The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, the kind of smell that lingers long after the morning mist lifts. The ground beneath me is a muddy sludge, conspiring with gravity to pull me further down the steep valley slope. But with a leg braced firmly against an unsuspecting tree limb, I found stability. High above me, the branches of a century-old fig tree open wide like the endearing embrace of a loving mother. I feel welcomed in this place, wanted even. Through draping curtains of moss, a dark figure slowly glides into the light. At last, I can see him clearly. He shifts slightly, his substantial claws gripping the bark with quiet precision. That fur, black as night, glistens with droplets of mist, each one catching the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy.

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We had been watching him for days. Piecing together his movements and interactions with other bears. A story as intricate as the forest itself. He’s a familiar traveller to these parts and is known by our guide, as Tony. One of very few Andean bears in these parts, he symbolizes the health of this ecosystem and the resilience of a species once thought to be extinct. 

 

Tony paused, lifting his head to sniff the cool air, those golden facial markings strikingly vivid against the muted greens around him.  Gazing into the tangled labyrinth of misty branches as if the secrets of the forest lay just beyond his reach. I realized this incredible feeling I had, the entire encounter was something most would never have an opportunity to see. Just one more beautiful secret hidden within the veils of the cloud forest.

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