few scraggly branches to clear the path. On occasion he stopped and turned back to see where I was.

On one pass where the trail widened, I ended up ahead of him but then thought that might be disrespectful if he thinks he’s the guide. So, I paused and turned to look at him, opened my arm to indicate his passage in front of me. He chuckled as he stepped into his rightful place as the lead.

And we walked quietly down the slick muddy earthen route over tree roots through the jungle. He delivered me to the base of a lush green forest floor and a fresh waterfall pool. Somehow I was able to communicate that I could go the rest of the way on my own. I gave him some money, thanked him and he went on his way.

I sat on a log directly in front of the waterfall and lavished in the continuous movement of natural abundance. It’s an incredible feeling to have the air dancing with fresh coolness energizing the body, mind and spirit.

The ‘in case I don’t make it out’ selfie

Rain started falling and I knew I should find the path and head out. The pattern is for the rain to fall heavily in the afternoon. I was by myself on an unfamiliar trail near water that could rise quickly if there was a torrential downpour. Having seen how quickly lives get taken by the water here in Panama, I knew to head to higher ground.

It rained so hard that it blurred the lines of what was a path and what was a natural clearing on the steep hillside. Water poured down the earthen channels and I had to trust I was on an actual path and going in the right direction.

Alto de Piedra Waterfall. Santa Fe, Panama

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

— Rumi

My cell signal had stopped working in that area so I didn’t get a chance to read up on the trail details but I vaguely recalled mention of a one-way trail past the waterfalls.

I had decided to wear the river shoe slip-ons with a thin rubber sole instead of the structured sandals and was amazed by how much easier I was able to navigate the crevices, slopes and unstable terrain. My toes were put to good use and often spared me from slipping.

I thought about trail runners, specifically endurance runners who often go barefoot or wear very minimal foot coverings. I understood the appeal. I had created a natural rhythm to my climb and I felt like I was working in unison with the earth beneath my feet.

Eventually, I spotted a clearing in the distance and knew my car would be waiting for me. The rain passed; left me drenched and muddy but the sun poked through just enough to generate steam from the pavement on the road.

I was happy to get back to the dirty motel room where I was trying to make the best of it so I could take a hot shower, light a candle and snuggle under the blanket I bought. But that’s about the only time I was happy at that motel.

There was a chain-smoking conspiracy theorist who made it quite unpleasant. Between him, the bugs and overall yuckiness, I left after a week and headed down to Santiago and treated myself to a clean hotel with a pool.