
I was deep in the tropical rainforest,
several steps behind Bernardo Perez, my Costa Rican guide, when I heard a deep
rumbling sound. Then, as though a prehistoric beast was thundering through the
brush, the ground began to shake. I did a quick shoulder check. The volcano that
loomed behind us looked peaceful but was definitely spewing more smoke than usual.
But, putting my misgivings aside I followed the guide deeper into the forest.
We were hiking in the rainforest at the
base of Arenal Volcano, about 75 miles northwest of
I'm not really a "lava junkie" (a volcano
chaser), so why would I choose the dangerous northern side for my nature walk,
instead of other safer slopes? The attraction was Arenal Hanging Bridges, a 620-acre nature preserve that features a 2-mile hike through old-growth rainforest
traversing a series of bridges, tunnels and trails. The bridges include eight
fixed bridges, ranging in length between 26 and 62 feet, and six suspension
bridges between 157 and 322 feet long.
The trails bring visitors close to some of
the densest and most diversified forest in the world. Centuries of volcanic
eruptions have contributed to a mineral-rich soil that supports many species of
animals and birds.
"A dart frog. Very poisonous," said Perez,
pointing to a glossy red shape on a broad leaf. "And there. Do you hear that
noise?"
I did, it was much like the sound of a
creaking door.
"It's a chestnut-mandibled toucan. It's the
largest, but not the prettiest of the species." he explained, pointing to a
large bird sitting like a sentinel with an enormous yellow snout.
I ducked as something flew straight for my
hair. A crystal butterfly, its transparent wings outlined in blue like a
cartoon character.
"Watch out," said Perez, pointing down.
Leaf-cutting ants, in perfect formation, each carrying brilliant emerald green
bits of leaf, were winding across the trail.
With a full dance card of wildlife in
Arenal Preserve, it is easy to forget that it is in the shadow of a volcano. In
ancient times, the Guatuso Indians, who once lived in the area, believed the
volcano was home to the God of Fire and regularly performed rituals intended to
control destiny. Until July 29, 1968, people considered the volcano to be
dormant. Then it suddenly erupted, sending out shock waves, hot gases and
rubble. By the time it settled, it had destroyed two villages and killed 78
people. The two new craters it spawned continue to belch ash and rock to this
day.
Yet, visitors continue to be drawn to its
compelling beauty.
But, because the area is still considered a
danger zone, several safety precautions are in place. A seismographic network
issues warnings of impending eruptions and the Smithsonian Institute has a
monitoring station on the south side of the volcano. Evacuation routes are
clearly marked.
The volcano's dark history added some
sobering thoughts to the final leg of our hike. I paused to admire a red shrimp
flower being pollinated by a tiny hermit hummingbird.
"Stop, I smell monkey poop." said Perez,
pointing high above us.
Sure enough, despite the unscientific
announcement, there were dark shapes moving high in the canopy. Spider monkeys
-- a rare sighting compared to the more common howler monkey -- danced through
the trees, looking like large shadowy people... their long black arms stretching
across the branches.
Then, like a giant clearing his throat, the
volcano rumbled. The shrimp flower quivered.
Beauty and danger - an irresistible
combination.