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A neat part of adventuring is that you often see what others cannot. Most people think that that means you need to be in another place—and I was certainly traveling far—but it can be temporal as well. Even the same setting holds infinitely more appeal in the early dawn, before any cars are honking, dogs barking, or people walking. And that you must lose sleep to be able to encounter such still beauty—that simply added to the special nature of the moment. Such were my thoughts as I wandered through a dark and lonely Cambridge morning, feeling just as hopeful and happy as I might had I been walking to my favorite class with a friend close by. Instead, I was on my way to catch one of the first Red Line trains to South Station, taking the Silver Line from there to Logan.
The train ride was largely uneventful, giving me plenty of time to figure out where I needed to go to meet up with Ben Goulet-Scott and Jacob Suissa, two Harvard grad students with an insane degree of expertise in plants. I found them in Terminal E, having just checked in two bags of field gear. Well, “bag” is a bit generous for one of them, which turned out to be a large plastic tub with duct tape running up and down the length of the box, keeping it together. The airline thought it a bit jank too, forcing Ben to sign an agreement saying that the company wouldn’t be responsible for anything in it that might go missing. Without much of a say, Ben signed the papers and we marched on through security. In no time at all, we made it to our gate. Shortly thereafter, we boarded the Copa aircraft and got ready for takeoff.
Entering a scorching inferno of humid air upon departure, it was clear that we weren’t in Boston anymore. Further substantiating that hunch was meeting another plant expert, Sylvia Kinosian, the final American team member. Brutally, she had been waiting for the entire day, having flown in from LA and Utah before that. With the foreign team all together, we made our way through the Panamanian airport toward security. In a hop, skip, and a single hitch (again with Ben), we cleared security and found Nico Armstrong, the manager of the Centro Mamoní site in the Mamoní Valley Preserve. He took us out to a dusty, mud-splattered, beat-up, pale white Toyota Hilux. Turns out, it was a 2014 model that didn’t look a day younger than 2000. After securing our luggage in the bed, Nico took off, driving us east to our destination. Traffic significantly slowed us down as we drove out beneath the mammoth Metro 2 line, shading us in its feat of engineering. Eventually, all urbanity gave way to increasingly spaced out supply stores and cattle ranches. We pulled into the final town before the rainforest—Las Margaritas—and halted to wait for the three Panamanian students. Luckily for us, we got to play with one of the local guide’s dog, Chocolate.
Soon enough, Nico found the students, Christian, José, and Brian. Christian and José are undergraduate students with extensive plant knowledge easily matching Ben, Jacob, and Sylvia. Brian, an undergrad at the same institution, is not far behind. After a quick round of introductions, we piled in. At first, I was naive enough to think that it would just be the eight of us, but no, we also took on Gabriel (the local guide), his wife, his son, Chocolate, and a bunch of their luggage. In total, eleven people plus luggage fit into that Hilux. Cramped in our clown car, we began the final stage of our journey through alternating patches of cattle ranches, forest regrowth zones, and intact rainforest. Upon driving across a fordable river, el Rio Mamoní, we crossed into the Mamoní Valley Preserve. Night fell shortly thereafter, and with the drawing of the shade, we landed in Centro Mamoní.
Centro Mamoní is nothing short of incredible. It features numerous open-walled structures relying heavily on sustainable building practices, which involves heavy utilization of bamboo for support and palm fronds for roofing. We started in the Comedor—the all-purpose meeting house, kitchen, dining area, supply station, and leisure room. Staples of the Comedor are the chef, Esmeralda, her children/niece, and Scott the dog. Greatly satisfied by one of the wonderful meals cooked by Esmeralda, we moved to place our belongings in our quarters. Talk about glamping! Ben and I ended up staying in a huge tent with legit beds inside. In addition, we had a private composting toilet and shower, complete with a running water sink, a light, and an extension cable. Then, before ending the day, we went back up to the bamboo pavilion, an experiment in bamboo architecture involving a series of bamboo tresses held together with tension wires. There, we were treated to a wonderful live music arrangement and given a glass of wine to boot. So ended our seemingly eternal but all-too-exciting day of travel.
