In a small cabin surrounded by forests of the high Andes, a table boasts photographs of distinguished family members four generations into the past. The portraits of the great-grandfather and grandmother are evidence of their origins as farmers. They have strong, weathered faces. Wool cloaks and broad hats give protection against low temperatures and high solar radiation. There also is a large portrait of a deceased sister, especially cherished for her generosity in sharing her passion for nature and having passed away too young. Other photographs reveal a growing, numerous family with groups of smiling faces. Printed also in color and large format, among the family portraits, is a photo of a large spectacled bear.
The spectacled bear (also known as Andean bears) is on its four limbs, looking straight at the camera, and sticking its tongue out. The picture is placed on the table with the same care as the rest, adorning the main room of the cabin and equally part of this family's story.
The Alméciga family has owned this land since the late 19th century, but just built the cabin around five years ago. The cabin is clean and simple, designed to house about 20 guests. It is now equipped with solar panels that provide light when it is dark and warm water for the showers. This cabin represents a change in the family's way of living, a shift in its plans and hopes for the future of this land. The Almécigas have decided to abandon cattle raising and are now fully committed to nature tourism. Their land is a private nature reserve called Ecopalacio.
When the first family members arrived, more than a hundred years back, they found large expanses of high-Andean forests that transition into paramo. These landscapes, situated in the Northern Andes of South America, in Colombia, are located very close to the country's capital. It is an area with large human settlements, and has been even before the Spaniards arrived. Indigenous peoples of the Muisca inhabited these humid, fertile lands. They managed crops, traded extensively with near and more far away neighbors and had complex social and religious systems. Taking advantage of the established importance of the region, as well as its benevolent climate and rich soils, the Spaniards also decided to settle in these highlands. Nowadays, the densely populated city of Bogotá is just over 10 km away from the Almécigas.
Still large natural areas remain, sheltering populations of endemic wildlife adapted to high altitudes. The ecosystems they inhabit provide essential services to humans, the most notable of which is the cycling and storage of water. To control and ensure the provision of this extremely valuable resource, which currently is the main water source of Bogotá and surrounding rural regions, a large national park was founded in 1977. Chingaza National Natural Park covers an area of 76,600 hectares, and protects Andean ecosystems ranging from 800 to 4,020 meters above sea level under strict conservation measures. Also in the 1970s, Bogotá's water company built the Chuza dam inside the park, from where tunnels take water to reservoirs closer to the city. The shift helped control and reverse environmental damage that had been caused by a large cementing company (Cemento Samper), who extracted rock from the paramo and polluted air and water in the process of converting rock into cement. These two entities now manage the area, and no families live inside the park because all land owned privately by farmers was bought when the park was declared.
The strategy used by the agency of that time (Inderena) to ensure environmental protection was aggressive, and there is still resentment among local communities. Families that were excluded from the park moved to neighboring towns such as Fómeque, La Calera, Junín, Guasca and Choachí. The ones that kept their land and are now just outside the limits of the park had a new frontier that brought forced changes in how they worked, lived and perceived their land.
In the past, the Almécigas were part of a farming community that grew potatoes, raised cattle and also used resources that the paramos and forests offered. Cattle were allowed to roam widely, which meant farmers (mostly men) travelled the mountains on horse or foot for several days to find their animals, mark newborn calves and sacrifice others for meat. These journeys could last several days, and in the harsh weather of the paramo they found refuge in outposts with goods that would bring solace to the wet and tired traveller: coffee, raw sugarcane, chicha, dried meat, arepas and envueltos. These items were kept inside caves or under rocks by a collaborative network of neighbors. They knew that by contributing to the system of sharing, they would also find goods in times of need. Farmers also collected herbs, ate berries and flowers, hunted Andean guans, mountain pacas and white-tailed deer. In the drier months of the year, December and January, whole families hiked to glacial lakes for picnics, enjoying a dip in freezing water to later bask in the sun.
This way of living began to be dissolved when Cemento Samper increased production, and shifted from transporting rock on mules from the Palacio mine all the way to Bogotá to using towers and pulleys that carried rock downhill. On the property of the Almécigas, the foundations of a large tower remain. It was known as the Caliche station, and the Almécigas received a rent in return for allowing rocks to fly over their land on cables.
