Day 5--Old Loja-Zamora Road

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 23, 2013
We were to bird Upper Podocarpus/Cajanuma in the morning but ended up birding the Old Loja-Zamora Road and getting to Zamora and the Copalinga Lodge so late that we had time only for a little of birding from the dining room before dark
Night at Copalinga Lodge, Zamora

Up early  and on the bus a little earlier than yesterday, ready to again try for the Band-winged Nightjar. This time we nailed it and got a good look as well at a Great Horned Owl. Then we drove to the place Edgar had stopped yesterday before the slide, left the bus there, and checked out the mixed flocks attracted to the hummingbird bushes before turning back.

Today we were to check out the south end of Podocarpus Park, entering from Cajanuma, and then spend the night at Copalinga Lodge near Zamora. However, there had been a massive landslide, requiring dynamite to move a boulder the size of a house that had landed on the road. Road crews had already been working on it for several days. Fortunately, we came to  a standstill not 500 feet from an entrance to the old, single-lane, muddy Loja-Zamora Road. So we piled off the bus, left Edgar waiting in a long line of vehicles, and hiked to the old road.

Field Guides birders taking advantage of every moment to spot a species, in this case a Chiguanco Thrush; Iris in blue shirt

One of the first species we saw was a pair of Torrent Ducks on the Sabanilla River, which ran along the old L-Z road. They were wonderful birds and became one of my trip favorites. We spent considerable time watching them dive into the rushing water and swim downstream. They have very stiff tail feathers that they use as rudders. Almost all that is seen after they dive are their heads as they are swept with the current, and then they pop up on a rock. The male posed on a rock for some time before jumping in. When he finally did jump in, he managed to swim across the current to the opposite shore.

[TL] Torrent Duck male & female, Tadeusz Stawarczyk; [TR] diving female, Jon Atkinson; [BL] swimming male, K.C. Choo; precariously perched torrent duck family, Joe Prasil 

Next we watched several White-capped Dippers. These Ecuadorian dippers are not like their American counterparts. They do not dive and forage under rapid water, but they do tempt fate by clinging to rocks amid rushing water to feed on invertebrates at the water line and at the lips of cascading water and waterfalls.

White -capped Dipper; [L] Jeannie Mitchell; [R] Sam Woods

We crossed the Sabanilla River and continued to bird along the muddy, pothole-filled road, dodging intermittent traffic that chose to use the old road to Zamora.

One of the tree ferns I mentioned on another day; you can see one of its leaves in the previous photo

Willy was leading us down the road at a good clip. He was intent on our seeing an Oilbird. We arrived at a bridge over a side stream. Willy quickly binned it and found our oilbirds, two of them, way back on a dark cliffside. He got the spottiing scope on the birds and we all took turns looking at the birds' white wing spots, about all we could make out. Later, Rose Ann told us the story of the oil birds:
They are nocturnal feeders on the fruits of the oil palm and tropical laurels and are the only nocturnal, flying, fruit-eating birds in the world. They forage at night, navigating by echolocation in the same manner as bats, but with a high-pitched clicking sound audible to humans.
       During the day, the birds rest on cave ledges. They produce a variety of harsh screams while in their caves. Entering a cave with a light especially provokes these raucous calls which may also be heard as the birds prepare to emerge from the cave at dusk.
       Oilbirds are colonial nesters They build a nest in a heap of droppings and debris, usually above water, on which they lay 2 to 4 glossy white eggs. The squabs become very fat before fledging, weighing up to half again as much as the adult birds do. They used to be harvested and rendered for oil, hence the name "oilbird."

Side stream up which the oilbird  was located

We had left the bus and started walking and birding way down around the bend you can just see in the photo below. Eventually we learned that the paved road would not be opened today. Instead, traffic was released to the old LZ single-lane dirt road alternately so that traffic flowed for 30 minutes or so in a more-or-less steady cavalcade of trucks, cars, pickups, and buses from the Zamora end before Edgar and our bus were released from the Loja end. It was probably about two hours before the Loja end was released and Edgar managed to wrestle the big bus up the narrow road to us. When he did catch up to us, we were near the top of a hill, but Edgar managed to pull the bus far enough to the edge (yikes!) that traffic could get around him while we boarded.

Looking from the bridge up the Sabanilla River



The bus and Edgar are around the foot of the mountains across the valley. We have climbed up the old road to the side of the opposite mountains and can now look down on the river and the way we walked.

It was a relief to be on the bus and not treking uphill, but it was a slow, hairy, often cliff-hanging, very jolting ride for the next couple of hours. We were behind a truck loaded inexpertly with coke bottles that threatened to fall off or pull the truck over with each pothole, washout, or slide. We all found ourselves anxiously catching a breath when the truck lurched and the high load of bottles swayed and leaned. Add to that my anxiety when Zamora vehicles heading to Loja passed from the other direction. We were on a narrow, one-way dirt road often on the side of the mountain and often the road was narrowed even further with slides and waterfalls. I did my best to hold the left side of the bus down.

A wide spot in the Old L-Z Road; of course it is flooded, but on we ventured

Hillside deforested for cattle grazing

Near Zamora we passed a HUGE hydro plant in the making. The Chinese were creating an enormous tunnel to carry water and had rearranged the mountainside with their oversized equipment and dirt from the tunnel.

Workers at the entrance to the hydro tunnel

I snapped this photo of a small shrine and danger sign at the hydro project from the bus

Finally we reached a paved road in Zamora, and eventually another dirt road to Cabanas Copalinga. I joked at the end of the ride that I had lost one kidney. The ride was definitely a "kidney  killer."


Catherine Vits, lodge owner

We arrived at Cabanas Copalinga Lodge about 5:30 pm to be greeted by its dynamic owner Catherine Vits, who ran us through dinner times, bar selections and prices, and property rules and regs: "Insert the electric bug repellant devices into your electrical outlets to deter no-seeums; no hairdryers allowed. Hair dryers will crash our power plant that can otherwise fuel the hot water and run the lights and refrigerators all night; no paper in the toilets [a standard throughout Ecuador, even in the best hotels], leave shoes and boots outside the cabin door so as not to ruin the hardwood floors," etc.

Catherine also gave us the location of the drying room and orchid garden and trails. I was distracted from Catherine's talk because we stood in the dining room/bar area where hummingbirds were buzzing in for a sip of nectar at the bar feeders, and colorful tanagers were feeding on a banana feeder just opposite the eating area.



Hummingbird (a Hermit of somekind, maybe a Baron's Hermit) at the lodge bar feeder

Catherine assigned us our cabanas. Iris and I were in Cabanas #2, just a short hike up the trail. The keys to each room were attached to small pieces of wood with a stylized tanager on each. Our room was represented by the Blue-capped Tanager.


Blue-capped Tanager; Internet photo: Mikko Phyala

Belgians, Catherine and her husband Baldwin had even created a U.S.- style sewage treatment plant for this nearly self-sustaining eco lodge. The lodge was wonderfully welcoming and fine.

We had just enough time before 7:30 pm dinner to settle into our cabin, and to shower and dress in clean, dry clothes before a wonderful dinner, eaten by candlelight in the dining/bar area. It rained through the night, the roar of the river loudly adding to the din on our tin roof. At least this is what I was told, I slept like I was drugged.