Foz do Iguacu, Day 14
Others will have to write about the equally transcendent experience of viewing the rainbows over the falls in the early morning -- Dave and I slept in. (In hindsight I regret this -- the 8:00 a.m. falls walk was apparently an absolute rainbow factory and Holly had a showdown with a rude Chinese tourist I’d have paid money to see, but there you go.)
Instead, we took the free shuttle to the gate of the park and walked the few hundred yards to the Parque das Aves, the bird park. The minimalist name and the touristy entrance belies the absolute amazingness of this place.
First, it’s immense -- the path winds through more than 40 acres of tropical forest lavishly threaded with colorful bromeliads and orchids. Enclosures protect rare or injured birds from visitors -- or protect visitors from terrifyingly huge predatory birds. But more often, the path runs right through enclosures so big you’re hardly aware you’re inside one, sharing space with an unbelievable variety of strutting, perching, gliding, flapping or pooping birds. We had close encounters with toucans (which have unseated puffins as my favorite bird with a comically disproportionate bill), spoonbills, flamingoes, parrots, macaws, cassowaries, cardinals, woodpeckers, canaries, finches, and so many others. Tiny hummingbirds darted around while dinosaur-ish flightless birds the size of a large dogs ambled nearby. A pair of harpy eagles, easily the most dangerous animal I have seen in real life, peered silently down on the passing toddlers, thinking raptor thoughts. There was a big pond full of yellow alligators (one resting his head on a large, nonchalant turtle). A couple of spectacularly impressive pythons -- rescued from frantic farmers -- lounged in sunny terrariums. And while it’s hard to designate a favorite thing about this park, I’ll give the nod to the butterfly enclosure -- pretty bouquets of cut fruit were set atop standing logs throughout the flowery little garden, dotted with shimmering butterflies and dusty moths. Such a charming grace note. We quite literally couldn’t bring ourselves to leave and ended up taking a much later bus back to the Belmond than we’d intended.
We grabbed a quick lunch and then set right back off to meet our guide for the Black Well Excursion -- a 9 kilometer hike we’d organized for the afternoon (taking a hard pass on the Falls Boat Ride of song and legend that Mary, Glenn, Andy and Jeremy undertook. I really don’t do boats).
We met our guide, Fabiano -- another super smart, funny, earnest young guy with a college degree and an impressive knowledge of the local flora, fauna and land policy -- at a little station next to the main road into the park and immediately struck out into the forest. The trail was a forest road, unpaved, but wide enough that a jeep could navigate it and only the most horrifyingly gigantic spider could have spun a web all the way across it. Nevertheless, I mostly let Dave and Fabiano walk ahead of me.
The forest was endlessly interesting. Entire ecosystems of ferns, bromeliads, smaller trees, mosses and fungi grew on mammoth Brazil nut and pepper trees. Flowering trees strewed the path with blossoms in a couple of places, or dropped fruit all over other spots. The horrifyingly gigantic spiders kept their elaborate webs politely in the underbrush to the sides of the path. And we had two encounters with capuchin monkeys. Fabiano realized they were nearby and stopped us for a few minutes while he made interesting noises and soon the curious faces were peeking through the greenery to check us out. We didn’t get terribly close, but had an entirely satisfying view of the glossy black monkeys with their distinctive long, lush tails brachiating through the trees. Blue morpho butterflies flickered by -- one landed on a leaf just in front of us, opening and closing his wings gently. Despite Fabiano’s assurances that there was no way he could do it (going so far as to say he’d give Dave $100 if he pulled it off), Dave spent several minutes determined to get a picture of the open wings. The butterfly was clearly gaslighting him and Fabiano kept his hundred bucks. And we spotted an absolutely enormous snail making his way with cliched slowness across the path.
The last bit of the path was on a boardwalk through a beautiful marsh. I really love boardwalks -- they always remind me of my dad for some obscure reason. It was getting late in the afternoon so the sun was slanting through the flowering brush and making the dragonflies shine like little metal decorations. There was a strong hum of insect life, but well sprayed with Off, we were not pestered. And the whole place smelled amazing -- a floral, mossy and herbal scent that overpowered the insect repellent.
We made a final push to an observation tower -- slightly alarming to climb -- overlooking a wide area of still water that looked like it should have been covered in wading birds, but wasn’t. But the sun looked beautiful on the water and there were no spiders in the tower, so all was very good.
A long, narrow boat with an outboard motor at one end and a canopy shading a dozen seats picked us up at the edge of the river. We were joined by another guide along with a very jolly group of three young Brazilians -- a man who had the look of a professional soccer player and two women, one dressed for hiking and one in a long, slinky skirt, a halter top and sexy flip flops. We zipped along for a few minutes, and then stopped by a group of extremely tippy looking kayaks, roped together and anchored in the current. Fabiano told us it was because a couple of the Brazilians were going to paddle for a bit and asked if we’d like to as well. We declined but watched with a certain amount of happy surprise as Soccer Player and Sexy Babe -- with great aplomb -- clambered off the boat and into a kayak and paddled off. We kept them in sight for a while and eventually picked them back up before reaching the Black Well -- a spot in the river where multiple currents come together creating a weird still pool encircled by a spiraling current. It didn’t look like much from close to the water’s surface where we were, but apparently it’s very striking from the air.
After that we motored along the shady side of the river, spotting toucans flitting from tree to tree, to a lonely dock where we were given a little snack and met by a big golf cart (echoes of Inhotim) that took us back out to the road. We arrived at the Belmond just in time to join the rest of our crew as they meandered across the road to the falls overlook -- wine in hand -- to enjoy a final sunset. I noticed that everyone stayed a good three yards away from Dave and me.
The seven of us gathered for Brazilian barbecue a little later. At least ten kinds of meat were roasting in a massive, open, wood burning oven -- you requested your meat and the red faced chef would pull it out and slice it up on the spot. A little more wine, a few good beers, some cachaca shots and then we did a well earned face plant into bed.
