Marakoopa Cave

In the dome of the Great Cathedral, high within Marakoopa Cave, our guide sings ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. The sound of her voice reflects off puddles forming stalagmites, catching in the corners to form the echo of another. We have been told of the church services which took place here, the choirs who delighted in the acoustics formed by a millennia of patient limestone drips and the seismic shifts which transplanted an ancient sea floor above our heads. As with all caves, the inexorable passage of time is an almost palpable thing here, the slow peace of it interrupted only by the determined curl of a root that has wormed its way down through the ceiling. It is an abrupt reminder that, despite the languid passage of time within the caves, above us, a rainforest rages on. Outside, in the light, time is shown differently, marked instead by the soft bodies of fallen trees consumed by lichen and fungi, ferns sprouting in any space they might fit. Death and rebirth, layers upon layers, it all forms a density so sublime.