One of the highlights of my time in Ecuador has been the multitude and proximity of waterfalls. This fact still often surprises me given that I live in the Sierra, in the country’s Imbabura Province, named for just one of the several massive volcanoes always in the horizon, since my community is nestled amid in the valleys formed by them and neighboring mountains. This dramatic landscape, over 8000 feet in the clouds, but only a few hours shy of the Equator’s fiery belt, creates the perfect environment for both snow-capped peaks and lush waterfalls of icy currents. These waterfalls are often hidden in pockets of dense forest which seemingly transport you to another world where suddenly the thick canopy overhead makes it so you cannot see the mountains for maybe the first time since coming to Ecuador. This change is shocking-- it’s disorienting-- but it’s breathtaking, it’s… beautiful.
You keep walking, eventually hearing the rush of water growing stronger and stronger, but the forest is too heavy so you can’t see what you know is there: you only hear it. The sound becomes louder until it’s overwhelming, matching the tangled chaos of trees and vines and plants surrounding you. But just then, the canopy breaks open and finally you see it. Well, first you see the sky again, the mountains, and the volcanoes. And… you see the waterfall.
The waterfall! Mighty in its height and majestic in its unrelenting downpour. Its beauty leaves you awestruck and you think “all of this created from a couple of atoms colliding in space?” You know this place is used for indigenous spiritual ceremonies. “Maybe it is divinely inspired after all…” But that’s a different story.
Your attention returns as you look back at the waterfall, taking in the deep blues and greens and splashing white of the almost illusory mirage before your eyes, and you notice a difference color moving: people. They’re swimming. “How could this get any better?” The thousands of gallons of water crashing down on the rocks below summons a mist which alights on your skin, now more uncovered since you don’t want your clothes to get wet too, and you begin to realize how cold it will be, but then:
You jump.
Suddenly you’re not only seeing the waterfall-- you’re feeling it-- you’re part of it. You remember from science class that humans are something like 70% water and Hell, you might as well be 70% waterfall right about now. You look up from the pool, and again you see the sky, and the mountains, and the volcanoes, and of course, the waterfall. You remind yourself where you are and just how unbelievably grateful you are to be in Ecuador.
It should come as no surprise that these waterfalls inspire me as much as they do, and the primary way I’ve channeled this inspiration is through my art. I drew this piece “La Cascada de Peguche,” from photos I took during one of my many visits to this very site, which I can joyously say is only a few miles from my host family’s house. Enjoy.
La Cascada de Peguche
La Cascada de Taxopamba