To the Batcave

So, yeah . . . we did it. And we emerged without permanent injuries, which is actually no small accomplishment.

After church (more on that later) we were sensing that the rest of the day would be very relaxed, so we began discussing the possibility of taking a hike with James. We had talked about Heath doing a cave adventure on Monday while I do the computer training with Oliver, so James was thinking he would hike to the cave Sunday afternoon to see whether the water level of the river would allow the Monday trip. As he talked about it with other Folopa guys the consensus was that with all the rain we’ve been having the cave opening is likely flooded. In addition, they said one place on the path to the cave has a giant wasp nest that they need to remove. So the wisdom was not to head that direction. Fortunately, the surrounding mountains are literally riddled with caves, so they decided to hike to a different one in the valley that is just north of the ridge we are on. Neil’s dining room window looks out into this valley. From here, it looks like a mountain made of trees. There are a few garden clearings visible but no obvious trails. The only thing that was obvious before we started was that it would be a very steep climb.

The Folopa hike these mountains barefoot every day of their lives, drink the local water runoff, and eat from their gardens. Heath and I booted up, packed our water in, and had a few survival granola bars if needed. I also packed the WA camera, so I could get some photos. In hindsight, the camera was the biggest hassle, and I probably could have gotten by with my iPhone camera (like Heath did). The most valuable things we brought were our LED headlamps and walking sticks. Our adult guides were James (about 26) and James Ali (maybe 50). Our entourage included maybe 15 kids ranging in age from 5 to 12 years old.

We stepped off the ridge to descend the trail about 1:30pm. This is where it begins getting difficult to describe and continues for the next 3 hours. The trail is very steep. Some of the initial descent is almost like descending a ladder. I’m guessing maybe a 60 degree angle descent. It was as steep as the terrain I hiked in the Himalayas in Pakistan. The grade wasn’t constant. Sometimes it was only 45 degrees downslope, other times only 30 degrees down. The entire trail was wet. Not just damp. Soaking wet. It had just showered between church and our departure, so everything was freshly soaked. Some portions of the trail had running water. Any level portion of the trail was either standing water or deep mud. Deep means up to the top of my boots, about 8 inches. The trail was like red Georgia clay. So, the overall picture is steep, wet, slippery clay.

I asked Neil the name of the cave, and he said they just call the general area "haesesaao." Hae means “ground” and sesaao means “red.” Small stretches of the trail were a few feet wide. Most of the trail was less than 1 foot wide. Some portions were only as wide as my foot. The Folopa adults are mostly 5 foot nothing and weigh about 100 pounds. They have no fat or meat, just sinew. So the steps worn into the red clay are with feet about half my size. Every footfall is worn smooth by their leathered feet, so there were precious few sharp angles for my boots. I quickly learned that the boots I have here have one major strength and one major weakness. The strength is that they are waterproof. We hiked in water on several stretches, and I managed not to go deeper than 8 inches, so my feet stayed dry (except for the sweat). The major weakness is that the bottom of the boots is smooth, slippery, rubber. Not a good match for the slippery trail. I think I fell completely on my butt three times. The rest of the times, I merely staggered and stumbled like a drunken sailor. I think the Folopa guys were pretty worried about me. On the other hand, they were quite impressed with Heath. Apparently his training helped.

I keep thinking of more details of the trail. Mixed in the clay is stone. Geologists call these mountains “karst.” Look it up for more details. Anyway, the clay and mud washes off the karst, exposing rocks with very sharp edges. James Ali sliced a big chunk off the pad of his big toe in the cave yesterday. It is a wonder to me that everyone’s feet aren’t bloody shreds. Occasionally our guides chose detours through some of the gardens, probably because the trail was impassable for non-Folopa. Once you get off the trail the gardens are a complex tangle of crawling vines superficially covering soft humus soil. So . . . steep, wet, slippery, tangled vines, razor sharp rocks. Yeah, I think that about covers it. Oh, yeah . . . and half-submerged rotting tree limbs covered with slime. On several stretches, instead of climbing up or down 60 degree slopes, we were traversing 70-80 degree slopes. At one point, I went to brace myself with my walking stick and it plunged about 3 feet through loose vines before it hit clay next to my right foot. Heath and I commented that there was no “right” there, only “down.” There were multiple places where a stumble downhill would have meant a fall of 200-300 feet.