José Gabriel Alméciga, who is our guide during our visit to the nature reserve owned by the family, looks at the remains of the Caliche towers and tells us that his father had to fight to keep the land. "Cemento Samper once tried to claim that Caliche was theirs, but they never bought this property. My father, Anatolio Alméciga, went to the courts and proved he had allowed them to come through here through a rent contract. Thanks to his stubborn effort we are still here".
José Gabriel grew up in what is now called Ecopalacio. He has witnessed its change from a farm to a nature reserve. Walking along the paths that cross its forests and bank its streams, he points out his childhood playgrounds: "In this cave we used to spend all day, fascinated with its stalactites, bends and chambers. On warm days, the cold water of the stream was so refreshing." He tells us stories that he heard from his grandparents, who talked about the "león de montaña" (puma) and "tigre mariposo" (jaguar), species that now are very rare or absent. Bears were less abundant, because farmers hunted them to avoid having cattle preyed upon. He recalls how as a kid he helped in working with the cattle, and how the outposts to support journeys over the mountains worked well. But then, as people outside of the farmers' collaborative communities arrived, including hunters from nearby towns and workers for the cement company, the system did not work anymore. When goods were not replaced, outposts would be empty. The sense of a community, meeting people in the mountains that could tell you where they had seen your cattle, was lost.
Then, a hard line was drawn. The boundaries of the park gave a clear message: nature inside, people out. The most immediate effects of this frontier were evident in new limits to where cattle could roam, they should be kept outside of the protected area. From a nature preservation perspective this makes sense, cattle stomp on paramo vegetation that takes a very long time to grow and often forests are cut down to give more space for cows. In addition, families like the Almécigas now recognize how the value of conserving nature is greater, and making a living from protected ecosystems through activities such as tourism is more sustainable in the future.
However, changing your way of living is difficult and the learning curve of new activities is steep. There is some support from the park and local environmental agencies, but no compensation from the central government in things such as tax reductions or payment for the protection of these ecosystems. "We are still learning how to make the transition. Hopefully this new cabin is comfortable for you", says José Gabriel timidly. The reserve now actively attracts tourists, school groups, nature photographers and researchers. The Almécigas still have some cattle, but the reserve is slowly providing more income to replace it. We are visiting for our research on hummingbird movement and connectivity, and José Garbiel energetically makes sure everything is accommodating and neat. Every couple of hours he makes hot agua de panela (raw sugarcane drink) for us and asks how he can help. A strong thunderstorm cuts our fieldwork short, and we sit inside together for the afternoon, listening to stories of the Almécigas' life in these mountains.
While I listen to José Gabriel, I realize that the major divisive line that has not yet been overcome is actually a social distinction between types of knowledge. José Gabriel repeats many times how he is not "an expert", despite his deep knowledge of the territory, its history, its plants and animals. Although the park has done the effort of being more inclusive with local communities, José Gabriel states how their relationship is good but they do not know much about their ongoing projects. He is intimidated by the thick guide of Birds of Colombia that we brought and sits on the table. He is shy to ask about our research, why we are interested in these ecosystems and the methods we are using.
But that uncomfortable space between specialized knowledge and his lifelong experience is easily breached: Juan Pablo Ríos, a young biologist who is part of our project, opens the bird guide and points out the masked trogon. "Oh yes," José Gabriel says, "the trogon comes near the house and has a bold personality". They start going over other birds that occur in the area, and José Gabriel reveals that he is familiar with many of them, has a special passion for raptors and understands the role hummingbirds have as pollinators. He goes on to describe some orchids that are in the forest. He tells us that there is a bear that plays around with the water hoses, making him reconnect the tubes constantly. His sightings of the Andean bear are enviously frequent, but he always enjoys it as if it were his first: "I'll never tire of seeing that animal. It is so majestic I get a chill down my spine every time." In the admiration of nature, its beauty and meaning, we readily make a connection that goes beyond our different backgrounds.
The story of the Almécigas is one of a strong connection to their land, the capacity to adapt to changes in its management, and a genuine interest in its protection. The family cherishes what it represents in their recent history but also understands its value in terms of biodiversity. "When my father inherited this land, his brothers did not show any interest because it was only "monte" (uncleared land) with a harsh climate. At that time, people were more interested in more obvious wealth such as owning a car. The thing is, they continued producing cars and they are now everywhere. No one is making new land." Clara Alméciga, José Gabriel's sister, explains their compromise with conservation and how they want to share nature with others. "We love this territory, and want others to enjoy it too".
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