Cloud Forest!

It's a strange thing to drive and drive and drive, up up up, crossing a high pass only to cross other, higher passes, on a dusty road clinging to the edge of a cliff face who-knows-how.  Stranger yet is to arrive, after hours of travel, at a place where the land stops and in its place float cotton white clouds, blinding in their brightness and soothing in their softness and promise of moisture in an otherwise arrid landscape.

We met at a gas station on the outskirts of town at dawn.  "We" being the staff of Ausangate Bilingual School, where I teach sixth grade.  The director of the school, Veronica, was taking us on a trip to the Wayqecha Biological station to celebrate Teacher's Day, an actual holiday in Peru.  I was able to sleep for the first bit of our journey as we slid along on the only section of paved road  we would see all day.  Soon enough the road turned to dirt and not -so-gently woke me out of my slumber with its lurching, head banging rhythm.

A bit about this road:  It was terrifying.  

As we cleared the second high pass of the day it became clear that we would be descending one nearly vertical valley wall to the level of the river that cleaved it, only to contour around the other side while the river fell further and further below.  On that far side of the valley the bus wheels were skirting along the edge of the single lane road, just one foot away from a 1000 foot fall.  I watched the driver intently in the rear view mirror, making sure he had his mind on the task at hand. 

In a country whose topography most closely resembles an enlarged version of crumpled paper, there is no other way to get from place to place than to create roads and pathways where really, none should exist.  Driving through this improbable relief it's amazing to see where people are able to cultivate land.  Hanging off mountainsides at angles that (as I learned in geology class) are way beyond the comfort level of unconsolidated particulate matter, there are plowed fields, some even green with vegetation thanks to the springs and irrigation canals that are prevalent here.  That people have been able to thrive in this harsh environment for thousands of years is perfectly unbelievable.

After a brief stop in the valley town of Paucartambo we headed back up to another pass.  The landscape was beginning to change before our eyes as we climbed.  In place of tan grasses and brown dirt thirsty for the moisture that is in such short supply during this time of year there were small trees and bushes choking the clefts that began on the skyline ridge and made their way down the valley floor.  Then, as if out of a dream we turned a bend at the pass and caught our first glimpse of a very different sort of terrain, the cloud forest -- the first obvious physical marker that we were descending toward the Amazon Basin. 

The actual change in the environment was more subtle than the shock of the those clouds down below.  As the road wound around the undulations of the ridges I noticed progressively denser vegetation in the draws we encountered, especially those with a spring running through them.  But then as we exited these indentations and reentered the mountain face it was back to business as usual: dusty, dry grass lands.

We reached the research station at noon, just as the first bits of clouds from below were beginning to whisk by the windows of the dining hall.   Like clockwork, most days during the dry season begin with a crystal clear morning.  As the day heats up and moisture is sucked from the jungle, it rises on hot air to higher elevations where it makes its shift from gas to liquid in the cooler temperatures.  These clouds typically cover the forest at treeline by mid afternoon.  

 

The first thing I noticed stepping out of the bus was the smell and feel of the air.  It was a welcome relief have something so rich and loamy enter my nostrils and caress my skin.  After living for the better part of a year above treeline it nearly brought tears to my eyes to be standing in a place that was so unmistakeably alive. 

The yellow flower above is one of the many orchids endemic to this part of Peru.  But there were wonderful flowers everywhere.  While some of the vegetation looked familiar, other plants were otherworldly.  Tree ferns were plentiful as were ferns with broad flat leaves studded underneath with thousands of neatly arranged spores.

The vegetation and moisture make for a thriving environment for wildlife here at the edge of the Andean alpine zone.  And all those flowers, with their gaudy colors on display and full of nectar are the perfect place for my favorite of all animals, the hummingbird.  Above is an Amethyst Throated Sunburst.

   

Just about a year ago the biological station completed its Canopy Walk, a series of aluminum Burma Bridges and platforms designed to allow researchers to view and study the forest from different levels.  It was a bit exciting to step out onto those swinging bridges a hundred feet in the air.      

My pal Heather on platform #1Betty (above) and Cristina on THE WORLDS STEEPEST SPIRAL STAIRCASE

 

The ride home started peacefully enough, but after a quick stop at the package store in Paucartambo, things took a turn for the debauched.  Two bottles of Pisco were purchased, one for each bus.  As luck would have it the first bus pulled off before its bottle could be delivered.  So, we were, um,  stuck with two bottles for our bus.  What to do...?  Drink it!  My headlamp came in very handy as shot after shot of the Peruvian magic liquor was served.  The first taste is always a bit harsh, but by the third glass I must admit it goes down pretty smoothly.  

Too smoothly. 

I am not usually a proponent of ignorance, but the combined effects of the darkness and the buzz helped us forget the fact that we were driving on the most precarious of roads.  As we sang songs and laughed together we were able to let go and enjoy the drive.  The driver of the bus on the other hand was probably less enthused.  Camucha (the woman wearing my headlamp) generously offered him large cups of Coca Cola every twenty minutes or so. 

On one of the last cliff bound sections of road we came upon an enormous backhoe, perched at the edge of the maw, halogen lights blazing as it widened a curve at 10:30 pm.  Whoever was operating that machine must have had very, very strong faith and/or a belief in the afterlife.  One false move and man and machine would have been sent cartwheeling for 1000 feet to the river.  But with the enormous Paucartambo Festival coming up in two weeks, what are your options?  Get that road done, no matter what.

I stumbled into my new apartment realizing that I had left my favorite down jacket (purchased in 1990!) on the bus with my beloved iPod touch in the pocket.  What a crappy ending to a great day.  Honestly, if I leave Peru with all my body parts and a pair of clean underwear I will consider it a great success.