Ecuador 2021 Travel Report
Update (May 2022): all photos of the trip are now published:
This is the 13th episode of wildlife travel by Henriette and Ferdy. A trip designed to satisfy our hunger to keep exploring the biodiversity of the Andes region, which we last visited in 2018 (South Colombia / photos):
In 2019, we guided our niece Ymke on her first wildlife tour, to Madagascar (photos):
In 2020, COVID-19 blocked us from remote travel. Out of boredom, I picked up a new discipline of nature photography at home, Extreme Macro (photos):
This year, we still had doubts regarding remote travel, but decided to push our luck. To scratch our itch, or rather to experience new itches in the jungle.
Why Ecuador?
After three tours in Colombia, we’ve grown addicted to the stunning biodiversity of the Andean cloud forests, the Amazon, and the Páramo. Ecuador quite simply is our excuse to keep exploring it, whilst also introducing an element of change in comparison to Colombia.
Trip setup
The trip length is three weeks and concerns private travel, just us and the guides. As per usual, we pick a handful of locations which we deeply explore for a few days each, avoiding too many transits.
We’ve once again picked Manakin Tours as the operator. They have managed our three trips to Colombia before, and we’re fond of them. They have a really simple policy: keep them happy. An adventurous trip will always be ridden with unexpected events and setbacks. A delayed flight, a closed road, a bad day in the field, poor facilities, shit weather. When times get low, crappy tour operators may defy any and all responsibility or even present an additional bill. Manakin Tours doesn’t. They fix it, at their own expense. And that is why we trust them. They take care of us which we repay with loyalty.
An interesting aspect of this trip is that Manakin Tours is primarily a Colombian birding company. Our tour is their first ever in Ecuador.
The team
Now we come to perhaps the most important aspect of our trip, our choice of guide(s). You can travel to the most bio-diverse forest in the world, and still not see much without an expert.
As such, it’s unsurprising that we wanted to hire Manuel Espejo again. Not only is Manuel a top notch birder, he’s an obsessed naturalist. Exploring nature to the very limit is his calling. He also has infinite ways to get himself into trouble and is pleasantly crazy. To sum it up, put Manuel in a forest and magic happens.
Our two earlier tours with Manuel has led to friendship. We understand Manuel and he understand us. The typical birding audience is demanding, pressuring guides to produce a target list of birds. We target nothing. If the birds can’t be bothered, we’ll try insects. Or orchids. If it rains, we’ll try frogs. We listen to the forest as the forest owes us nothing. Interestingly, with this flexible mindset you find more, not less.
There’s a special circumstance this time, however. Manuel has experienced several personal catastrophes during the last two years. He lost it all: his job, his girlfriend, his home. He hit rock bottom.
All the more reason to push for Manuel. Yes, because he’s our favorite guide. But also to pick up a friend from the gutter. To provide him an opportunity to find purpose and meaning again, to earn money, and to even have fun, as Ecuador is new to Manuel. To let this trip be a first step in his recovery, or so we hope.
So it became a Manuel or no deal proposition, which Manakin Tours accepted.
The second team member is Luis Perez. With Manuel as our main guide, there was no need for an Ecuadorian birding guide. However, there is still a need for local knowledge and logistics. Manakin Tours selected a local driver with an interest in birding, serving two needs at once.
Our expectation was for this person to primarily be a driver, with specific knowledge on the best places for birding. We were wrong. Luis Perez is a birder that drives, not a driver that birds. It must run in the family, as his brother is one of Ecuador’s top birders.
And this is how through planning and luck, our gang of four was assembled.
Trip route
The above map serves as a rough outline of our trip. Each location will be discussed in detail in the day-to-day coverage. Locations are a mix between cloud forest, the Amazon, and Páramo ecosystems. All transits are by car except for the domestic flight to Sani Lodge. The map does not show some of the secondary locations, the stops we made along the way.
Photography
As photography plays an important role in our travel, a word on the gear we brought along. The Nikon D850 continues to be my main camera, with the Nikon D810 as a backup body.
Daytime hikes focus mostly on birding, for which I use the 80–400mm f/5.6 lens, sometimes with an 1.4 x extender. Although it’s an expensive lens, it still isn’t a great birding lens, especially not in dark forests.
I switch to macro during night tours, for mothing sessions, or sometimes by day when the opportunity arises. For this I use the trusty 105mm f/2.8 1:1 macro lens. I particularly love that it has auto-focus and vibrance reduction, which are critical in nailing shots under time pressure. I also brought my Laowa 2:1 macro lens, for special occasions.
I did not bring the 14–24mm landscape lens and 85mm portrait lens, as in practice they largely go unused.
Alongside the big gear, we use our smartphones. For landscapes, video, social snaps, name signs or when we have no other camera at hand.
With all of this out of the way, let’s get to the day by day.
Thursday, November 4
The day prior to our departure, we drove to Amsterdam for our regular routine: to stay at a hotel near the airport for a stress free start the next day. At 5°C, winter was setting in.
In the back of our minds was Shiva, our cat which we have since the summer of 2020. Due to our working from home COVID-19 schedule, she doesn’t know better than for Henriette and me to always be with her. How do you tell a cat that you’re gone for a few weeks but will come back?
The best solution we could find was to not change her environment, whilst a friend and my sister-in-law visit twice a day to feed her and keep her company.
Friday, November 5
Well rested and after an excellent breakfast, we took the 15 minute shuttle bus ride to the airport. We exchanged currency (Ecuador uses USD) and made way to the gate.
We departed roughly on time for what was an 11 hour direct flight to Quito, the capital of Ecuador. It seems economy class got even smaller, so it was claustrophobic, even more so when wearing a mask all this time. I was seated next to a Chinese man that very violently yawned every 30 mins or so, scaring the crap out of me. He also sneezed in his mask after which he tried to clean it with his bare hands.
I killed time by listening to an audio book, specifically the story of Tanja Nijmeijer, a Dutch girl-next-door that turned into a FARC rebel fighter in Colombia. Meanwhile, Henriette consumed some lighter literature, but not really. She almost exclusively reads homicide stories. If somebody doesn’t die by page 10, it’s a bad book. This is why I avoid cliffs during travel and double check my net worth.
All things considered, 11 hours of discomfort is a minor price to pay. It’s in fact amazing to be in Ecuador in less than half a day. Immigration did slow us down, it took 90 minutes to get through it. Oddly, the part that had Henriette worried the most, the COVID check part, was a mere formality. You fill out a health declaration form after which they ignore the form altogether.
After the baggage reclaim, we were finally eye to eye with Manuel for the first time in 3 years. He looked cheerful as ever, just a tad skinnier. After hugs we exited the airport where minutes later, we’d meet Luis for the first time. On the short drive to our overnight stay, we were delighted to see how Manuel and Luis connected as if old pals, despite never having met before. Friends, not rivals.
We soon arrived at Quinta La Constanza, our home base in Quito. It’s a beautiful, walled luxury resort that we would keep returning to in between transits.
Pulling up into the resort, we were immediately under siege by two vicious dogs. Luckily they were of the miniature kind, we’ve seen mosquitos larger than them. The reserve is managed by a kind lady that takes care of her guests in a motherly way. Other than appreciative of tiny dogs, she’s a premature Christmas fetishist. Because any day not celebrating Christmas is a day wasted. Instead of there being a dry and wet season, there’s a Christmas and not-Christmas season, this last season being preferably very short and in any case super lame.
After settling our bags, we went for diner, which was excellent. More importantly, it gave us plenty of time to catch up with Manuel, to discuss his recent troubles. Despite traumatic events, we did not find a broken man. And perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised, as we’re talking about an ex mountaineer able to survive and thrive on nothing. Our bottom of the ocean reference is his comfort level.
We went to bed satisfied, our arrival had been smooth.
Saturday, November 6
After a 7 AM breakfast, we exited Quito to make way to our first main location, the Bellavista Cloud Forest Lodge, but not before first making a stop at the Alambi Reserve.
Alambi is a small reserve in the Andean Choco ecosystem, above all a great way to see and photograph lots of hummingbirds whom are attracted to the large array of feeders. Although the feeding is staged, the birds are in their natural habitat. The amount of hummingbirds and their chaotic flight paths overwhelmed me, so Manuel stepped in. Amazingly, he remembered every hummingbird species we captured in earlier years, producing a short list of those new to us. Such as this White-whiskered Hermit:
We continued the session for a good hour or so, documenting about a dozen hummingbird species as well as a few other birds. Next, we continued on a steeply downwards path to get to a fast running stream of water. Our goal was to see the White-capped dipper. After multiple misses, seeing it but being too late, we finally secured it:
It’s not a spectacular bird to see, but interesting for its unique behavior. They are birds that thrive in fast waters. They are at the water edge or even below it to pick up small invertebrates. It’s great fun to watch this specialist in action.
On our way back up the trail, we picked up two additional birds, the Pale-legged Hornero and Squirrel Cuckoo, as well as a few orchids. All in all, we loved the Alambi stop. Lots of value in little time, a nice kick-starter.
Soon after, we arrived at BellaVista, where we had lunch and explored facilities. It is a large and stunning accommodation situated deeply into the cloud forest. As if a human settlement has perfectly blended into the forest. I mean, we’ve had worst views:
Despite the nature-first mindset, it’s still luxurious. By now we already figured out that food in Ecuador is excellent. Well balanced, nutritious, clean and delicious, a far-cry compared to Colombia’s huge quantities of stale flavorless carbs, vegetables are for weaklings mentality. Another stark difference is that things work. When there’s a shower, it’s not a cold drip. There’s water pressure and warmth. Whilst luxuries aren’t the essence of our trip, for sure we will not complain about them.
We used the afternoon for a birding session in the forest, where I was once again brutally reminded of how impossibly hard bird photography in a cloud forest is:
Not only are there a million things obstructing a clear view, the scene is very dark to a camera. Through a viewfinder, picture all of the above as black, and needing to focus on that dark-appearing bird whilst dodging the equally dark-appearing leaf in the foreground and background.
The forest didn’t seem to care for my self pity so we marched on and produced the ultra shy White-throated quail-dove, the beautiful Golden-headed quetzal, the elusive Striped Treehunter, and the obscure Dusky bush tanager.
