Travel Diary: The Peruvian Amazon -Part Three
Our adventure in the Amazonian rainforest continued with a sunrise cruise, a stroll through an enchanted lily pad garden, and a humbling and inspiring visit to our guide's very own village.
Ama and I awoke to our alarms at 5:00 am and sleepily dressed in the dark. We met our guide Carlos as well as our traveling companions at the lodge at the appointed time of 5:20 to begin the walk down to the river. Once we were all safely aboard the boat, Carlos ferried us through the heavy darkness of the pre-dawn Amazon. After about fifteen minutes of cruising, Carlos cut the motor and while turning the boat to face the north east for the best view of the sunrise.
Once the sound of the motor was choked out, we were sonically surrounded by a bevy of insects, birds, frogs, and other creatures chattering away to begin their long day on the world’s largest river. Hazy clouds dotted the sky as we watched for slivers of light to begin poking through. Egrets and hawks were already out on the prowl as soon as first light emerged. Like the old saying goes, the early bird gets the piranha.
The sunrise was rather underwhelming compared to the vistas weare privy to here in the Great Lakes. I had expected to get the same deep orange, reds, and purple coloring that we get at sunrise and sunset here in the midwest. Instead, the sunrise in the Amazon is a series of muted yellows that feels more like stadium lights slowly coming on than it does a proper sunset. Still, the sounds and the setting were spectacular, even if the sunrise itself was less impressive than most of the days I drive around my own city before the sun comes up.
On the short trip back, we passed an older man rowing alone in a red canoe. He paddled his way down the river and we waved hello as we passed. Carlos informed us that he was a local fisherman who was out on morning rounds checking his fishing nets. We encountered the man again a few minutes later as he was rowing his way through a sea of lily pads and top water growth. He struggled mightily to get the boat to lurch forward a few inches with each stroke. I began to tire just from watching him. As we sailed past him a second time, I said a sort of silent prayer for him that the nets would be full and the work would have all been worth it.
Carlos motored us back to the Lodge Amak for eggs, rolls, and coffee just before 8:00. There was much conversation amongst us seven travelers at the lodge that morning. We lazed over a long breakfast and learned bits about each member of the group. It is almost always wonderful to get a chance to meet deeply curious and adventurous people, and the sort of folks who are willing to spend three days in the Amazon have to be at least a bit adventurous.
I chatted with Natasha and Ollie, our new British friends about our shared travels. I mentioned to Ollie that I would very much like to explore England outside of London, which I did not get the chance to do the one time I visited. He remarked that if I had seen London, I was better off viewing other parts of the world. His response was rather surprising, but he went on to explain that even though much of England is charming and lovely, it is also littered with just awful weather. It was clear he was a bit jaded about his home country, but I took his point, if at least with some degree of salt.
After our leisurely breakfast, Carlos offered to take us to a local village to view a lily pad garden. To my surprise, most of our crew decided to hang back. Only Ama, myself, and our new friend Monica took Carlos up on his offer. Within five minutes we found ourselves back in the boat once again cruising along the watery boulevard that is the Amazon.
I quietly watched the dense bird activity and inhaled the warm, heavy air. A black collared hawk perched atop a giant, dying tree surveying his domain. I dropped my arm over the side of the boat and allowed my hand to dip into the water. It felt almost cool in the morning air, but nonetheless refreshing.
We arrived back at the same village dock where Carlos had taken us the day before for our blowdart lesson and the time with the villagers and baby sloths. However, instead of walking into the village, Carlos took us along a trail through the jungle along the edge of the village. We walked through dense forestation with millions of varieties of green in them. Occasionally, brilliant and bulbous flowers of orange, pink or yellow would emerge from the canopies of green. Wild bananas grew in clumps on a tree above our heads.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, we reached a clearing and to our left was a large, shallow pond. Atop much of the water’s surface lay a series of massive lily pads measuring from one to three feet across. In several of the pads there was a single flower in the orchid family lying gently atop the massive lily pad that grew to sprout this one magical flower.
We picked and ate a bit of wild ginger root, said to be a natural cure for anything from indigestion to anxiety. Carlos also pointed out the ayahuasca bush that grew near the edge of the pond in one spot. I asked if he had tried the famous hallucinogen before. He smiled and shook his head yes. He went on to tell us that he has had a shaman guide him through an ayahuasca ceremony several times, including five different occasions in which Carlos contracted malaria. When I asked how it works, Carlos said, “It takes out all of the bad energy and replaces it with good energy.”
That sounds amazing. Sign me up.
