After 3 hours on the
bony back of a mule, in a state of delirium, I took a moment to realize where I was in the world and how I came to be on this strange trek.
The journey to
Bilsa is not for the meek traveler. After a 6 hour bus ride from Quito you must ride a door-less truck, known as a
rancho, for another 2 hours, with salsa music blaring at full volume. The truck bumped along stopping every 5 minutes. Men hung off the sides, women miraculously breastfed their babies while I could hardly help from being tossed side to side. The loud music gave the odd scene an exciting flavor and the surrounding jungle grew thicker as we climbed into the lowlands of Esmeraldas province, northwest Ecuador.
We arrived at La Ye
de la
Laguna which is basically a Y in the road, a town that consists of 2
restaurants, one phone booth and 4 houses. We pulled into the center of the town and children, old men and women gathered around to watch me struggle to pull my backpack from the roof of the
rancho.
A woman soon asked if I was a
voluntario and I nodded. She screamed, ´MAXIMO!´ in no direction in general but an elderly man looked up from playing with some kids. He instructed me to climb into the back of a pickup truck and soon we were flying over hills splashing through mud puddles. The sky began to glow pink. They dropped me off at a farm where they told me I would sleep for the night. As far as I could tell this was a family´s simple home. They looked somewhat confused as if they were not expecting a guest for the night. They asked me to wait one minute and they cleared out a room, swept and (hopefully) changed the sheets. The farm house, owned by the
Zambrano family, was filthy but my concrete room was complete with a
mosquito net (my only concern.) I warily gazed around for militious mosquitos, recalling that the area is known for having high rates of malaria. Chickens and ducks waddled by and curiously looked into my room. I closed the door to get some privacy from their beady eyes.
I started to walk toward the
Languna but the road seemed to never end and I started to grow hungry. I did meet many locals passing by who wanted to know who this
gringa rubia was and where she was from. I returned just in time for a dinner of rice, omelet and plantains. It was delicious. I finished my meal and tried to create a broken-
Spanish conversation with the family. Suddenly, a bat flew in and began to circle the room. They chuckled as I
flinched when the creature flew toward my face. Obviously a common
occurrence.
The next day I awoke early to explore the farm. I emerged into the sunlight and saw two small
silhouettes tramping through the mud towards the house. The
niece and
nephew of the house seemed ready to be my
under aged guides. Liliana, 5 and
Marcelos, 4
eagerly directed me to the deep into the property.
¨Que
lindo!¨
Marcelos exclaimed at every creature and plant he showed me. These kids were so entertained by pigs, chickens,
cacao, butterflies and a small river they convinced me to cross. It was a
great surprise to spend time with these wonderful children.
I caught another truck back to La Ye, where I was told to wait for Don
Almado and meet him at 11am. After a few hours of waiting I began to question my mission. He showed up around 2pm and needless to say I was ready to leave. La Ye is not a great place to spend a day. It was hot and muggy and mangy dogs roamed too close for comfort.
The road to Bilsa Biological Reserve is 14 kilometers and thick with mud. The thin road follows a ridge through the lowlands of Ecuador´s Esmeraldas province. The layers of trees produce shades of green I did not know existed.
We loaded up the mules and began down the muddy road. At first I wondered why we could not just walk. The mules were
excruciatingly slow. I thought to myself...I could walk faster than this...
They avoided the mud at all costs and would walk on the edge of cliffs to say away from the deep parts. I soon discovered why the road is not
manageable for 2 human feet alone. 4 legs are a necessity.
In some places the mud was unavoidable and it came up the mule´s chest. I was soon splattered in mud but enjoying the ride. I
couldn´t seem to get the hang of the increased speed and angle as the mules trotted downhill. At one point the saddle slide off the mule´s back sideways. Don
Almado ran to push me up right and finally told me to lean back. With my new found skill, I felt like I could ride anywhere.
Night gently fell and the green hills faded to black. Tiny lights sprinkled the sides of the path. Small glowing insects gave the illusion of
lanterns in the distance.
After the 5 hour mule ride, my joints ached and I felt very
sympathetic for the mule´s amazing feat of endurance.
Finally, with a sign of relief and exhaustion, we reached a small painted sign that simply said
Bilsa Biological
Reserva. We entered the barbwire gates and stumbled with numb legs down a boardwalk toward the light. I could hear a dog barking and guitars
rhythmically playing.
After a brief
introduction we learned the first and
foremost rule at
Bilsa; wash your boots before anything else. Everything at
Bilsa revolves around mud.
I met the other volunteers and I scarfed down a delicious dinner. Little did I know what good friends these people
would become and how I would relish each meal at
Bilsa.
During the next two and a half weeks I would learn the techniques of hiking through mud, spotting birds through thick forest, climbing waterfalls, catching frogs at night, and savoring cold showers.
It was the
beginning of some of the best two weeks I´
ve experienced so far...
Bilsa es mi
corazon.
great friends, had some interesting interactions and discovered myself here.
