Climbing Matafao

“Here we go boys, back down to Joey’s waterfall,” I say looking at my wrist. “My watch has 1:30 and we need to move as fast as we can, making sure no one gets hurt.” “Don’t worry Stanley our parents know we’re with you,” said Sean. “Yea, and we’re still having fun too,” said Joey. Wading, rolling, and climbing, while concentrating only on the terrain, we make our way to the lower waterfall. We stand and stare at the gut of the open-sided funnel; its upper torso has a much rougher texture than we remember. The irregular surface creates footholds and handholds that would allow us to climb at least halfway into its watery chest.

As spring water falls down over its face, it becomes a fountain of silvery tears that spray out of the blackish pool below. The intimidating dark water at its bottom suggests a pool of some depth, but I’m reminded how the watery troughs above had deceived me. Base tones bellowing from the fountain below also indicates this is no shallow pool. “What I wouldn’t give for some rope,” I blurt out with some despair. My machete’ seems to only add weight to my arms. My backpack, like a trash can of empty containers, produces hot humid sweat that continually rolls down my spine. Squatting low, I splash some cool water on my face in an attempt to clear my head. “There just isn’t an easy way down.”

Handing my backpack and machete’ to the boys, I begin scaling down the one flat side of the funnel. When I reach the half way point, possibly nine feet from the pool, I run out of handholds. Staring at the pool below, I convince myself of the obvious, “I’ll have to jump.” Then picking a deep looking spot, close to the center of the pool, I leap from the ledge. My feet meet the water with a splash and I feel them ski out from under me. With a sharp pain, my tailbone skips off a hard surface, and with a thud, my head slips under the water. When I finally rise for air, I hear the boys say with some laughter, “Are you alright, Stanley?” Unsure of the answer, I stand upright in only four feet of water. Other than a throbbing in my head, ankles, and backside, I seem to have weathered the fall unscathed.