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Cloud forest canopy
Written in the style of Herman Melville
6/29/11–Soltis
Call me Tomasz. The morning was misty and grey, with the dark, pea-soup fog slowly rising up the mountain, covering everything in a cool blanket. I woke up slowly, unaccustomed to the cool temperature, and felt around for my glasses. The linoleum floor was smooth and cold beneath my feet as I glided toward the bathroom for the morning ritual. The howler monkeys roared loudly. I judged them to be very close due to the loudness of their hoots and hollers. I walked outside in my search for avian quarry. I walked into the forest, the red soil was soggy and moist, sagging with every step. The howler monkeys continued to roar nearby. One group was to my left in the direction of the frog pond and the other was further away to the right. As I did not wish to travel a great distance, I decided to walk to the left. Soon, the roars were deafening. High in a nearby tree, I saw movement, but I could not see the source of the commotion. Leaves shook wildly, and a black furry mass emerged from behind the canopy cover. A female howler monkey climbed onto a nearby dead limb, using all of her appendages. Her flexible tail curled gracefully around the branch. The branch was mottled grey and brown. Its bark had speckles of light green lichen blotching the dull colors of the limb. The lichen was branched like coral, and the forest surrounding it as colorful and wonderful as the warm seas of a coral reef. The monkey’s black fur, as dark as the night, contrasted the bright lichen. Spotting me, the howler monkey gave forth a mighty howl that shook me to my very core. The roar echoed across the green and lush valley, and was echoed in return by the howlers on the far away ridge. The howl carried for many miles and finally met its end on a far away mountain ridge. I sat and observed the monkey for quite some time. Eventually, a male, with his golden back came on the scene as well. He climbed quickly out onto the branch before sitting and facing me. As I stared into his eyes and he into mine, I felt a deep connection, our past common ancestor linking us through the eons.
My simian cousin then turned around and started back up the branch. He then let out a massive load that fell near me in several small clumps. The diameter of each clump was approximately 4 centimeters and there were about 5 clumps. The waste was golden brown like leaves on the forest floor in an eastern forest on a sunny autumn day. It was fibrous, with the short filaments of organic matter sticking from the pile. Soon flies were attracted to it. There were five flies buzzing around the pile. Another came to investigate, bringing the total to six. They were shiny and iridescent and shone like polished metal in the sun. The heat made the smell particularly pungent. It filtered into my nostrils and made me recoil in disgust.
I returned to breakfast. The breakfast was gallo pinto, a fried rice and bean mixture, with eggs, watermelon, mango, and pineapple. The frying process stains the white rice with a brownish grey. The fruit creates a bright palette of colors on our plates. I ate slowly and sipped my coffee before our long and arduous hike.
At eight o’clock we met at the top of the dorms to start on our hike to the summit. Albert Rojas, the naturalist was about fifteen minutes late. Dr. Chris Houser already started down the trail ahead of us because he, “was a slow walker.” Albert, Kevin, and I rushed down the trail behind him and Sarah Berry. We caught up to him at the summit trail. The trail was muddy and slippery and for every foot of ground we gained, we slipped back down half of a foot. We climbed under a fallen tree, a perfect home for eyelash vipers. Making sure that none were present, we passed cautiously, nonetheless. We finally caught up with Chris and made it to the summit. At several points along the way, we tried to take GPS coordinates, but failed to acquire enough sattelites.
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Cool water
After a long trek, we made it to the summit. We then turned to our left and started down the precipitous surveying trail. The first several dozen feet had a nearly vertical grade, however it flattened out to some extent near the bottom. We used fallen logs and tree roots to brace our feet. The descent was slow; each step and handhold was calculated. Albert pointed out a Brown-hooded parrot fledgling. The bird was leafy green with dull brown feathering on its head. While we were collecting GPS coordinates, Chris bushwhacked to find an accessible path to the stream that fed a nearby waterfall. The stream was bordered by lush, green vegetation on either side. The silver water flowed in a slow trickle until it was pushed together by narrow canyon walls to form a rushing torrent that then plummeted off the edge of a cliff to create a wonderful cascade. The moss on the rocks made them slippery and somewhat difficult to walk upon. The algae and mosses were several shades of green, ranging from light aqua to dark forest green. They clung to the rock faces, feelingt like a mat of wet slime beneah my hands grasping for a steadying handhold. They sat upon the wet rocks, which were painted dark slate black by their constant drenching. Albert and I walked near the edge to take some photographs before turning back to the trail. We decided that it would be our goal to find a way to the base of that second waterfall. It was encircled by steep rock cliffs near the waterfall itself, and any attempt to reach the bottom of its pearly flow was dissuaded by the drop. The waterfall was white as ivory and seemed to laugh at our inability to reach it. However, we swore that we would hunt for a way down to its base until our very last day. Towards it I swore to role, that all-destroying but unconquering cataract; to the last I would grapple with it; from hell’s heart stab toward that damned waterfall. But I must be careful, as the falls, like the sirens, which entice you with sweet songs, but will smash you on the rocks.
“Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all (Melville, Moby-Dick)”
To reward ourselves after a long day, we cooled off in the restorative waters of the waterfall. Here we could cool our sweaty bodies, energize our spent minds, and calm our distraught souls. Rejuvenation and shelter from our fears and worries could be found in the fountain’s flowing waters. We hiked back to the Center, exhausted by our long slog through the mud and over steep terrain.
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Melville's waterfall