I’ll award the highlight to the White-throated quail-dove, because I see the humor in spending forever to sneak up on this bird whilst it looks as dull as a city dove. The bird has a small distribution yet is locally common, just very hard to get into view.
After a brief rest and dinner, Manuel served coffee. And not just any coffee. Although both Ecuador and Colombia are coffee producing countries, they themselves seem to drink instant coffee, which tastes like tea with coffee flavor. Manuel specifically asked us to bring a manual coffee grinder, and now it became clear why. He brought bags of top quality coffee beans, grinds them, mixes it with hot water, and then squeezes this mix through some cylinder at great force. The result is a drink of gods. All this effort just to give us better coffee, that’s Manuel. The laborious coffee routine often had local staff puzzled throughout the trip. Until they took a sip, and realized they’ve been coffee scammed their entire lives.
The coffee provided fuel for a lengthy night tour. We love the suspense of a jungle at night. It was an excellent night tour, the forest producing a wide array of beetles, stick insects, caterpillars, frogs, harvestmen, all kinds of good stuff. Perhaps most intriguing was this odd case of animal architecture:
It seems like an under construction case typically built by casebearer moth larvae, yet the silk setup reminds of a spider trap. But then again, not a very effective one. I’m yet to figure out what it is.
And this finally concludes our first active day. With the productive Alambi visit and two tours at BellaVista, we experienced so much in so little time that it felt as if we’ve been here for days.
Sunday, November 7
I headed out at 5:30 AM for a small solo tour, as breakfast was scheduled at 6:15 AM. It produced the Great Thrush and a poor view of the Chestnut-capped brushfinch.
After the collective breakfast, we went out for a birding tour in the forest once again. A local ranger pointed out a Green-and-black fruiteater nesting directly next to our lodge. The rest of the session was spent on a single bird. A bird that challenges your sanity.
The Ocellated tapaculo, synonym “asshole bird”. It has an antpitta-like mystique. You must hand over all your life energy for the privilege of having a small chance of seeing a fragment of it for three micro seconds in near darkness. And that would be on a good day.
The bird has a loud call, which makes it all the more frustrating. It was stupidly easy to locate, we immediately had it within a 5 meter range. But it just flat out refuses to show itself. It keeps hiding and hopping around in the dark understory, obstructed from view. Once every few minutes, we could hear it move, but never in a favorable way. Once every 15 minutes, we could detect a faint glimmer of it, but by the time I tried to focus, it was gone again.
The bird has a call that is really easy to remember:
🎵 FUCK YOU I’M NOT GETTING OUT. 🎵
An hour into this exercise, I noticed Manuel hugging the mud whilst keeping up his speaker. It resembled prayer and worship. Other tourists passed by whilst we pretended that all of this is perfectly normal. Just pros at work, you wouldn’t understand. It became a clear case of a sunken cost fallacy. We normally don’t wait this long for a bird, but we put in too much time now for it to be in vain. So we plunged on for an additional hour, only to produce this:
It’s a disturbingly bad photo, yet I was thankful to produce at least a registration shot (which is Manuel’s indirect way to insult my photography) of this rare and unforgiving bird. As a coping strategy, I keep telling myself that this dark and messy shot accurately documents the essence of this bird. It is therefore to be considered premium art. You just don’t understand it, but that’s not my problem.
After a short rest and lunch, we went out again. Manuel suggested to use the dirt roads around the reserve for birding. These wider paths might make it easier to find and see birds. This is usually true, but not on this day. With near zero bird activity (not unusual in an afternoon session), I switched to daytime macro. I produced mediocre results. Henriette saved the session by discovering this massive earth worm:
We measured it at about 1m, although it keeps contracting and expanding as it moves. Supposedly, they sometimes come out after heavy rain. They seem to be poorly documented, very little is known about them. I do know they’re 50 times larger than the earth worms in our backyard, which made me wonder how large the bird to feed on it has to be.
As we were still only halfway the afternoon, we then proceeded on a very short drive to Quinde Luna, a small feeder site ran by one of the staff members of BellaVista. Although most hummingbird species we had seen before, except for the Tawny-bellied hermit, I never pass on the opportunity to get some fresh closeups. Maybe because Europe has zero hummingbirds. Besides hummingbirds, we managed to capture a few other birds around the feeders, including this Plate-billed mountain toucan that took us three days to see in Colombia, but here is just a casual visitor:
On the way back to the BellaVista reserve, we took a drive and stop approach, slowly navigating country roads in search for orchids. As it was raining, I only used my smartphone for some quick snaps.
Back at the lodge, Henriette and I prepared for the first mothing session of the trip:
Our ambition is to do at least one session per main location. In this case, we didn’t have to set up our normal tent pole system as we could directly attach the cloth to an existing structure. Just before dinner, we turned on the light.
Returning after dinner, we were thrilled with an excellent result, especially with the light being on for just one hour:
Plenty more moths were found on surrounding buildings and trees.
As I was about to start photographing the moths, news came of a planning dispute. Our original program listed three nights at BellaVista, whilst Manakin Tours claimed it’s only two nights. Not only did this mean this was already our last night at the lodge, the idea was to visit an antpitta site the next morning, which would mean a very early 5 AM start. In other words, I should hurry up photographing these moths, and we should start packing.
Apart from the stressful end, it’s been another great day. I’d call this day a typical example of our approach. If birds don’t come, just try something else. Keep switching and pushing and by the end of the day you have lots to show for it.
Monday, November 8
As (not) agreed, we headed out at 5 AM to exit the BellaVista Reserve. After driving for an hour or so, we suddenly stopped at some misty muddy country road, Luis suggesting this might be a good place to do some roadside birding.
We were confused. Aren’t we on our way to the Angel Paz reserve for the antpittas? As it turns out, no. It’s moved to the next day, as the reserve has a maximum capacity of visitors which was met for the day.
We were pissed. Not only was our stay at BellaVista cut short, we rushed and got up at an ungodly hour for no reason at all. This double planning screw-up on an empty stomach and without coffee did not boost morale.
Luis Urueña, the owner of Manakin Tours, added insult to injury by suggesting that his version of the planning was correct, and we were wrong.
Luis, I know you’re reading this, take this advise from a friend with 15 years of experience. Henriette’s version of the planning is correct. It always is. She comes from a family of planning extremophiles. Right now, they are planning what will be the appetizer during Christmas dinner in 2031, including 3 backup plans just in case. The estimated consumption time of the appetizer is 7.13 minutes, which includes 4.26 minutes of conversation, or silence if preferred.
Luis later admitted to the error, which is fine, shit happens. But as a prank, Manuel and I kept up a small conspiracy for a few days where we left Luis under the impression that we were severely unhappy with this trip, leaving him worried for no reason. A fairly mean vengeance, but he found it hilarious once we disclosed that we were just messing with him.
Still in our grumpy state, Luis Perez pointed to a few birds in the distance. I still wasn’t in the mood at all, but out of politeness, I made effort to start capturing them. Which failed miserably, as my lens was all fogged up.
Manuel concluded correctly that this might be an excellent time for a magic coffee moment, with tea for Henriette. I then accidentally kicked over Henriette’s tea, which she had put on the floor. An event I expect to be reminded of for a few decades.
A lot went wrong on this early morning, but after a breakfast in the field and some time, we snapped out of the bad mood. After all, most of the day was still in front of us. We tried the dirt road again and ultimately photographed 14 bird species, despite poor light conditions.
We continued for a stop at the Rio Silance Bird Sanctuary. This reserve features a birding tower as well as a beautiful forest trail. There was significant bird activity during the tower session yet by far the most time was spent on a critical target, the Scarlet-breasted dacnis. Henriette and I had never heard of this bird before but could see both Manuel and Luis go absolutely nuts from just the distant call. So we put in significant time to get it closer, this is the best we managed to achieve:
With just a few dozen photos online, this bird is rarely photographed. It has a small distribution and is threatened. As is common in both Colombia and Ecuador, this birding trophy was instantly shared on Facebook, the community responding in disbelief.
After the tour we navigated the forest trail, which is a loop. It’s a gorgeous forest, dense and its tracks covered with moss and lichen. We captured a few additional birds, flowers, and a salamander. Highlight has to be this White-whiskered puffbird:
I adore puffbirds. Their behavior is best described as none at all. They just sit on a branch, motionless and without sound. Birding tactics where you find birds by sound or motion do not work. Dozens of puffbirds might be staring at you and you wouldn’t know. Manuel discovered this one by accident through his binoculars.
By now, the poor early morning seemed a distant memory, and it was still morning. We continued on a short drive to arrive at our destination for the day, the Milpe Bird Sanctuary. A charming small-scale reserve with only two rooms for guests.
Enjoying our lunch in the open dining area, we had closeup entertainment from activity at the bird feeders. We also celebrated Luis Perez’s birthday. After a while, we started to nickname him as Luis “No Frutaz” Perez. He’s a short man with an appetite for meat and rice of about 3 people combined, and categorically rejects fruit.
At the end of the lunch session, I was suddenly alarmed. From the corner of my eyes, I saw something large near the feeder. By the time I looked properly, all I could see was a massive lengthy black tail exiting the scene.
What the hell was that!?
The staff explained. It freely translates as “Giant Weasel”, official name Tayra (Eira barbara).
The plan for the afternoon was to do casual birding in the reserve’s trails but heavy rain ruined this plan. As we were waiting for the rain to stop under a small roof, Manuel’s creativity once again turned a setback into a highlight. Directly at our feet we saw a few antlion traps. You are likely familiar with them, they look like a little put hole in loose sand. Just below this hole sits the larva of an antlion, waiting for another insect (usually an ant) to fall into the hole, making it the last mistake the ant ever made.
The plan was to dig one out, and photograph it. This was one of few opportunities where my 2:1 macro lens came in handy:
We put it back where it came from unharmed, so that it can continue to harm other animals.
As rain continued, we figured to use the time to catch up on bird administration. I cycle through all of the birds photographed in recent days on my camera, after which Manuel and Luis name the species, which I write down. It’s a tedious task, but it beats asking endless questions after the trip.
Still, this would be the last time I wrote them down as for the rest of the trip I switched to a better approach. Directly in the field, as we see a bird, I immediately look it up in the birds app on my phone, and then screenshot the species. This puts it in my photo roll at exactly the time we saw it, which I can refer to later.
