M is for MisahallÍ
Misahualli [pronounced Mee-sa-hwah-yee] takes you straight into the deep jungle alongside the Napo River, a tributary to the Amazon When I was traveling around Ecuador, I met two gringos, a French woman, and a couple–Swiss gal and local guy. Together, we decided to go on a jungle adventure.
This is an excerpt taken from my Ecadorian WIP (work-in-progress).
Antonio found a very long vine, and whipped it over to Joe, “Jungle Boy, you can climb?”
Joe did, pounding his chest. “Me Tarzan.”
I rolled my eyes.
Mark swung next, and then Hector.
“You go now.” Antonio nudged.
I sized up the vines in that area, but they looked dark and tangled.
Our guide took it for granted I was game. “Easy climb. You can do.”
Antonio waved me to his side. “I help you.” He unwound a thin but sturdy rope draped around his shoulders, made some thick knots, and pulled them tight. He gave the rope a final cut with his machete then tied it onto the vine. He scuttled up and tied it to the top of the vine, then easily swung down. “Easy, now you do.”
It took some convincing to get me to buy into this crazy plan. He took my foot and placed it on the first oversized knot. Then he took my hand and gave me a boost up.
“Antonio, no…maybe Marie wants to climb. I’m no Jungle Jane.”
Marie shook her head and backed away. Everyone watched, fascinated.
I cracked under the pressure. There was no choice but to climb it now.
I took the rope in my hands one last time, wrapped it around my wrists and inched up. Both hands trembled. I can do this. The closer I got toward the top of the vine, the dimmer the light. It disappeared into the branches of the trees. “You Tarzan, Me…”
Before I could get the words ‘Jungle Jane’ out, I started to slip. Where is that knot? I fumbled. Caught myself. Tried to feel for the knot again without letting go. Come on! Where is that knot? I missed the knot, and felt my grip slip and me, along with it. “Ow…I’m falling. Help!”
I slid the whole way down. With a thud, I hit the ground.
Antonio raced to my side. He sounded anxious. “You okay?”
My hands, skinned and red from rope-burn, my knee, and my behind all throbbed. I wanted to cry. But didn’t I come to the jungle for adventure? “Yes, I…I think I’m okay.”
When have you been talked into doing something you didn’t feel comfortable doing? What was the result?
You have just read, “M is for Misahualli,”by Amy L. Bovaird. Copyright April 15, 2015. You can see who else is participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge HERE.