My first trip to the mountains of Honduras was a rushed celebration.  A Thursday night birthday with work on Friday.  We arrived in the dark and left before sunrise in the bed of Walter’s truck; drinking beers on the ascent.

Returning, I foggily recalled the previous night:
tamales with Honduran family
grilled meat and tortillas
a broken knife
friends
and duty free whiskey

That Friday I flew to the United States of America.

As wonderful and celebratory as the first trip had been, it took a second (one month later) to truly realize the beauty of the mountains.  We arrived at night and slept on the floor. And then stayed well into the following Sunday.  We worked.  Building beds and tables at Walter’s soon-to-be Hostel.  In the afternoon, we napped and ate where we had worked; completing the process.

The mountain air was like cold spring water after a month of living in the heat, smog, and trash of the more heavily populated valley.  We drank deeply and appreciated the relative simplicity of the mountain life.  As a generalization, the people in the mountains are poor; working during the day for the food that they will eat at night.  One-to-one.

The mountains are fresh and clean because they are sparsely populated and have not yet been littered with human waste or because they are protected as parks.  One such example is Celaque, a Honduran national park near the town of Gracias a Dios in the Lempira district.  The name “Gracias a Dios” comes from Christopher Columbus, who, upon exiting the Honduran wilderness stated “Gracias a Dios que hemos salido de estas Honduras.”  Honduras translates to depths. The uninhabited depths of the wild tropical forests – the depths of the valleys and the height of the mountains.  Rebecca and I hiked into Celaque, stopping to eat beans, rice, and tortillas in an old woman’s home at the entrance to the park.  We swam in a cold, clean, mountain river and then climbed.  Beginning in the tropical valley, we passed through pine forests (the Pine is the national tree of Honduras) and then continued into a cloud forest.  It is incredible to pass through such a variety of pristine wilderness.

We went, again, to the mountains near Cofradía, where I live and teach.  Again with Walter.  Eight of us on the weekend of May 14th.  Packing quickly and gathering camping supplies after school on Friday – we climbed into the back of the truck; excited and dry.  An hour and a half later, we arrived in the mountains – soaking wet.   The only spot of dry in the back of the truck was a bag of clothes that Rebecca was planning to donate to the mountain community.  We dressed in her hand-me-downs to keep warm while time did its work on our clothing.  It hung everywhere.

On Saturday night we camped at a mountain coffee farm.  A nearby waterfall, “El Tucan,” is like water pouring down an ancient lava flow.  We were cold, making the sun a heavenly experience.  On Sunday morning I hiked alone until I found a grove of ferns standing in pine trees whose needles carpeted the earth.  I stood still for 10 minutes and then flew down the mountain to greet my comrades. Another trip to El Tucan.

We packed out, met Walter and ate oranges as they do in Honduras;  peeled to the white and halved to suck out the juices.  Soccer at the mountain field.  Fried chicken with plantains.

Standing behind the cab of Walter’s truck I feel like a bird. Flying.  The air breezes by as the truck lifts me further into the mountains.  It is difficult to stop smiling so I don’t.  The rows of coffee bushes cling to the steep slopes around us like so many gum drops, their shiny leaves reflecting the sunlight.  “It looks like the key got stuck on someone’s keyboard.”  Tim changes how it’s perceived.  I imagine the plants rising across the screen of the mountain with campesinos clinging to their sturdy stalks.

Honduras is approximately 80% mountainous so when you look above the rooftops you have an excellent chance of seeing something  that will brighten your day and remind you of your beautiful surroundings. I hope to return soon.

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