From the outset, it’s clear that Mamoní is host to a dazzling array of species across all number of phylogenetic classifications. This trip focused on ferns, spotlighting 150+ different species—some out the window of the car! Truly, the combined knowledge of this trip on ferns and lycophytes was unrivaled, with Jacob stopping every few feet having spotted yet another species. While this made hiking slow and somewhat infuriating for a non-fern-enthusiast, it did give me a chance to scout out other lifeforms. Pretty quickly, I found a whole assortment of species I never thought I’d get the chance to see including leafcutter and bullet ants, orb-weaver and wolf spiders, capuchin and howler monkeys, mot mots, toucans, geckos, and snakes. Still, the trees are where the fireworks are. The vibrant and verdant deciduous species comprising much of the composition of the forest are unparalleled. No artist would be able to capture the immense beauty for lacking the amount of shades of green it would take.
Besides biodiversity value presently, Panama is also exceptional in terms of its natural history. From the top of the Continental Divide, a ridge along the Mamoní Valley Preserve from which it’s possible to see the Caribbean, we were treated to the knowledge that this spine separates the watersheds of the Atlantic and the Pacific. Incredibly, this small, rising isthmus from 3 million years ago determined the fate of species across the globe. Locally, it facilitated the GABI (Great American Biotic Interchange), where migratory animals from both north and south quickly made their way into Central America and to the opposite continent. For instance, I’ve often seen opossums in my yard in New England. Turns out, they evolved in South America! And over time, plants followed them. On a larger scale, through a drastic shift in ocean currents, Panama also altered climatic patterns everywhere from the Neotropics to the Old World. By blocking the flow of water from the Atlantic to the Pacific, the isthmus formed the Gulf Stream as we know it today. Given the circular nature of this flow, Western Europe receives life-giving heat from the tropics, and many of their weather patterns are strongly influenced by these oceanic currents. Without Panama, the world would be wildly different than it is now.
And without protection, Panama would become wildly different than it is now. Conservation efforts are crucial on this narrow strip of land to ensure wildlife corridors remain in perpetuity. Geoversity is an essential actor in these efforts. Not only did they secure the Mamoní Valley Preserve, but they did so in a way that brought value to the table for all. They worked with the indigenous group on the northern border, the Guna, to protect their borders from encroaching cattle ranchers in the south. In return, Geoversity offers an exceptional opportunity for researchers and educational groups (like us!) to have access to practically pristine rainforest. Using a method of strategic acquirement, Geoversity has also precluded the entry of industrial-scale cattle ranchers from taking over parts of the Mamoní Valley. This allows them to foster better relationships with the individual ranchers still subsisting in the region, until such a day as those lands may also be reclaimed for the rainforest. They employ an ecosystem of funders and work to build a family from all those involved. Geoversity thus offers value to all actors across a wide spread of interests, not the least the wildlife and nature they help to protect. Overall, I found it to be one of those rare examples of quality organizations operating sustainably for all, not just the rich and powerful and certainly not just the humans.
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As the trip progressed, I unfortunately had to stay behind at Centro Mamoní due to feelings of illness while the rest of the group hiked off to a cloud forest atop the mountain of Cerro Brewster. In that time, I rested and read, volunteered around the facilities, and learned more about Geoversity. The highlight of that time was getting to know a volunteer named Terry who decided to spend his winter months providing services to various communities in need around Central America. Together, we reinforced some of the paths around Centro Mamoní with river pebbles and later went on a hike to try to find a swimming hole. Although that mission failed, I learned a great deal about what altruism looks like in practice. Terry has dedicated his life to others and nature, with a constant sense of conscientiousness and kindness. In hearing about his life, I heard echoes of environmental heroes like Bill McKibben. Although quiet about his accomplishments, Terry inspired me to consider more deeply how to incorporate activism and service into my life, especially post-grad.