At dinner time, the mysterious weasel made another brief appearance. The light was getting very low but Henriette was just in time to capture it:
The plan for the evening was clear as by day we discovered that this reserve has a permanent moth light trap:
The only minor criticism I have is that it seems to be designed for ants. The light is at my hip level. Regardless, it produced a reasonable result, about half of the BellaVista yield.
Since moth photography is a solo activity (others can’t really help with it), Manuel and Henriette paired up to find other stuff. As always, miniature orchids are on the menu:
As were a few frogs and interesting insects. Once I was done with the moths, I lost track of Manuel and Henriette. Not even a trace of their flashlights. I figured to return to the lodge and by chance we arrived simultaneously. They brought a massive millipede, earwig, and a cordyceps (parasitic fungus). I photographed them, after which we called it a day. Another challenging yet rewarding day.
Tuesday, November 9
Antpitta day, meaning a visit to Angel Paz. We got up at 4:45 AM and departed at 5:30 AM to make way to the reserve.
To those unfamiliar, antpittas are the holy grail of birding. They are elusive ground dwelling birds that rarely show themself. Seeing a single one in the wild might take days or weeks. Some birders visit the same area years in a row only to see it once, if at all.
Angel Paz provides a shortcut. The founder was one of the first to develop a relationship with these birds, by feeding them worms. Every day, at exactly the same time and place. And yet still this does not guarantee an appearance, because when it rains, the bird easily finds it own worms.
Arriving at the site, there was the promise of the Cock-of-the-rock appetizer, Henriette’s favorite bird. Unfortunately, the lek (gathering of males) was quite distant.
Luckily, we once experienced a massive lek at close distance, so we’ll have to tap from the above memory. A sighting of the obscure Dark-backed Wood Quail brought some compensation.
We wanted to continue to the first antpitta spot but were told to wait for the other group, a large group of American birders. At this sanctuary, all visitors move in sync from one spot to the next spot, which makes sense because antpittas will either not appear or only once.
After a long wait we drove close to the next spot and walked from the road side downwards deeply into the forest, where we were told to wait. En route there, I was stuck behind an older lady that required a permanent assistant to hold her for every single step she made. I figured this type of trip was too much for her, but ultimately concluded it’s none of my business.
Deep in the forest, we were waiting for the founder of the reserve (whom went ahead) to check if the first antpitta was in the mood for an appearance today. After an hour of waiting, we heard it wasn’t. To not leave us empty handed, he tried to give us a view at the nest. This too failed.
During the wait, Manuel still managed to produce two valuable birds, the White-throated daggerbill and the Tyrannine woodcreeper. Whilst also scanning every tree for orchids. We overheard one of the American birders say: “What is this guy doing?”, to which their guide replied: “That guy? Oh, he likes everything”. Exactly right.
Still, we were wondering if we were going to see any antpittas at all. It was time for a breakfast break. It consisted of lots of fried stuff that I don’t understand, but it was delicious so no questions asked.
With renewed energy we made way to the second antpitta spot, and this time after some 15 minutes, our luck turned around:
If you’re underwhelmed by the appearance of the bird, consider that it’s likely responsible for countless divorces. As to not drag this out any longer, the next antpitta stop was also successful:
As was the final one:
This last antpitta is one of only two antpittas that we have found in the wild in our travel career, without a feeding setup. It remains the cutest of them all. The founder named this individual Shakira, which we figured to be a random name. Until we noticed how the bird actually shakes her hips in between perches. You can’t make this up.
Just like you can’t make up the unlikely event of snake bird making another appearance:
During an earlier tour in a very remote site in Colombia, I pointed at this bird on a chart and said: I want that one. Like a toddler picking ice cream. I was then told that I’m a moron and that it doesn’t work that way. Next, the exact bird perches in front of our face, as the only bird of the day. And here it is again, my little told-you bird.
Exiting Angel Paz in a good mood, we were en route for a lunch stop. Just before arriving, we were thrilled when Luis pointed out this stunning nightjar sleeping under a bridge:
After lunch, the rest of the day was uneventful. We completed the transfer back to Quito, where we had dinner and settled for a Christmas themed night.
Wednesday, November 10
The main goal for the day was to reach Finca Heimatlos, our home for the coming days, on a 5 hour drive from Quito. We departed at 7:30 AM.
About 90 minutes into the drive, we stopped for gas and a toilet break whilst also wanting some ice cream. Henriette and I were eying some basic factory-style ice cream when Manuel suggested to try the traditional homemade ice cream: salted mango.
It’s horrible. Henriette agreed. To be nice, I said that I liked it. But now I was stuck with my lie, needing to finish this massive ball of salt. We felt like kids promised an ice cream that didn’t get any: as if the absolute worst thing in the world just happened to us.
On the flip side, we do not reject all odd food choices. Earlier in the trip we had multiple servings of soup with either popcorn or salty chips in it. A combination we had not seen before, but it’s actually a great idea.
We proceeded to the next stop, the Waterfall of Baños. For us, waterfalls were permanently ruined when for our anniversary we navigated the Iguazu Falls by helicopter. After that, any other waterfall is as interesting as running tap water. For this reason, I have developed this handy FAQ on waterfalls:
- Why should I visit a waterfall?
> to see water falling. - This roaring sound in the distance, is this caused by the water falling?
> Yes. - How about this mist, is it also caused by the water falling?
> Yes. - Can I buy things on my way to the waterfall?
> There are many shopping opportunities. - Amazing. So much water. Now what?
> Make a selfie in front of it. - Can I get really close to the waterfall?
> Yes, but you’ll get wet, which is hilarious. - Will anything change? Like, do waterfalls take breaks?
> Generally, the water keeps coming and it keeps falling. - Why did I pay an entrance fee to see gravity confirmed?
> Yes.
It was still a nice detour to stretch our legs. Manuel in particular was drawn to the potential of orchids growing alongside the trail towards the waterfall. Unfortunately, there were few, just some at the end of the path.
Next, we completed the transfer to Finca Heimatlos. Approaching the parking lot, we were surprised to see it was full of very expensive cars. Continuing to the lodge itself, we saw why. A large oil company had picked this resort for a meeting and lunch. The ties and business skirts seemed out of place considering the breathtaking view:
But maybe not. Because in front of this stunning view is a swimming pool, luxury restaurant, bar, beautiful botanical garden. A private paradise, a place somebody very rich might retire to.
Before first laying our eyes on it, Henriette and I were already referring to this place as Bikini reserve. Because we followed it for a while on social media where updates oddly focus on one girl emphasizing her curves. We figured it to be an anomaly, an outlier.
It only took 20 minutes to learn that we were wrong. It’s an Instagram hotspot. Some girls take it quite far, walking the fine line between modeling and soft porn. We didn’t care to judge too much, young people do dumb things.
We had our lunch, which was massive, and continued exploring the area. We were wondering about hiking trails. Ultimately a construction worker pointed to a broken “map” amidst a pile of garbage. The map itself provided more questions than answers. Ultimately we found the beginning of the main trail behind the swimming pool.
Asking about trail details (length? is it a loop? difficulty?), none of the staff knew, as they had never followed it. By now, we were searching hard for the eco part of this “eco lodge”. On a positive note, we found a permanent and professional looking moth light trap:
It features two plain lights and a UV light in the middle. Somebody put some thought into this.
We met the owner (or manager), whom pointed out the nest of a tarantula, featuring many baby tarantulas. We kept it in mind for the night tour.
Exploring our room, we first laid eyes on our neighbors, the drunken couple. Two young people on a drinking streak lasting days. The girl of the couple was another Instagram bikini model whilst the guy mostly sipped beer, crashed glasses, and took naps whilst loudly snoring. The girl was so drunk that during one of the bikini shoots, a guest had to support her, otherwise she would have fallen from the edge of the pool straight into the concrete floor.
We continued for dinner, where I opted for pizza, encouraged by the enormous stone pizza oven I spotted. To keep expectations low, I went for the simplest pizza possible: Pizza Margherita. It’s basically a pizza with no topping, as tomato sauce and cheese are standard.
They still managed to screw it up, by putting slices of fresh tomato on the dough instead of sauce, supplemented by an inch of garbage cheese. It’s just a pizza, but typical of this place. There’s top notch equipment but nobody knows how to use it. It seems a place once designed with care, after which all care left the building. Another example is having a fancy bar, with only water and beer on offer, as they’re out of soda. Yet nobody gets new soda, not for days. Luis had to drive it in himself.
During diner, we saw the drunk girl dropping chicken on the floor, picking it up, then pushing a fistful into her mouth, loudly smacking as she chewed it.
The night tour brought some relief. We first attended mum tarantula guarding her babies:
Having found the switch for the moth light trap before dinner, I was eager to inspect results. To my surprise, the advanced trap produced nothing at all. Blank. Yields commonly vary based on the seasons, rain, competing light sources and moon light, but to have zero moths attracted to a massive light source in this ecosystem? Something is wrong.
I’m thinking the large power installation behind the light is radiating some buzz that scares away insects. Because by chance we found a second installation that did have moths on them, although still few. It was positioned next to the lodges where staff sleep.
Manuel enriched the night tour with his expert frog finding skills, producing jewels such as this one:
All things considered, we looked back on a reasonable day. It was a transit day after all, and we did get some value out of the night tour. Although we were in a weird place, it’s still a beautiful place.
Thursday, November 11
From 6:30 AM, we did a pre-breakfast birding attempt, which was pretty successful: Greyish Saltator, Black-throated Mango, Yellow-bellied Dacnis, Blue Dacnis, Amazonian Violaceous Trogon, Turquoise Tanager.
Yes, it’s odd to be birding directly next to a swimming pool, but consider that we’re still in the right ecosystem and at the correct elevation.
Breakfast was only at 8:30 AM, and then it still took an hour to produce a scrambled egg. Another sign of this place not supporting ecotourism. Birders start at 5 AM or 6 AM, not 9:30 AM. Even conventional hotels serve from 6 AM, because perhaps guests have places to go.
Back at our room, we saw the drunken couple awake again, drinking on the porch to kick-start the day. It became a running joke during our stay to check on them. We were never directly bothered by them, we just felt sorry for the staff mopping up behind them. We were wondering why there was no serious intervention. Maybe they are untouchables, the children of somebody very rich or dangerous.
