Another view of the Cloud Forest

This was taken from the overlook in the Aguti Reserve, where I went for a solo hike this morning. This was my last day in Monteverde, and I had thought about doing another excursion like the birding tour yesterday but decided I don't have the energy for any more touristy stuff.

This reserve adjoins my hotel, and is free for guests, so it's a perfect alternative to guided tours. On Monday I'd only seen one other couple there, and they were arriving as I was leaving, but there were half a dozen families there today. I didn't mind; I mostly had the trails to myself, and the hikers I talked to were friendly and low-key.

I wouldn't mind spending a few more days here. My knees, however, have made it very clear that they are done with these shenanigans and they can't wait to be back on the flat pavements of Manhattan.

Cloud forest

 

The weather was surprisingly sunny my first two days here—yesterday was actually hot—but there was a light rain for the start of the birdwatching hike I took at a local reserve early this morning, and when we were driving back to the hotel afterwards, there was thick fog everywhere. (Oh, so that's the cloud forest I kept hearing about.)

The rains started in mid-afternoon and have been steady, occasionally torrential, ever since. We're not just sitting in a cloud, we're sitting in a cloud that's leaking very badly.

A tale of two rain forests

There were two rain forests, one in Queensland in Australia, and the other in Fiordland in New Zealand, one tropical and one temperate.

That's a Kauri pine in the tropical forest on the left, a tree that grows to 150 feet and is heavily used for lumber.

I don't know what the trees in the picture on the right are, but I love the way the moss catches the light.

These are just an excuse

These pictures are fine, but I have much, much better ones from other stops. But I wanted to be able to write Strathmashie again. It may be the most perfectly Scottish name ever.

Forest stump

Sorry -- I couldn't help myself.

This stump, bedecked with lichens and grasses and clovers and various green things I have no name for, is in the Strathmashie Forest, where we made a short stop to stretch our legs and hike to a waterfall.

Obviously I'm haunted by these ghosts

Scars are souvenirs you never lose

The center is surrounded by mountains, capped by spectacular clouds today. And ghost trees everywhere.

Ghost forests

Just below Anchorage, I started noticing these stands of dead trees along the water (we were whipping along the highway at the time, so I don’t have any clear pictures.) They were an eerie anachronism in such a lush, brilliant setting, spikes of withered branches amid the curves of the mountains and glaciers and waves.

They’re called the ghost forests, and they’ve been there since the 1964 Good Friday earthquake, the strongest ever recorded in North America. The land along Turnagain Arm, including a section of the highway we were on, sank six to nine feet. Two coastal towns, Portage and Girdwood, were underwater at high tide afterwards. Portage was abandoned; Girdwood, which is where we’re staying, was moved two miles inland and rebuilt.

Salt water killed the trees, but ironically, also preserved them, so they still sit along the coastline fifty years after the earth sank beneath them -- strangely beautiful, haunted, sad.

Talkeetna

Talkeetna is, I heard, a fun and funky Alaskan town, where the mayor is a cat. But I have no firsthand knowledge to report.

We were staying at a lodge a few miles outside of town, and though most of the group went into town for dinner, I went straight to bed and slept for eleven hours.

Rejuvenation! Well, mostly. I was still a drippy mess with a hacking cough, but I was definitely a more energetic drippy mess than I'd been yesterday.

I took these pictures from the lodge -- the same mountains we'd been looking at for the past few days, now so distant.

View from the train

I wasn't up to taking many pictures, or dealing with the annoying window reflections. But after days of mountains, suddenly the views were of trees and winding rivers, one full of skinny red wriggles of wild salmon.