Nighttime in the Woods

End of meditation brings a sense of calm to everyone in the group. It’s a knowledge that we’ve put an honest day’s work in and it’s time to slow down and relax for a few hours before we’re off to bed. We typically rise from our meditation postures amongst a dusk glow, which mutes the greens of the forest slightly and creates a visual version of an auditory buzz after hearing a loud noise: everything is vivid but also toned down, quieted by the setting of the sun.

After meditation, again, WGAFG in order to cook dinner. The last meal of the day is usually the same size and themes as our lunches – one-pot cooking doesn’t afford the luxury of intricate plates. That being said, we are still eating what we all consider to be delicious meals. Dinner is the most intimate meal, as the enveloping darkness brings everyone together either around the fire or near the food prep areas. Things need to be cut, chopped, lit, peeled, and stoked in order to eat. The darkness prevents us from doing other activities so we all jump into any role that needs to be filled within the small pockets of light that exist, either naturally or battery powered. The imposing night bonds us together even further and we have our best conversations around dinner, once everything is cooked.

The darkness also brings out one of my favourite aspects of the forest – the glowbugs. These winged beacons begin to emerge from the trees around six in the evening and stay active until around nine-thirty. They fly independently, without pattern, and pulse a bright green glow. They illuminate in a growing intensity, starting out as a barely noticeable whisper of light, like a stove element that is just starting to heat up, then gradually gaining strength until they squeeze out their brightest rays in a final burst, as if exerting a final push of luminescence. This whole pattern takes just over a second, and then starts again 3 seconds later. Within a certain window of time you can look out into the forest and see dozens of these wondrous bugs glowing, displaying the living pulse of the surroundings in mesmerizing waves. Needless to say, it is quite calming.

The local wildlife combines with hunger by the time dinner’s ready and we all eat quietly and intensely. We make tea with the meal in order to enjoy it afterwards, and that is typically when the talk begins to flow more fervently again. We must be careful, though, not to drink too much tea, keeping in mind that we are about to go to bed. Having to expel the liquids is especially difficult at night because not only is there no nightlight, but the hallway to the toilet is down a ladder in the black of a wilderness night.

Once the appropriate amount of tea is consumed we clean up including the dishes, ‘rain-proofing’ the camp (putting away anything that shouldn’t be exposed to the elements), teeth brushing and washing up. We climb into our tree penthouses and tuck into our sleeping bags. I typically read for five or ten minutes before turning in but my literary escape usually ends in a literal escape from moths and bugs dive-bombing my headlamp, which is all the encouragement I need to go to sleep.

Nights in the forest can go one of three ways:

No rain – the soothing sounds of the woods serenade us to sleep and we are only awoken by slight numbness in our hips or shoulders. It is worth noting that we have had some small visitors go through our compost near the fire pit but we have never seen nor heard anything that causes alarm.

Rain – It rains often in the forest (it is called the Cloud Forest for a reason) so we are now ready for a standard downpour: when we arrive in camp we tarp our treehouses properly in order to prevent wind and rain from penetrating. Rain provides a different set of sounds to sleep through, but no longer produces much discomfort. As it is approaching the rainy season here in Guatemala, we have found that we will typically get an hour or two of rain in the afternoons and, if it does rain at night, it is clear skies by the morning.

Thunderstorms – In Spanish, these are called tormentas, and it is a fitting description when they strike in the woods. We have only had one serious storm, but it kept us all awake and meant business. We heard thunder crashing all around us and lightning lit up the night frequently. The intense rain and defeaning thunderclaps were impossible to sleep through and demanding of respect. As I lay awake through the one that we did endure, I couldn’t help but think of all the metal water bottles, knives, and camping gear that surrounded me. Of course nothing happened (although a couple struck closer than comfortable) but we all had a bit of a slow day the next morning. I have never heard thunder as intense or as freqeent as we do in the forest – storm systems moving in the area create claps that ricochet off the surrounding mountains and seem to roll on forever. We have had numerous times in which we heard numerous menacing growls of thunder but never experienced a drop of rain while the system moved past.

We wake an hour or so after the forest does, as the birds and ‘day-insects’ begin their song welcoming a new morning. Our eyes are groggy and we’re a little stiff, but that’s why yoga is about to begin...