Our next tour was away from Bikini reserve, on a short drive to a tiny port. As soon as we arrived, heavy rain started. The type that soaks you to your underwear in 20 seconds. It took some time to find shelter, where we waited.
As soon as the rain stopped, we boarded a small motorized canoe to navigate the river.
It is here where I made a critical mistake. The heavy rain had made my camera bag wet, but it can take some, and I soon applied the rain cover. The real mistake was to put the camera bag at the floor of the boat, which had a layer of water in it that I did not notice. This left the bottom of the bag exposed to lots of water for a long time. Only two days later did I notice that this killed my backup body, the Nikon D810. An optimist might say that my strategy of redundancy works well.
The idea of this trip was to occasionally get out of the canoe to do birding on the sand banks and small islands along the river. It was hard work, but fun. Birds seen include the Collared Plover, Mottle-backed Elaenia, Yellow-rumped Cacique, Crimson-crested Woodpecker, Amazon Kingfisher, White-browed Purpletuft, Bare-necked Fruitcrow. The photos are all terrible, as the observations were very distant.
Returning to our home base, electricity was out but soon restored. With nothing on the official program, I went for a solo daytime macro tour on the main trail. There’s nothing wrong with the trail, it takes you down into a beautiful forest. Yet even 1 km into the trail, I could still hear bad techno music blasting. Worse…the same song on repeat. It was then when I was out of my supply of benefit of the doubt. This place is bullshit. Not only does it not support natural exploration, it actively sabotages it. Nobody in here, neither staff or most guests, give one flying fuck about the forest. Indeed, the forest is a mere backdrop for an Instagram post.
From rock bottom, one can only go up though. The lengthy night tour on the same path produced an unexpected series of highlights. Such as this absolutely massive cricket that Manuel found:
It’s the size of my hand, and my hands are freakishly huge. Some katydids take a more subtle approach:
There were several more cool finds, but I’ll end with this one:
The day after this night tour, my hands were red hot, covered in big bumps, and swollen. I could not even make a fist. I get bitten all the time, but it must have been something different this time. Maybe something with white socks. Henriette, prepared as always, helped out with an anti allergy pill.
Just before we arrived back at the lodge from the night tour, a panicky staff member asked if we had seen the drunk couple. Nope. They left without paying. We got new neighbors, loud German bikers. We preferred the drunk couple.
Friday, November 12
We repeated the pre-breakfast birding around the lodge, with as highlight the classic Paradise Tanager:
We’ve seen it multiple times before, but it remains one of the most beautiful tanagers on the planet. We also saw the Blue-headed Parrot, Blue-necked Tanager, Black-billed Thrush, Moriche Oriole, and Speckled Chachalaca.
After breakfast, we raised the difficulty level. We went down into the dark forest trail targeting the Blue-crowned Manakin. We ultimately succeeded although the lack of light resulted in a noisy shot:
At lunch, it was Henriette’s turn to be surprised by food output. Thinking she had ordered prawns, she got a handful of tiny shrimp instead. In fairness, overall food is good, it just has odd exceptions and half the items on the menu are out of stock.
The afternoon was spent inactive due to rain. We relaxed and used the internet, which works well here.
The last night tour was spent on owling, a supremely difficult discipline of birding. All flashlights are off, so you’re in complete darkness, trying to locate them by their call. If we conclude that it might be close enough, one person quickly turns on the light and has mere seconds to locate it. This is to be done respectfully, casting a light, not directly blinding the owl.
Usually, it’s still not in a favorable position, or it was, but took off again. We repeated this process several times until it settled for a bit longer:
I did use flash, sparingly. The owl didn’t seem to care, but it’s not perfect ethics either. The positive is that in this place, this owl would rarely ever see bright lights.
The manager and two very jumpy Californian girls that he was guiding joined to observe the owl. Giving the excitement of the girls, I figured they might also like to see the tarantula. So I guided them to the nest, which blew their minds.
When I came back to our group, Manuel mentioned that I just ruined the manager’s night tour. He was supposed to show them the tarantula. I had no idea, I just wanted to be nice. It made me feel bad until I considered that if your night tour consists of pointing at a fixed nest, it wasn’t much to begin with.
We concluded the night with Manuel being Manuel:
Just before this moment, he put his hand directly next to a tarantula found on a tree. As a size reference. Until the tarantula engaged in a lightning fast running motion, Manuel screaming and laughing at once. Ordinary people don’t do this. Manuel isn’t ordinary.
Saturday, November 13
The least eventful day of our entire trip, which was mostly spent on the transit back to Quito. A good moment for some closing words on Bikini Reserve.
It’s a mixed bag. Judged from the perspective of natural exploration, the lodge itself does not qualify as its mostly optimized for relaxing and partying. It is situated though in a beautiful ecosystem, which means you might use it as a home base where you plan day trips away from the lodge.
Judged purely from the luxury perspective, it’s a gorgeous place, yet at times poorly managed. It’s a place with an identity crisis. You can have the best or worst time here, depending on what you’re looking for. Whilst it’s the lesser of locations we visited, we don’t look back at it with too much regret.
We departed at 9:30 AM and made one morning stop at an orchid facility. The facility grows commercial orchids as well as preserves wild ones for research purposes. The kind lady running the place explained the laborious process of daily care, and how for some orchids it takes up to 7 years for any flower to bloom.
For lunch we settled at a traditional roadside restaurant. It looked a little impoverished, but as is often the case, we had our best meal here.
We completed the transfer to Quito, and besides having dinner, didn’t do a whole lot more. Except for singing Christmas songs, of course.
Sunday, November 14
A refreshing day, literally and figuratively. Henriette and I usually pick forest locations for their high biodiversity. For this day though, Manakin Tours suggested to attend Antisana Ecological Reserve, a high altitude Andean ecosystem. We went along with it, as a way to diversify, whilst also expecting it to be mostly about sight seeing.
On this day, one awesome aspect of travel in Ecuador was once again confirmed. From Quito, you can be in the wild, in vastly different ecosystems, using short car transfers on mostly good roads. You don’t need a domestic flight or full day car transits to escape civilization. In fact, even our longest car transit (5 hours) still covers a tiny distance. The only reason it takes 5 hours is because of stops and a low maximum speed (60 km/h).
Dressed for today’s chilly occasion, we departed at 6:30 AM where after some steeply upwards driving we found ourselves at a first viewing point at around 4,000m altitude. We had almost immediate success by spotting the Black-tailed Trainbearer, an exclusive high altitude hummingbird:
Followed by a Black Flowerpiercer, Tyrian Metaltail, Carunculated Caracara, and Plain-capped Ground Tyrant. After a quick field breakfast, we proceeded further upwards.
The birds just kept coming. Plumbeous Sierra Finch, Plain-coloured Seedeater, Ecuadorian Hillstar, Many-striped Canastero, Bar-winged Cinclodes, Hooded Siskin.
Amidst all this productivity, I kept snapping smartphone pics of the surreal plant life found exclusively at this altitude:
An altitude ruled by the largest bird in the world:
Against the light, but one of only 150 individuals in Ecuador. Up next was the Black-billed Shrike-tyrant and an intimate encounter with this Carunculated caracara:
Not only were we happy with the amount of birds, personally I found relief in better photography. Whilst I was reasonably happy with my macro photography thus far, small birds in dark forests remain a problem. The photos are noisy, distant, obstructed. I don’t have a solution for it, but this more open ecosystem with good light brought significant comfort. Also for Henriette, as she’s able to look far into every direction using binoculars.
The gift kept on giving, with an observation of the Páramo pipit, a remote White-tailed deer, the Andean Lapwing and Andean Gull, before encountering another highlight:
The Andean Ibis, by some considered a sub species of the Black-faced Ibis, is rare in Ecuador. We are in the right place to see it though. Still, Luis had never seen it before, despite coming here for years. To meet not one but two (this one is part of couple) and to have them sit calmly up close is an absolute privilege.
Going up further still we spotted the Brown-backed Chat-tyrant, Sedge Wren, Andean Tit-spinetail, and the only antpitta that is not shy, the Tawny antpitta, ending with a cute cluster of Black-winged Ground Doves.
Not even lunch stopped our momentum as whilst waiting for food we secured the Giant Hummingbird and White-tipped Dove.
And that concluded our most productive birding day as we made the slow way back to Quito. Fantastic landscapes, a high dose of rare birds, and the surreal beauty of the Páramo all compressed in just a few hours. It had been fantastic.
And still I could not suppress a feeling. We’ve had it too easy these last few days. Luxuries and relaxed schedules. You get complacent. We need a kick in the butt, something raw. We need to suffer. Luckily, the remainder of our program had two epic locations in store to take care of this “problem”.
At night we repacked into smaller bags to only hold essentials, whilst we stored excess luggage in Quito.
Monday, November 15
The day to start our journey to the Amazon. The only transit requiring a domestic flight, and the only part that Luis did not join.
At 6:20 AM we departed towards Quito airport where we had a quick check-in. At the airport we enjoyed the breakfast care package from the Quito hotel and Manuel’s super coffee.
We hopped on to a very short flight of 40 mins only. Landing in Coca, we walked into an oven. From the cool and moderate Quito to a moist 35°C is a steep change.
It took mere minutes to make it through customs and reclaim our luggage. A cab was already awaiting to take us on a 5 minute drive to the port.
At the port, we met some of the Sani Lodge staff whom gave us an introduction of the program for the next days. We were offered a refreshing drink whilst the boat was loaded up with supplies and luggage.
Even the staff was impressed by the heat as it had been unusually hot for several days. As such, the water in the river ahead was very low, adding some 30 minutes to the fare as they need to dodge sand banks to not get stuck. We entered the roofed and motorized canoe for a 3 hour cruise on the Napo River, Ecuador’s largest river and a direct tributary to the mighty Amazon River.
The river is extremely wide, so there’s little opportunity to see wildlife as the shores are too distant. It’s not the goal of the transit in any case. Then, unannounced, a man appears from a small hole in the vegetation. No clearing, no dock, like a secret address for insiders. We got out there.
We proceeded for a few minutes on foot through a narrow path in the forest, until we reached a tiny dock to enter our final mode of transport: a small motor-less canoe. Sani Lodge staff peddled us forward in a way unbelievably smooth and silent. Being so low and silent in the water whilst gliding through this epic theater of wildlife is hard to do justice with words.