After my day with Terry, I felt a fresh bout of illness and had to sit out further activities. In my imagination, I thought I would spend my recovery time writing, either about the trip, conservation, or philosophical musings. What I found in reality was that the pain I felt largely rendered me unproductive. Well, at least in some definitions. What actually happened was that I decelerated. I read a lot, ate and drank slowly, talked to Terry and Nico, and soaked in the environment. In the slowness of pain, I discovered that there was an abundance of hummingbirds which frequented the Comedor feeders. While lethargic, I felt myself adapting to this drastically different climate. I stopped to listen more, and to my surprise, I found a pair of toucans at the top of a tree from their conspicuous cries. In short, I may not have been able to challenge myself physically on a hike around Cerro Brewster, but I was able to challenge my mental capacities and ingrained assumptions about what’s right in a productive society. I believe that this allowed me to see more, hear more, and feel more than I might have otherwise.
That being said, I would be remiss if I also said that I wasn’t excited to have the team return. With them, came a whole heck of a lot of energy (and, of course, ferns). On the last full day that we spent at Centro Mamoní, the rest of the team processed an immense number of samples collected on their trek, fueled by an equally large amount of Balboa, the superior Panamanian beer. Although I wasn’t able to be much help, I did find it extremely gratifying to watch the other six members of the group move about cataloguing and pressing the ferns. Their pure, unbridled passion filled the bamboo pavilion. Without a doubt, I can say that this was the most energetic, joyful, and fervent group I’ve been fortunate enough to be a part of. If I take away just one thing from this trip, it’s that finding something which gets the blood pumping is a huge boon for both yourself and others around you. It lets you hike for miles without feeling tired enough to pass by a simple fern. It fills your heart with energy even when you’re close to missing lunch. It gives you strength to go 120% in a completely different climate for more hours than is legal to work in some parts of the world. Quite simply put, it is a powerful force on par with happiness, health, and love.
With these musings in my mind, we headed back to Panama City the next day to process the specimens one last time and leave them in the university herbarium there. City life, albeit just two hours away, was vastly different from that of Centro Mamoní. After leaving the herbarium, we found our hostel in the historic old district of the city. Surrounding it were buildings featuring Spanish colonial influences, including a massive, twin-spired church and an accompanying plaza in front. Of all that happened in our brief stay there, I think the most bizarre was finding a food stand called Que Mango. The vendors there took unripe mango—as in, the whitest mango you’ve ever seen—and shaved it into strips. On top of that, they squirted and sprayed various dressings. Their definition of the “classic”? Vinegar, salt, and pepper. If you wanted to get a little more creative, you could get the Number 2 on the menu, the Pretty Mango, which featured the standard dressing plus… wait for it… Kool-Aid. Needless to say, it might have been the oddest culinary experience I’ve ever had. 10/10 would recommend.
Minus Brian, the team all met up for one last dinner together. I was showered with the details from their Cerro Brewster trip, enjoying every juicy morsel of their adventure. Anna and Mark, two Geoversity staff members, joined us as well. Following our celebration at the restaurant, we continued at the Panama Jazz Festival, a huge, international event featuring musicians from across the globe! Although the main events were in the City of Knowledge, there were local gatherings too. One close to us highlighted talented local artists jamming out on incredible solos in turn, the genius of each on full display. On that (musical) note, our time together ended. Us Americans detached from the group at the hostel and further separated at the airport. When Ben, Jacob, and I landed in Boston, we finalized our goodbyes and took off in different directions to face the oncoming snow. With a rejuvenating cold wind whipping my face, it was hard to believe that that week in Panama had finished, much like a dream. I hope that it will forever be emblazoned in my memory as a place shrouded in wonder, a place so unlike any other, a place, if one might be so blessed, to discover and rediscover a passion to match the vitality of the surrounding nature.
