The night I got rescued with my BlackBerry from a Colombian jungle

With all the hullabaloo with BlackBerry going out of business because of the two major “telephone” manufacturers dominating sales because of their adolescents – and wanna-be adolescents – pleasing devices, many have forecast, proclaimed, written-off the Canadian phone manufacturer. But, not me. I have tried both Apple and Samsung products, and I can irrevocably say, when it comes to my line of work, BlackBerry is the only one that means “BUSINESS.” All other devices out in the market right now are mere toys.

That said, I am currently writing my first book, which ironically enough has a BlackBerry reference. And, one that is catchy, too. Below is an excerpt from the book, “No Permanent Address: The Adventures and Misadventures of… Modern Nomad.”

When it comes to daring adventures, I am not one to say no. I have bungee-jumped from one of the world’s longest bungee-jump sites – Victoria Falls Bungee – three times before. I have walked with a family of lions (in Zimbabwe), and swum with sharks (in Hawaii) and piranhas (in the Ecuadorian Amazon). I have also gone skydiving twice in Hawaii, which, at 10,000 feet, makes it one of the highest allowed jumps in the world. These experiences are framed within the context of me seeking adventure. But, what happens if for some unforeseen reason, what is meant to be a simple sightseeing tour turns into an unpredictable adventure?

The plan was to hike Sta. Marta Y. Tayrona Park for the entire day. The day hike was part of a post-tour itinerary for delegates of the United Nations World Tourism Organization’s (UNWTO) General Assembly, which was held in Cartagena. The instruction was simple: dress lightly and prepare to walk for an entire day.

The trip went according to plan up until we reached the beach, which no one had communicated was the midpoint of the hike. The hiking trail leading to the beach entailed going uphill and downhill on both rocky and grassy grounds. Along the way, there was even an “encounter” with an indigenous family, which I suspect was staged based on the children’s behavior. In all of the pictures I’ve taken of the three children who were supposed to be living in the house, there was a look of defiance on their face. They looked and acted like they did not want to be there.

The tour group was comprised of people from various parts of the world. While the majority was capable of taking on the grueling hike, some had no business being there. Nevertheless, those who couldn’t walk had access to either a horse or donkey. I remember feeling sorry for some of the smaller donkeys, as they had to carry a few who were a little on the obese side. Those poor animals had it rough that day.

Lunch was served at the beach. There were no further instructions, so most of us headed towards the beach for a dip. Since our guide allowed us to, we took our time. Some laid on the beach, some opted for a swim. It was almost as if we were rewarding ourselves for having survived the hike. Little did we know, we were way off and had fallen way behind schedule.

I remember being jolted from being relaxed to hurrying up. The announcement came too late. We had to hike to the meeting point before it got dark. “The jungle is too dangerous at night,” we were told. I saw the general direction where people were heading, so I followed whoever was in front of me. Somewhere along the way, the number of people ahead of me dwindled until there were only two people left to follow. I was relieved to find that they were the Venezuelan guys I had spoken to earlier during the day. They looked like they knew where they were going, so I followed their lead. As we walked together, I found out that they were just as lost as I was, and we were all wondering the same thing: what happened to the tour guide?

As darkness crept in, we increased our pace because, as one of the Venezuelan guys had put it, “this jungle is very dangerous.” Hurriedly, we walked and tried to follow the trail. Then, we came across a turning point. Which way were we supposed to go? We picked a path and kept walking. About 10 minutes later we came upon a house, then almost immediately we heard a definitive sound – a dog was barking angrily at us. Clearly, our presence was not welcomed. We looked at each and without saying it, we knew that getting attacked by a dog was very much a possibility at that point.

All of a sudden, we could see a dog heading towards our direction. We immediately scattered and tried to grab whatever we could find to use to defend ourselves from the angry dog. The dog darted towards the shorter Venezuelan guy, who was visibly shocked at the sight of a dog about to attack him. Luckily, a man came out of the house and ordered the dog to stop before he could bite the poor guy. The man from the house exchanged a few words in Spanish with the Venezuelans and they did not look pleased with what they learned. We took the wrong path at the turning point. We headed back towards the turning point as fast as we could, but the dreaded scenario was imminent – it was going to be pitch black very soon.

Sure enough, it was pitch dark, and we hadn’t even reached the turn point yet. I took my BlackBerry mobile phone out of my pocket and used it as my flashlight. The taller Venezuelan turned his camera on, and I remembered feeling relieved, because it covered a wider range than my BlackBerry device. There was no doubt about it. We were in deep trouble. The trail had become even more unpredictable – uneven, slippery and steep. I could tell that the Venezuelans were beginning to get really worried. The change in their demeanor spoke volumes. Being that they come from the neighboring country of Colombia, I trusted their judgment.

