Trip to Costa Rica: Part I
Hello Dear Ones,
As some of you may know, in June I followed a whim and booked a last minute trip to Costa Rica in June. Immediately after I purchased my flight, my mind went into worst case scenario mode. Images of getting murdered in the jungle, attacked by a crocodile, bitten by a poisonous snake and showering with a tarantula hovering on the corner of the bathtub flashed through my mind. If worry is just a bad use of the imagination, at least I'm imaginative. I sat and contemplated canceling the whole thing. But I didn’t cancel, I allowed myself to plunge full force into my fears.
The trip was inspired by a flip through an issue of National Geographic entitled, “Adventures of a Lifetime.” I bought it years ago and shortly after drew a bucket in one of my journals with a list of some of the things I would like to do before I die. Ziplining in Costa Rica made it onto the list. My first stop in Costa Rica was the very place I had found in National Geographic, Santa Elena, Monteverde, home to the beloved cloud forest. Cloud forests make up 1% of the world’s woodlands, occurring only in tropical mountainous environments, where the altitude allows for a cover of clouds to majestically hang over the canopy of the forest. This hanging curtain of clouds causes condensation on the leaves and trees which in turn contributes to the unique biodiversity of the cloud forest. This unusual relationship between trees and clouds also allows the cloud forest to be home to a number of endemic species.
The first day I arrived in Santa Elena, I asked Juestin, the receptionist at my bed and breakfast about the dangers of hiking the cloud forest solo. Smirking as if he had been asked the question many times he responded with a nonchalant, “What kind of dangers are you worried about, human or animal?” The answer was of course, both. He explained that Monteverde was “completely safe” and that “the worst that could happen is a monkey will throw their poop at you.” He added that actually seeing the wildlife in Monteverde was not a danger but a privilege since mostly they try to stay away from humans. I had already googled the question before asking Juestin, but I decided he was a more reliable source of information.
Poop throwing monkeys were the least of my worries, so the next day, after a hearty breakfast I set out to hike the cloud forest. I was too early for a guided tour, so ignoring the sage advice of friends and google, I set out to hike the cloud forest solo. A part of me held its breath. Fairy tales have long indoctrinated little girls into thinking that danger could be lurking at every hidden corner filled with lush green. Soon, the forest began to tell a different story teaching me to breathe again as the inner silence grew, the forest responded with the calls of native birds and frogs and the outside world began to fade away. The forest became what it always was, a sanctuary, a sacred place. My human problems, questions and thoughts began to feel insignificant.
The symphony of silence and noise led me into a meditative state, winding through trails and learning more about the history of the cloud forest through a series of carefully placed placards. Full disclosure: I usually ignore placards and find them dull and boring. However, the ones in Monteverde felt like holy scripture. The first one I read, taught me that the Monteverde Biological Preserve was founded in 1972, and that as little as fifty years ago, the immense forest I was standing on was farmland. The ground I was standing on was proof that conservation was real. The work done in Monteverde allowed “nature to recover her spirit”, which could be sensed in every step. It began to occur to me that conservation work begins inside ourselves as we strive to recover the wilderness of our being and allow nature’s spirit to fill us once more.
One placard looked out at an immense fallen tree in the middle of the jungle. The details of the fallen are often ignored. The placard carefully explained that, “Here death does not exist; only life in transformation. In the forest, the death of one is life for others. The giant in falling opened a space making a way for the sun’s rays to reach the soil, stimulating the birth of seeds that have waited many years for the moment to begin their life.” I stood there in silence and reverence for the fallen tree, acknowledging the cycles of death and rebirth that make themselves known in the nature of our lives.
Sometimes, the wilderness that has been lost cannot be recovered. Another placard stated that “ in 1887 there were more than a thousand legendary golden toads but by 1986 only a few were found and none have been since.” The sign proclaimed that, “Monteverde announced to the world that climate change has a direct relationship to the disappearance of species.” As I read, the web grew underneath my feet and the impact of human action felt so tangible as the forest grew quiet in longing for the legendary golden toads.
I continued on my way, climbing a steep incline to the look out. I reached the very peak and could only see clouds, an astonished outlooker remarked, “oh this is it?” in sullen disappointment that the very clouds that give life to the forest obscured his view. Juestin was right, the danger in Monteverde is actually reversed, humans are the most serious threat to the cloud forest. Nature is an interconnected web, a place where every action has a reaction. While we may be a flight, bus trip and shuttle service away from the cloud forest our actions are nevertheless having an impact. Climate change is the most dangerous threat to the cloud forest, as increased temperatures reduce the low-level cloud coverage causing habitats to dry up. In each step taken on that hike, the forest seemed to whisper to me and remind me once again of what is important. It is not the accumulation of things, but the internal conservation work of recovering our own wilderness. As we make space to listen to the needs of the forests, we allow nature’s spirit to fill us once more, to speak sense into our beings as we learn to live in harmony with both ourselves and the natural world around us.