With our hiking boots laced up and helmets secured, we were ready to venture into the depths of Puerto Rico, tracing the paths of our Taíno ancestors and uncovering the endemic flora and fauna of the Cabachuelas Natural Reserve. Packs fastened and hearts pounding with excitement, we set off. This is no ordinary journey—it’s a connection with nature and a passage through time.
Tucked within the green hillside town of Morovis, this reserve is home to one of Puerto Rico’s most fascinating eco-tourism destinations: the Cabachuelas Caverns. This vast network of over 60 interconnected caves, caverns, and sinkholes offers a glimpse into geological and cultural history, with many containing pictographs, petroglyphs, and archaeological traces of the Island’s ancient inhabitants.
A passionate group of experts and conservationists has taken on the mission of protecting and sharing this incredible natural treasure. Proyecto Cabachuelas, known as Cabacoop, has transformed the Cabachuelas Natural Reserve into both a sanctuary and a living classroom—dedicated to preserving cultural heritage, promoting environmental education, offering an unforgettable ecotourism experience in Puerto Rico, and fostering community involvement.
Entering Los Gemelos: Going Back to the Guácara Times
As part of a team outing to explore Puerto Rico’s natural treasures, we find ourselves in the heart of Morovis, led by two members of Cabacoop, Myriam Rivera and Félix Meléndez, who know this land like the backs of their hands. They lead us through a winding trail surrounded by lush forest. “This is an ancestral path—only humans have walked it. Our Taíno ancestors once used it, and now we follow in their footsteps,” Myriam says as she guides us. As we climb higher, our boots slip slightly on the uneven terrain, the path growing steeper beneath our feet.
Then, just ahead, the cave’s mouth gapes open—a rugged limestone entrance, its jagged edges shaped by time and erosion. The rough, textured walls are streaked with mineral deposits and patches of moss, adding hints of green and brown. The air is cool and damp, smelling of wet stone and time—like the past still clinging to the walls. At the entrance, a petroglyph of a carved face stands as a solemn reminder, etched with the imprints of our heritage.
"Have you ever heard the phrase ‘tiempo de las guácaras’?" Félix asks. My mind goes back to the moments when my grandmother used the term in her stories, talking about something so old it felt like it came from another lifetime. It's a common colloquial expression used to refer to something that happened a long time ago. "The word guácara means 'cave' in the Taíno language—that's where the phrase comes from," he explains as we switch on the lights of our helmets and step inside.
The outside world fades away, replaced by a vast cavern adorned with white stalactites, their slow drips echoing as they fall to the dirt floor. We follow the path as the space gradually expands—the ceiling rises higher, massive stalactites hang overhead, and thick stalagmites rise from the ground. In the distance, a natural opening in the ceiling allows shimmering light to pierce the darkness, casting an eerie glow on the cave walls. These caves are more than a geological wonder—they offer a rare glimpse into Puerto Rico’s prehistoric past. Fossils of now-extinct species have been discovered here, alongside art left behind by the Island’s original inhabitants.
Our guides lead us deeper into the cave to a remarkable pictograph—an ancient form of communication and art. They illuminate an anthropomorphic figure with large circular eyes and outstretched limbs, drawn on one of the cave walls. "This drawing, typical of the Archaic culture, is believed to depict conjoined twins or the birth of twins. The cave’s name, Los Gemelos (Spanish for "The Twins"), was inspired by this ancient pictograph, which we’ve also adopted as the cooperative’s symbol and logo," Myriam explains. This mysterious artwork dates back over 2,000 years, making it one of the oldest known in the Caribbean.
Face to Face with Puerto Rico’s Ancient Insects
After, Félix vanishes briefly into the shadows and returns with a grin, cupping something between his hands. He opens them to reveal a flat insect that stretches across his entire palm. "Did you know that Puerto Rico has its own endemic cockroach? This species lives exclusively in certain caves on the Island and can grow up to three inches long. It’s more Boricua than any of us," he explains. Looking at me, he adds, "Do you want to hold it?"
"Sure," I say hesitantly, stretching out my hand. Félix gently nudges the cockroach with his finger, guiding it onto my palm. Its tiny legs tickle my skin as it scurries across my hand and up my arm. I quickly return the insect to him, unaware of the next surprise our guides have in store.
At one point, he disappears again and comes back with a huge guabá, also known as a tailless whip scorpion—a large, cave-dwelling arachnid native to the Caribbean. It looks like something out of a prehistoric world, with a flat, segmented body, long spindly legs, and extremely elongated front appendages that it uses like antennae to sense its surroundings. I couldn't decide if I was thrilled or terrified.
"Have you seen the fourth Harry Potter movie (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire)? The arachnid used to demonstrate a spell is this one. Anyone want to hold it? It’s harmless to humans," he says, holding it up with a grin and inviting the group to take a closer look. I shake my head so fast I nearly knock off my helmet. I’ve decided: I am terrified— there’s no way I’m touching this one.
Only one brave volunteer steps forward to hold it, while the rest of us watch in fascination.
Félix chuckles, then gently returns the creature to its hiding place before leading us back toward the cave entrance.
Onto the Next Cave: Meeting Cueva Estancita’s Residents
After leaving Los Gemelos and all its history behind, we make our way back along the ancestral path, leading to a small spring where monarch butterflies flutter gracefully. We take turns washing our hands and splashing cold water on our faces before putting our helmets back on and continuing the journey to another cave—Cueva Estancita. What makes this cave unique? It’s home to a colony of bats!
The entrance is shrouded in darkness, but before we step inside, Myriam instructs us to adjust our helmet lights, switching them to red. "Bright lights can shock the bats," she warns, helping me adjust mine. "And if they fall, they can't get back up."
We descend through a wide entrance that slopes gently downward, leading into a towering chamber with a ceiling stretching high above us. Delicate, needle-like stalagmites and stalactites adorn the space, forming a stunning natural cathedral. As we continue deeper, darkness closes in, broken only by the beams of our red lights sweeping across thousand-year-old stone walls. The sound of screeches and fluttering wings fills the space.
Believe it or not, bats are the only native mammals left in Puerto Rico! While other mammals were introduced over time, these true Boricuas have been here for millions of years, ruling the night skies like tiny, furry guardians of the ecosystem.
This specific colony belongs to the Antillean fruit-eating bat, known locally as the fruit bat. They are small and primarily eat fruit, as their name suggests. “They are key pollinators by spreading seeds, especially for tropical plants, and supporting reforestation,” says Félix. “Their guano, the accumulated excrement of bats, can also be harvested and used as fertilizer”.
Toward the back of the cave, the darkness thickens as we approach a vertical shaft, a towering hole that extends both upward and downward. The bats swirl together in mesmerizing patterns, moving in unison like a living current. In the dim red glow, we watch their dance, a reminder of the delicate balance of life within the cave. Our lights reflected off the walls, revealing shimmering streaks of red hidden within the rock, while overhead, bats glided silently, their wings slicing through the air like shifting shadows.
Bats. So many bats. More than I was expecting, honestly.
With one last glance at them, we turned back toward the entrance, following the distant sun rays and leaving the bats undisturbed in their ancient home.
