A protected old growth forest protects us all.
As the sun rose on a July morning in 2022, I landed at a tiny airport in northern Argentina — the first leg of my journey to Aldea Luna Nature Reserve. My cab driver, Zulema, met me out front and I gave her the longitude and latitude coordinates of the spot nestled in the foothills of the Andes that was my destination. Perplexed at first by this unorthodox address, she punched it into her map app, and off we went. We had plenty of time to find our way, so we stopped at a local cafe for submarinos — cappuccinos with a submerged chocolate square. We sipped while Zulema pointed at the grand mountains a mile ahead of us and described their various peaks and paths.
These undisturbed forests are crucial guardians against climate change, cooling the atmosphere like towers of air conditioners.
Wedged between famous neighbors — the Amazon and the Andes — Las Yungas rivals their beauty and biodiversity. This narrow band of forest along the eastern slope of the Andes is home to a whopping fifty percent of the varieties of flora and fauna found in Argentina. Aldea Luna Nature Reserve, where I was headed, is a 2,340-acre section of the Las Yungas subtropical cloud forest preserved by the national forest law and cared for by a local family. The law designates this property as a red zone — a forest of such high conservation priority that it may never be developed.
After we finished our drinks, Zulema and I found our way to the meeting point where the patriarch of the family and the land, Matias Baldoni-Amar, waited with several other trekkers like me. Our group split up into two pick-up trucks, and we drove off the paved road and onto the dusty mountain routes. We wove up through regimented plantations of eucalyptus and tobacco, two export crops grown in the impoverished Las Yungas region. These farms, our driver explained, had caused the razing of native forest habitats and the killing of untold numbers of birds, mammals, and plants.
After a bumpy 40 minutes during which we gained altitude but lost cell service, we arrived at a clearing frosted over with morning dew. We continued on foot with Elizabeth, Matias’s wife, guiding us through brambles to a soundtrack of cicadas. Hiking in Las Yungas is not easy but rather like a game of Mother May I. Should I put my foot here? No — there. Is that sapling strong enough to sustain my weight? Yes, continue. Along the way, Elizabeth introduced us to an array of medicinal plants, birds, and reptiles who all rely on these old forest ecosystems for survival.
Of all the trees standing on earth, just 20 percent are old growth, and the majority are checkerboarded to their eventual doom, according to a World Resource Institute analysis. “Las Yungas are one of the few remaining virgin woodlands in Argentina,” Elizabeth told us.* “For this reason, it is necessary that we protect them.” These undisturbed forests are crucial guardians against climate change, cooling the atmosphere like towers of air conditioners. In Argentina, a country where conglomerates jockey over fertile soil in which to grow soy, these intact forests are increasingly rare. Old growth forests in other countries face similar threats.
At last, our group arrived at the entrance to Aldea Luna Reserve, where a cluster of hand-built log cabins were perched atop a hill of Seussian proportions. We sipped yerba mate and basked in the sun. With the expansive 180 degree vista, I felt as if I could spread my wings and join the local colony of condors.
About 15 years ago, the Baldoni-Amar family packed up their normal life in Buenos Aires, purchased this plot of land, and have barely left since. At the time, their two children were quite young, and they wished to instill in them an appreciation for the power of nature beyond manicured city parks. With 13 miles of trails to maintain and only a small crew of volunteers, the family’s daily to-do lists are long. As caretakers of this red zone property, they receive routine payments from the government — a meager sum, in their view — to assist with the operating costs of maintaining their land.
The family partners with scholars and others from local universities and beyond who use the land as an outdoor laboratory. These experts have the chance to explore the vast trail system, home to ocelots, parrots, tapirs, mushrooms, and more. This provides the Baldoni-Amars with a rotating cast of interesting guests for (vegetarian-only) dinners — National Geographic photographers, ornithologists, and entomologists, to name a few. I understand why recreationists and researchers alike keep coming back. The fragrant mountain breeze, boulder-bound byways, and stunning nighttime constellations are a humbling reminder of the vastness and grandeur of our global ecosystem.
During one afternoon hike, Matias emphasized how important it is to support the stewards championing responsible conservation and ecotourism. “Of all the forests standing in Argentina 100 years ago, only 30% still remain. Farmers like my neighbor just want to make a living selling lumber because that is what the economy values,” he said, pointing to a property in the distance. “That is why Aldea Luna is so precious.”
Jujuy, the province where Aldea Luna Nature Preserve is located, is pronounced hoo-hoo-ey. Saying the name feels like an exhale, which is exactly what you do upon arriving here. And when you inhale again, you realize that you haven’t breathed quite so purely in a very long time.
*Quotes have been translated from Argentine Spanish
