Cleansing. (Balsapamba Cascades, Intag Valley, Ecuador)

Do you have a magical place that you always return to? That has a special vibe to it, bringing you peace and clarity for no reason? When you sit down next to it, breath in, and with breathing out you feel lighter. Each time a little.

The Balsapamba Cascade is becoming one of those places for me. Another is in Mindo, but I prefer driving 90min to 4.5h. And the Intag valley, as my readers might have noticed, has become a special place for me entirely. So much to discover still, and so close.

It's very close to the main road going through the valley, maybe 15min walking from it, easy terrain. There's a parking lot at the entrance, and the owners of that lot charge 1$ to get in there - they maintain the path clean, and the bridge that crosses the turbulent Intag River.

Even though it's only on the other side of the river, it feels differently. I walked through a stretch of banana trees,and it felt kind of dry there. Some larger puddles edge the path, with insects whirring happily above those comfortable warm breeding grounds.

Then the path takes a turn towards the mountain ridge, and up it goes. Easily. Following a what seems to be just a little stream purling gently down from the lush green reaching high into the sky.

Once treading besides the creek, the green comes back. There are still banana plants - they're everywhere, even on the side of the road -, but less so. The deep green is taking over again. The surrounding sound stays the same - powerful hollering of water. Just that it's not the river here, nor the creek, but what's waiting above the trail.

Balsapamba. Balsa is a certain tree that grows in the Intag Valley (and everywhere else in the sub-tropical area). It's a highly appreciated wood from what I learned, used in airplanes, marine, windmills and everything that needs light wood with high shear stability. Yes, I learned that just now. If used correctly, meaning between to sandwich type layers of carbon fiber, it develops the perfect balance between durability and ligth-weight to absorb the massive aerodynamic forces during millions of rotations.

Fascinating, I know. "Pamba" in Kichwa means something like floor, earth, ground. So, it's "the waterfall of the earth where the Balsa tree grows." And it's magnificent.

If you dare, you can climb up that steep wall using the cheap rope on the right side of the picture. It is possible - but I didn't do it, as I was alone the first time, and the second time with Ellie who is not much of a climber. I wouldn't recommend doing it alone.

This is as far up as I went. You can see the trail leading down. I have friends that are passionate climbers, so I hope to be able to go further with them next time I go.

The water is incredibly cold. I was surprised that Ellie actually made it in there. I, personally, love it. There's a kind of pit right where the water hits the... well, water. It's pure sand, no rocks anymore, and I can sit down and let the cold water crash on my head, violently, relentlessly, endlessly. The chill punches deep into my mind, time slows down, the roar encapsulates me from all other sound, the veil of water from all other sights, and I'm alone with myself.

Time stands still. I focus on why I came here. My mind clears, the water takes everything else away. I feel the sorrow, the hurt, the anger, the desperation. It fills my body, a heat against the cold, but the water wins, thankfully. The one after the other, we examine them together, and decide to let go. Yaku Mama, mother water, rips them out with gentle force, absorbs them, dilutes them. She knows what to do. She's done it for millions of years. It's all the same to her, and yet she holds me like I was special.

30 seconds. That's all it took. Ellie didn't even notice, I don't tell her, not right away, it's something to digest, first. She suddenly screams, this little critter has found its way on her trousers while she was bathing. I convince it to climb on a stick, and carry it to the bushes on the side.

As trying to find out what kind the critter would evolve into, Google said: blue-ish-black-ish body & wings, read/orange spots as warning signals. Reminded me of this butterfly/moth/whatever that I tried to take 100 pictures of but it never wanted to open his wings right on time except this one moment. Fits the description.

Back to our cabin. We decided that night that we wanted to have our wedding ceremony there. Not sure that is going to happen anymore, the owner just informed me that they're looking to sell the property. Tourism in Ecuador is down, to much bad news. The violence on the coast is affecting even the most peaceful places, like the Intag Valley. Though I hope they'll somehow survive (maybe you'll want to visit?), I'm glad that I have many friends down there. Nothing is as great as Willka Lodge (I hope it's okay to mention the name), but:

This paradise is huge.

I hope that more people will see that in time. Ecuador is mega-diverse in everything. Nature, people, mindsets, cultures. 14 years since I came the first time. And I still discover everything new. Hopefully, this post will sow the idea of visiting Ecuador in some minds...

My first one was in Mindo. A boulder in the middle of the river, with two large trees growing on top of it. That was August 2012 when I first saw it, and it dawned on me that I wanted to be in Ecuador.

The second time was December 2013, when I decided to come to live in Ecuador.

My friend took that picture of me meditating there in front of the boulder.

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