“This is some kind of adventure, Cata!” I grinned back at Sami standing waist deep in a pool of glass-clear water at the base of a rushing waterfall. Her long black hair was sopping and clung to her cheekbones. She shook her head at me and eventually, smiled. I threw my head back laughing, “And so much fun, right?”
Over our evening coffee a few days prior, Brayan, my oldest host brother, was showing me pictures of the "farm", he just purchased from his grandfather. "Farm" means a section of mountainous landscape that has or has not been used for agricultural or livestock purposes. In Brayan’s case, a small portion was cleared for cattle in the past, but most of the terrain is lush lower cloud forest thriving in its usual fashion: snaking vines wrapped around trees flush with moss, bromeliads, and orchids, steep, muddy hillsides covered in ferns and thick undergrowth, and lively waterfalls carving a path through the wildness. I ogled over the photos. Realizing my enthusiasm, Brayan prompted, “Would you want to go?”
In Brayan’s truck, we rolled into Sami’s driveway around 7:30 on Friday morning and she hopped into the backseat of the cab. I took in her hot pink Vans, “You are definitely going to need boots.” After she had returned to the backseat with rubber boots in hand, we drove thirty minutes down the curving highway and turned onto a jostling dirt road. Brayan parked the truck, we pulled on our boots, and started down a wide road, crossing a few rivers, before finding the thin trail climbing through the forest. Brayan turned to us, two fraying Nylon ropes looped around his upper body, “I was thinking we hike up the trail and then return along the waterfalls.” Sami and I agreed; he seemed confident, and I am always game for waterfall hunting.
An hour later, we were standing in the middle of the river peering over the cliff of surging water.
“How are we going to get down that?” I uneasily asked. Brayan pointed to a massive boulder pinched between the rockface and mountainside. The waterfall cascaded down the front, but behind it was a hole just big enough for a person to shimmy through. It opened up to a small cave where we perched once behind the boulder and looked out to the bottom half of the waterfall. Someone had wrapped a permanent, thick white Nylon rope around the boulder. It was just long enough to reach the end of the waterfall as it poured into a pool before the river continued on. I watched Brayan grasp the rope in his hands and slide down, the water soaking him as he descended. I shivered from the spray, but excitement overcame me. Once Brayan had landed safely in the river below, I clutched the rope, the texture rough and abrasive in my palms, and began to ease down the face of the waterfall. I pushed off the wall with my legs and slid my hands down the rope. The roar filled my ears and I fought to keep my eyes open as a thousand drops per second cascaded upon my head and body. A few feet above the river, I let go and dropped into the pool of river, enjoying the fresh, sparkling jungle water kissing my skin.
We scaled down a few more waterfalls before hiking out with boots full of half the river. I turned to Samira, “You’re never going to follow me on another adventure again,” I said partially joking and concerned that she actually wouldn’t. She laughed and reassured me, “No Cata, of course I’ll go with you again!” I smiled broadly, wildly grateful for this brave girl.
I’ve also dragged Sami up to the Soledad research station in the Cerro Candelaria Reserve. The first time, we hiked up to camp for the night with Jesus Recalde, a retired EcoMinga park guard. About a week in to my project, I discovered his passion for evolving El Placer into a community-based tourism initiative through the support of Quinde Warmi and EcoMinga. He enthusiastically discussed his ideas for including tourists in making traditional cultural meals as well as utilizing the nearby trails for nature-watching. After this preliminary meeting, we decided to create a pamphlet or few pages with photos exhibiting the activities El Placer offers in hopes of collaborating with established tour agencies in Baños de Agua Santa, the tourist town nearby. So, we hiked up to the Soledad station in Candelaria to take photos of the views, trails, waterfalls, and the cabana (check past post for photo). The hike is about four miles one-way with approximately 1500 feet of elevation gain— not exactly easy for someone unaccustomed to hiking, but Sami reached the station without significant struggle. We looked out on the breathtaking view from the second floor. It was the first time I had returned since my research two years ago and my heart swelled watching the clouds morph and shift with every moment, the mountains poking out of the mist.
That afternoon, we went in search of the cock of the rock, a mid-sized bird with electric orange feathers covering its body and a plume on the forehead forming the appearance of a second head. At this time of the year, the males gather around 5pm and 5am each day in a particular expansive tree in a section of primary forest to “dance”, squawk, and attempt to attract a mate. The three of us gathered in the middle of the trail, using the mammoth heart-shaped leaves as a picnic blanket. Just before we gave up on waiting, three males flapped into our line of sight, crowing and tapping their beaks on the branches. A few minutes later, four more entered the picture and they congregated between three branches in clear view. We had the best seats in the house, and I clicked away on my camera, capturing their peculiar, head-banging dance. Unfortunately, they had no luck in seducing a lady and soon dispersed into the dense forest.
