I once saw the Amazon basin from a small, four-seater plane, flying for hours over rain forest. Only virgin rivers and indigenous dwellings interrupted nature's green palette. On this seminal journey, I cried, clear hot tears when I looked below, but wiped my face in silence, never expressing why it was so important that one moment, those unbroken forests. Seeing them unscarred, without roads, without cattle, without agriculture, without airports -- I had only known that once or twice before in my life.
In April, I traveled at 6AM on a pulverized road in the Peten in Guatemala across a devastated landscape in the Zona de Amortiguamiento of the Maya Biosphere Reserve. Officially known as the buffer zone in English, in Spanish it also translates as a "deadened" zone. Life has been extinguished here. It is the DMZ of the Peten, where the invasion of landless campesinos from southern Guatemala has been temporarily contained. In April, the temperatures reach 100 F frequently, and there are few water holes. As I headed north from my base in the pueblo of San Andres, the seared pastures looked stripped of nutrients and trees stood blackened from the fires that blazed across the landscape more than 10 years ago. A few leafless shrubs provided paltry shade for chickens and pigs in the smoky sunrise. It was hard to believe that I was headed to an ecotourism project, where I would soon delight in a beautiful natural landscape. But increasingly, intrepid travelers are taking this same road to reach the Laguna del Tigre National Park and hike the Scarlet Macaw Trail.
The Reserva Biosfera Maya is located in the most northern territory of Guatemala, called the Peten. It is the home of Tikal, the venerable ruins of the ancient Maya, which now attract 130,000 tourists per year. It is also part of a larger ecosystem that protects the forests of Campeche Mexico, known as the Reserva Biosfera Calakmul, and the extensive private reserve in Belize called the Rio Bravo Conservation and Management Area. I have visited this entire ecosystem now, having explored both Calakmul and Rio Bravo in the last year. This is one of the largest protected forests in Central America, and it is tropical. But it is also very dry! In fact, this forest survives in almost desert like conditions at this time of year.
Traveling across the Zona de Amortiguamiento, in the Peten, was a harsh wake-up call. In March, I enjoyed a bucolic trip in the Mexican forests of Calakmul with Leticia Valenzuela, a local woman of Mayan descent. We shared the mutual excitement of touring the little-known Mayan ruins of Xpujil, Chicanna, Becan, and the great city of Calakmul. Only one tourist had come to Calakmul the day before, and we were virtually alone in this ancient Mayan city which once was a fierce enemy of the famous city of Tikal and the domain of great kings, such as Jaguar Paw. Leticia is the president of the Calakmul Guide Association, a group based in the crossroads town of Xpujil. Ten guides, each representing a local community in the region, have been trained, and trained well if Leticia is typical, by a local Mexican initiative. Increasingly throughout Latin America, it is possible and preferable to be led by local, well-trained guides. Most do not speak English, but this will change, as their motivation to provide you with the best guiding services is impressive.
In Calakmul, we did much more than look at ruins. The wildlife is extensive, and it is not possible to suggest that the jaguar is endangered here. On the 30 mile forested road into Calakmul, Leticia has seen jaguar 17 times. A very understated woman, I have no reason to doubt her, but this is a highly remarkable number of sightings. Driving into the reserve my first night, I saw an ocelot, a spotted cat that is a member of the secretive society of cat species that resides in the rain forests of Latin America. Spider and howler monkeys are not at all difficult to observe. Spiders tend to shake the branches of the trees vigorously when they are feeding, allowing even the most amateur forest visitor to spot them with ease. Troop leaders put on a bit of a territorial show, and I have seen them shaking branches high above, looking down frequently to make sure I am watching. Youngsters imitate this mock territorial display. On one trek, far from a tourist zone, two juvenile males began hurling branches at my group, forcing us to duck and move quickly to safer territory.
On a small side trail in Calakmul, Leticia and I tracked puerco de monte, a small pig known as a collared peccary, finding their hoofed tracks in the soft earth and their gamey odor in the air. We sat crouched, hidden near a small pond, hearing a flock of birds flush in anxiety, and a loud hippo-like blast of air. We guessed it was danta, or tapir, the largest mammal of the rain forest. A 400-600 pound creature, tapir live near water, and share characteristics of hippo and hog, with the wiggly snout of an anteater.
Across the border in Belize, the Rio Bravo forests are equally tranquil and well endowed. One would never guess that this ecosystem is under threat. Whitetail deer are so tame; they wander among the ruins with human visitors nearby like relatives of Bambi in a Walt Disney fairy tail. Ocellated turkey, a rare species in the Peten, is easy to view in Belize. Once hunting pressure is removed, these blue-headed, red warted, turkeys the size of butterballs, wander unfettered along roadsides and in the mowed areas of Belize's well-known ecolodges. The Programme for Belize, a Belizian trust, is now celebrating its 10th anniversary of protecting over 200,000 acres of Rio Bravo forest. A thriving educational program has taken root that hosts students from high schools across America to learn about rain forest ecology with highly trained Belizian guides. Programme is a Belizian institution, and all of the guides are young Belizians, who show the fresh face of motivation that comes with an opportunity that may never have been available to their parents.
