Iguazu Falls is a waterfall system made up of 275 falls along 1.67 miles of the Iguazu River, on the border between Argentina and Brazil. The falls pump between 350,000 and 400,000 gallons of water over their nearly-200-foot-tall edges each second. Do you know what that sounds like? It's deafening. The power of the water vibrates through your entire body.
The first panoramic view I saw of the river valley and its endless wall of water stopped me in my tracks. And it wasn't just the waterfalls. It was the entirety of the valley: coffee- and cream-colored walls of water, roaring and foaming and spraying and falling; the way the mist created from the falls floated above the river, hanging in the treetops of the rainforest and creating rainbows overhead; emerald green vegetation clinging to walls of wet rock; dense rainforest filled with butterflies and iguanas and tucans... the sheer power and immensity and beauty of nature on display. It was absolutely breathtaking.
There is a part of the park where you can walk up right to the bottom of one of the falls and stand at its base. The spray coming off the waterfall was so heavy and thick that it made it difficult to breathe; all I could see and hear and feel was pounding water. I wanted to stand there forever.
Then there was La Garganta del Diablo, or in English, The Devil's Throat. A horseshoe-shaped cavern of gushing water that seems to fall forever because the mist is so thick all you can see is a white wall of water particles that shoot up into the sky like geysers. And, because it's South America, you can stand right on the edge, on a metal platform through which you can see the water rushing beneath you, with only a few waist-high wooden guardrails standing between you and the bottomless depths of the mouth of the devil himself.
The first time we experienced La Garganta del Diablo was during a full-moon tour of the park. To get to the fall you have to walk half a mile over the river on those same see-through metal walkways. To walk over moonlit rushing water, with the silhouette of the jungle in the distance, and hear the crashing water before you can even see clouds of mist rising towards the moon, was indescribable. It was eerie, and magical, and profound. It made me feel so thankful, and so insignificant, and so sad I couldn't share what I was feeling and seeing and breathing with those I love most.
My friend Rachael had to leave on a bus early Monday morning, but I didn't depart until that afternoon, so I decided to head back into the park alone. I arrived early, and was one of the first people let into the park. I headed straight for a place I had seen the day before - a bench on a small platform perched on top of one of the falls, in the shade of a palm tree, with a view of the entire valley. I sat for over an hour, drinking it all in; watching as hundreds of butterflies danced around my head and birds glided in the rainbow-filled air. I saw so few people that at times I believed I had the entire park to myself. Just me and my thoughts, soaring and tumbling with the steady rhythm of falling water.
When it was finally time to go, I had trouble saying goodbye. I felt the same way I feel when packing up and brushing off sand after a long day at the beach - sad in an empty kind of way, knowing something beautiful is over, forever lost except for the small bits and pieces that will remain in my memory. I've learned that it's hard to hold on to the feeling of an experience - that images remain, but the actual feeling almost always seems to fade. Very few moments plant themselves deep enough to keep from being washed away with time.
All I can do is hope that Iguazu Falls knows how to beat the odds.
That is so incredibly beautiful... I can't imagine being there in person!
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