Just like it is hard to explain the power of the sun at the equator, on an unusually hot day, at the hottest time of day. Despite protection, just the reflection of the sun in the water burned our faces. At about 2:15 PM, we finally had our destination in sight:
A stunning place. Sani Lodge is 100% owned and managed by the indigenous Kichwa people. Many live a hybrid lifestyle where they accept modernity whilst preserving both their cultural and natural heritage. As a testament to their resilience, COVID-19 created a two year income gap. They survived by falling back on what they call the indigenous diet: fish and plantain. Visitors were only coming back just now.
We docked under the watchful eye of Lucy:
Lucy is a Black caiman. She had been a naughty girl by nesting directly under one of the guest lodges. I later on found the lodge in question. It was hard to miss as it was called “Casa Lucy” and had an alligator painting on it.
We had a much needed welcome drink, after which we were shown our rooms. There was a temporary water outage but over the next days we learned that this isn’t typical. On the contrary, facilities are excellent, and that’s amazing given the remoteness of the location.
Electricity is generated from an array of solar panels situated on a raft in the river. It’s always-on, reliable, and feels limitless, given the enormous power of the sun. Water to shower or flush the toilet is extracted from the ground using a pump. There’s even satellite internet. Terribly slow, but enough to send some messages. Food is not locally grown, it’s brought in from the boat we came on. Just like drinking water, which you’ll need lots of, it’s available for tapping from large tanks.
There’s also free music. In the middle of the area where the guest lodges are is a tree containing a few dozen nests of the Russet-backed Oropendola. They are not silent birds.
We returned to the dock area to see if we could still scoop up some wildlife. Much to my joy we soon found this Hoatzin:
Both Manuel and Sani Lodge staff had made it clear that it‘s not a great target bird, because it’s common in this lagoon. They’re right, but it won’t stop me from writing this love letter about the Hoatzin:
- There is nothing comparable to a Hoatzin. Not only is it the only in its genus and family, taxonomists even had to make up an entirely new order just to place this single bird in. Hence, the world of birds is split into Hoatzins and “other flying things that have absolutely nothing in common with Hoatzins, and we’re not sure about the flying either”.
- Where simple-minded birds eat fruits and insects for efficient feeding, Hoatzins take the wise and slow approach. They eat leaves and wait for them to be digested, like a cow.
- Hoatzins have a unique way of flying, a jump-flap-crash sequence, but a crash landing is still a landing. Often, a Hoatzin might attempt to fly and then suddenly reconsiders. I might as well stay here to digest. A showcase of intelligence and efficiency.
- Hoatzins are social animals, just like old married couples. They are often found in couples or triplets loudly arguing. They are communicators, unlike other birds that only make a sound when they want sex.
- Where the typical bird chick just like human babies can only cry and shit, Hoatzin offspring have claws on their wings, similar to bats. They can even swim.
- Hoatzins are caring parents. They throw up semi-digested leaf pulp straight into their babies’ face, whilst human babies reverse this method.
- Hoatzins have an effective tactic to avoid predation: they smell so badly that nobody is interested. They have a disagreeable odor.
- Hoatzins are beautiful. Pick one feature you like in a bird. The Hoatzin will have it, along with every other feature.
At around 4:30 PM, we went on another mesmerizing silent canoe fare, where Shawn hopped in. Shawn is a researcher from the US producing a documentary about Sani, its wildlife and its people. Over the coming days he would occasionally join us, and he turned out to be an asset.
Birds seen: Black-fronted Nunbird, Hoatzin (yay!), Giant Cowbird, Grey-fronted Dove, Social Flycatcher, Orange-crowned Manakin, Yellow-bellied Dacnis, Masked Crimson Tanager, Amazon Kingfisher.
Back at the lodge, we were nearing dinner time when Henriette collapsed from the heat. All this while our bodies had been massively overheated with no way to bring it under control, as there was no running water. You can strip, you can sweat, but it still wasn’t enough. Henriette had to lay down, and was in no state to have dinner. Honestly, I was pretty close to her state myself. This is a place where you can do nothing and still be completely soaked in minutes.
The lack of running water also blocked staff from cooking, so dinner was delayed by an hour. We used this hour to try and cool down Henriette. I wrapped a wet towel around her head and managed to find a cold drink from the bar. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to see signs of recovery. Meanwhile, the staff fixed the water issue and some 30 minutes later, Henriette was fit enough to join dinner.
Dinner was fantastic. There’s no menu, staff simply produces a delicious meal every time. We were amazed by the service level and professionalism of Sani Lodge. We’ve never experienced it in a place this wild and remote.
Up next was the night tour in the area behind the guest lodges.
It was stunningly diverse, as if every category of nocturnal life made an appearance.
What a fantastic place we arrived at. We got the suffering that we ordered, but also the rewards that come along with it. And we’re still to start exploration.
Tuesday, November 16
After breakfast we hopped into the motor-less canoe to reach a massive birding tower. In the front of the boat is Rodrigo, in the back Fabricio, each doing their peddling in sync to transport Manuel, Henriette, me and Shawn.
It’s hard to overstate their skill. You glide through the water with such smoothness and consistency, like a camera on a rail:
A weightless experience. Their positioning skills are super human. With a photographer in the boat, they know how to position just that one person perfectly for that small viewing window, whilst they are looking at it from a completely different angle. Without rocking the boat.
When a new corner is ahead, they expertly cut it. So that the entire boat sees what is ahead at once, instead of just the people in front. It delivers a few valuable seconds to surprise wildlife. You do not have to call out any wildlife and ask to get the boat closer, they’ve spotted it far before you did.
Not a single word is spoken to coordinate anything. It’s silent and humble craftsmanship. Guests intuitively turn to silence too, and let the wildlife do the talking.
On the way to the bird tower, we spotted the Great Egret, Capped Heron, Limpkin, Chestnut-fronted Macaw, Amazon Kingfisher and Black-capped Donacobius.
We docked and soon arrived at the tower:
It’s massive. The climb is easy as the entire structure is caged metal. The platform on top is huge and has rails. It’s very safe, so that one can focus on the view. From the top, you have an opportunity to spot many distant birds as this is one of the tallest trees in the area. At the same time, this tree is so enormous that you’ll have a good chance of several birds landing directly on its many branches.
Birds seen include the Black-tailed tityra, Cinnamon attila, Spix’s guan, Yellow-ridged toucan, Double-toothed kite, Chestnut woodpecker, Rufous-bellied euphonia, Many-banded aracari, Masked tanager, White-browed purpletuft, Purple honeycreeper, and Black-tailed trogon.
Not only was it successful, the team work was brilliant. Every team member scouting in different directions to achieve a maximum result. The most hilarious spotting was found at the end of the session:
Rodrigo pointed to a branch. My Spanish isn’t great and neither is his English. I didn’t understand what he was trying to show me, looking at this empty branch. He pulled me in a different direction where finally a tiny spark of light revealed the silhouette of a small beak. It wasn’t at all like the above photo, which is significantly brightened.
The rest of the team was equally stunned. We had been here for an hour, and this massive bird had been just sitting here, 2 meter away from our heads. Where we have been birding, this Potoo has basically been humaning.
We descended from the tower for more birding directly in the forest, this time targeting a few difficult high value targets. We had success with the Cinereous antshrike, Long-winged antwren, Wire-tailed manakin, Golden-headed manakin, Striped Woodcreeper, Scale-backed antbird, and Dwarf Tyrant-manakin.
The German couple passed. They had arrived with us together on the boat to Sani Lodge and were the only other guests at the time. They watched us for a while and probably concluded that this isn’t for them. Spending forever to see a tiny bird perch for 2 seconds after which you are too late to even get it in focus, is maddening. As they do video, it’s even harder, perhaps impossible.
We hopped back into the boat for the smooth cruise back to the lodge, when we were hit by a shock wave:
Through a little hole in the reed, there it is, the ultimate snake. Rodrigo poker face pointed it out casually, which made us confused about the rarity of this event. Shawn provided guidance. He stood up in the boat and yelled:
HOLY FUCKING SHIT DUDE! YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!
Later on, we learned that this is only the 3rd time Rodrigo has seen one, despite a lifetime here. Wild anacondas are very rarely seen, this is likely our first and last. As it was deep into the reeds, this is the only view we got. I don’t think it’s a good idea to poke an anaconda with a stick. Plus, adults are so heavy (200kg or more) that they struggle to move on land at all.
Back at the lodge, I did a small solo macro tour just before lunch. The sun was so powerful that I kept it short.
After lunch and some rest, we did an afternoon macro tour behind the lodges. This area can be accessed without a boat and is easy to explore with or without a guide.
The quantity of the findings wasn’t overwhelming, yet it was diverse and interesting.
As part of the trail, we had to cross a bridge consisting of rope and wooden panels. At the middle of the bridge, Henriette snaps through one of the rotten panels, her leg dangling below. Luckily, there’s no abyss below, just a 2m air gap where normally water would flow. As Henriette pulls her leg up, she drops her water bottle exactly into the hole. Next, Manuel tries to recover it but also falls, and he rips open his pants.
We can laugh about it now, but it could have been a trip-ending event. Tall boots may have saved Henriette’s ankles. Only after this incident did we discover the system. These paths of wooden planks are all over Sani, it’s how you get to your lodge, the restaurant, the dock, everywhere. Only now did we spot how 10% of planks are brand new. I guess they replace only the ones somebody fell through. Efficient, but a casual walk now becomes a lot more exciting. Anyway, this concludes the section on why I enter questionable bridges last.
During this hike, Fabricio demonstrated lemon ants. These are minuscule ants living on the inside of flower buds. You just wet your finger and scoop up a few, supposedly they really do taste like lemon. Both Manuel and Henriette tried them. I really wanted to try them myself, but unfortunately had to make the video.
Just before dinner, Henriette and I set up the moth trap in the staff lodge area. Returning after dinner, we had a mediocre result of some 15–20 moths.
We were expecting a low yield as we saw few insects attracted to other lights. We’re not bothered by it, we see mothing as a long game. One day you get 10, the other 100. It adds up over time.
Parallel to the mothing, Manuel and Henriette helped to spot other nocturnal goodies that include frogs, salamanders, a tarantula, a scorpion and various beautiful insects.
The day delivered more than we possibly could have dreamed of.
