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Trinidad: The Ultimate Eco-Tour
In vivid contrast to the Caribbean of postcards, travel magazines, and the glamorous world of tourism, one traveler discovers a hidden gem of the islands--by venturing deep into the mountain rainforest
BY JENNIFER LANE
When most people think of the Caribbean, turquoise waters and palm-fringed white sand beaches come to mind. But as the taxi climbs higher into the mountain cloud forest on a cool July night, I begin to realize that Trinidad defies stereotypes.
Though technically a Caribbean island (it’s located in the southern part of the Caribbean Sea, just north of Venezuela), Trinidad has a character all its own, and in many ways has more in common with tropical South America—of which it is a part, geologically and ecologically speaking—than with the resort-dotted Caribbean.
I’m here with a friend for a week-long visit to the Asa Wright Nature Centre, one of the Caribbean’s best-kept ecotourism secrets. Located on the side of a mountain in the midst of a neotropical rainforest, the Centre is a virtual oasis of local wildlife, including 159 species of birds, a potpourri of colorful butterflies, and a variety of other fauna such as agouti, paca, nine-banded armadilloes, iguanas, and tegu lizards.
The Asa Wright Centre was built around a former coffee-cocoa-citrus plantation (the Lodge, its main building, was the original estate house), and is named for its founder, Asa Wright--a feisty Icelandic woman whose husband had bought the plantation in the mid-1940’s. After he became ill, she managed the property, hosting numerous visiting scientists who came there to study nature. When her husband died and Asa Wright fell into financial trouble, these scientists raised money to found a nature center named in her honor, where she lived until her death in 1971.
I’m anxious to explore the Centre’s grounds and rainforest trails, and to visit the Lodge’s fabled verandah, revered internationally by birdwatchers for the myriad winged visitors that frequent the nearby feeders and surrounding forest, or perch on the wooden railing to pose for the occasional close-up.
Our flight having landed at 8 p.m., it’s dark by the time we arrive, but already I see hints of lush vegetation—thick stands of bamboo and brilliant red heliconia flowers—reflected in the taxi’s headlights.
Our room is spartan but comfortable. In lieu of a television set (who needs it in the rainforest?) it has a screened-in porch overlooking a tree in which we spot our first bird sighting of the trip: a mother dove guarding two grey chicks. The hospitality of the Centre is evident in the fresh pot of tea and plate of wrapped sandwiches that await us on our arrival.
Sometime during the night, a quite large black beetle manages to fall from the thatched-roof ceiling directly onto my head. I react with predictable alarm (momentarily forgetting that I’m a biologist and have looked at plenty of insects close-up), but am secretly happy—a small reminder that I’m on an adventure and not a vacation.
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Nighttime beetle notwithstanding, I awake refreshed on the morning of my first full day in Trinidad, and after a hearty breakfast of cereal, tea, and fresh chilled tropical fruit (served buffet-style in the Centre’s spacious dining room), my travel companion and I set out to explore our new surroundings.
The first item on our agenda is a hike to Dunston Cave to see the oilbird colony. This breeding colony of oilbirds, or Guacharo (Steatornis caripensis)—a nocturnal, cave-nesting species found only in Trinidad and northern South America—is one of the special attractions of Asa Wright, and the only easily accessible oilbird colony in existence.
First described by the famous naturalist and explorer Alexander von Humboldt in 1799, oilbirds are the only nocturnal, fruit-eating birds in the world. They derive their name from their fat nestlings (often 50% heavier than the adults), which were hunted by indigenous people and early settlers who distilled the fat to make oil. Oilbirds remain in forest caves during daylight hours, foraging for fruit at night, and can fly up to 75 miles in search of food.
It’s begun to rain. We congregate on the verandah at 9 a.m., a motley group of nature enthusiasts sporting variously colored umbrellas. Soon our guide, a young Trinidadian forest ranger, arrives, and we begin our hike downhill, the rain falling in torrents around us. The last few hundred yards are through a rocky canyon with high walls and rushing streams. The oilbird colony is in a small, narrow grotto, through which a stream passes. We enter it one by one, and as the guide shines her flashlight on a craggy ledge, a cluster of roundish brown objects becomes visible against the cave wall. Oilbirds. They look like rocks, the same color as the surrounding cave. But then we see that they’re moving. The guide tells us that the small ones are adults, while the much larger birds are the chicks. White and fluffy, they crane their necks for food. The World Wildlife Fund has made substantial contributions to protect this colony of birds, which has now become a stable population.
Back at the Centre, our hike over, we rest on the verandah, chatting with other guests. A group of birdwatchers from Toledo, Ohio, is gathered excitedly around a telescope and invite us to take a look. Through the lens I see my first toucan that isn’t in a zoo or on a cereal box. It’s black, with a striking white and yellow beak, and perched in a tree far in the distance.
Now able to relax, and in the full light of the morning, I see that the verandah is everything I could have expected—the platform for a rainforest vista that stretches off into the distance, cool and misty after the early morning downpour. Downstairs in the patio garden, a sample of the local wildlife takes advantage of the feeders with their offerings of suet and chopped fruit: in addition to the many birds, tegus (a big monitor-type lizard) devour a peeled pineapple, while a fat agouti scurries about. Brandishing a bird guidebook (newly purchased in the Centre’s gift shop), I set out to identify what I see. Most spectacular are the blue-crowned mot-mots, iridescent green honeycreepers, crested oropendulas (large hornbill-like birds with brilliant yellow tails) and colorful hummingbirds. A palm tanager alights on the verandah a few feet to my right, and eyes me quizzically. I wonder just who is doing the observing here.
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