Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 3, 1991 TAG: 9102030326
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By STEVE HENSON LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO LENGTH: Long
We were only a half mile from our destination, La Mina Falls, but had overlooked the obvious: It tends to rain in a rain forest.
Suddenly, the fact that I'd worn my new Rockports, that my brother-in-law had brought along his camcorder, and that my wife had left an umbrella in our hotel room seemed the height of stupidity. You couldn't go from dry to drenched any quicker if you stepped off a pier.
We had been lulled into a false sense of security by the remarkable accessibility of the forest and its incredible natural beauty in the early morning. The skies had been blue only moments earlier as we stood at the top of Yokahu Tower, surveying a breathtaking view of the Mameyes River Valley and its extensive forests. Beyond the valley to the north lay the Atlantic Ocean, whose blue waters softly met the sky as far as we could see.
The old stone tower, at an elevation of 1,575 feet, stands a few yards off well-paved Highway 191, about 5 1/2 miles into the Caribbean National Forest and less than an hour's drive from San Juan, the capital of Puerto Rico. Our hike began around the next bend: La Mina Trail is one of several well-marked trails in the forest that can be comfortably walked by anyone able to make it around a mall.
Visitor-friendly almost to a fault, the 28,000-acre Caribbean National Forest, in the Luquillo Mountains on the eastern end of Puerto Rico, is the only tropical rain forest managed by the U.S. Forest Service. Locals call the entire area El Yunque (el-YOON-kay), after a 3,494-foot peak of the same name near the recreation area. Yunque is Spanish for anvil.
Highway 191 leaves Highway 3, a main artery from San Juan, and heads directly into the forest. Brilliant pink-and-red impatiens along the roadside, aptly nicknamed melinda (look at me pretty), contrast with the forest's dense shades of green and brown.
At two points within the first five miles, small wood shacks jutted out of the foliage. Inside the first, a woman was grilling chicken and fish, which she sold to passers-by along with fresh, cool coconut milk. The second was something of a drive-through saloon, sporting a long row of liquor bottles along a shelf outside the window.
El Yunque must be one of a very few rain forests that can be easily visited in one day. We woke in a hotel room in San Juan, spent the morning in the forest and were eating lunch in San Juan by 2 p.m. Anyone from a cruise ship stopping in Puerto Rico for a day can visit the forest and still have ample time for shopping in Old San Juan.
Elderly docents in park uniforms are stationed along the highway in El Yunque - one at a small waterfall a few feet from the road, another at a scenic lookout point, two at Yokahu Tower.
"We are here mostly to discourage troublemakers, pickpockets who prey on tourists," said docent Santos Valdez as we watched another predator, a broad-winged hawk, circle overhead, scouring the ground for an unwary lizard or rat.
That's a feast in this forest, which has little wildlife, primarily because it is on an island. The only four species of snake are non-poisonous. Bats - the only endemic mammal - and owls abound, but the red-and-green Puerto Rican parrot is nearly extinct.
El Yunque was hit hard by Hurricane Hugo in September 1989, and animal censuses indicate the parrot's population declined from 47 to 23, causing the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to authorize $1.28 million in emergency funds to protect the parrots.
The hurricane also reduced to rubble El Yunque Restaurant, a small cafe some seven miles into the forest that was known mainly for its patio view and rum punch. So quickly does rain forest foliage grow that little more than one year after the hurricane, remains of the restaurant are nearly impossible to find.
After a brief search, we drove to a turnout at the beginning of La Mina Trail and began our hike along the raked concrete.
It was important to remind ourselves not to walk rapidly with lowered heads. Stop, look, listen, I'd tell myself. Simply gazing off into the forest, absorbing the myriad textures, colors, sounds and smells was richly satisfying.
There was so much to muse. The lips of leaves, many the size of elephant ears, were turned down in a pout so that rain water wouldn't collect. Intricate spider webs hung horizontally between trees. Were they strong enough to withstand rain, or must they be doggedly respun daily?
The musky, damp forest air made hiking easy, and we were buoyant as we began the final ascent to La Mina Falls. We had been passed by only two other hikers and a solitary jogger: This seemed our own private parade through paradise.
Then without warning, the skies opened and rained on our parade. But after the initial shock, we didn't mind. The rain, though strong, was warm and invigorating. We laughed giddily and stepped up the pace.
The downpour increased as we neared the falls, but the destination was worth the effort. The waterfall was short and powerful, expelling water in white, frothy torrents. We ventured onto a rickety wood bridge that hung above the rushing stream below the falls and took snapshots before heading back.
A half mile from La Mina Falls, the rain abruptly stopped. What had felt like a significant portion of the more than 100 billion gallons of annual rainfall in the forest had done little more than make our hike complete.
Still sopping when we reached our car at the turnout, we served as warning to a woman who was about to embark on the trail. She took one look at us, returned to her car and pulled out an umbrella.
by CNB