Although it was midday, the dense green canopy blocked out the sun and engulfed the trail in shadow, still wet with yesterday's rain and the morning's mist. The air was humid, though not swelteringly hot like the lowland rainforests, and was rich with the smells of vegetation, of earth, of the processes of life - a smell unique to this place. I was in the Reserva Biológica Bosque Nuboso Monteverde, the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve, on one of its most remote trails approaching a sweeping vista on top of a mountain at the continental divide.
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| The Dense Canopy in Monteverde |
As I walked slowly along the trail the trees became shorter and thinner, letting some diffused light reach me. The bird songs that fill the air in most of the cloud forest faded into a quiet calmness. The thick, green, wet ferns glistened silently on the sides of the muddy pathway. I continued walking up, towards the light at the end of the trail, beyond the trees. The sound of wind grew louder, first as a gentle breeze in the distance, then as sudden gusts.
Finally, when I reached the vista at the end of the trail, I was covered in a blinding blanket of white. The thick clouds were swirling around me; warm currents coming up one side of the mountain colliding violently above me with cold air sweeping down from the other side. I had been to this overlook many times before and had always encountered thick, omnipresent clouds, and powerful Atlantic and Pacific winds crashing together.
This was my third visit to Monteverde in four years; first as a student in a study abroad program called Sustainable Futures, and then twice more as a teacher in the same program. My wife was coming to visit this time, but was stuck in San Jose, the capital city, because a rainstorm had washed out the bridge – and all forms of communication – to Monteverde on the Pan American highway in the valley far below.
In the 1950s, a group of American Quakers from Alabama who were opposed to the draft for the Korean War left the U.S. in search of greener pastures. What they found was so remote, so far from “civilization” – and in a country without a standing army – that they decided to stay and make it home. What they found was Monteverde, a mountainous cloud forest with rich, fertile soils nestled 1,600 meters high on the Pacific slope overlooking the Gulf of Nicoya in Costa Rica. They made their living on cattle and coffee. The impassable mud road from the coast up to Monteverde made self sufficiency necessary.
Finally, when I reached the vista at the end of the trail, I was covered in a blinding blanket of white. The thick clouds were swirling around me; warm currents coming up one side of the mountain colliding violently above me with cold air sweeping down from the other side. I had been to this overlook many times before and had always encountered thick, omnipresent clouds, and powerful Atlantic and Pacific winds crashing together.
This was my third visit to Monteverde in four years; first as a student in a study abroad program called Sustainable Futures, and then twice more as a teacher in the same program. My wife was coming to visit this time, but was stuck in San Jose, the capital city, because a rainstorm had washed out the bridge – and all forms of communication – to Monteverde on the Pan American highway in the valley far below.
In the 1950s, a group of American Quakers from Alabama who were opposed to the draft for the Korean War left the U.S. in search of greener pastures. What they found was so remote, so far from “civilization” – and in a country without a standing army – that they decided to stay and make it home. What they found was Monteverde, a mountainous cloud forest with rich, fertile soils nestled 1,600 meters high on the Pacific slope overlooking the Gulf of Nicoya in Costa Rica. They made their living on cattle and coffee. The impassable mud road from the coast up to Monteverde made self sufficiency necessary.
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| Monteverde Cloud Forest |
The community began to grow, and forests became cow pastures and homes. They soon realized that even in a cloud forest, water was a precious and scarce commodity. Its source was the forest itself, and without the forest, there would be no water, and the community would cease functioning. They decided to protect large tracts of land in the mountains above their community. Today, these are the reserves that draw researchers and tourists from around the world. Its reserves are all private, unlike the country’s other national parks, and include the original Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve, the Santa Elena Cloud Forest Reserve, owned and operated by the local high school, and the Bosque Eterno de Los Ninos (the Children’s Eternal Forest) that can be accessed through the Sendero Bajo del Tigre (Jaguar Canyon Trail).
Although the guidebooks may not say this, Ticos – what Costa Ricans call themselves – had already settled the region by the time the Quakers arrived. Today, Ticos make up the majority of the Monteverde population and their livelihoods are based largely on eco-tourism. Monteverde’s protected areas draw tourists, its tourists drive the economy, and its economy has a way of turning on itself, as development consumes much of what draws people to it. The community supports a resident population of less than 10,000, and an annual visiting population of over 200,000. Its infrastructure and resources are burdened accordingly. In the land of diesel engines, even this remote mountain-top village suffers from exhaust fumes that choke the air. Although seemingly a tropical paradise, Monteverde even has a cold, windy, dry season. And, to prevent any disappointment, you should know ahead of time that there are no Macaws, its Jaguars were extirpated, and its monkeys, tapirs and sloths are elusive.
The community began to grow, and forests became cow pastures and homes. They soon realized that even in a cloud forest, water was a precious and scarce commodity. Its source was the forest itself, and without the forest, there would be no water, and the community would cease functioning. They decided to protect large tracts of land in the mountains above their community. Today, these are the reserves that draw researchers and tourists from around the world. Its reserves are all private, unlike the country’s other national parks, and include the original Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve, the Santa Elena Cloud Forest Reserve, owned and operated by the local high school, and the Bosque Eterno de Los Ninos (the Children’s Eternal Forest) that can be accessed through the Sendero Bajo del Tigre (Jaguar Canyon Trail).
