Los Gringos Walk On Waterfalls

This was the trip's decisive moment. The reason why we visited Juayua was to see los Chorros de la Calera, a set of three waterfalls, just out of town, around which stone embankments have been placed to create refreshing natural swimming pools. There was a better deal than a straight visit to los Chorros though - the Ruta de las Siete Cascadas (Seven Waterfalls Route) tour. And at US$20 per person it was a bargain. This would take us through a trail consisting of seven waterfalls (I didn't really count them when we visited though), negotiated with the assistance of a local guide and ropes, and finishing at los Chorros.

Below: we walked down that waterfall.

Amed and Jose were our guides, and Chiquita, one of Derek's two dogs, blithely tagged along. The route passed their house, where they stopped to get their gear. Once they were ready we thought we would be hitting the main road (wide enough for a vehicle to pass comfortably) again. Instead, we disappeared down a faint trail leading out from the back of their house. It was a sign of things to come.

Below: village life near Juayua, and laundry with a view (photographs taken with Amed's permission)

Below: the same view as from the church tower, but greener. Jose is standing with his hands in his pockets, while Amet poses next to Mary. Notice what looks like a criss-crossed pattern on the hills in the background - these are trees planted to shade the coffee plants against the sun.

The trail passed slopes which were blanketed with coffee plants. Amed explained that this was the harvest season and true to form, farmers seemed to materialize from the vegetation as we walked past. All carried baskets, which held the coffee berries they picked. As has been mentioned in a previous post on Santa Ana, the Salvadorean economy is built on the foundations of the tiny coffee bean. But this was only from the mid-nineteenth century, after the production of chemical dyes severely dented global demand for indigo, then El Salvador's principal export. The growing importance of coffee was underlined by the fact that between 1895 and 1926, the country's presidency was held by a succession of coffee barons. This smallest of the Central American republics even became the world's fourth largest coffee exporter in the 1970s.

Below (top to bottom): Mary is shown the real Coffee Bean, sans tea leaves; a coffee picker graciously smiles for the camera, we would have missed her without Amed pointing out their presence.

As we descended the slopes towards the first waterfall, both the scent of coffee and any signs of an established trail gradually faded. Amed and Jose pulled out their machetes, which they employed effectively in fashioning a way forward for us. The undergrowth closed in on us, the slopes grew steeper and even the soil in some parts became looser. In one such area, the earth gave way with a sharp cry where Mary placed her foot. She slipped and arrested what would have been a long slide with her elbows on what was left of the path.

We hauled her up. It appeared that she had twisted her foot, so we stopped for a while. Chiquita, sensing Mary's discomfort, snuggled up to her in solace. We were in a right quandary - the way back seemed too treacherous to retrace, while the way down involved ropes and waterfalls. Mary made the choice, Amed made another walking stick out of a suitably-proportioned branch, and we made our way gingerly forward.

Below: Chiquita the Faithful.

Las Siete Cascadas in question was actually an entire wall of falling water. All we needed to do was to climb down the first waterfall, and then follow the brook with the subsequent waterfalls on our right. It was easier said than done, of course. When we got to that first waterfall, Amed and Jose got out the gear, handed us the safety helmets and secured the ropes in place. Mary went first, because I knew not the terrain as well as our guides, who leapt up and down the falls as if it was no more than a flight of stairs on a rainy day.

Below (top to bottom): where we witness water issue from rock, just before making our way down the first waterfall; observe the contrast in composure, we were sure Amed didn't need the helmet.

Initially we took extra care not to completely submerge our boots. But once our socks were soaked, we simply followed the flowing water. In any case, it was easier than balancing on slippery stream-side rocks. The subsequent falls were less challenging - we simply walked, well, hobbled, right up to them. Lunch comprised sandwiches, chips and fruit juice, which we partook of near a ledge above the stream and beneath yet another wall of water. Only the insects marred the experience.

Below: river-tracing the rest of the way.

After overcoming all our earlier obstacles, we had to climb out of one valley and get into another to get to Los Chorros. The path differed little from the one where Mary lost her footing. Only this time she proceeded a lot more cautiously and on fours if necessary. There was little to report on this stretch except that we had to duck our heads and walk with bent backs frequently. We were never happier to finally get to Los Chorros.

As this was the final bit of the hike, Amed took off his boots, took out his soap and showered in the pool. Jose also indulged in a swim. The final stretch of Los Chorros was also the prettiest (this would be the first if we had opted to visit straight from town). There we met a friend of our guides, who then climbed up together to a narrow perch on the cliff face some two and a half stores above the pool. Without so much as a second thought, they plunged in turns into the frigid water beneath. I contented myself by flopping into the pool from ground level.

Below (top to bottom): climbing out of one valley to get into another; the final, more spectacular section of Los Chorros, notice who plunges, and who flops; Los Chorros, seen from the bottom of the weir.

I think I have both overestimated and underestimated Mary. I planned the volcano and waterfall hikes to be a day apart, but a couple more days of rest would have been wiser. On the other hand, she has also shown some tenacity given that she effectively completed this up and down trail on one leg. What happened changed the subsequent complexion of the trip. There would be no more hiking for 2014.

And we were to start, for the first time, a conventional do-nothing holiday.

*As I write this nine days later on Lago Atitlan in Guatemala, I'm also pleased to share that Mary is recovering very well.