Sunday, September 23rd

Written by Lucy Houliston

We awoke feeling a little worse for wear on Monday morning—our many hours spent traversing muddy slopes in torrential rain were finally beginning to take their toll on our poor muscles… It was excitement that would spur us on to tackle our next challenge: an eight kilometre trek across some equally wet, slippery terrain to our newest base; a remote field station nestled in the heart of the Ecuadorian Chocó.

We spent our final few hours at Dracula House photographing two fascinating new orchid specimens, one of them incredibly rare; the other a potential newcomer to science. Javier explained how the latter—identifiable as a member of the Dracula genus—was quite unlike any of the other known members of its group. It bore some resemblance to one described species of Dracula, but several structures were distinct. It was important for us to capture these details with the help of one of our trusty macro lenses, so that the specimen could be properly analysed and identified, potentially as a brand new species.

Our other superstar subject was a Phragmipedium fischeri, a type of orchid that’s been listed as critically endangered since 2015. Its entire genus is threatened not only by habitat destruction, but also by unscrupulous, money-hungry collectors. In recent years, P. fischeri has become the rarest of all the world’s orchid species, and the most endangered plant that can be found in Ecuador. 

It’s yet another organism which, owing to humankind’s greed and carelessness, has been driven to the brink of extinction and placed on a trajectory of rapid decline. There are now thought to be fewer than 100 adult individuals left in the wild, making this find not only an incredibly lucky one, but also one that demonstrates the vital role that this part of the Chocó plays in supporting endemic and extremely rare plant species.

During our hike to camp, we uncovered some rather unsavoury evidence of how this land and the life it supports is relentlessly exploited. The first section of trail we walked proved to be one of the muddiest areas we’d encountered yet—and that’s saying something. It was all thanks to it being used by local farmers as a handy highway to move herds of cattle from one pasture to another. Of all the harmful human practices that threaten the future of this patch of forest, it’s cattle ranching that’s the most damaging.

The constant trampling of the earth by heavy hooves meant that this section of path could, at times, pose a challenge for even the most seasoned of hikers, including Javier. My getting stuck fast in the mud and calling on him to come and rescue me became a far more frequent occurrence than I’d like to admit…

A little further into our hike, we couldn’t help but notice a huge palm fruit lying right in the centre of the trail, in an area where there wasn’t a single palm tree in sight. Javier explained that this was in fact a trap, carefully positioned to entice in any hungry agoutis that might be lurking nearby. Agoutis are large, long-legged rodents that can be found in forests across Central and South America. They’re delightful creatures but, in this part of the world, are under threat from a flourishing bushmeat trade. A captured agouti can be exchanged for a hefty sum of money, and so hunting is seen as a fairly easy way for locals to boost their income.

Javier picked up the palm fruit and threw it down into the adjacent ravine, covering up the remaining scattering of seeds with thick mud. Split seed pods showed us that this bounty had already been discovered by one or two opportunistic individuals. It was good to know that we may have just spared the lives of those, or others, living in this patch of the forest, however it’s likely that there were plenty more of these sorts of traps hiding not too far away.

It’s no exaggeration when I say that by time we’d arrived at the camp, I was wearing more mud than I was clothing; the result of numerous trips, slips and stumbles. Our first encounter with what was to be our home for the next few days was certainly atmospheric: by then, the sky had already grown completely dark, and with no electricity supply it was dim, flickering candlelight that we had to rely upon to help us find our way around this somewhat ramshackle wooden hut. Despite it being built of logs and bark, housekeeping rules remained the same here as they would in any other residence: muddy rubber boots were to be left outside at all times.

After pitching our tents and tucking into a basic but much-needed meal of lentils, rice and plantains, Callie, Carter, Javier and I joined our fellow campers and scientists—including amphibian aficionado Mario Yanez—to head back out into the night on another search for rare—and maybe even new—species of frog, toad, lizard and caecilian.

The act of finding, then photographing or capturing these so-called ‘herps’ was no mean feat, especially considering the fact that we were doing all of this in the middle of the night, in a part of the forest that remains largely untrodden by humans—scientists included. It’s this lack of past exploration which makes the site such a boon to science; in particular, to those individuals looking to discover brand new species.

And tonight, we were in luck. Without the herpetologists’ expertise, I’d have been oblivious to the fact that the small, yellow-green frog we were currently blinding with our flashlights was indeed a species that had only recently been discovered, and was yet to be described. It certainly was a dashing creature, and not one that you’d pass up an opportunity to take a closer look at. But this wasn’t our only exciting discovery: we also happened upon a glass frog sporting some dazzling red polka-dots, that had never been recorded in this area of forest before.

Soon enough, it was time for us all to head back to camp and retire to our tents for the night, ready for another early start the next morning. It was good to be back in the warmth of the hut—I was, once again, covered in mud; meanwhile Callie was still soaked through from the moment she (and her camera) had taken an unexpected, waste-deep dip in a chasmic 'puddle'. Indeed, the bumpy, sloping wood floor that lay underneath mine and Callie’s tent wasn’t the most comfortable thing to lie down on, but no matter—the team’s action-packed day had left us all pretty exhausted, and had paved the way for a surprisingly good night’s sleep.