Wednesday, November 17
A 5:30 AM breakfast, which made us wonder what the earliest time is that they serve it. There is no earliest time. They will serve it whenever you want. Another example of the top notch service on offer.
The idea for this morning was to reach a clay lick site. A clay lick is an area where parrots gather to…lick clay. They do so to neutralize the toxic leaves that are part of their diet. To reach the site, we made it back to the Napo river to switch to the large motorized boat, taking us on a cruise of about an hour to reach this:
During the very early morning, an enormous amount of loud birds gather around this exposed clay. Unfortunately, predators know this, so the birds take significant time to approach the clay. You can gradually see them get closer, testing safety.
Unfortunately, it turned into a deception. The birds decided today is not a safe day, so no mass clay licking took place. It’s the way of the wild, but I felt bad for Henriette. Both her favorites, the Andean cock-of-the-rock and this clay lick failed. Nature did have some other rewards on offer such as a beautiful Yellow-ridged toucan and a surprise appearance by a troop of White-tailed Titis:
Extra entertainment was on offer by means of the German couple. The man got increasingly angry as his wife (in charge of video) failed to see the monkeys. He explained 10 times in a row where they are, but only got a blank stare. Despite them being up close, moving, and sticking out like a sore thumb. German cursing is beautiful, it sounds like Hoatzins.
Next, the boat was split. The German couple got out to attend a cultural show whilst we continued towards what we refer to as Hell Island.
The island is a patch of land where a section of foliage(seen in the distance) is always above water, whilst the giant sand bank surrounding it is usually submerged. We call it Hell Island because it offers no way to shelter from the sun. You’re being fried alive without mercy.
The island is attended by birders to target two birds that are exclusively found on river islands like this, the White-bellied Spinetail and the Black-and-white Antbird.
The antbird proved to be more difficult. We heard it and had it close, but the island doesn’t really have a network of paths to approach it. All I ended up with is a blurry photo of its back.
We returned to the boat, picked up the other couple, and made way back to Sani Lodge. On the way there, we had great encounters with the Red-throated Caracara and Amazonian Umbrellabird.
Manuel concluded the session by spotting a beautiful lizard, after which we had lunch.
Late in the afternoon, we took another trip with the canoe to reach a trail we had not attended yet. Throughout the trails in Sani we had spotted a few wildlife camera traps and by now we knew they are Shawn’s research cameras. We posed with a thumbs up each time we saw one. We regret this immature action after Shawn told us people normally do worse things or steal them. We should have stripped.
After scoring the difficult White-flanked Antwren, we switched to frogs. Manuel, Rodrigo and Fabricio put in a lot of work to produce a handful of gems.
Satisfied, we returned to the lodge and awaited dinner. We did not do any tour in the evening, as we needed some recovery time.
Thursday, November 18
We considered this to be our bonus day. Having attended the must-see sites and it being so successful, we could organize this day as we see fit. Anything we would encounter, would be a bonus. Exploration without pressure.
After a 6 AM breakfast, we went on a long hike in one of the forest trails lasting until lunch.
Although Henriette and I always make it clear that we demand nothing, you can still tell how staff feels a pressure to deliver. The beauty of this day is that they loosened up. Anything goes, even a silly plant. Look for what you think is interesting. Because really, everything is interesting to us.
A personal macro highlight is this adult antlion:
The careful reader may remember the larva I described earlier. This is what they turn into. Like dragonflies, but with antennae.
Besides a few frog highlights and countless cool insects, we also saw a few mammals:
We also managed to sneak up to a deer in the forest, which makes us as stealthy as a jaguar. This long hike was exhausting but so much fun and so rewarding.
Fully energy depleted we see Fabricio positioning some giant leaves on a fallen tree trunk. Next he pulls out a snack bag for all. Come and sit. As if they can read minds. Next-level pros.
After lunch, Henriette demonstrated her efficient laundry routine. Hand washing in a bag with soap, shaking it, then leaving the clothes up to dry. The sun is so powerful here that most clothes are fully dry in 20 minutes.
I went for a short solo macro tour as if to squeeze any and all value out of this place, no matter the sun or our exhausted state.
Late afternoon, we went for another magical slow cruise on the river, this time even more special due to the setting sun. We saw a Capuchin monkey, Agami heron, Rufescent tiger heron, American pygmy kingfisher, Lesser Kiskadee, Capped heron, and the trusty Hoatzin.
The only target we failed to see is the Giant Otter. There’s no shame in that, it’s Ecuador’s rarest mammal. They are here, we heard them.
As a final push, Henriette and I had put up the moth light trap behind our lodge before dinner, and returned to a similar result compared to two nights earlier.
At dinner, our stay here was coming to a close so the tour manager came to evaluate it. If we have any suggestions to improve things.
You have to be kidding me. We made it clear that we just experienced the gold standard in natural exploration. Sani Lodge is our new reference. Humbly and expertly delivering a four-star service in the middle of nowhere is insane.
As a joke, I flipped the question. What might we improve, as guests? Rodrigo mentioned that when he locates a bird, I should be faster to photograph it. This was very unfunny. I then said that the tip was still to be given. This was very funny.
Friday, November 19
A day of many vehicles. After a 5 AM breakfast, we departed at 5:30 AM into the motor-less canoe to connect with the bigger boat. In the big boat, we were shocked to find Fabricio still on shore, he was not going back to Coca. We directed the boat back to shore to give him his well deserved tip, after which he disappeared into the tiny hole in the vegetation that started our stay here.
Onward for the 3 hour fare on the Napo river. Manuel mentioned that we were going too slow, we have a flight to catch and the connection is tight. We docked at Coca, quickly changed shoes, tipped Rodrigo, after which a cab rocketed us through the streets of Coca to reach the airport.
We were just in time for the check-in deadline and hopped on to the 40 min flight back to Quito. At Quito, we found it surprisingly warm for Quito standards. Soon after, we were reunited with Luis who immediately took us back to our trusty Christmas lodge.
Amazingly, it still was only lunch time. Our bodies were still trying to understand what the hell just happened. Canoe, big boat, car, plane, car, all at breakneck speed, perfectly interlocking.
With still time in the day, the plan was to attend Cayambe Coca Ecological Reserve, another high altitude ecosystem just 40 min away from Quito. On the way there, Luis deposited us to the side of a highway, claiming it gives a good view of a hill where we might see the Spectacled Bear.
He himself proceeded to work on a problem with the car. I’m still unsure if he was just messing with us. In any case it became clear that I made a mistake. Just before departing, Henriette insisted for me to wear an extra jacket. I was hot, so refused. Now I found myself freezing to death due to ice cold heavy wind. Manuel offered his spare jacket, which helped, but only a little.
We continued the drive and soon found ourselves at 4,300m. A 4 km altitude change and a massive temperature swing in just 9 hours. Luis went nuts when he immediately found a very exclusive high Andes bird, the Rufous-bellied Seedsnipe:
All this while continuing to be amazed by the exclusive and unique plant life:
Another gem of a bird was found, the Red-rumped bush tyrant, followed by the equally exclusive Blue-mantled Thornbill. A wonderful strike of three. Our visit was short, but extremely effective. As to not die from frost.
We returned to Quito for the night. In the shower, I had a moment of introspection. We’ve compressed so many experiences into such small amount of time that the mind struggles to contain it. We can’t even remember what happened a day ago as so many things happened on just that day.
Judged by the sun burns, cuts, bites, bumps, split toe nails and aching muscles, we’ve truly given our everything. We could go home right now and be perfectly satisfied.
Who would do such a silly thing though when the mother of all cloud forests awaits? It’s time for the final push.
Saturday, November 20
After a 6:30 AM breakfast, we departed on a 3 hour car transit to reach Los Cedros Reserve. The last hour was very bumpy, and we had minor navigation issues.
We ultimately arrived at a small farm, where we were welcomed by an old lady. Later on we learned that this farm belongs to Martin’s family, him being our main guide for Los Cedros. He makes a living from the farm and his tours, where he has over 20 years of experience guiding researchers and tourists. We were the first guests since a month.
We had packed luggage into bags as light as possible, as we knew they were to be transported upwards by donkeys. Then we started our ascent on the Stairway to Heaven.
Meaning, there better be heaven at the end of this hellish path. It is relentlessly steep and difficult. The first section is in the full sun, so we were being fried whilst constantly being out of breath.
We soon welcomed the more sheltered forest, but the path didn’t get any less steep. During the many pauses we had to take to catch our breath, tiny near-invisible mosquitos forced us to keep moving. Around each corner one would hope for a flat section, but no, it’s up only.
We were moaning how it doesn’t make sense to drive down 1 km only to walk it back up again, but the path didn’t care. Instead, it increased its difficulty by adding deep mud pools to the challenge.
Hey look….said Manuel, seeing some bird. Not now, Manuel. We didn’t have the energy. It was a mistake to carry all this camera gear on this path, we should have tied it to the donkey. Where we started the path feeling sorry for the donkey, we now felt sorry mostly for ourselves. The donkey is probably at the end already, enjoying a refreshing drink.
Still, during longer pauses we did manage to capture the Pearl Kite, Crested Guan, Maroon-tailed Parakeet and Broad-billed Motmot.
The maddening we’re almost there wasn’t much appreciated. To us this means being at 90%, not halfway there. The only thing we were close to is fainting. We soon entered a strange state of acceptance. The state where you give up resisting and complaining and just march. You stop trying to track progress and assume it will simply go on forever.
Until at one point a clearance in the forest appeared, and we saw a wooden building sitting at the top of a distant hill. Another almost there joke?, asked Henriette. No, it looked like we finally had our destination in sight.
Martin welcomed us with a hose to clean our boots. We proceeded to enter the head quarters, the large wooden building we had seen in the distance.
In the middle sits an old man with dirty clothes, smoking whilst reading a molded book. Behind him a library of equally molded books. It had a Harry Potter feel to it, if it wasn’t for the out of place modernity, a gaming chair.
You have good energy, he opened, referring to the path. Surely a layered compliment given that locals don’t seem to break a sweat completing it. He went on to not waste any time plotting himself on the political spectrum:
“I left the States in 1972. You can keep it. Right wing bastards”.
The man is José DeCoux, and he is to be forgiven for being outspoken:
He’s the reason these trees are still standing, and not even cancer stops him from continuing to protect this primary forest. A conservation legend.
