The Cloud Forest

Our hour or so long bus ride came to an end in a beat up town in the middle of biodiversity’s splendor. The ride wound around lowlands covered in trees and misty clouds hung over the valleys. The clouds hid the sun, making it feel timeless, as if we were moving through a dream where the ceiling would bend around us and wrap us up in its gray aura. I swear I saw a unicorn move through the branches below us within the steep decline into dark caves wrestling for light at the bottom of our ascending and descending landscape. The steps to heaven were also hidden in there somewhere, behind the invisible gorillas making their way through the wispy clouds that needed a rest from the high altitude. Meanwhile, stuffed into a humid bus, upholstered with maroon seat fabric and covered with Ecuadoran travelers, I stifled my growing nausea and leg cramps by setting my mind on the scenery and the thin slit of air breathing through the cracked window.

When we arrived I hobbled off the bus, landing on a concrete stoop alongside a dirt road, in the middle of a clouded town. The air was saturated with moisture, seasoned with birds squawking and squeaking. Wearing my backpack on my front no longer felt as necessary. I could feel that the dangers of Quito were behind us. Here we were in the forest of the clouds.

We walked along the dirt road up to our hostel, passing concrete houses and nondescript restaurants and juice bars along the way. The air muffled any sharpness that the noises of the few cars around us would have made. My clothes were already beginning to dampen, as the hidden sun evaporated above the thick mess of clouds.

Our hostel stood immersed in green waxy plants and leaves, allowing no space for creation to think but just to exist in its astounding colorful beauty. The river rushed below us, as it had been filled by the rain of past days. Tiny insects were present, though we didn’t know it until feeling their bites later. The brownies are what this town was known for, which we partook of at a table sticking out of a small restaurant where the hummingbird plants grew. The restaurant makes its own chocolate and harvests its own coffee, two concepts that create a little piece of heaven on earth for my taste buds.

Afterwards, we pulled back the mosquito nets in our tree house and fell asleep to the sound of the lively river.

In the morning I couldn’t help but head to the café for some of that freshly roasted coffee with my name written on it in ten different fonts. My travel companions Toshiba, Osprey and Nalgene joined me as well, taking their place on the table and encouraging my fingers to type on the keyboard. I tried to shoot some of the hummingbirds with Canon, but few would hold still long enough. Like overgrown bumblebees, they bounded from flower to flower to drink their nectar as I drank my own.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that I met the forest, the raining blessing our engagement. Along with my human friends, I slid down muddy paths collecting the chocolate dirt in my shoes and on my feet. We continued on in search of six waterfalls. It was impossible to take in the thousands of different kinds of plants surrounding me as I was trying to watch every slippery step. Centipedes and caterpillars were also traversing the same ground and we met them from time to time. Every inch of my head, hands and feet felt soaked. The concept of being dry had never become so appreciated in my mind, though the circumstances perfectly matched my concept of being in a rainforest. After crossing two rivers, we finally found all of our waterfalls. By then the rain had stopped, and we headed back to where we had begun, taking our zip line cart hundreds of feet in the air above the forest.

We got in the back of a truck and were jostled all the way back to the town center, picking up a few ex-pats along the way. Finding my only dry clothes was like Christmas morning all over again. After putting on my pajama pants, we headed out for food and hot chocolate, all of which were wonderful rewards for our day of rainy outdoor adventures.

My headache began to set in and spiked during the night, continuing throughout the next morning. I attributed it to the altitude (of course). However, writing next to the river and reading in our hammocks calmed it down eventually. A skinny green vine stretched its arm through the window of the bathroom as I was taking a shower, its leaves greeting me (in Spanish). Before we left, we walked along the mud puddles next to the coffee farm and sat on the bamboo swings of the juice bar. At 4 pm we headed to the bus and spent the next hour and half or so journeying through the mystical forest back to Quito, with A Night at the Museum (with Ben Stiller) playing the entire way, dubbed in Spanish.

The Cloud Forest rests there still, holding its butterflies and hummingbirds captive for the next visitors to enjoy. May they receive less bug bites and more sun, but still feel the magic that exists there.