Das rätselhafte Verschwinden von Kris Kremers & Lisanne Froon
12.02.2016 um 11:22Ich habe hier grade noch einen Blogeintrag von Jemandem gefunden, der im April 2011 den Pianista Trail mit Freunden gewandert ist und er hat interessante Feststellungen gemacht über den Weg:
http://earthdrifter.com/blog/2011/04/08/how-three-hikers-became-separated/ (Archiv-Version vom 19.09.2015)
[...] We stood and talked when a native Boquete guide and a few tourists were returning from a long hike to what was apparently the end of the trail at the top of a mountain. They’d started at 7:30am. It was now 12 noon. Lienke and I had delayed our desired early morning starting time to avoid the rain.
The jovial guide suggested that it isn’t safe going without a knowledgeable local. We figured that this was his bread and butter, so of course he was going to say that. He honestly told us that just before the first river crossing is a small path to the left. This is what Vanessa, like us, had no idea about. She joined us in the hopes of making it to the end of the trail, somewhere around what may be the top.
Upon switching to the trail on the left, we began an ascent. The terrain had completely changed as we were now in a dense, green forest and hiking upward.
The path got steep and muddy when Lienke decided it was time to turn back. She’d thought that the slippery descent could be dangerous.
Hailing from the Canadian Rockies, the intrepid Vanessa was on a mission. She wanted to make it to the top. Personally, I love steep hikes, but not when I have to walk down muddy, earthen stairs afterward.
If I’d understood our gregarious and garrulous hostel owner Pancho Palacios correctly, then the trail didn’t end. I thought we’d walk as long as we wanted to until we felt like turning back. So, Lienke and I had planned to hike until we felt like making our way back.
I was caught, as one side of me wanted to keep going with Vanessa. Lienke turned back, and said she had no problem waiting at a landmark that we’d passed a bit below.
Vanessa and I then marched upward along wet and precipitous earth. After an amazing leg workout, something equivalent to moving quickly up multiple staircases of a building, we came to a more level area of the path.
Over and over it looked as if we’d come to an opening, to a spot with a spectacular view. We walked and walked while up ahead it looked the same. The mountain forest’s density appeared endless.
I wanted to keep going, but my gut feeling told me that the sludgy path was endless. Finally, I decided to turn back.
Part of my intuition stemmed from what my friend Señor Palacios had said about the path never ending. Vanessa was determined to keep going. I told her that I really hoped I’d have a chance to hear how the rest of her trek went.
I easily ventured in the opposite direction until I came to the steep descent.
Going up made my legs feel strong. I enjoyed the invigorating cardio.
Going down I could only think of being safe, of not slipping and taking a potentially tragic fall. I grabbed wet marshy trees to break my fall. My new $80 shoes kept sinking into the muddy earth. The bottom of my pants became one with the wet dirt. I thought: There were three of us hiking together. It’s really best not to hike alone, just in case something were to happen. Now, the three of us are alone. This is nuts.
I plopped myself down, around trees and rocks and endless mud, doing pretty well to not slip and take a spill, I then met back up with Lienke."
http://earthdrifter.com/blog/2011/04/08/how-three-hikers-became-separated/ (Archiv-Version vom 19.09.2015)
[...] We stood and talked when a native Boquete guide and a few tourists were returning from a long hike to what was apparently the end of the trail at the top of a mountain. They’d started at 7:30am. It was now 12 noon. Lienke and I had delayed our desired early morning starting time to avoid the rain.
The jovial guide suggested that it isn’t safe going without a knowledgeable local. We figured that this was his bread and butter, so of course he was going to say that. He honestly told us that just before the first river crossing is a small path to the left. This is what Vanessa, like us, had no idea about. She joined us in the hopes of making it to the end of the trail, somewhere around what may be the top.
Upon switching to the trail on the left, we began an ascent. The terrain had completely changed as we were now in a dense, green forest and hiking upward.
The path got steep and muddy when Lienke decided it was time to turn back. She’d thought that the slippery descent could be dangerous.
Hailing from the Canadian Rockies, the intrepid Vanessa was on a mission. She wanted to make it to the top. Personally, I love steep hikes, but not when I have to walk down muddy, earthen stairs afterward.
If I’d understood our gregarious and garrulous hostel owner Pancho Palacios correctly, then the trail didn’t end. I thought we’d walk as long as we wanted to until we felt like turning back. So, Lienke and I had planned to hike until we felt like making our way back.
I was caught, as one side of me wanted to keep going with Vanessa. Lienke turned back, and said she had no problem waiting at a landmark that we’d passed a bit below.
Vanessa and I then marched upward along wet and precipitous earth. After an amazing leg workout, something equivalent to moving quickly up multiple staircases of a building, we came to a more level area of the path.
Over and over it looked as if we’d come to an opening, to a spot with a spectacular view. We walked and walked while up ahead it looked the same. The mountain forest’s density appeared endless.
I wanted to keep going, but my gut feeling told me that the sludgy path was endless. Finally, I decided to turn back.
Part of my intuition stemmed from what my friend Señor Palacios had said about the path never ending. Vanessa was determined to keep going. I told her that I really hoped I’d have a chance to hear how the rest of her trek went.
I easily ventured in the opposite direction until I came to the steep descent.
Going up made my legs feel strong. I enjoyed the invigorating cardio.
Going down I could only think of being safe, of not slipping and taking a potentially tragic fall. I grabbed wet marshy trees to break my fall. My new $80 shoes kept sinking into the muddy earth. The bottom of my pants became one with the wet dirt. I thought: There were three of us hiking together. It’s really best not to hike alone, just in case something were to happen. Now, the three of us are alone. This is nuts.
I plopped myself down, around trees and rocks and endless mud, doing pretty well to not slip and take a spill, I then met back up with Lienke."