We landed in Quito just before midnight on New Year’s Eve, watching tiny fireworks silently exploding over the city. At that point, the full extent of our plan was to reach Rio in time for a return flight 15 weeks later. After a couple of days wandering in a jet-lag and high-altitude daze around Quito’s busy streets, we escaped to Mindo, two hours away by bus. This journey took us up and out of the valley in which Quito sits between volcanic peaks, and then wound down into the wet and lush cloud forest on the western slopes of the Andes. Mindo is a quiet little place, surrounded by forests and hills which often disappear into the clouds. We arrived in the rain at dusk, and made our way along virtually deserted streets to our accommodation at Cabanas Armonia. This is an orchid garden masquerading as jungle, and we were led to our little cabin, one of a handful tucked away amongst the plants. After the dry, thin air of Quito, the humidity, the smell of the wet vegetation, and the chorus of frogs, were wonderful.
Highlights of our stay at Cabanas Armonia included lazy birdwatching from our private hammock, with toucans and hummingbirds among the many species that regularly passed by. Wandering through the garden finding some of the roughly 200 species of orchid that are grown here was fascinating.
And having a delicious breakfast, outside, with a frenzy of hummingbirds zipping around so close to us that we could feel the air from their wings, made getting out of bed easy.
The family that owns Armonia maintains feeders for the hummingbirds, and these tiny birds drink litres of sugar water between them every day. Watching and listening to them whirr, chirp and squeak is hypnotic.
And catching them with your camera becomes an endless challenge.
Hummingbirds have co-evolved with the flowers that they feed from, sometimes resulting in such close relationships that the length and curve of a beak perfectly matches the dimensions of the host flower. This ensures that the bird has access to nectar and the flower is guaranteed a pollinator. However, in other cases, as in one frequent visitor to a flower next to our cabin, species bypass this reciprocal relationship and simply pierce the base of the flower to access the nectar without any pollination benefit to the plant. Hummingbirds were a frequent sight on our Andean journey south, through Ecuador and Peru, and as ever Attenborough explains it best:
In between poring over our guidebooks and hatching a tentative plan to visit Ecuadorian jungles, volcanoes and colonial cities en route south to Peru, we went for walks in the countryside around Mindo. Strolls along the roads leading out of town led through verdant green valleys, coffee plantations, dripping tropical vegetation, and sightings of gaudy tanagers, toucans and aracaris, and a stunning quetzal. We took a rickety ‘cable car’, more accurately a cage on a wire, across a steep valley to walk along trails that linked a series of waterfalls in the forest. And we tried to reconcile the warmth and tropical surroundings with Twelfth Night celebrations in the church, and the curious nativity scene outside it.
On our way back to Quito a week later we had arranged to visit Bellavista Cloud Forest Reserve, 1000m higher up the mountains than Mindo. We got off the bus at a small village called Nanegalito, and were quickly approached by the driver of a pick-up truck taxi who drove us up the steep and winding single track lane to the lodge. The lodge is an incredible place, within a private reserve that protects 700 hectares of hugely biodiverse cloud forest. There is an extensive trail system, comfortable accommodation, excellent food, and it is renowned for its birding. Such luxury and biodiversity meant that the lodge itself was way beyond our tight backpacker budget – but it is still possible to stay and explore the reserve: a small research station doubles as basic hostel accommodation, but incredibly, very few people make use of this. This is a big shame because the forest around Bellavista is like nothing we had seen before – huge tree ferns, and trees dripping with multiple layers of vegetation, shrouded in ethereal mist and cloud which sometimes broke to reveal the precipitous view down to the valleys below. The trails were easy to follow, and took us up and down steep ravines to hidden streams.
The research station accommodation was basic, but we had a warm bed and a hot shower, and pots and pans to cook with over a gas stove. Fellow residents included scientists from the States, their Ecuadorian research assistants, a couple of temporarily captive birds that were the focus of their studies, a sink-full of beetles collected for a small project, and a noisy mouse who helped itself to a chunk of banana in the kitchen. The captive birds were, of course, early risers and woke us from their room next to ours with an ear-splitting duet at dawn. Electricity is from a generator that is only run for a few hours a day, and as we were virtually on the equator it got dark about 6. Evenings were spent quietly by the light of candles and headtorches, listening to the myriad noises coming from the forest.
It was the duetting of the birds that interested the scientists, as explained by Dr Eric Fortune in this video. The song he plays is the one that woke us each morning. It would wake the dead.
After ten days of cloudforest meanderings we made our way back to Quito, pausing to pose at the equator for a photo, bedraggled in wet and muddy clothes from the last hike along the trails that morning. Everything we had was damp, and had been for days, and just as the humidity had been so welcome after the dryness of Quito, returning to dry land was also a great relief after such a soggy time. Our clothes soon covered every available surface in our hostel room, and were dry by the morning.