My REI thermometer showed about 82F. Thankfully the sky was overcast. Within about 5 minutes climbing downhill, I was sweating profusely. Within 10 minutes my shirt was soaked completely through. At the last minute before departure, I changed out of blue jeans into hiking shorts. I had considered wearing jeans because of Neil’s cautions about the sharp rocks and leeches. But at the last minute I decided to go with shorts. That turned out to be a good call, since the leeches weren’t bad at all. As far as I know, only James had a few leeches. Neither Heath nor I had any leeches. (An experience I’m ok to have missed.) As I stumbled along the trial (yes, I spelled that correctly) James Ali would frequently ask if the rocks bit me. Fortunately, I escaped without any rock bites. I actually found that the greater danger of the rocks was when the trail was washed deep between rock, and my shins would get wedged at angles that felt too close to a potential broken bone. In those moments, I was glad to be a slow old man.

Some of the funniest moments on the trail were conversations. As we started our careful descent, the kids ran headlong and full speed past us. Heath asked James if small Folopa children were allowed to go down this trail. James said, “Oh, no. We do not let small children on the trail.” So Heath probed, “How old would they need to be before they would be allowed on this trail. James said, “Maybe 4 or 5 years old.” So basically Zeke, Davis, and Jude would not be allowed, but Holden would be jumping off the cliff soon if not already.

Heath checked the precise GPS location and elevation at the cave entrance, so we may later be able to know how much vertical descent we made. I’m guessing that from the village to the cave the net elevation descent was 1000-1500 feet. That included multiple ups and downs, but more downs than ups.

The cave. What can I say? The opening is like a gaping mouth with enormous stalactite eye-teeth suspended from the upper jaw. The opening may be 30 feet or so vertical, sloping down into the mountain thankfully less steep than the trail. The initial opening was a large room about as deep and wide as it is high. Stalactites and stalagmites are everywhere. As we continued walking into the cave, the light quickly fell behind, and we turned on our head lamps. Our guides and the kids didn’t seem to require light. The red clay outside transitioned quickly to calcite rock, but within a few steps another covering became obvious—bat guano. At first, it was just a thin coating. The further into the cave we went, the deeper the guano got. At one point, twenty of us were standing on a pad of guano 50 feet in diameter and 12 inches deep. Thankfully, it was dense enough to actually hold our weight, or it would have gone over the tops of my boots. The external opening transitioned into a second large room, maybe 100 feet in diameter and 30 feet high. Before my eyes adjusted to the light of my head lamp, the Folopa were screaming with excitement. There were a half dozen flying foxes (giant bats) hanging among the stalactites on the ceiling. James Ali stretched an arrow into his bow and took aim. He speared the first flying fox just as it let go of its perch. One of the boys scrambled over to it, extracted the arrow for further use, grabbed the animal by its wings and beat it to death on the rocks. Let me just say, it was more exciting to experience than it was to describe just now. All of the Folopa were yelling and screaming. The other flying foxes were now aroused and began flying around. I think some of the frantic Folopa screaming and waving was intended to keep the animals inside the cave where they could be hunted. Sometimes it even appeared to work. Over the next hour in the cave, James Ali shot 7, and the rest of the archers killed 5 more. We hiked further into the cave into a third and fourth chamber. Most of the flying foxes were in the first and second chambers, but most of the guano was in the third and fourth. I’m not sure of the physics or physiology of all this, but it was what it was.

In the fourth chamber, we turned off all our lights for several minutes to experience the dark. It was a great illustration of the message Neil preached in church that morning. Neil preached from 1 John 1, how God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all, and how we need to walk in the light. We talked about the morning sermon as we stood in the absolute pitch dark. We thought at some point our eyes might adjust and detect some light, but there was none. After a few minutes we put our head lamps back on and began retreating from guanoland, trying hard to keep our balance without touching the guanolactites and guanolagmites. The guys killed all the foxes they could find, and we climbed out of the cave. Don’t worry, there are plenty more flying foxes where those came from. I don’t think we endangered the species in the slightest.

Once out of the cave, we captured the hunters and prey in photos. Then James divided the kill among the families. James and James Ali each got two, and the other ten were divided one per family.

The hike out was the same as the hike in, except it was more ups than downs. We consumed all of the water we carried but sweated infinitely more. By the time we crested the ridge at Fukatabe, we were muddied, guanoed, and spent. It was about 4:30pm. We celebrated with more photos. Sorry, I don’t have the internet bandwidth to send the photos today. I’ll post them as soon as I reach a wireless internet connection.

Wish you were here!