After my day with Terry, I felt a fresh bout of illness and had to sit out further activities. In my imagination, I thought I would spend my recovery time writing, either about the trip, conservation, or philosophical musings. What I found in reality was that the pain I felt largely rendered me unproductive. Well, at least in some definitions. What actually happened was that I decelerated. I read a lot, ate and drank slowly, talked to Terry and Nico, and soaked in the environment. In the slowness of pain, I discovered that there was an abundance of hummingbirds which frequented the Comedor feeders. While lethargic, I felt myself adapting to this drastically different climate. I stopped to listen more, and to my surprise, I found a pair of toucans at the top of a tree from their conspicuous cries. In short, I may not have been able to challenge myself physically on a hike around Cerro Brewster, but I was able to challenge my mental capacities and ingrained assumptions about what’s right in a productive society. I believe that this allowed me to see more, hear more, and feel more than I might have otherwise.
That being said, I would be remiss if I also said that I wasn’t excited to have the team return. With them, came a whole heck of a lot of energy (and, of course, ferns). On the last full day that we spent at Centro Mamoní, the rest of the team processed an immense number of samples collected on their trek, fueled by an equally large amount of Balboa, the superior Panamanian beer. Although I wasn’t able to be much help, I did find it extremely gratifying to watch the other six members of the group move about cataloguing and pressing the ferns. Their pure, unbridled passion filled the bamboo pavilion. Without a doubt, I can say that this was the most energetic, joyful, and fervent group I’ve been fortunate enough to be a part of. If I take away just one thing from this trip, it’s that finding something which gets the blood pumping is a huge boon for both yourself and others around you. It lets you hike for miles without feeling tired enough to pass by a simple fern. It fills your heart with energy even when you’re close to missing lunch. It gives you strength to go 120% in a completely different climate for more hours than is legal to work in some parts of the world. Quite simply put, it is a powerful force on par with happiness, health, and love.
With these musings in my mind, we headed back to Panama City the next day to process the specimens one last time and leave them in the university herbarium there. City life, albeit just two hours away, was vastly different from that of Centro Mamoní. After leaving the herbarium, we found our hostel in the historic old district of the city. Surrounding it were buildings featuring Spanish colonial influences, including a massive, twin-spired church and an accompanying plaza in front. Of all that happened in our brief stay there, I think the most bizarre was finding a food stand called Que Mango. The vendors there took unripe mango—as in, the whitest mango you’ve ever seen—and shaved it into strips. On top of that, they squirted and sprayed various dressings. Their definition of the “classic”? Vinegar, salt, and pepper. If you wanted to get a little more creative, you could get the Number 2 on the menu, the Pretty Mango, which featured the standard dressing plus… wait for it… Kool-Aid. Needless to say, it might have been the oddest culinary experience I’ve ever had. 10/10 would recommend.
Minus Brian, the team all met up for one last dinner together. I was showered with the details from their Cerro Brewster trip, enjoying every juicy morsel of their adventure. Anna and Mark, two Geoversity staff members, joined us as well. Following our celebration at the restaurant, we continued at the Panama Jazz Festival, a huge, international event featuring musicians from across the globe! Although the main events were in the City of Knowledge, there were local gatherings too. One close to us highlighted talented local artists jamming out on incredible solos in turn, the genius of each on full display. On that (musical) note, our time together ended. Us Americans detached from the group at the hostel and further separated at the airport. When Ben, Jacob, and I landed in Boston, we finalized our goodbyes and took off in different directions to face the oncoming snow. With a rejuvenating cold wind whipping my face, it was hard to believe that that week in Panama had finished, much like a dream. I hope that it will forever be emblazoned in my memory as a place shrouded in wonder, a place so unlike any other, a place, if one might be so blessed, to discover and rediscover a passion to match the vitality of the surrounding nature.
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