Most children have at some point read or heard the story of a fellow named Jack, who one day takes his only cow to market so he can sell it but instead ends up trading it by a bunch of magic beans. That night back home, after his angry mother had thrown the beans out the window, Jack realizes that the beans have grown to become a huge beanstalk leading into an unknown and misterious world up in the sky. His curiosity incites him to climb up the stalk, where he finds a bad tempered giant from whom he manages to steal a bag of gold coins and a hen that lays golden eggs, barely making it down without being caught by the giant. Jack of course then lives happily ever after.

I ignore the moral of this fairy tale, if it does have one, and had even forgotten most of the story as it's been a while since I stopped believing in giants and golden eggs. And then I came into this tree, which got me thinking. Or dreaming. Or hallucinating. After two days of backpacking through the thick forests of the Osa Peninsula in southwestern Costa Rica in unbearable heat and humidity, loaded with a long telephoto trying (unsuccessfully for the most part) to obtain decent pictures of the startling variety of creatures that inhabit the jungle in these parts, while picking up ticks and losing more fluids that I could possibly drink, I came upon the above tree.

Dehydration means slow and clumsy movements, a condition I'm used to given my frequent hikes in the desert. No big deal assuming you have water; just continue drinking and keep track of the next water source. So it did not surprise me that it took me forever to switch lenses and set the camera without dropping it or sitting down to rest. Imaging giants climbing down trees or wishing I could climb up to wherever the tree took me if it was at least slight cooler surely accounts for more worrying signs of water deficit within my body. And getting back home and discovering that I had forgotten to lower the ISO setting in my camera from what I was using to capture fast moving animals (something that had never happened before), when there was not the slightest breeze to ease the torrid heat (and hence no problem with long exposures), makes me realize that my head was not working as it should. Something to keep in mind. Nevertheless I can still imagine Jack climbing down this tree with the giant in pursuit, even while looking at it indoors and with a beer in my hand.

"At some point, we must draw a line across the ground of our home and our being, drive a spear into the land and say: thus far, and no farther." Edward Abbey

All rights reserved. All images and content are the copyright of Eduardo Gallo. No form of physical or electronic reproduction, duplication, or manipulation is authorized without a written license from Eduardo Gallo.