“Would you like to go to Ecuador’s Rainforest? My daughter is there studying in Quito for her Community Health program.”
“Sure! I’ve got some time clear, and I’ve always wanted to experience that part of the world—should be fun!”
Six weeks later Jean, Patti and I were off on an excellent adventure—packing everything we would need into a backpack. Picture this outfitted tourist… my “Seattle Sombrero” specifically designed for high humid areas—AKA rainforest--, a 2 liter camelback as anchor for the bouncing blue backpack protector—potentially necessary for my non-waterproof dual purpose computer backpack, and the blue microfiber towel to wick away all my sweat. Going down through the layers, I’d load up my multi-pocket cargo pants, vest and/or jacket, passport case with charge cards and some cash, the bright red fanny pack with camera, binoculars, travel journal, calendar, hand sanitizer, business cards, and my under-clothing money belt. Topping it off with the backpack holding all the clothing I would have for the trip, and a walking stick. Not exactly blending into airport crowds, but we were ready.
Quito gave us a taste of urban Ecuador, preparing us for our bus trip to the Intag Cloud Forest. We stayed with Sandy Statz and Carlos Zorilla who often host eco-tourism groups from universities. Actually hiking in the Cloud forest meant piling everything on my newly broken in hiking shoes, replaced by knee high rubber boots for supposedly safe, dry footing. Moving forward meant slipping on the layers underfoot: rich brown mud and wet rocks covered by decomposing leaves. My bottom half struggled to maintain grounding and balance while my top half sagged under the carefully piled weights and straps. Malaria meds compromised my balance to boot. So, no surprise at my constant fatigue—with the high altitude in the Cloud Forest and 100% humidity both there and in the Rainforest. Whew! I wasn’t prepared for what I was signing up for when I agreed to accompany Jean and Patti. Maybe that’s a good thing, or I wouldn’t have gone. Nah…… I’m way too adventurous to miss a chance like this.
After a couple of days in the Intag Cloud Forest, we walked, and then caught a taxi back to Quito so we could catch our flight to Coca and the Rain Forest. We spent two hours on the dock after being fitted for our second set of rubber boots, waiting for the Overseas Adventure Tours OAT group to arrive to join us on the canoe trip to Yarina lodge.
During our wait I took some photos of flowers and local laborers. One man hammered long and hard with a tool that seemed much too small, knocking out a wall for a window. Another crew was teetering on the edge of scaffolding working together to build walls on a nearby building. They spread the soft concrete on the wall and then smoothed it out vertically with a 2x4. It looked like one tough job to this uninitiated observer. After drinking all the water in my camelback, I went looking for the dock’s bathroom. It had faucets, but no running water. The woman attendant checked with several people before anyone was able to turn it back on. You never know what’s next… Running water is NOT to be taken for granted from this point forward on the trip—or even at home.
A day in the rainforest:
Our guide told us that generators would be turned on at 5 AM, so hot water should be available by 6. Not sure if it worked, we were too tired to budge ‘til 7 except on our last day there. We had the option of Bird watching at 6:30, breakfast at 7, morning hike at 8:30, lunch at 12:30, afternoon hike at 3:00, dinner at 7, and night hike at 8.
Franklin, our knowledgeable tour guide, unfortunately spoke only Spanish. He got rave reviews from a departing American man we met while we waited on the dock for our canoe trip. We had been delighted to pick his brain while his group stopped to turn in their rubber boots. He told us Franklin was the best guide he had experienced in the jungle—but this tourist speaks more Spanish than the three of us put together! Our little group booked the trip too late to get a trained English speaking guide, so they contracted with trainee Santiago to help translate Franklin’s informative descriptions. Our hikes went something like this… Franklin would describe a plant’s medicinal qualities and role in the life cycle of the jungle, speaking for about 5 minutes. Santiago would then try to tell us what Franklin said…and shrug. I videotaped this sequence once, just for an illustration. We actually learned a few Spanish words by default this way--no extra charge. I caught things like “medicinal” and Santiago’s version of “vine” which came out as “vain”. Laughing through our bumbling efforts, everyone helped each other learn, redefining international understanding in the process.
Each time I saw something to photograph –lots of story shots—Patti behind me would take my walking stick, I’d unzip my red fanny pack, take out the case, take the camera out of the case, turn it on, aim and shoot, then reverse the process… 762 times. Many of them turned out great! Next step…go through them all, order and share them.
On our first hike the sweat dripped off the brim and cord attaching my Seattle Sombrero to my head. Franklin took pity on us, using his ever-present machete to slice some big heavy leaves into serviceable fans for us. We were impressed by his workmanship and they came in very handy. I didn’t keep mine very long. Franklin pointed out a ravine to our left as he stepped over the large fallen leaves. Jean also passed over the spot covered by branches and leaves. I stepped carefully onto the center vein of the large leaf, but went down like a shot, sinking up to my knee before catching myself with the palm of my right hand, further damaging my already injured right shoulder and—losing my leaf fan. Breathless and shaking, I accepted everyone’s offer to help regain my footing. Good bye fan, hello strained muscles. So much for safety… I don’t even want to think of what could have happened, and am very thankful it wasn’t worse and my camera wasn’t in that hand. It made a great story later when I discovered I needed surgery to repair my torn rotator cuff, torn bicep and the bone spur we already knew about—but that’s another story. Jean pointed out, “They were clearly surprised that hole was there!” Yep, me too!
Another day we visited the wild animal preserve. Franklin pointed out a moving trail of leaves. Actually, it was leaf cutter ants hard at work. He told us that they choose a particular tree, strip it of its leaves, and each ant carries a piece maybe 10x its size to their colony where it’s cultured into mushrooms. We shared the only path with the ants for a long distance, unavoidably walking right on them. Eventually they attacked—climbing up our boots and into Jean’s, Patti’s, and Claire’s, but not mine. They climbed up my boots, and onto my pants, but my boots were tighter, and the baggy pants hung over the tops. Shut out! Hooray for baggy pants! We frantically tried to brush the biting creatures off each other, with Patti, Jean and Claire jumping around in the mud hollering,” Get them off me!” No luck. They just bit our hands and refused to leave. Couldn’t really blame them, but we learned another life lesson—don’t mess with the leaf cutter ants!
Three times during our stay at the Yarina Lodge, a Blue Malva butterfly swooped across our path. What a gift that was! Its size amazed me. I gasped at its beauty as it caught the rays of sunshine passing through the forest canopy on our hike. Another one followed us on our boat trip to the native homes, dancing between the plants on either side of the water in front of us. It teased my too slow attempts to get my camera out of its case. That fluorescent blue moment is recorded only in my memory, not on a photo card. After the trip, Jean thanked me for joining her on the trip. She gave me a card which Sandy Statz’ s students made on homemade paper and hand painted with their personal version of my favorite Blue Malva Butterfly. A very special, thoughtful keepsake!
© Sandra Sunquist Stanton NCC, LPC
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