Although the guidebooks may not say this, Ticos – what Costa Ricans call themselves – had already settled the region by the time the Quakers arrived. Today, Ticos make up the majority of the Monteverde population and their livelihoods are based largely on eco-tourism. Monteverde’s protected areas draw tourists, its tourists drive the economy, and its economy has a way of turning on itself, as development consumes much of what draws people to it. The community supports a resident population of less than 10,000, and an annual visiting population of over 200,000. Its infrastructure and resources are burdened accordingly. In the land of diesel engines, even this remote mountain-top village suffers from exhaust fumes that choke the air. Although seemingly a tropical paradise, Monteverde even has a cold, windy, dry season. And, to prevent any disappointment, you should know ahead of time that there are no Macaws, its Jaguars were extirpated, and its monkeys, tapirs and sloths are elusive.
Despite all of this, Monteverde is a truly wonderful and unique place. It is in a cloud forest, not a rain forest, and to the lament of local tour guides most tourists refuse to learn the difference (cloud forests have less rain but are usually cloaked in fog). You will find an abundant variety of other wildlife, including hundreds of species of birds, tens of thousands of insect species, and many reptiles and amphibians, although its most famous amphibian, the Golden Toad, mysteriously went extinct in the 1980s. Its epiphytes, like mosses, bromeliads, and orchids are abundant. It has several varieties of fungus that glow in the dark.
Monteverde's forests are also the breeding grounds for Resplendent Quetzals, aptly named as it is one of the most beautiful, graceful birds in the world. It has sparkling emerald green plumage on its head and back, and a brilliant ruby colored chest. Its meter long iridescent green tail feathers were used by Mayan and Aztec rulers in head dresses. To them, the Quetzal was considered divine.
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| Resplendent Quetzal - hijosdeltiempo |
When my wife finally arrived, I treated her to a “casado” at a local restaurant. A casado is the typical Costa Rican lunch; it includes a meat, white rice, black beans, fried banana, and a salad. It’s the type of treat that has to grow on you. Costa Rican food is not considered world-class cuisine. It’s always rice and beans, and sometimes beans and rice. Hopefully you can get some chicken because the pork and beef are usually less than perfect, and the spices are non-existent. The food grows on you though; a little salt and a long hike can make anything the perfect meal. I still cook “gallo pinto” – a fried egg over a mixture of fried rice and beans – for breakfast at home in the states. And my wife, being from Puerto Rico, loved the mixture of traditional Hispanic flavors, especially the fried banana.
After the meal, we walked towards our cabin on the dirt road up the mountain through the farm fields and forests. As the sun set over the Pacific, behind the tall fig trees, the sky lit up in an orange and red glow. In one loud chorus in the dark, the tree fogs began to buzz, the crickets began to chirp, and the owls and nighthawks began to call. We could hear the low rumble of Volcan Arenal, an active volcanoe not far away. The full moon was enough to light our way as we walked without flashlights.
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| Sunset in Monteverde |
The next day, we woke to the sounds Bellbirds ringing loudly in the trees above us. The distant roar of howler monkeys came rolling through the trees. After a breakfast of gallo pinto and fruit, we set off on a hike to the waterfall in the San Luis valley, a neighboring community. We walked along the road through Monteverde, passed turquoise colored Blue-crowned Motmots as they wagged their tails like pendulums on grandfather clocks, heard the soft cooing of Orange-bellied Trogons, and were screamed at by large, irritated Brown Jays.
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| Blue-crowned Motmot |
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| Orange-bellied Trogon |
The road, called “La Trocha”, hugs the side of the mountain and zigzags its way down into San Luis. We could see the entire valley from the road, from Monteverde, to San Luis, and on to Puntarenas on the Pacific coast. Hardwood forests stretched in all directions. The clouds were below us, moving slowly over the valley, up the steep mountain sides, and into the forests. Honeycreepers flew in and out of the fog around us. Keel-billed Toucans called from trees on the cliffs. We passed oxen-led carts brining fresh cream in large metal canisters up to the cheese factory at the top of the mountain.
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| La Trocha |
After arriving at the valley floor, underneath the clouds, we had to walk back up the other side to reach the waterfall. After nearly three hours, we reached the waterfall; a tall, thin, raging stream of cold, clear Monteverde water. Flocks of swifts came flying through the narrow canyons carved by the rushing water water to welcome us to our destination. They flew in formation like well-trained jet fighters, evading the jagged rock edges, as their screams echoed off the rock walls above us. It was a long hike, well worth the effort, but we decided to take a taxi back up to our cabin.
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| The San Luis Valley |
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| San Luis Waterfall |
I wanted our last hike in Monteverde to be to the vista overlooking the continental divide. I had never been there on a clear day, and it was raining again. We entered the Monteverede Cloud Forest Reserve on the morning of the last day. Near the entrance, we sat at a garden and were bombarded by hundreds of hummingbirds, frantically chasing each other from feeder to feeder. As we walked through the reserve, we saw Emerald Toucanets and Prong-billed Barbets in the canopy. Endangered Black Guans scattered through understory. A Higjland Tinamou, one of the most ancient species of birds, walked onto the trail in front of us before darting back into the vegetation. A Collared Forest Falcon perched on a nearby twenty-foot tall tree-fern at one of the highest points in the reserve.
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| Black Guan |
By noon, we had come to the final trail towards the vista. We walked out along the narrow point that led to the continental divide. Mist surrounded us on all sides, but quickly began fading. Rather than gusts, we could hear the sizzle of water vapor boiling off in the hot tropical sun. Within only a few moments the view that had eluded me for so long came dramatically into focus. The mountain gave way on either side of us, dropping 1,600 meters on our right towards the Pacific and on our left towards the Atlantic. The sun shone brightly on two broad valleys, their tropical forests unbroken in both directions; we were surrounded by a Central American wilderness.
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| The Continental Divide |
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| Giant Tree Fern |
