One of El Salvador's natural treasures is Bosque El Imposible National Park. Located in far western El Salvador, the Rainforest Alliance described the park this way:
Because of it size and biological diversity, Bosque El Imposible National Park is considered the most important natural area of El Salvador. Located in the department of Ahuachapan, El Imposible contains a highly threatened dry tropical forest that forms part of the coastal mountain range Apaneca-Ilmatepec. The 9,000 acre forest ranges from 900 feet to 4,300 feet above sea level and is home to the country's most crystalline water. Bosque El Imposible's unique topography lends a splendid beauty to this refuge. More than 500 species of birds live there, including the great curassow, king vulture and turquoised-browed motmot. Ocelots are also found in Bosque El Imposible. Traders from Guatemala used to travel to El Salvador's markets through this forest, carefully leading their mules through the steep "Impossible Pass," from which the park takes its name.
Recently wandering writer Nath Richards was there, and tramped to the lip of a 30 foot high waterfall to jump into the tiny pool below:
Wading down the boulder-strewn river, hemmed in on both sides by thick jungle, I could hear the rumble grow louder. Oh man, I thought, here we go again.
This rumbling had become a familiar sound today and, like so many times already, was once again the unmistakeable roar of water crashing into the base of a waterfall. But this time - even before I had reached the edge of the cascade - the resonating thunder was loud enough to send the alarm bells ringing. By a long shot, this was the loudest set of falls so far. It could mean only one thing: the biggest waterfall yet. Even more alarmingly, once again I would be expected to blindly run off the end of it.
Before now, if I’d ever pictured myself hurtling off the edge of a 30 foot jungle waterfall it would’ve been immediately preceded by a hectic race downstream in an attempt to open the distance between me and at least 50 angry pygmies, each armed with blowpipes and machetes. But there were no pygmies here to coax out any unnatural airborne activity, for this was Central America. Instead, encouragement to leap came only from our magnificently bold (or slightly unhinged – you choose) eco-tour leader with personal liability insurance seemingly as robust as his nerves....
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