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Published: June 24th 2008
It was 5am. I had already been hiking for an hour through the heavy darkness of the forest, my glasses fogged with the thick humidity, my boots almost lost to sucking mud on several occasions - and then my headlamp decided to die. We still had an hour ahead, up and down steep, muddy ravines, over fallen trees. I would only have the weak light of my guide Edison's flashlight to navigate. I would have to try and not think of ten inch millipedes or earthworms wide as a child's wrist. Was that a leech that dropped onto my collar? I began to ask myself: was it really worth this?
An hour later, I was nestled on a ledge above a stand of trees just becoming visible in the dawn gloom. It was remarkably silent.
And then it wasn't. As if on cue, the forest erupted in a cacophonous din akin to a chorus of upset primates. There was no sight of them yet, just their cries, a battle of sound. But then the branches were on fire with their bright scarlet. This was the lek of the cotingas (cocks-of-the-rock), the place where every morning, at precisely 6am, the
males scream, dance, fight for the attention of the females. I had never seen anything like it, and I knew: the trek had been worth it.
****
I have descended from the dripping, verdant realm of the clouds. Although it takes some effort to reach - a crowded two hour bus ride from Quito to the valley town of Nanegal, a 45 minute truck ride (over extremely rough terrain) from Nanegal to the base of the mountain, and an hour plus hike, straight up - the Bosque Nublado Santa Lucía, a private cloud forest reserve, is a special place.
The lodge is set on a high plateau (though at 1930 meters, it is still lower than Quito which rests at more than 2800 meters), surrouded by thousands of acres of cloud forest that fall sharply in every direction. This is the western flank of the Andes, thus capturing, literally, the clouds rolling in from the Pacific. The forests, cool and humid, are bathed constantly in moisture, either mist or regular rain. During my three days in the preserve, the pattern was for the mornings to be clear - offering a panoramic view of the mountains and valleys -
but in the afternoon, around lunch time, the clouds would rise from the valley and engulf the plateau. Tendrils of white vapor crept through the open windows and doors. The temperature dropped considerably. Then it would rain. And then it wouldn't.
Due to the steep terrain, any hike was, by necessity, downhill from the lodge and, of course, a steep uphill on the way back. The first day, Edison, my guide, took me through a "gentle" daylight loop, pointing out orchids, bromeliads, and other ephiphytes; toucans, barbets, tangers, quetzals, and other birds; millipedes, bull spiders, inca-masked spiders, and other creepy-crawlies. The next day, he took me to the cotinga's lek. Not so gentle!
When not exerting myself (each hike left me drenched and covered in mud from head to toe), I relaxed in one of the hammocks swinging on the porch and read. The tranquility was only broken by the cries of a different kind of wildlife: two French boys, five and two, who ran and screamed with abandon. They belonged to a couple who were volunteering at the preserve. For my first two days, they were my only company aside from Edison and his mother, Rosario, the
cook. But on Monday, the other volunteers returned from their weekend away, and the lodge came to life.
Still, the quiet of the forest was not far away. Drip, drip. The songs of birds. The whir of insects. Beauty.
Tomorrow on to the urban jungle of Guayaquil...
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Sheldon
non-member comment
Awesome
The title is pretty trite but I can't think of any other words. That forest sounds amazing. Extremely rugged but well worth the trek. I hate to ask but what about mosquitoes? Hope you'll be back in one piece.