A Weekend in the Blue Mountains

It's hard to believe that the Blue Mountains I imagined hiking long before coming to Jamaica are the same Blue Mountains that I experienced this past weekend. They were something that all of us exchange students agreed we wanted to see, probably because each of us had our own spectacular ideas of what that would be like. It's because of this, that when Jessica spotted a poster advertising an organized trip through the Geography and Geology Department, we all jumped on the opportunity.

So on Friday evening, we arrived at the designated parking lot, backpacks full and expectations high, and we waited. Now when we were told about the trip, we were told to be ready for 6:30 sharp. Emphasis on SHARP. And so, against my better judgment, I thought this might actually be an instance of a Jamaican event running on time. No, no, no. At 8 o'clock, after jamming over 40 students with hiking gear on a minibus (twice, because the first time there was something wrong with the bus), we set off for Mavis Bank, where we would begin our ascent.

We exploded out of the bus at Mavis Bank, where, you guessed it, we waited some more. Now, it was 11 o'clock when our tour guides finally showed up, and we were ready to begin on what we thought would be a three hour hike to our camp.

Within the first half hour, we found ourselves unlacing our shoes, taking off our socks and crossing two rivers. A task which would have been a little tricky in daylight was especially difficult at 11:30, and before I knew it, some uneasy footing and a shaky rock found me flat in the middle of the river. Determined not to let this ruin my spirits (wasn't this was the trip I had been waiting for!?), I picked myself back up and took comfort in the fact that at least it was still relatively warm out.

The next three hours are a bit of a blur. But I do know that when we finally made it to the half way point, I was glad for the rest, because my legs had already begun to feel like lead poles. It was just past 2 in the morning, and as a small group of us sat, regrouping and trying to wrap our heads around the fact that there were still at least another three hours of hiking to come, it began raining. So those of us with rain jackets put them on, and we continued, because there really wasn't anything else we could do.

Another hour of blurry hiking. Another rest stop. But this time it was different, because we were about to embark on Jacob's Ladder- the last part of the journey, and naturally, the most difficult. I spent the next two hours by myself, following the flashlight which was always a corner ahead, crying out to God to make my legs start working again, and wondering if there were any other options besides continuing to hike because I was ready to call it a night (it was, after all, almost 5 in the morning). It was probably a good thing that it was raining, otherwise I might have slept in the woods that night. (And actually, the next day we all heard about the one guy who actually plunked down in the middle of the path, and let himself sleep, knowing that there were people behind him who would surely wake him up once they caught up.) It was also probably a good thing that everyone was either ahead or behind me, because I was glad there was no one to see my ugly agony being played out in those final moments of the hike.

I praised God when I saw the sign for the camp. I praised Him when I flopped down on the sponge they called a mattress. I praised Him when I curled up into my damp, but not wet, sleeping bag.

Although I think I was sleeping, I could hear people arriving at 6:30, 7:30, even 8:30, and I was thankful that I had been in shelter of our cabin for three hours already.

After the unexpectedly rough journey of the night before, there weren't many people who still wanted to hike to the peak the next day. So it was a much smaller group of us who started for the peak around 11 o'clock the next morning. After another two hour hike, where I was reacquainted with the why-don't-my-legs-work sensation, we made it to the top. I will admit to breathing a sigh of relief, but not a sigh of awe. There wasn't much to be seen, except mist and stumpy vegetation associated with higher levels of altitude.

The group of us that decided to go up.

Above: Jessica, Ozzie and Anders mustering up some excitement!

Below: This is us, at the peak. Lots to see, eh?

It wasn't until the next day, as we were descending the mountain, that the cloud cover broke, we saw blue skies and a finalllllly, a view of the mountains. And although I was really grateful for, and totally humbled by the experience up until that point, they were those final moments which made the trip completely worth it.

Much love.