Expedition: Day 2

Lucy Houliston. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

Lucy Houliston. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

Thursday, September 19th

Written by Lucy Houliston

A chilly, three o’clock start on Thursday morning would mark the beginning of the next part of our Ecuadorian adventure. Accompanied by our insanely enthusiastic expedition leader and partner Javier Robayo plus Ecuadorian Youth Council member Marco Monteros, Callie, Carter, and I were about to leave noisy, bustling city life behind and head 14 hours north, deep into the Chocó forest.

From left to right: Callie Broaddus, Marco Monteros, Lucy Houliston, Javier Robayo, and Carter Ries

From left to right: Callie Broaddus, Marco Monteros, Lucy Houliston, Javier Robayo, and Carter Ries

Driving through the provinces of Pichincha, Imbabura, and Carchi that morning, we watched as the landscape transformed — the sun began to rise and thick cloud swelled upward from the pits of mountain ravines, parting to reveal incredible scenes of silhouetted mountaintops, scrubland, and patches of dry forest. It was impossible to resist stopping to capture our first few pieces of drone footage, which provided us with a unique perspective of the environment we were passing through. The closer we got to our destination, the more breathtaking our surroundings became — lush patches of green cloaked the hillsides and the sound of passing traffic was replaced by birdsong.

But with this increase in forest cover, the scars left behind as a result of careless human activity grew ever more difficult to ignore. Treeless, charred sections of earth scarred the terrain, unmissable against the surrounding dense, leafy habitat; habitat that could very well be destined for a similar future. Here, in a part of the world where many people’s livelihoods depend on working the land, biodiversity is constantly being destroyed in order to make way for banana and naranjilla plantations, cattle ranching pastures, and both legal and illegal logging and mining operations.

Patches of forest, burned to make room for pasture. Because of the terrain, the land can only support about one cow per acre. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

Patches of forest, burned to make room for pasture. Because of the terrain, the land can only support about one cow per acre. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

It’s easy to be disheartened by sights like these, but a pit stop in the small town of Ibarra served to lift our spirits and remind us of what we, as young people who are passionate about protecting the planet, are capable of achieving. Here, we met up with Holger Saransig — a fellow Youth Council member and bryophyte enthusiast — for breakfast before dropping into a nearby supermarket to pick up some last minute supplies. As a vegan about to head into the wilderness for three nights, it was essential that I come prepared …

Breakfast in Ibarra with the Reserva Youth Council!

Breakfast in Ibarra with the Reserva Youth Council!

Our final destination: Dracula House. This wooden, two-story lodge nestled in the middle of the Chocó, right alongside the Colombian border, is a hub of curious scientific thinking, groundbreaking discovery, and enduring passion. The surrounding forest that scientists come here to study is bursting with life, and has been recognised as one of the world’s top ten biodiversity hotspots. It didn’t take us long to get settled in — our hosts Don Hector and Norma welcomed us with open arms, whilst the view from our bedroom windows did not disappoint.

A room with a view at Casa Dracula. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

A room with a view at Casa Dracula. Photo by Callie Broaddus.

We enjoyed dinner in a small, unassuming café located in the neighbouring village of Chical. It was the only place for miles that offered us any form of internet connection, and the chance to share updates from the trip so far on social media. Just a few metres away from where we worked, our team was busy transforming a local high school hall into an incredible exhibition space packed full of bizarre biological specimens — from a stuffed spectacled bear to boxes of bats. Far from their usual home, the National Institute of Biodiversity’s museum in Quito, these specimens stood in wait, ready to inspire South America’s newest wave of conservationists.