There’s other characters to meet, including several pets. There’s Oreo and Princesa, a cat couple with a fresh nest of ultra cute kittens. The cats are here to take care of the many rats the facility suffered from, which in turn attracted snakes. The cats never seem to leave the platform, they do not hunt other wildlife. There’s also an old friendly dog, later joined by a chihuahua owned by José’s grand daughter. Never a dull moment in this communal area, where all guests dine and meet.
Electricity is available by means of a pretty loud generator that is turned on for a few hours a day. It even enables satellite internet, unexpectedly fast if you stay within close reach.
Toilets are public and outside. Mostly to do a #2. It’s a shed with a hole in the ground. The hole is very deep, so you don’t see or smell anything, and there’s a lock on the door. To do a #1, you’re asked to water a remote plant. Easy enough for men, women uncomfortable to do so are free to use the toilet shed.
The shower is also public and outside. It works surprisingly well. You have to turn a knob to enable water flow and then another knob to turn on the water heater. Pretty amazing to have a hot shower with a view on the forest.
Drinking water is made available by boiling water in enormous pans. Sometimes Manuel would use the UV light method instead.
The room we got was spacious. The roof was leaking and it doesn’t seem regularly cleaned, but we don’t care. The basics are in place and we’re not here for the room.
We met our neighbor, whom I will refer to as K. I only heard her name once, forgot it, and was embarrassed to ask again. She’s a talented young woman here to research a genus of butterflies that contains an unusually large amount of species. She was trying to figure out the reason for this diversity, by researching the host plants of the individual species.
After lunch and magic coffee, we started with some casual exploration whilst staying close to the lodges. Birding highlight is this couple of Rose-faced Parrots:
A very obscure species, with an unusual facial pattern. We then continued to photograph the several orchids found around the head quarters. We took great joy in the child-like excitement of Manuel. He’s obsessed with orchids, and he just arrived in heaven.
Before dinner time, José suggested for us to check the oven in the kitchen. Here he had been slow roasting pork and chicken for most of the day. It smelled amazing. Diner was fantastic. It’s buffet-style where you enter the kitchen to fill your plate. Food is prepared in alternating shifts by José’s daughter and an employee.
The night tour was brief but productive. It produced a little bit of everything, including 3 frogs, an enormous stick insect, many spiders, millipedes, harvestmen, treehoppers, the like. As highlight I’ll post this cryptic frog:
Because Martin couldn’t tell what it was. We soon learned that if he doesn’t know, it’s unusual.
We settled for the night with a smile, knowing we have days ahead to explore this beautiful place.
Sunday, November 21
I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. I never seem to have this problem except for places where the toilet is outside. After the watering, I took a moment to appreciate the forest at night as it was lit by an almost full moon. Beautiful.
A bat flew closely past my ear. Next, I had a strong feeling that something was watching me. Not as an imagination, instead a physical sensation kicking in. I didn’t care to test the worst case scenario (jaguar), went back to bed and pulled up the blankets, ears probed. Henriette didn’t sleep too well either, due to an issue with the bed.
Both before and after breakfast, we continued our strategy of birding fairly close to the lodges, as it is the most open area. Birds seen include the Blackburnian warbler, Canada Warbler, Cinnamon becard, Golden-olive woodpecker, Purple-bibbed whitetip, Streaked flycatcher, Slate-throated redstart, and Swallow tanager. The absolute highlight though was a clear and open perch of the Immaculate antbird (sometimes called Blue-lored antbird):
It’s rare for most antbirds to pose like this, but this was one performed three open perches in a row. Luis tried to capture it next, but as of then the moment was gone, the bird returning to its normal hide-and-seek behavior. I felt bad for him but he found it increasingly funny how he kept missing it.
After lunch, we went on an epic orchid hunting tour. In the section of the path that leads to the river, some 1–2 km from the lodge, we found quite a few. The unquestionable highlight though was the discovery of a lepanthes species new to science.
As background, a word on how miniature orchids like lepanthes are typically found. At the correct elevation, it’s possible to find them on a live tree alongside roads, the road giving access to the tree that you otherwise would not have. It still only gives you access to the bottom of the tree, unless you climb it.
More often than not, lepanthes are found from fallen branches. Cloud forests are full of fallen branches. The branches break due to the heavy moss growing on them (along with epiphytes, ferns, etc), able to soak up a hundred times their own weight in water from the permanently misty atmosphere.
When a branch falls, the orchid is able to detect the change in conditions. The moist air flow is gone, and it’s darker. This may trigger a stress response, for the flower to bloom, in order the reproduce. Blooming may take as little as an hour to multiple weeks, depending on the species.
Since “discovering” a new species is an ambiguous term, here’s an exact run down of events:
- Discovery refers to finding it as well as describing it to science for the first time. Other people could have seen it before, but without describing it, we will never know. That said, a lepanthes is not a species to casually bump into, they are tiny and do not openly present themselves. You find one because you were looking for one.
- We found two individual flowers. The first was on the left side of the path, the second on the right side of the path. The first one has one broken flower lip, the second one is fully intact. For the intact one, Rodrigo mentioned how he had spotted the leaf a few weeks earlier, yet without a blooming flower. From just the leaf it could not be foreseen which species it was or that it is new, but one of the two plants was spotted earlier regardless.
- Manuel picked up a fallen branch and I saw him scan it. One end of the branch was pointing in my direction where by chance I happened to see a flower at the very end. I pointed at it. Isn’t that one? And so it was found, but I’m quite sure that Manuel would have found it himself soon after.
- Finding a flower is but a first step. Suspecting it is new means you need intimate knowledge of all described species, which I lack. Manuel immediately suspected it to be a new species. A critical contribution. When you photograph a lepanthes, you are going to find out that it is new eventually, even if you did not know it in the field. Yet it would forever remain nameless if you did not preserve the specimen.
- I made some first field photos using 1:1 macro. Manuel made photos of the back of my camera and reached out to Luis Baquero, an orchid researcher based in Quito. Two hours later, Luis confirmed it to be a new species.
- Under the direction of Manuel, I made many detailed 2:1 macro shots of the intact flower from every angle possible. Although anybody could have photographed it, it’s still an important step. The flower would next be put on alcohol, so this is the only moment to capture it in its original natural state. It’s of course a stroke of luck to have a photographer with you carrying advanced macro gear.
- Manuel took care of preservation, by putting it on alcohol and protecting and transporting it all the way back to Quito.
- In Quito, Luis Perez physically drove the specimen to Luis Baquero.
- Luis Baquero will next describe the species, or so we hope. Which likely is the most work.
So there are several people contributing, our consensus is that it is a team discovery. The idea is to name this new species after the judge that ruled in favor of Los Cedros in a long running lawsuit regarding mining rights. I do not know the name of the judge, it was a pre-ruling which is still to be confirmed.
As said, this was but one of several orchids found, but this section is already long enough.
Dinner was funny. It consisted of a very large bowl of soup only. For Henriette and me it was plenty. Due to the heavy lunches we eat more on a trip like this than usual. I could see how some others were puzzled though, perhaps wondering what about the rest? Especially Mr No Frutaz.
As if the day wasn’t eventful enough already, we went on a long and difficult night tour. Difficult because it was in heavy rain on a challenging path towards the river. A lot of effort is spent on not falling and keeping the camera dry, taking away energy to spend on actually finding things.
The young researcher, K., also joined, as well as a self-proclaimed frog specialist. The man turned out to be useless. He didn’t find a single frog and didn’t even have a flash light. When we pointed him to frogs that we found, he would look at it and say: Si, Rana. A frog indeed. Luckily we had Martin and Manuel.
A nerdy personal macro achievement is this:
Bristletails are part of the obscure insect order Archaeognatha. They are some of the most primitive insect-like creatures around. I’ve never seen a single one in my life before.
There were plenty more unusual and interesting finds. The further down we got, the more difficult the path became. Ultimately we arrived at river level where we secured one of the targets, a glass frog:
Note the appendage under the arm pit. This is a bone-like appendage that males use to fight with each other.
After the very long way back up we reached the donkey stable where we came across a disturbing situation:
We found this Hook-billed Kite on the floor, wounded. It has a deep cut at the top of its beak. As it saw us, it tried to escape. It elevated itself to about 3 meter, and then crashed to the floor. Same on its second attempt to flee.
We were obviously not helping by standing around, so we left it alone, hoping that it manages to recover on its own in peace.
Despite the shocking end, we looked back at an unforgettable day. A morning with several birds and the antbird highlight. An afternoon with many orchids and the new lepanthes as highlight. A night with highlights in multiple categories. A peak day.
Monday, November 22
We woke up to heavy rain. I’ll briefly forward the timeline to about 10 AM where I made a supremely crappy photo of a large bird in flight. I zoomed in on my camera’s LCD to inspect what it is. Guess what:
Note the dent above the beak. It’s comeback bird, alive and airborne. I was thrilled as people were already discussing a solution involving a machete.
Anyway, rain, lot’s of it. It blocked us from going out in the first half of the morning so instead we worked on administration. In particular plants and frogs, many of which Martin and Manuel can identify.
In the second half of the morning, rain became manageable so we did a long hike on one of the trails. The idea was to do birding, but there was very little activity, so I definitely brought the wrong lens. We came across the place where we found the new orchid species again and marked it with a label:
Arriving back at the head quarters for lunch, a new dog was suddenly there. A hilarious chihuahua fearlessly chasing the big dog and the cats.
As rain continued, we did a post lunch nap. A little later Manuel and I handled the more detailed photography of the new orchid species we found the day before, whilst also answering messages from the cult-like lepanthes community on Facebook.
I’ve always wondered why people are so obsessed with lepanthes. Until one day it hit me. Look at it very closely. What does it look like to you? What does it resemble, with a little bit of imagination?
You know I’m right. You can’t unsee it. I have now permanently improved or ruined them, these “delicate” flowers. Happy to help.
Anyway, that was just a filler as not much else happened for the rest of the day. The rain just wouldn’t stop. We didn’t mind the opportunity to rest a little. Our only concern was that we did not have a mothing session yet, so it would need to happen on the next and last day, rain or no rain.
Tuesday, November 23
It had continued to rain all night and at our 7 AM coffee gathering, it still was. After a 8 AM breakfast, it finally stopped, so we headed out.
