Backpacking in Fiji, Chapter 6

Onward and Upward

The following morning began early, about two hours after the first roosters began their relentless torture of those wishing to sleep. I slid out from under the covers, made the bed, and rolled up the mosquito net before the chief stirred in the adjacent bed.  Walking through the village in the early morning mist, I made my way to the Rustic Pathways bure.

Breakfast was, yet again, crackers with your choice of peanut butter, jelly, and/or cheese. We ate, divided the food between the packs of Kyle, Phil, and myself and left the village before the sun had fully breached the mountains of the east. 

Our expedition group consisted of nine individuals: Jone, Jason, Oro, three other locals in their teens whose names I never caught, Kyle, Phil, and I. One of the locals remained barefoot throughout the excursion, which I couldn't begin to conceive doing. 

We passed the rugby field and met the trail at the base of our first mountain where it carved into the steeply sloped side. The switchbacks seemed to continue without end as we made our way towards the summit. Within the first hour the sun cleared the eastern mountains and beat down on us immediately and mercilessly. Over time our group spread out, from Jone and I in the front to Phil and some of the teenaged locals in the rear. The first break came well before lunch. Phil seemed to be struggling and Jone took up his pack. We set off again, Jone and I in the lead.

Not long after we began this last leg to the top, Jone stopped in front of a medium sized, maybe 5 or 6 feet long, place where the trail had been washed out. 

"This is where I fell with my horse," he said, "I held on to a bush, but my horse, he died." And began walking again. I looked down the steep slope, a few degrees from 90, and imagined a horse falling hundreds of feet to the jungle floor below. I shuddered and moved on.

Jone and I reached the summit and waited for the others. Kyle the photographer snapped some shots of both the scenery and the adventurers as we took in our surroundings. The mountain was well into the highlands of the largest island in the Fijian chain, so the sea was far out of sight behind the surrounding summits. Green and gold were the colors dominating the vista: the trees covered nearly the whole surface area of the slopes, but here and there were beautiful slanted fields of golden grass waving in the wind. From a great distance the grass was beautiful, but I would learn later that it would put us through much misery. The only signs of human life came from the village we had left that morning. A view lacking in man-made structures is my favorite type. 

The time was 11:00am. Lunch would come later. Phil regained his pack and we all took to our feet. The next section of the trail followed the ridge and was in plain sight, so I decided to take the lead.