OPINION
LEAVE NO [ONLINE] TRACE We’re all familiar with leave-no-trace camping. There are times we need to have the same mindset for the digital impact our outdoor activities can have. Words & Photography JAMES TUGWELL
I
t was a single line on the bottom of a page in the only English We hailed a cab, paying a large sum (even after we bartered book in the common room of the Spanish-speaking hostel I down the ‘gringo tax’) to be driven one way to a random town “in was visiting. the mountains.” The taxi driver seemed to know the direction; I I would have overlooked it, had my thumb not caught on the was thankful he didn’t Google it. page as I flicked through. He drove his 2WD Kia along dirt roads designed for Land A town name and this quote: “Ruins atop a waterfall.” Rovers, flinging us from side to side. Traffic disappeared as we A bygone traveller had pencilled a faint tick beside the sentence left the town, replaced by the occasional villager with a bundle of as affirmation—the trace of a past adventure. I was intrigued. produce on their head. I flipped to the next page, hoping for more. Nothing. After forty minutes in the taxi, the dirt trail we were on ended I whipped out my phone and Googled the town name. Nothing. abruptly. Our driver pulled up beside a decrepit brick building that I Googled the entire sentence. Nothing. looked like it was once painted yellow and appeared to be a school, Did this place even exist? I double checked the spelling. No with a caged-in dirt basketball area with broken backboards. error. What was going on? “Here,” the taxi driver said. “Waterfall is that way. I won’t stay When my travel buddy also found no Google results, my advenfor you.” ture senses began tingling. A myth? A lost kingdom? Or maybe a We paid, and he sped down the dirt road back to town. We stood yarn for gullible travellers. I asked the hostel receptionist. there with backpacks on, completely alone. We were really at the She looked at me quizzically—probably because I slaughtered end of the road. every single Spanish syllable with my It was clear why my Google searches had Aussie accent—but the look continued yielded so few results: The town wasn’t on OUR ADVENTURE WAS Google maps. Our blue dot hovered aimeven when I pointed out the town name. “Not many people go,” she said in brolessly in the middle of nowhere. There was ken English. “No gringos know about it. no town name on my screen. You take taxi.” Following our driver’s directions, we I asked her where it was. found a foot trail twisting up a valley. As “In mountains,” was all she’d say. we lumbered along beside the river, we I asked to see a picture; she didn’t have one. I probed for more came upon a village. Locals in traditional dress were hacking the information, but she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me anything else. ground with mattocks in what appeared to be a communal working bee. We waved. They didn’t speak English. It makes sense, really, when their address doesn’t exist on Google. I wondered if IN ISSUE #183, WILD’S EDITOR James McCormack they even knew of Google. talked about keeping secrets in the outdoors. In a world of InsWe lugged ourselves up away from the village, the track gettagram and Google, it is hard to be surprised. We’ve seen thouting ever steeper. After two hours, doubt crept in. Just how far sands of images of destinations before we arrive—heck, we even were we going to labour along this track because of that guide plan itineraries around the pictures we’ve scrolled through. book? Was the tick a prank by a mischievous, bored traveller? But these “ruins atop a waterfall” seemed to be one of those Maybe there’s a reason no one comes here. Maybe there is no precious few secrets. And now, here on our final day in this little waterfall. Maybe it is exceptionally ordinary. At what point do town in South America, we were faced with a choice: Do a beautiwe accept this place just doesn’t want to be found, if it even exists ful hiking route we already knew about, which came with strong at all? recommendations, or chase these potential “ruins atop a waterI couldn’t shake the receptionist’s quizzical look. Maybe we fall”—recommended by a faint tick and a vague receptionist. really were crazy. No words of the sort were spoken. A silent look In hindsight, the decision should have been easy. But in that between the two of us shouted our doubts. We needed to find moment, the dilemma was anything but. Time is precious while something soon; our faith was faltering. travelling, and one doesn’t want to waste a day chasing some The river beside us was growing faster, and louder. Was that make-believe story. rapids, or maybe a waterfall? Could it be the waterfall?
ALL THE BETTER BECAUSE I COULDN’T FIND IT ON GOOGLE.”
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WILD