Paths had become supremely slippery due to the 30 hours of non-stop rain. Henriette was getting scared. She always struggles with difficult paths, but normally a walking stick and a slow pace get the job done. We’re in no rush anyway. This was too much though, she no longer trusted any of the steps she made, which makes for a very exhausting hike.
It was best to give her a break. We walked the path back to the lodge, where she would do some reading and enjoy the pets.
A wise choice, as Martin and Manuel figured it’s now possible to put me on an even more difficult path. Slippery, extremely steep, and not maintained, often leaving me wondering where the path even is. I was put to work.
Some of the birds found: Golden Tanager, Club-winged Manakin, Rufous-throated tanager, Maroon-tailed parakeet, Olive-sided flycatcher, Crested Guan.
At the highest point of the path we were rewarded with an intimate encounter with a Howler monkey:
On this path I also started an entirely new discipline of nature photography: cool leaves. It’s inspired by one of Manuel’s friends. This guy goes into forests, grunge rock on his headphones, and then casually makes photos of interesting leaves using a crappy smartphone. The leaves in question are typically interesting for being very large, in a pristine state, oddly shaped, and so on. Not only has this resulted in a massive collection of leaf photos, also to the discovery of several new species.
It’s such a great and simple idea. Nobody photographs leaves, but they’re all over. They take no time to capture, and are an excellent way to spent breaks. I should have started this at the beginning of the trip, not at the end.
Getting back down the path safely was a challenge. I finally gave Martin my backpack, he had been requesting it for a while. I normally don’t let guides carry anything as they’re not porters. It’s my choice and my problem to carry this gear. This time I prioritized not dying though.
Back at the headquarters we found Henriette in good spirit again, happily petting the new tiny dog.
In the afternoon, we made a brief attempt to find some additional orchids and did find some, but the search was cut short by new rain.
Late afternoon, Henriette and I set up the moth light trap, as this was our last slot. Just before proceeding to dinner, we turned it on. Max power. All or nothing. Dinner preparation took a while though, so I went for a quick check:
A most excellent result, after only 20 minutes. I didn’t photograph any of them yet as there was first dinner to be had. After dinner, we returned to Max Moth Mayhem:
Moths had tripled whilst we were away for dinner, and entire clouds of additional ones were still coming in. A result that we can never improve upon for the simple reason that I had to shut down the light. There were too many moths, they became near impossible to photograph.
I had to do most of the photography on the other side of the cloth, as on the light side, most were starting to overlap. Several photos failed due to moths constantly entering the barrel of my lens or flying in front of the moth I was targeting. We had to cover our mouth and ears and struggled to even breath near the cloth.
Others came to check out the moth storm and stood there in awe. José’s grand daughter, a cheerful little girl with hair as long as herself, gazed at the candy store of biodiversity with admiration and perhaps a hint of fear. I wanted to show her how harmless moths are, so picked up a very vivid one, and transported it to her hand. May she one day become a conservation legend, it’s in the blood line.
After all this group excitement, I suddenly find myself alone. Everyone went to bed leaving me here. Good luck, Ferdy. How do you even begin to process a cloth like this? Worse, rain started again. I had been paranoid about rain as water killed my backup camera, and I definitely didn’t want to kill this one too. Still, I could not entirely abandon this opportunity either.
I put in another 30 mins of rapid photography when I noticed that not only my camera was soaked, it was also covered in crap. Moth dirt and shit. I’ve never experienced that before. With still less than half of the photography done, and perhaps as little as one third, I ended it. I planned for a compromise, I would set an early alarm to photograph remaining moths the next morning.
Back at our room, I had to ask Henriette to remove dozens of moths before I could enter. I spend some 30 minutes cleaning the camera, it had never been this dirty before.
Wednesday, November 24
A 5:30 AM alarm to return to the moths. Unfortunately, most were gone, with only a few dozen remaining. After shutting down the light, most probably moved to other lights around the head quarters. Others might have become a bird’s breakfast. Still, I faithfully photographed the remaining ones when José happened to pass by.
You don’t know how to stop, perhaps him thinking that I continued all night.
He showed a sudden interest in the light. I’m thinking word got around, as the entire community stood there in disbelief the night before. It became clear to me how a light like this would be an asset to this place. Both for researchers and guests.
I suggested that he can buy it from me, for a friendly price. It would be easier for me to buy a new one (it’s made in Germany) than for him to get one to this remote place.
Sounds great, let’s talk about it over breakfast.
On the short walk back to our room, I was thinking of what might be a friendly price. At least a 50% discount, I was thinking. I felt good about myself and my pending act of kindness.
And then it hit me hard. I didn’t consider to just donate the light because it is expensive. Expensive. Expensive is donating your life, health and everything to this forest. A sacrifice with the highest price possible, made by José.
From generous to asshole, it took about 5 seconds. The light was to be donated. Henriette agreed. We then considered that the structure (cloth, poles, wires) is the cheap part, so we might as well leave it here too.
We delivered the good news over breakfast. The only thing José would have to buy himself is the power bank. The extra high capacity ones are hard to come by. We were figuring out together which one to buy online, as you need a very specific combination of specifications to run a 90W light like this. I couldn’t watch it, and just gave up the power bank too.
A fully complete and operational setup, no unfinished business. I then concluded by showing José photos of permanent light trap structures as we came across them at other reserves, as inspiration.
I still don’t write this as a display of generosity, it’s a minor donation at best. Above all we are excited about what it makes possible. José ensured it would be put to good use, so may it delight future visitors and researchers.
After breakfast, it was time to say goodbye:
It was time to descent from the Stairway to Heaven. We started it in good spirit, thinking it must be far easier to navigate down compared to going up. We were wrong, it was hellish. The heavy rain from the last two days had turned the path into a mud skiing track. Everybody fell, slipped, slided.
We finally made it the open section where we had started the path days earlier. With the farm in sight, heavy rain started. As if Los Cedros stretched its arms to the maximum with a final kiss: bye, losers.
We came across Martin again as he was making his way back up. We said our goodbye and gave him a tip.
We made it to the farm looking like pigs, and smelling worse. I was cleaning my boots in an outside sink when the old farm lady tried to tell me to not directly put my boot in the sink. She continued to watch when Henriette and I stripped without warning. She retreated.
A pig approached my backpack and sniffed it. Intelligent as they are, it fled. Pigs have standards.
Swapped to dry and clean clothes, we started the drive back to Quito where we made multiple stops to enjoy the perks of civilization: ice cream, cold soda, lunch. Luis as always knows the best places.
Back in Quito, we reorganized luggage, cleaned ourselves up and finally switched to the only jeans and normal shoes moment of the entire trip.
Thursday, November 25
The day of our departure. After an 8 AM breakfast, we waited for what was to be a goodbye lunch. In the meanwhile, Manuel took care of a medical issue, his thumb having some strange extra tissue growing out from below the nail.
Luis picked us up to have lunch in a fancy and beautiful place, where we evaluated. We were interested in what Manuel and Luis considered to be the highlights.
They both agreed that it was Los Cedros. Henriette and I were not surprised, as we could tell how they enjoyed it as if they were on a holiday, rather than a work assignment. No driving, no logistics, and Manuel thriving in orchid heaven. We took equal joy throughout the trip in seeing Luis’ increasing excitement about non-bird aspects of nature: orchids, frogs, the like. The naturalist experience is contageous.
Manuel concluded with some words that mean the world to us: I’m back in business.
We couldn’t imagine a better closure. A man of his skill and ethics deserves to thrive. It makes us happy to see him happy. We don’t come with the pretense that we had any part in it, we just like the outcome.
Our squad of four had been operating as a bunch of equals and friends. The chemistry was perfect. We will never forget it.
After some heavy tipping, we made way to the airport and had our goodbye with Luis. Manuel was on a different flight so we said goodbye to him too. Henriette and I checked in, which took forever, did some duty free shopping and proceed to the gate.
Manuel came to our gate as he had forgotten to give back some stuff, like my second phone (I borrowed it to him as it contains a birds app) and the UV flashlight. He spent some time at our gate until he had to go to his own gate.
We boarded on our flight, which was a little too late. Luckily, we managed to acquire exit seats, giving more leg space. The flight first had to make a stop at another domestic airport, where we assumed we could remain seated. Nope, we were to exit the plane and board it again.
Finally, we settled on the long flight back.
Friday, November 26
Around 1:30 PM we landed in Amsterdam to find cold, rain and wind. We hopped on to the shuttle bus back to the hotel where we picked up our car, proceeding into a massive traffic jam. Welcome to Holland.
Just before darkness, we made it back home where the first thing on our mind was our cat, Shiva the Diva.
As cats will have it, she was surprised to see us again and overwhelmed by all the luggage and new smells. Over the next few days she would never leave our side, her way of telling us that she missed us, as we missed her.
Closing words
Needless to say, Henriette and I had another adventure of a lifetime. A journey that was intense, diverse and unforgettable.
We love Ecuador. Not only does it offer a rich set of highly biodiverse ecosystems, it does so in a way that is comparitively easy to travel. Distances are short and accomodations well developed.
As for locations, I personally consider Sani Lodge and Los Cedros to be peak experiences, but I equally appreciate the shorter and effective visits to the high Andes ecosystems. There is no reason to pick, you can have it all. Bikini Reserve was the lesser location, but only because the others were so top notch.
We managed to compress a dizzying amount of experiences into a small timeline. Not even this lengty travel report begins to do it justice. Henriette and I consider our travel experiences to be part of our wealth, and we just became a whole lot richer.
Special thanks
Thank you Henriette, love of my life, for tolerating me and my obsessions.
Thank you Manuel, Luis and all local guides. For your expertise and friendship, without your guidance and hard work we wouldn’t experience a fraction of what we experienced.
Thank you Manakin Tours for another trip well organized.
Thank you Ine and Mira, for taking care of Shiva whilst we were away.
Thank you Christine Young, for taking care of JungleDragon administration whilst I was away. You’re an amazing friend. Thank you to all others that helped to keep things running.
Thank you Ocellated tapaculo, for showing up.
The photos
This travel report contains a handful of photos out of the 1,000+ I expect to publish. I will do so on JungleDragon, where I post them in small batches with species information included. It’s a lengthy process, typically taking 6–9 months.
“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” — John A. Shedd
