While hiking up Parque Nacional Volcan Baru in Panama this past Thanksgiving, I discovered that I am prone to altitude sickness. The plan was to hike up the 3,474 meters and I never once considered making the conversion into feet (11,398). Which wouldn't have made any difference since I didn't know I would get sick past 8,000 feet. Actually not sure where it started but the wobbly walking, nausea, pounding headache and constant fumbling dropping of my flashlight were my first clues. It was rainy, dark and a little cool when we started our hike at 1 am. Why? To be at the top at sunrise and hope that the clouds will part. Because guarantee the clouds will come rolling back in before noon. Anyway, somewhere along 9 or 10,000 feet, I was ready to curl up on the side of the trail. I told my husband I had nothing to prove and did not need to go to the top. He could continue on and I'd wait for him. Well he was not going to leave me behind and I felt a tad better. Well, not exactly better but since I had finished a marathon a few weeks ago, I was still in the mode of giving myself pep talks. And I did a lot of self talking to get myself moving. The sun had now risen and I find myself at a plateau with LOTS of cell towers. Did I puke up to the top of this national park to view Panama's finest cell towers? I was content to just stop here at cell tower central. But nooo, our guide came down and practical dragged me up to the top. The reward: the best panaroma of the Pacific on one side. Turn around and the Caribbean on the other.
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