In the Peten, I arrived at Centro Campesino; a village of farmers who own land cooperatively and grow corn on milpas in the traditional fashion of Mayan and mestizo farmers throughout Central America. It is an unlikely starting point for tourism of any kind. The people of the village are timid, and there is no tradition of greeting outsiders. The life here is unforgiving. Community members work in 100-degree weather in their cornfields from 7AM to 3PM without much respite. April is harvest time, but it is hard to imagine joyful harvest festivals here. There is barely enough water to drink, no less shower, as wells run perilously low. I arrived unexpected, carrying my own water from town, needless to say. A system of reservations is still too difficult to implement, because there is no radio or phone in Centro Campesino. Dropped at Fidelino Diaz's home, I sat on a piece of wood in his backyard while his family and friends hurriedly put together my supplies for a three-day camping trip. They gathered together food, siphoned gasoline, and packed a rather unfriendly mule with an outboard motor. By 9AM I was hiking with two local guides on a four-wheel drive road with mule in tow to Rio San Pedro. From there, we were to motor by launch to our campground at the archeological ruins of El Peru.
The tourism project exists here because a local non-profit, Pro Peten/ Conservation International has made the firm commitment of working with local communities on the periphery of the biosphere reserve. Training for ecotourism has taken place in this village since 1993. The results are impressive. My guide Isauro Garcia was a model of professionalism. He proudly displayed his first aid kit, and described for me the training he received in emergency first aid. Dangers are a fact of life in any tropical forest, and the fer de lance, a feared poisonous snake throughout Latin America, can be found in abundance in these forests. Most biologists and campesinos may have seen the snake once or twice in their lives. But it is a present danger. During our walk into the ruins of El Peru, Isauro showed me a tree that saved the life of a friend who was bitten by the deadly snake. A salve of the fresh leaves was applied to the wound, and liquid from boiled leaves was taken orally. Remaining calm, which is key to survival, Isauro's friend was able to live through the experience. Other stories of jungle medicine are abundant in these forests, and I was made curious enough to ask what to do about a persistent heat rash. Bathe twice daily was Isauro's sage advice, something I would have been more than happy to do, but water was in scarce supply.
This trip is not for everyone. The Scarlet Macaw Trail is a hot dry hike through tropical forests if you go during the dry season, which runs from February to June. The rainy season implies difficult, sticky mud on many trails, another challenge for the intrepid traveler. Sleeping in hammocks with mosquito nets is part of the adventure. The wildlife is spectacular, and by spending time at night in the forest, chances are much improved of seeing the many nocturnal species that live their lives in the obscurity of darkness. After dinner in the El Peru camp, we sat recording our sightings, which also included many interesting bird species, such as toucan, toucanette, and the scarlet macaw that is highly endangered in this region. A macaw nesting site is nearby, where chicks are raised in the holes of dying trees between February and July. Using a little booklet provided by Pro-Peten, Isauro and sat by candlelight marking down not only sightings, but also tracks, smells, and sounds. The El Peru caretaker, Manuel, arrived with barely a sound, offering me a flashlight to go see danta. I jumped to follow and after a few minutes, we heard the same snorting pants, and stumbling hoof movements that I had heard with Leticia in Calakmul. This time the animal remained close. His rapid anxious breathing parted the silence of the night. We used our weak flashlights to search for the hidden beast and quickly found him, standing in the open only 50 yards away at the edge of Manuel's garden. I could see corn stalks knocked over with cobs on the ground where he had been dining. He did not move, but stood frozen panting loudly, his hefty grey body heaving with the effort. This hippo of the tropical forest is a rare sighting indeed in the life of any naturalist. I was thrilled ... but could clearly observe its deep anxiety. I watched briefly before moving away and letting the creature return to the security of unbroken darkness.
Empathy for others is a finely tuned instrument that I am constantly seeking to refine and sharpen as I travel among communities as well. My experience with the people of Centro Campesino left me in awe of their determination to survive. When visiting the house of Isauro and eating tortillas, rice and beans with his wife, children and mother, I was sure that my presence was disturbing to them - and yet they truly wanted me in their home. Isauro's wife silently piled tortillas in a small mountain before me, straight from the hot earthen hearth. His mother sewed a frilly white skirt for a young child, with her pedal powered Singer as I watched. The dog and cat both ate leftovers, and I joked with Isauro that I would love to see my dog eat a tortilla. Conversation with the women was nearly impossible, and I did not want to be pushy and ask too many intrusive questions.
I asked for a meeting with the ecotourism committee that runs the project in Centro Campesino, and Fidelino Diaz worked with me to invite some of the key women. The three who came were grandmothers of significant status in their homes. The woman next to me had used scarce water to bathe, and smelled of perfumed soap. Her distinguished features reflected some Maya heritage, but her indigenous gravity was easily transformed into gentle amusement. When asked if she would like to interact more with the tourists, she said simply, "We can't understand them!"
The women made it clear that they had difficulty understanding tourist Spanish. Men played the role of making the foreign visitors feel at home. But there was an undeniable interest. The men who run the project are all young enough to be these women's sons. The ecotourism committee dutifully offered to do more to help women interact with tourists in the future, and the women quickly asked for official notification of meetings. We all looked at each other with timid affection, knowing that women's lib is a long way off in Centro Campesino, but that harsh machismo is also no longer the rule.
Leaving Centro Campesino, I passed through the same landscape of death. I could feel the aching land, and I looked at the blackened fields with renewed distress. I wanted to be part of a more fertile future and dreamed that night of maize growing from my body after I fertilized the land together with my fellow worms and other earth animals. I woke still feeling the dry maize emerging from my body and knew if I staid quiet the danta or other animals might come to feed. I wanted to become part of the natural cycle of life. But I shook myself awake instead and gathered the courage to write this article, hoping that it will contribute to the fertile future of these scarred Mayan forests.
Megan Epler Wood is President of The Ecotourism Society. She is on a one-year sabbatical to investigate ecotourism projects in the tropical forests of Latin America. You can contact the author via email: MEGAN@together.net.
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