My casa is also home to an old German Shepard named Luna, and she lies beside me on the cool tile porch while I eat breakfast the next morning, happy to take the pieces of cheese I slip to her.
My host, Tito, is a local climbing guide, and after breakfast, I join him and a group of eight others in a taxi that takes us to a new spot where they are still bolting routes and putting up first ascents. We take a trail through the forest, scattering wild pigs as we walk, bushwhack our way across a field as a group of six goats watches, and climb up the steep earth to the limestone rock face.
The wall is at an exhausting 45-degree angle, maybe more, and I do more watching than climbing. The limestone tufas are unlike anything I’ve seen before.
In the afternoon, it tries to rain on us as we walk back to the road and catch taxies back to town.