I took some photos of the rustic wooden research cabana, the nearby vigorous and plentiful waterfalls, and the bright flowers that attract higher-altitude hummingbirds. With these, Jesus and I went to Baños to explore possible opportunities with tour agencies. We spoke to two agencies; both were eagerly supportive. They recommended we create a few pages with photos and the different services offered in El Placer. We learned that national tourists would not be so interested in our adventure tourism, but the international ones are more venturesome and willing to hike for sweeping views and wildlife sightings. I gathered this insight and tucked it in my back pocket with the other knowledge I had collected like lost spare change along this journey. Jesus and I were surprised by their inclination to help and thrilled with our success. We started on the requested deliverables in hopes of receiving feedback from Quinde Warmi and presenting them back to the agencies later this week.
The Quinde Warmis have been enhancing their tourism infrastructure: organizing the hummingbird observation cabana, planting flowers, and reinforcing their trails. We collaborated with the EcoMinga park guards one morning to fix a trail demolished by a landslide. This time, I was given a hoe to break down the soil on the side of the trail to widen the path instead of a machete. I worked with Gabi, who is a few years younger than me, attempting to match the vigor and power with which she wielded her tool. Clank! Clank! The metal head of our hoes smashed against an enormous boulder. We exchanged glances, unsure of our next step. Luckily, Tito noticed our situation and joined us from across the river to support. He wedged the opposite side of his hoe underneath the rock, attempting to uplift it. It didn’t budge. Soon enough, half the minga surrounded us, trying every angle to push and pull the boulder off the trail. Many times, the group began shouting with excitement as the rock wiggled a centimeter, then fell quiet when it remained stuck in the same prior position. I laughed to myself as I photographed the whole fiasco. It was too apparently metaphorical to miss. The mammoth boulder was the world of cultural change we are attempting to enact: reduction of plastic bags, littering, clear-cutting the forest, and the environmentally harmful beliefs. Those working tirelessly to dislodge the boulder and thrust it off the cliff are all of us spending nearly every waking moment dedicated to this cause. With all our effort, it may only be a few centimeters every year, but we persist with the powerful hope that this immovable boulder, this seemingly impossible change, will progress. Finally, we watched as the one-ton solid, conjoined rock slipped and crashed down the mountainside. We all cheered.
Fortunately, we are not alone in this critical endeavor; there are partners from all sides holding out their hands with encouragement and support. One woman, specifically, who has taken Sami and I under her wing is Eli Carrión, the technical director of Pakariñan. Javier Robayo sent me her contact within the first week of my arrival and I immediately reached out. Pakariñan is a non-profit based in Southern Ecuador that works with women in rural communities to establish community-based tourism initiatives and sustainable business opportunities for women empowerment. Before we spoke, I simply had questions to pick her brain and any advice for Quinde Warmi. After the phone call, we had a tentative workshop on the books between Pakariñan and the mamas. Since that first week, she has been an incredible resource and leader, reminding me the importance of this work. Just last night, Sami and I met with Eli for over an hour and a half discussing details for the finalized workshop next weekend, the insight we’ve gathered on the mamas, and the challenges we’re facing. She listened carefully and offered advice intermingled with her own personal anecdotes as a young woman in this field. Sami and I soaked in every word, understanding that our relationship with Eli is invaluable. We finally ended the Zoom just before 11pm with overflowing gratitude and excitement for the upcoming workshop. Connecting and collaborating with women such as Eli has been the most inspiring aspect of my journey and provides me with another reason to return, expanding on my work.
I only have about ten days left (where did this trip go!?), most of which will be filled with preparing and organizing for our upcoming workshop with Pakariñan. The reusable bag project is still underway, but I hope to have them all in hand this weekend. If you are interested in donating for a bag, let me know! Your support makes a real difference here with Quinde Warmi. We also have a functional Facebook page now and a website coming very soon. Throughout the next week or so, I’m establishing connections and taking actions to continue supporting Quinde Warmi and El Placer’s community-based tourism initiative. I am thrilled that all I’ve accomplished has been constructive, but I am determined to create a system that functions without my physical presence. I continue to gain skills and knowledge vital to my personal and professional growth from this experience, but at the heart of it, I am here for the success of this extraordinary community.