The Green Corps and I climbed about halfway up the mountainside until we found the carcasses of two dead trees. Rust-colored entrails of sawdust and shavings lay across the path. We could hear a chainsaw rumbling above us. Carlos and I stopped with the woman who had been guiding us, but the others continued up the hill to investigate the sound and to count other felled trees. She described to Carlos the history of the landowner's illegal logging activities. I smiled and nodded whenever she looked my way, even though I had no idea what she was saying. Two semesters of college Spanish were not serving me well.

I had already developed a healthy respect for the forest. Allison and I had ventured off into the undergrowth on our own one day, equipped with a crude map and a couple of bottles of boiled water, our bodies covered in a thin coating of 100 percent DEET, the toxic formula contained in most insect repellants. We discovered an ecological gem - an amazing balance of growth and decay. The ground was thick with fallen leaves and crumbling logs. Bright green shoots emerged from the humus to join flaming ferns and trees with massive leaves shading us from the sun.

We followed our map, drank water regularly, and watched carefully for the little pink ribbons marking the trail. Still, we were soon lost, and found ourselves clambering up a vegetation-covered cliff, hoping the tree roots wouldn't come loose in our hands, because our plastic health insurance cards wouldn't do much good. Eventually the trail flattened out, and when we returned to the farm, Sandy asked us how the hike had gone. Still shaking from fear, we nonchalantly replied, oh, no problema, Señora.

Finally, the Corps members returned and reported that they had found the landowner practicing his foul deed. At the approach of the young men, he had put down his saw and promised to never again cut down another tree.

We headed back down the mountain, the woman with tiny shoes leading the way, the rest jumping and sliding down, me desperately trying not to kill myself. I emerged from the forest covered in dirt and sporting a large green bruise on my right leg, feeling quite empowered. But the satisfaction would be short-lived. Although we may have saved a few trees that day, the issues of deforestation are complex - and one admonishment would only go so far in the cloud forest.

My sister's existence is amazing - a life spent perched on the top of a mountain, surrounded by breathtaking panoramic views. I was very happy, though, after two weeks, to come home to the cracked sidewalks and towering buildings of my city, to my two computers and my job. I had always thought if I really started to hate civilization, I could escape to Sandy's jungle home. But her home offers no escape, just a different set of struggles.

Contributor: Allison Yates
For more information about DECOIN or the Intag Cloud Forest Reserve, send mail to:
Sandy Statz and Carlos Zorilla
Casilla 18, Otavalo, Ecuador, South America