***Background. Important when you consider my sister's boyfriend is slated to fly to the Congo in the next few days to work for this project...and in the context of her story.
It started raining and we lost the monkeys. In an attempt to find them I was separated from a co-worker. After a little searching, the wind began to pick up and the rain started coming down like nothing I have ever seen. Unbelievable. I stared at the river, watching it swell right before my eyes. It started rising at a rate I wouldn't have thought possible if I hadn't been standing there. At the time, it was reasonably amusing because I was on the right side of the river, and would not need to cross it to get out that night.
The rain continued like this for maybe a half hour or so before it occurred to me where the monkeys may have headed during a downpour like this. At this point it was almost 5pm. I was dumbfounded by the degree to which the trails were flooded. Wading mid-calf in water on well-maintained trails, newly forged streams rushing around me, I came to a part of a trail where we usually just have to leap from rock to rock in order to cross. I expected to have to wade fairly deeply, or to jump farther than usual in order to get across, but I was completely stunned to find that the small stream was now the kind of white water you'd see in the movies. Absolutely NO WAY I could cross without risking life and limb. With the water moving that fast and hard, there was no doubt I would have been overtaken and be swept down to the actual river, smashing body parts on large sharp rocks along the way. Reasonably worried, I ran upstream to a spot where we cross often....but again, completely impassible....immanent death.
I was actually stuck out there. My only option was to head up to the source of the stream and go over the top of it. I had been there once before, but finding it now in the dark, torrential rain posed a new challenge. I made it, but it was now a massive impassible waterfall. I went upstream even further and found a place where I could wade waist deep and hold onto tree limbs overhead in order to avoid being swept away. Relieved the worst was behind me, I'd be able to follow a fence I know of out to the dirt road where my co-worker was waiting for me in the car. I ended up encountering about 5 more rushing streams that I had to cross, trying desperately not to be swept away. To my delight, I did get swept in during one of these crossings and had to grab at reeds in order to pull myself out and onto a rock. After maneuvering around in 50 directions, trying to circumnavigate dangerous currents, I had no idea where I was. Pulled out the map I haven't used in about 8 months, deciding to head west until I hit the dirt road. It being pretty dark, I was a bit panic stricken. Compass in hand, I ran, crashing through endless acacia forest - trees lined with jagged bark with the biting/stinging ants that patrol them - knee deep in running water. I glanced at my compass every minute or so to make sure I was still going west and as fast as possible. Just when things started looking a little too familiar I realized I had come to a stream I had already crossed. Desperate, I pulled out the compass again. It was just spinning in circles, soaking wet and completely fucked. No way to tell how long it'd been leading me in the wrong direction. Dark now, with an appropriate thunder and lighting soundtrack, I was completely lost. And alone. Did I mention that? My coworker had been safely on the other side of that original stream and was already in the car. Out of pure luck I had the project cell phone on me to call my boyfriend before he left for the airport. Even more amazing, I got service and was able to call the house to explain my current circumstances. My boss drove up and down the dirt road, laying on the car horn in the hopes that I was within earshot....but I could hear nothing except the rain, thunder, and my own heart pounding in my ears. I just kept running in what I hoped was the same direction, thinking that was my best bet for getting to somewhere.
Needless to say, I eventually got out. My legs are all cut up from storming through bromeliads (cactus plants that grow in thick endless patches). Never felt it before I got home because of the adrenaline and an intense focus on getting the hell out of there. I wonder if I was more stressed about being lost because of the news about the missing researcher in the Congo? Being alone and lost in Lomas was scary enough. I can't imagine that poor girl in the Congo.
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