As these words leave my brain we are headed back to Quito from our second forest experience, first jungle experience. This latest experience was in the lowland jungle at a field station holding the name Jatun Sacha in the northwest of Ecuador west of the Andes. My first thoughts went something like this, “Welcome to the Jungle. I’m here. I’m in the lowland forest of the Amazon jungle and now my skin instantly feels like I’ve been soaking in a molasses jacuzzi”. It was hot and very humid. Sitting here on the bus I find myself contemplating what that place really was? The politics of this place are oriented around ecotourism with a slight emphasis on field research (but not much at all). It was disrupted, but not completely broken. Some species that would be characteristic of a forest holding an identical composition have migrated elsewhere assumingly due to human influence. BUT, humans didn’t scare all the critters away. I had intimate experiences with many frogs (tree frogs!!), a troop of tamarins and a troop of night monkeys, birds (notably parrots and the liquidy calls of oropendelas), two unidentified snakes, spiders (including two hand sized tarantulas), and a mystery lizard of some kind that bolted across the path and off into the forest leaving a wake in its path (maybe 3 feet long including tail). Like I said, this forest was unusually empty. Finding animal activity required clocking hours in the field, walking slowly, constant vigilance, and a bit of luck.

My first moments walking alone in the jungle were surreal. Naivety had me feeling disassociated as if I was watching an interactive movie of my own life. It was evident that something ab to the norm was going on as I rounded a bend and my serenity obstructing presence was graced with a show of six toucanets tailed by two toucans flying by overhead. They landed in a tree some 20 feet away, treated the branches like a trampoline, bounced around, and quickly moved on. The fact that any bird is able to navigate in and out of the thick density of trees surprises me. The sheer tree density riots with abundance and it seems that the obvious answer to an attempt at entering from any outside presence would surely be rejected. Omnipresent long vines dripped and twisted down like spells from the canopy above. You could see the forest breathing and growing as Tlaloc gave us quite the display on two separate days. Rain pounded relentlessly on the tin rooftop above. The creeks were swollen to the size of rivers nearly overtaking the surrounding banks. These rains flush and saturate the forest floor and then are quickly funneled downward thanks to the forces of gravity. Many plants and animals use heavy rains as triggers to perform certain actions or grow out of the ground. There were many new outcroppings of fungus that surfaced in a very short time. As a result of the rain the second layer of skin on my feet were able to seize the day—day two struggles. Come morning time I have to put back on those damp, filthy, and stinky articles of clothing. There is no avoiding that reality.

The flora of the jungle toy with your visual system during a rainstorm; every leaflet blessed with a droplet leaves a wake of commotion distracting my terminator-esque search image. If you spend enough time in this environment the image of the jungle turns into a Tim Burton animated film. You can even manifest what you desire and become master and commander of this three-dimensional world we bipedals inhabit. The jungle allows your imagination to roam freely without restrictions and vines, among other things, become snakes all to easily.

Let me end this entry with a tale of irony that I was blessed with. On a day that I decided that I would go out and see monkeys, I was passing some bowels and reading about monkey behavior. During my intimate moment I was told that a group of black-mantled tamarins swarmed by overhead. Luckily this only added to my anticipation and further ignited my adventure for the day. I ended up catching an extended glimpse of these elusive critters and slowly melted into a puddle. I encountered another noteworthy face melting experience during sunrise and sunset atop the canopy tower on location. The sun, moon, and stars accompanied with clouds—their traditional accomplices—put on quite the show. The environmental theater also starred a surround sound auditory experience hosted by birds and bugs performing call and response, aerial displays, and squawks and croaks of various verities. My last night at the field station was culminated perfectly with a spectacle sunset aghast with orange, yellow, and blue hues followed by the rise of a full moon and sparkling stars. Witnessing the unfolding of day to night and the auditory changes that dovetail with it stands beyond any sounds that the English has defined. I left the field station with that memory in my back pocket. After a six-hour bus ride back to Quito we have one day of preparation before we head off to the other side of the Andes (northwest) to a forest that is not the Amazon, but holds surprises nonetheless. To Bilsa and beyond.