Earlier we had joked about almost getting attacked by a dog. How we darted towards different directions to run away from the dog was actually comical. But, the joking around was short-lived. Then the talking decreased until no one was talking at all. We were silent, lost, dumbfounded and were hoping for the same thing – that we were heading in the right direction.

At some point, I found myself in front of them using my BlackBerry as a flashlight. I thought I was doing a good job of leading until I bumped into something that felt like a wall. That was when I learned that the light illuminating from my BlackBerry only covered the area that was within my arms’ reach. So, when I hit the wall, I had my device pointed towards the ground. Puzzled with what I collided with, I raised my BlackBerry and pointed it forward. Seeing that I had stopped, the Venezuelans pointed their “flashlight” in my direction. There I was standing next to a huge rock, which was at least three times taller than I was but really wide. At first, we thought we had reached another dead-end, but the marks on the ground on the left side of the rock were definitely a path. I remember touching the rock as I slowly went around it. Ultimately, it led us on a downhill path. “We have to be careful, guys, because the path is rocky and slippery,” said one of the Venezuelans.

Thankfully, it wasn’t that long until we got to an area where it was clearly a path and on plain ground. “Hey, guys, we have to stop right here. I think it is safer for us to stay where we are. Shut our cameras and save our batteries. This is getting too dangerous,” said the guy who was almost attacked by a dog. Without saying a word, the other guy and I agreed. We gathered close and found a spot, sat and proceeded to shut our devices off. “Let’s stay here, and hope that they’ll come and get us.” So we did just that. Silently. For a few dreadful minutes.

The most surreal thing about the experience is the fact that everyone seemed to have just disappeared. There were at least 20 people on that hike, and they all seemed to have vanished. Trapped in the dark somewhere in that Colombian jungle, we were obviously afraid of what we didn’t know. We felt safer to stay put, because we didn’t know the terrain, and we most certainly did not want another animal encounter. How far were we from help was, of course, the biggest question. As we contemplated our fate, we sat in silence for a few minutes. Not a word was said. Our tour guide had failed us, and we needed outside help to guide us to safety.

I’m not entirely sure how long we sat there, but it seemed like an eternity. As we sat in silence, I paid attention to the sounds nearby. I had hoped to hear people talking. For a while, there was nothing but the deafening sound of silence and the overwhelming feeling that I may possibly have to spend the night right where I was. It was arguably the safest choice at that point.

Then suddenly, we heard the distant sound of people talking. We remained silent, as we tried to figure out which direction the voices were coming from. Whoever they were, they were coming from the same direction that we came from. The closer they became, the more I could make out what they were saying. I felt relief when I heard they were speaking in English. But, I felt even better after hearing the voice of a woman with a very distinct Russian accent . The voice belonged to someone familiar, someone I knew very well. “That’s Alla Peressolova!” I said. I quickly turned my BlackBerry back on and waited for a visual sign of the group. As soon as I saw them, I waved my phone and said, “Alla, is that you?” Sounding confused, she replied, “Nelson?” We were safe!

As they made their way downhill. I began to recognize a tall Caucasian woman in the middle of mostly local people – it was definitely Alla. As soon as she got to where I had been sitting with the two Venezuelans, she asked, “What happened to you? And why are you waving your BlackBerry?”

I have known Alla for most of my professional life, as she has worked for the United Nations World Tourism Organization even before it became a specialized agency for the United Nations. There was a certain level of comfort between us, so I told her what I had just gone through with the two journalists from Venezuela. She was shocked that the guide and the other Colombians who were supposed to look after us had abandoned us. Luckily for her, the locals she was with came prepared – they brought real flashlights. More importantly, they knew exactly how to get to the meeting point. She later made a joke about rescuing me in the jungle with a BlackBerry in my hand. I replied, “Yes, Alla. I suppose we’ll call this the night my BlackBerry helped save me from a Colombian jungle.”

As for the guys from Venezuela, they spoke very little while Alla and I traded notes on the way back to the hotel. But, I could tell that they felt just as relieved as I was that we did not have to spend the night in that jungle. They were back to being jolly, as they had been earlier on when I first met them. We later shared a drink and took a moment to pose for a picture.

Some months after the incident, I ran into Travel Mole publisher Charles Kao, who also hiked with us that day. He was still very much upset at the tour guide about what happened. And, we apparently had made the right decision to stop where we did when we did. Charles said: “You are lucky you stopped. I learned that there is a crocodile farm somewhere close to where you were.”

To this day, I remain a BlackBerry customer because it is truly the only device I prefer as a very busy journalist. Might I say, the P9983 is looking pretty dandy? (Note to BlackBerry: I’d be open to having one. Shall we discuss terms? [email protected] is the address.)

This article is an excerpt from the upcoming book by Nelson Alcantara titled, “No Permanent Address: The Adventures and Misadventures of… Modern Nomad.” Please visit www.111finiteloop.net for more info.