AN  UNDISCOVERED   WILDERNESS

On the northeast coast of Honduras, we explore the Rio Platano Biosphere Reserve, still guarding its many secrets.

Text and photos by Vincent Murphy

Hiking through remote settlements, overgrown pastures and along shaded forest trails, it took us an arduous day and a half to reach the banks of Rio Platano (Banana River), but the hardship was soon forgotten as we navigated along the impenetrable walls of forest that stretched up to form a vault above the river. These were my favorite moments—we were now days away from any other humans. After working our way through a series of rapids, suddenly we arrived at a long stretch of river that was wide and deep. The water was so still that the orientation of our boat provided the only clue as to the direction of the current, and the reflection made the jungle canyon seem all the deeper.

    Our guide, Jorge Salaverri, led the 10-day expedition through the Rio Platano Biosphere Reserve, from the mountain headwaters of the Rio Platano, through the rain forest, past the indigenous Miskito and Pech community of Las Marias, and down to the Caribbean Sea on the Mosquito Coast of Honduras. The reserve lies in the forgotten northeastern corner of the country known as La Mosquitia, and extends over 5,250 square kilometers—Honduras' largest protected area and Central America's first biosphere. A "biosphere" is a type of reserve that seeks to conserve the traditional lifestyles of its human inhabitants, who are an integral part of the protected ecosystem. Rio Platano is one of the Mundo Maya's last "undiscovered" wildernesses and certainly one of Mesoamerica's most important reserves.

    Because of its crucial role in conserving the region's natural and cultural diversity, and archaeological riches, the Rio Platano Biosphere Reserve was honored by UNESCO with the designation of World Heritage Site in 1980, an honor it shares with the famous Maya city of Copan on the country's western border. Each day, while Jorge broke camp at the river's edge and prepared the rafts, there was time to explore the jungle on foot. One morning we came across an enormous rain forest tree hung with vines, bromeliads and orchids, and supported by wide, flat buttressed roots like fins on a rocket. Near its base, we discovered a brilliant emerald, the fallen body of a green scarab beetle. On our return journey to the river, we followed the narrow forest highway, cleared by a hardworking colony of leaf cutter ants carrying their harvest of green scraps back to the nest.

    Although each day there was an intimate tour of the jungle, we discovered that the rain forest would reveal its secrets slowly, cautiously, and only one or two at a time. On one occasion, rounding a bend, our eyes caught the brilliant orange-and-red sunburst pattern on the back of a sunbittern's wings, and the erratic flash of the huge metallic-blue morph butterfly. In the cool of the rain forest night, camped out on a riverside beach, the fireflies emerged to compete with the stars.

    As we floated quietly downstream, our raft proved an excellent platform for wildlife observation. Early one morning, we drifted upon a brocket deer browsing in the tall grasses at river's edge. Later we stirred up a troop of howler monkeys sleeping in the trees. A male emerged from the treetops to reprimand us, wildly shaking branches in an aggressive stance made funny by his teddy bear appearance. One afternoon, we were startled by a curious little head that surfaced near our raft. Although river otters can often be wary, they can also be playful, and this one followed the raft down the river through the rapids and swam in circles around our boat.

    I remember during an earlier trip, we leapt out and hauled our raft to a quick stop against the current at the sudden appearance of a mountain lion on the shoreline, only some 40 yards downstream. He sniffed the air, plunged in, and swam across to the other side, and, as he shook himself, only then did he spot us; he stared suspiciously for a few moments and disappeared into the forest.

    On his trips down the river, Jorge has seen tapirs, cougars and crocodiles, the immense harpy eagle and the beautiful agami heron. Despite discovering their tracks on every trip, he has yet to glimpse the nocturnal and shy jaguar or a giant anteater. But it is just a matter of time and a little good luck. The rain forest will eventually reveal its secrets. After a week of drifting through jungle carpeted canyon walls, we emerged onto a flat plain. The bare rocky peak of Pico Dama towered high above the mountains to the west, dominating the valley. Later, we anchored at a thin island in the river to make our last camp in the wilderness. Here, we found boulders carved with primitive designs etched by artists from an unknown time and place. One showed a pattern of concentric circles, another a monkey design an a third an obviously male human.

    On these, and other rocks further downstream, we found human faces, serpents, a deer, and a spectacular stylized rendition of a two-headed alligator, a powerful symbol of creation. Very little is known about the history of this area; it has barely been examined. Yet the presence of hundreds of archaeological sites and other evidence, has led many archaeologists to speculate that this area may have been the center of Mesoamerican culture for two centuries, after A.D. 1200.

    The next day we arrived at Las Marias. Home to the Miskito and Pech indigenous groups, this is the first village one reaches upon entering the northern zone of the Biosphere. Fishermen, hunters, gatherers and small-scale farmers, the Miskito and Pech peoples are inextricably linked to the forest that surrounds them. From their environment they extract food and medicine, shelter and nearly every other need they might have. In return, they conserve this forest just as their ancestors did. We have much to learn from their harmonious lifestyle.

    From Las Marias, we covered the last stretch of river to the coast in a tuk-tuk, a large dugout canoe whose motor made a noise resembling its name. A ringed kingfisher led us downstream, past the bamboo shelters of coastal Miskito families, which migrate upriver during the dry season to tend their farms of platano macho (plantain), manioc and rice. Our journey ended on the Caribbean coast, its long empty beaches sprinkled with small dugout canoes used by the Garifuna people for fishing and lobster diving. Though our rations were spent, our backpacks empty and easily lifted on to the small plane that flew us away, we were leaving with much more than we came with. We took home with us the humble grace and good example of a forest people, a handful of mysteries carved in stone, and a few secrets of the rain forest.