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Puerto Rico: Beyond the Beach
BY JOSEPH JACKSON
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With up to 240 inches of rain per year, El Yunque is the only tropical forest in the U.S. National Forest System. Set aside by the Spanish crown in 1876, it was also one of the first natural reserves in its hemisphere. In 1962, agent orange was tested in this beautiful reserve, home to many endemic species including an endandered parrot, amazona vitatta. From a tower named after the God of the forest, Jokahu, we could see clear down to the ocean on the north, and far into the mountains on the south, their peaks covered in clouds. The semi-tropical rainforest was filled with an immense variety of vegetation: tree orchids, giants ferns, wild flowers, tropical hardwoods, and 26 other vegetational species not to be found anywhere else.
Our hike was easy, and the air was cool and wet. Aside from the soft sound of water rushing over the rocks and splashing into pools, under the canopy it was quiet and peaceful. We enjoyed a swim in one of many pools scattered alongside the paved trail. Despite its popularity and close proximity to San Juan, El Yunque had seemingly countless pools to claim as one's own here. Ducking under a waterfall, Rogui showed me a small cavern where I was completely surrounded by rock and the wall of water behind me. I could have easily spent the entire day exploring that river.
Back in the van again, we wound down to the coast, stopping in Luquillo. Perhaps tired of our repeated requests during the scenic coastal drive, Rogui stopped the van beside the sparkling blue water of Playa Azul. Like little kids let out at a playground, we were in the warm waves within one minute, and fully enjoyed the single-most important factor in tourism’s rise to the top of Puerto Rico’s economy: the beach. It’s what immediately comes to mind for most foreigners when this island is mentioned. It certainly was for me. And for good cause, as the island has incredible beaches, some of them with water as clear as in the Virgin Islands. But the next two days would completely open my eyes to Puerto Rico’s inland natural attractions.
After some great seafood “mofongos” in Luquillo, I soon found myself paddling a kayak through a narrow channel between dark mangrove trees. We were just outside of Fajardo and headed towards a bioluminescent bay. Night had fallen and we would have been surrounded by complete blackness if not for our guide’s flashlight lighting up the waterway ahead. Warnings like “hard left!” and “low branch!” were echoed back in dwarf-line fashion, sometimes alerting us just in time to steer clear of the invisible obstacles dotting the narrow passage.
Just 15 minutes after entering the canal, the shore-line on either side suddenly veered off in opposite directions and we found our kayaks floating towards the center of a large lagoon. The lack of moonlight was made up for only by a distant lighthouse and a few scattered stars. As my oar hit the water I began to notice something incredible. The water suddenly lit up like fire each time I even gently lowered the tip of the oar under the surface. So this was the phenomenon we had come to observe. From the little that I had previously understood about this bioluminescent water, I had been intently curious, but it was now made clear how something so other-worldy as this would was near impossible to justly describe.
Our young guide explained this spectacle in not-so-simple terms: microscopic plankton called dinoflagellates light up as a defense mechanism-driven chemical reaction whenever the dinoflagellates are disturbed. Each dinoflagellate gives off a burst of light that is a hundred times larger than itself whenever it feels pressure against its cell wall. So with thousands of these plankton per cubic foot of water, the bursts of light were incredible! The dinoflagellates use photosynthesis, and are therefore fueled by sunlight: the brighter the sun during the day, the brighter the flash. On our moonless night after a long sunny day, our experience was amazing.
After overloading my brain with the explanation, our young guide recalled the movie Cocoon, in which a similar lagoon was known to have had magical rejuvenating powers akin to the legendary fountain of youth.
Interesting, I thought to myself, somewhat confused now. After a pause, he continued with sudden solemnity, “There is something I have to tell you all. I am actually 80 years old.”
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The following morning consisted of a spectacular drive through the remote mountains in the municipality of Utuado and a short downhill hike under a lush canopy until we reached our first destination: a giant cavern. With helmets on, we entered the enormous gaping hole in the mountainside, looking above us to see hundreds of resident bats weaving their way through the damp air while dodging stalactites. On some of the limestone walls were faint traces of Taino petroglyphs. Raymond led us into the depths of the cavern, where the rock opened up to a view of the Tanamá River, at least a hundred feet directly below us.
We wound down another trail to the river and were soon looking up at the opening in the rock where we had stood just minutes before. The panoramic view was awesome as we stood underneath the magnificent Cueva Del Archo (Arch Cave), the river spinning out of sight behind rock walls in both directions. I quickly followed Rogui’s example by jumping into the cool refreshing water, and we enjoyed a short swim before beginning our next phase of the hike: the Tanamá River.
At times jumping from rock to rock and at others wading through the water, the upstream hike was exhilarating. Thanks to sunny weather, we spent a good amount of time in the Tanamá itself. Had we come on a rainy day, the danger of flash flooding would have kept us far away from the river. Rogui set forth some of the warning signs of flash flooding: brown muddy water, dry yagrumo leaves floating on the surface of the water, and finally, a raised water level. Rogui laughed, “but by then it is too late.”
As he spoke we noticed a single dry yagrumo leaf floating by.
The next portion of the hike was an intense uphill hike toward caves that wound deep into the mountain. Yet unnamed, these caves required our headlamps to be turned on, as much of the middle stretch was otherwise pitch black. The headlamps attached to our helmets proved indispensable as we clambered through a stretch of complete darkness. Raymond called for a moment of silence as we sat in the depths of the cave, an entire mountain enclosing us. Then we climbed one by one down a rock face within the cave and after a few twists and turns in the tunnel we were back in the forest, having pierced a hole right through the mountain.
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