Bridge Year Costa Rica – Fall 2024

Before our gap year began, we were frequently advised not to set expectations and to let the experience define itself. Perhaps because Costa Rica’s biodiversity is world-renowned, and perhaps because I had read last year’s blog about Cloudbridge, I still had my expectations—which were quickly exceeded. Our bumpy van ride, with stops to meet the people who graciously prepared our traditional lunches and to see their locally famous 70-year-old house, eventually brought us to the Cloudbridge welcome center. We were greeted with images of jaguars, ocelots, opossums, and other wildlife captured by the trail cameras, a brief history of Cloudbridge, and the staggering statistic that every minute, 50 acres of rainforest are destroyed.

Cloudbridge was founded in 2002 and has reforested the landscape from a cattle farm back into an incredibly dense, fuzzy, big-leaved layer upon layer of green. As a cloud forest, this unique ecosystem is primarily sustained by absorbing moisture from passing clouds, in addition to rainfall. Our guide aptly described the forest’s ability to regenerate as “energizing,” highlighting its robust, resilient, and rare qualities.

Once we began our hike, she frequently stopped to give us an “Ecology 101” lesson. Unfortunately, our responses to “Do you remember this from school?” or “Surely you remember this from biology?” or “Have you heard of this term?” were almost always no, perhaps reflecting differences in what is taught in American and Costa Rican schools. We absorbed the distinctions between exotic and invasive species, the importance of pioneer species in ecological succession, the ecosystem services—from mental health benefits to water purification—that we often take for granted, and the process of a strangler fig suffocating its host. We gained an appreciation for traditional ecological knowledge and the remarkable outcomes of evolution: lichens whose fungal component may enter a “fruiting stage” with long strands, millipedes that excrete an almond-like scent when frightened, and ferns that reproduce with tiny spores on the backs of their leaves. There exists an entirely self-sufficient system, with countless distinct players, each with “cool,” “beautiful,” and “weird” characteristics, much of which is invisible to us. How could humans possibly suggest they are above something so complex?

Before we began, our guide explained her academic and professional background in agricultural engineering, followed by environmental science, and her shift in mindset from a focus on input-output human dominion to resilient, ethical, and holistic systems. As she described the difference between agroecology and permaculture and emphasized the importance of both culture and government, she intuitively understood my budding interests, which can feel distant from traditional academic circles. When she asked what we were interested in studying, she immediately grasped the combination of her ecological background with public policy, and for once, I didn’t have to incompletely explain it as I had on so many applications this past year.

Surrounded by cool air, a rushing river, and rising mountains, issues like deforestation, climate change, and nature-based solutions feel much less theoretical. Grounding yourself and committing to action comes naturally here. You can sense that climate change is only one symptom of a much larger, fundamental relationship between humans and nature. Our conversation quickly turned to the multitude of academic departments that could support our intellectual exploration of these concepts. Indeed, Cloudbridge provided an incredible sense of time just as much as it offered an incredible sense of place.

Right now, we have the chance to discover, consider, pause, reflect, and choose before fully devoting ourselves. And the satisfaction of doing that here—where I can explore these crucial yet new topics with people who have devoted their lives to them—was immense.

Sophia H.