With Dog As My Guide
Follow the muddy dirt road.
I’ve been watching a few Youtube series of van-lifer’s here in Central and South America, in admiration of their spirit of adventure and the stunning natural scenery in their videos. Sara and Luca of Leave Everything and Wander brought viewers along their mountain climb to a skylodge hanging on the side of a cliff in Peru. They made it look so easy, almost gliding, effortlessly up craggy rocks and using ropes and carabiners to safely do so.
Trent and Allie willingly woke up at 2:30 in the morning to hike Volcan Baru in Western Panama and the sunrise drone footage is breathtaking. And of course, when Jordan and Kaylee from the Nomadic Movement decided to buy land in Boquete after their van travels, I’ve been particularly interested in their endeavors as I lean in more toward the idea of creating a homestead of sorts.
Inspired by all these youngins and needing to emerge from the hermit cave, I set my sights on an easy waterfall hike. Sometimes my wanderlust can be satisfied just by driving up the road and having lunch at a local fonda, or taking a dirt side road and discovering one of the many empty beaches here on the Pacific side of Panama.
But I needed a full break from roads, internet and mi apartamento. I found sparse information about La Filipinas Waterfalls, in Sora, a mountain community about forty minutes away via a two-lane road with rarely any traffic and incredible vistas of the mountain ridges, green valleys and views to the ocean. It sounded like the first waterfall was a stunner but maybe not so accessible. That was an understatement.
Mid way up the paved road towards Sora, I shut off the ever-running AC, rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh flow of cooler mountain air. Once I turned off at the sign for Filipina, the road was rocky and wound through the community of small cement block houses, some painted, some not, a finca where cattle grazed and lot’s of lush tropical tree growth. This mountain community is a place where you don’t see cars on the dirt road or parked at the homes, people living in corrugated metal shacks don’t generally have cars. Occasionally, a truck rolled through, startling me that someone else was even on the road at all.
I found the sign that indicated I was in the right spot, parked at the bottom of the steep hill I wasn’t able to drive up, and gathered my things in my backpack; water, a few bananas, journal, a knife and mace. Three medium sized dogs greeted me at my open car door, tails wagging, probably hoping for snacks.
I’d asked a friend if I should bring a few necessities to the person who would collect my $2 fee for access to the private property and she suggested clothing, paracetamol, rubbing alcohol, canned goods and anything I may not have use for anymore. I brought hand soap, cooking oil, carton milk and a few of the items she suggested. These were met with great enthusiasm by Rodrigo, the man who greeted me and walked me toward the waterfall path.
Several of the dogs turned back with Rodrigo and two of them became my trusted guides leading me all the way to the waterfall called Las Gemelitas (the twins), which I really had no business hiking to. The terrain was steep and slippery and I had to use the ropes provided for making my way up. And even though I kept going, up, up and up. It did cross my mind that I had to come back down, down, down.
I rationalized that if something happened to me and I couldn’t make it back, the dogs would return to Rodrigo alone and that would hopefully give an indication that I needed help. My enthusiasm was the same as when I was twenty-five, hiking in the Angeles National Forest through pine trees, around boulders, up to vista points of the valley below; eager to see what was around the corner and at the next peak.
Years ago I’d listed rock climbing as a hobby of mine on some social profile pre-Facebook. My boyfriend called me out, “Rock climbing?” I knew he was onto me, “Yeah, I like rock climbing.” He pointed out that in the three years we’d been together I hadn’t climbed one rock. “Well, it’s something I’d like to do more.”
The dogs believed I could do it.
I really could have used the experience I never had during this Filipina waterfall hike. I was basically rock climbing! Finding hand and foot holds to hoist myself up and keep going. But I’m fifty-five now and not in good physical condition. I don’t have the agility I used to have, or the muscle strength. Or balance. Or stamina. Hey! At least I still have my youthful enthusiasm.
I fell directly on my knees onto rocks on the walk down the path to the second waterfall. I’d been holding my phone to get some video - thinking I was one of the vloggers I watch; nimble, daring and skilled. But they not only have youth on their side, they also have waterproof Gopros and sturdy equipment. So I packed up my phone, took out my journal, and wrote while sitting in peaceful solitude at the base of the most magnificent waterfall I’d ever been that close to.
I was in reverence of the pure natural beauty. Truly amazed that nature was so absolutely mesmerizing. Butterflies of yellow and the Blue Morpho floated on gentle breezes catching rays of sunlight. Pink clusters of small flower buds burst from the intense green canopy of mixed trees, palms, bromeliads.
Tears welled in my eyes. How the heck did I get so lucky to be able to be here? I felt grateful for absolutely every moment that brought me to wade in that cool water. The water that soothed the stinging in my knees, washed away the dirt and sweat and renewed my spirit to continue taking the road less traveled. Was it the smartest decision to go alone? Well, up until a notice I got on a group text about hikers robbed at gunpoint in El Valle on the Dorminda trail, yes, I thought it was okay to be by myself. I’d told a friend where I was going and I was in denial about the poisonous snakes, so sure, I felt safe.
“Some Beautiful Paths Can’t Be Discovered Without Getting Lost”
La Cortina (The Curtain) First Waterfall of Filipinas, Sora, Panama
Filipinas Waterfall near Sora, Chame District, Panama
Filipina Panama, Waterfall. Chame District.
Turns out, if these two dogs hadn’t been my loyal guides and companions, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to press forward to Las Gemelitas (the twins), the furthest up the hillside I felt I could venture. These dogs curled up on the rocks and in the dirt while I journaled, dipped my body into the pure water and stared in amazement at the stunning creation surrounding me.
The female was nursing, the male obviously not neutered. They smelled horrendous and were likely covered in fleas - maybe ticks, nicks and bumps and their breath was like a biohazard. I loved these stinky canines. In fact, they made me consider having dogs in the future.
If I’m going to have a homestead, kind of seems like dogs are part of package deal. I’ve already had a tentative agreement with longtime friend, Gigi, that she can be the leader of that pack.
During painful times in my life I’ve not wanted to be in stillness or quietude. Now, I crave the peace because it allows the luminous wisdom of the natural world to guide my soul towards her desires. I believe that is the happily-ever-after story so many of us search for externally; so busy in our attempts to avoid the very thing that leads toward our contentment. Stillness.
