Two days into the new year of 2025, I was greeted with a cool misty morning and a backpack full of camping gear. Feeling incredibly overpacked, and simultaneously under-packed, I embarked on an adventure to the jungle.
Six others filled the van and soon enough the town began to fade away behind us. The mist remained in the sky as we made our way throughout the winding mountain roads. A quick stop on the side of the highway allowed us to fully observe how far up into the sky we seemed to be heading. The road we had been previously zooming on seemed so small from where we were standing and layers of mountains stretched out as far as we could see.
Back on the move, a grand image of Guadalupe emerged upon one of the hilltops, growing larger and more glorious with each second. The smell of peppermint flowed through the car, hoping to aid potentially carsick passengers on the miles of twisting roads behind and ahead of us. The hours went by in no time, with no shortage of music and good conversation. Occasionally the comfortable silence that often comes with road trips settled over us, the only sound being the soft hum of the tires moving on their path.
A vast green field awaited us at our first destination, and the possibility of a proper frolicking session immediately crossed my mind. Unloading from the car, and setting up camp, the sound of nature was all around us. With the contents of my backpack surrounding me in my small tent, things felt slightly chaotic. A mission of quick organization occurred and order was reinstated within a few minutes. Packing a much smaller bag with only the necessities for our first excursion, I met my fellow campers at the car for exactly that. A quick drive passed by and we soon arrived at the Edward James Gardens.
In the months leading up to this trip, the magic the gardens had promised had taken up a large space in my mind. Now standing in line before the entrance, I was already beginning to see it with my own eyes. Making our way inside and meeting with a guide, we began our stroll through the gardens. Choosing where to look was no easy task, there was something new and beautiful to observe with each step we took. The ground which we walked on was a river of stone, millions of tiny pieces, pale turquoise and grey, seemed to flow and move with us, the intricate work catching the light through the lush jade that enveloped all. The “Stairway to Heaven”, used by Edward James for meditation, stretched out above us. A towering structure consisting of a spiraling snake of stairs wrapped around a large pillar, leading to nothing but the sky. The dangers of climbing so high with no railings entered my brain, but to meditate and observe the jungle and such a height is a risk many, including myself, would be willing to take.
Sculptures of flowers met us throughout the place, serving as odes to orchids that once grew here, the splendor of the thousands of flowers lost to a frost that befell them in 1962. As we continued through the green we saw houses for snakes and ocelots, paths for deer, and tremendous webs, homes to spiders that seemed to glow iridescent colors. Further into the gardens we walked, and soon after, through arching doors with metal stars of rusty oranges and reds. The gardens truly were magical, plants from Costa Rica with shiny violet secrets, butterflies with transparent wings, and moss that encapsulated all. The time spent in the gardens went by in a beautiful blur. Heading back to camp, we relaxed and settled down for the night.
We rose early the next morning to venture to the Cave of Swallows, steep stairs down, down, down led us to a place to gaze into the dark black hole. We didn’t witness it this time but every day at dusk and dawn, a wild sight to see occurs, where thousands of birds gather in the sky to create a spiral after leaving and before entering the cave. Ropes kept people away from the very edge, but those brave enough could be tied in to stand closer and gaze further down. After viewing this captivating cave, we made our trek back up, a tart and refreshing treat of freshly squeezed orange juice greeting us at the end of our climb. Changing gear at camp after our morning exploring, we set out for more.
Equipped with life jackets and waterproofing accessories, we rowed down a swiftly moving river, dark emerald forest covered the hills around us. Tradition on this river is to have a splashing battle when another boat passes by, our group was prepared for this prospect, and soon other boats came. Water soaked our skin and the sounds of splashing, laughter, and even a few screams filled the air when the quick battles occurred. Merrily rowing along we turned a corner, and suddenly the white rush of a waterfall could be spotted in the distance. Reaching a rock formation protruding from the water, our boat, as well as many others stopped against it. Carefully climbing and reaching the top of this rock when it was our turn, it was the perfect opportunity to take stunning photos of, or with the grand and glorious Casacada de Tamul. The sound of rushing water soared through the air and the size of the fall was an unbelievable thing to gaze upon.
Eventually we went back, and moving with the current of the river, an option to jump from the boat and drift along was offered to us. What a joy it was to plummet down into the bright mint water, a swirl of bubbles appearing underwater as my life jacket quickly brought me back to the surface. Floating weightlessly in the water as it moved me along, the sun was slowly beginning to set behind me, cotton candy clouds, and layers of glorious nature fell before me, and Lorde’s cover of “Take Me to the River” softly played, putting me into a tranquil almost dreamlike state. Meeting with my friends, swimming against the current at the stopping point proved to be a challenging but humorous endeavor.
Taking a break from swimming, we walked on wobbling wooden bridges, suspended above fast-flowing falls and a cavernous water-filled abyss. Golden hour drifted down on us, the yellow rays peeking through the leaves, basking everything in radiant light. Going down into the cave extinguished this light, stalactites dripped heavy cold drops into the water, bats and other cave creatures flew out above us at times, and there was a soft and almost untraceable current pulling everything to an underwater exit in the cave. Learning the fact the inky water I was in measured deeper than 45 meters filled me with a bit of fear, and I was once again incredibly grateful for the existence of life jackets. Leaving the cave, we ended our adventures for the day, a serene visual of empty canoes reminded us of the journey we went on. A feast of tacos, a downpour of rain, and an animal having a midnight snack outside of our tents occurred that night. Moisture clung to everything from the humidity, and laying still in my tent I felt tired, fulfilled with my adventures, and absolutely baffled at everything I had experienced so far. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
The last day came and we had a few more stops to go. Cascadas de Micos was a perfect mix of adventure and relaxation. Tiny fish filled the river and if you held still for long enough, gave light bubbling kisses to your skin. Rocks close to the set of waterfalls allowed for basking and marveling, sitting upon them, I think anyone would feel like a mystical mermaid, and I certainly did. A stunning shimmering mist consistently drifted from the larger of the falls and covered the sky in glimmering microscopic droplets. After a while spent on the rocks, a closer look at the powerful cascade was desired. Twisting white roots of a glorious willow tree aided my tired arms when moving against the current. Under the rushing water was a leafy alcove, a beautiful place to imagine living if I was small enough to fit in the even smaller alcoves in the wall. Emerging back through the water, the mighty flood poured down on us. An astonishing mountain was exorbitant in size next to us as we left our wee fish friends behind. As an after-swim snack, we waited for elotes. The warm corn, paired with mayo, chile powder, cheese, and lime was a delicious and satisfying treat. While watching the hypnotic preparation of food, my friend and I shivered and dripped with water, slowly spinning in front of a fire roasting chickens.
Pitching my tent for the last time, the stubborn poles needed three people to stick them into the soft ground, my sleeping pad required strength, speed, and a lot of air to properly inflate, and in that moment I was incredibly grateful for my friends helping me out with both things for the past few nights. A messy session of running through the mud with them occurred, only with the promise of a good shower afterwards, which is exactly what we all got. A hot cup of tea and soup followed, and following that, a calm moment of rocking in a hammock, gazing at the grand galaxy above us. I went to sleep and awoke feeling rejuvenated. The bed of clover which we slept on was moist with dew, and the rows of trees behind us were satisfying to look at. It was a peaceful, slow morning heading home. Car naps were taken and musicals were listened to, and soon we were home, with exciting new memories and stories to tell accompanying us.