Wandering further around the pond, we came upon a small pagoda over the water and stopped for a rare photo opportunity of me and Ama together. The haze of clouds from the sunrise began to fade away slowly making room for shafts of warm, bright sunshine to pour down. Slowly, we began our walk back to the river and the boat back to the lodge. During the short cruise back to base camp it began to rain lightly.
Lunch was waiting for us as we arrived slightly damp from the rain, but no worse for wear. The rain quickly went from drizzle to downpour as we made our way into the lodge. After another terrific meal, Ama and I traipsed back through the puddles to our cabana for a bit of reading and rest before our next adventure.
Following a much needed nap and a fresh wash of the face, I felt renewed and ready to spy some more of the Amazon. Carlos had promised a tour of his own village for any of us that were interested. Once again, Ama, Monica and myself were the sole takers. Despite the steady rain, we wandered back down to the boat for yet another excursion.
We docked the bat at Timicuro Grande and stepped onto the river’s edge. Carlos led the way up a long path and then over a covered bridge on stilts until we reached the main pathway to the center of the village. As we walked into the main portion of the village, we were greeted with an open field with a soccer goal at either end. A small set of stands, in a bit of disrepair sat along the sideline at midfield.
To the left was a large open concrete building that was the cafeteria and a kitchen for the village’s school. Carlos walked us inside the facility which was nothing more than a crude concrete frame with open windows. Two thirds of the space was set up with makeshift tables and erstwhile seating. A whiteboard sat on the floor along the wall.
The rest of the space was reserved for a very primitive kitchen. A small metal framed rack sat over a bed for charcoal. A few pots for cooking rice were piled together in the corner of the kitchen. The rooms were dusty, filled with debris, and would never pass a health inspection, yet each day during the school year, students come from miles around by boat to get the best education that they have access to.
While much of life on the Amazon is still comparatively primitive, Timicuro does have wifi. The villagers on the Amazon typically barter between themselves and do not use any currency, however a few members of Timicuro go into Iquitos to sell bananas and other fruit to generate enough income for the village to have wifi so they can connect to the world.
Unlike the villagers we had seen the day before who had dressed in traditional garb for our visit, the villagers at Timicuro wore modern dress, mostly shorts and t-shirts. As we strolled slowly through the paths of the settlement we chatted with Carlos’ friends and neighbors. There were old friends who called him Carlito. We even met a grandmother who is the sort of Mayor of the town.
Standing in the rain chatting with a family from our guide’s village felt like an almost religious experience for me. It felt electric to connect with these people in their own element. I was so humbled to be allowed into that space and to be welcomed by Carlos’ fellow villagers. While so many of my countrymen would look at these people as subhuman or a scourge on American society if they were to try and cross our borders, I see resilience, determination and the same desire to for happiness that everyone in America is hoping for as well. I was thrilled to shed my first world mask and walk within a new way of life. It is precisely why I travel.
After wandering around in the rain for a while longer and visiting with more of the villages residents, Carlos showed us his own home and even went to grab a ripe coconut from the fired for Monica to have with dinner. Carlos, Monica, Ama, and I took a quick second for a rain soaked selfie in the village square before we headed back to the boat. We all rode in silence back to the lodge as the rain lightened up slightly.
As Carlos dropped us off we realized it was the last time we would see him. Ama gave him a huge hug and thanked him profusely for his expertise and for sharing his life with us. I too hugged our new friend and he offered to get me some ayahuasca on my next visit. We walked up the walkway to the lodge as the light faded on another day in the Amazon. The rain continued to fall.
Down at dinner later in the evening, Monica brought her coconut to get some help from the kitchen. They were kind enough to prep it for her and bring two straws, one for her and the other for her Dad who was traveling with her. Our first course, a fried plantain with red cabbage and cheese came out at the same time as Monica’s coconut.
The main course was a fried rice with a dark, brown protein. We had already been served venison the night before and I wondered if it might be the same again. Leo, our excellent server informed us that the meat was capybara. Yep, that furry little guy I showed you from the Conservation Club; one of those. The capybara is the world’s largest rodent and it is prevalent throughout the Amazon in Peru. I felt just a tinge of guilt, but dove in anyway. It was a little tough, but quite flavorful and once again Gerti was a master of sauces back there in the kitchen.
It had been a day of three separate outings, a very early wake-up call and a host of walking. We wandered back to the cabana where I managed to stay awake long enough to read another James Baldwin essay before tucking the mosquito net in for the night. As I shut my eyes, I listened to the symphony of crickets, raindrops, bats, and frogs.
Cheers,
Matty C
