This is an account of our trip out to the Amazon jungle. In Jennifer's words: "It's too long." and I have to agree. But I already am leaving out so much. I record a lot of the overall experience here, but if you are more interested in the animals we saw, scroll on down to the "The Wildlife" section below. Highlight for Carter: catching a piranha. Highlight for me: swimming with pink dolphins. Jen really loved the jungle at night with glowworms, caiman and thunder.
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We set off midweek for our trip with Farnaz & Paul to the jungle, flying very early out of Lima (taxi pickup at 4am) in order to get to Iquitos with time to take the boat out to the lodge by lunchtime. Iquitos lies in the heart of the flat Peruvian jungle (as opposed to
the mountainous jungle), right where the Amazon River coming up from the
south makes its big turn eastwards towards Brazil. Muyuna Lodge is 140km south of Iquitos, following the Amazon upriver.
On the 90min flight, I sat next to an Argentinian who proclaimed himself a Jesuit fanatic. He was traveling with a friend, a local from around Iquitos, and the two seemed to share a strange mix of camaraderie and patrician inequality. The Jesuit wore what looked like pajamas but are probably comfy in the jungle, while his friend wore a sharp-edged suit while he nervously peered out the window in anticipation of coming back to his people after 3 years away. Iquitos is a relatively big town, so perhaps it is just in my perception that it is populated with the high proportion of bizarre characters as befits an outpost. The return flight 3 days later was also populated with characters: the woman in the waiting room whose arm-hair was wooly enough that it brushed my arm even though we were a couple inches apart; the first-time flyer seated next to me in the exit row who obsessively read the exit-row escape regulations and started to pull on the escape lever until I told him not to and later turned on his radio; and I am pretty sure it was a transsexual stooping into the row in front of me.
There are no roads to Iquitos, arrival is by boat or plane only, so the streets teemed with motorcycle-rickshaws as the lodge's van drove us to town-center where we picked up galoshes and a couple of traveling companions. From the riverside along the defunct rubber-boom warehouses, our covered boat headed south on the Amazon. The banks are an almost unbroken line of jungle while the occasional habitations become steadily more basic as we get farther from Iquitos: cinder blocks and corrugate disappear in favor of thatch and plank homes, boats become less frequent, and people on the shore are more likely to stop and watch our passage. The one indication of modernity that seems always present, even as far upriver as our lodge, is the outboard motor. We saw many dugout canoes without them, but these motors are clearly integral to life out there. After a couple hours, we stopped for a break at the last "large" town, meaning they had some cinder-block buildings, school, clinic, and 3 or 4 floating dock shacks to tie up at. There was food to be bought, but I could not help noticing that the peehole Carter was using was hanging off the shack upriver from where the woman was washing her cookware. We stretched our legs a bit as kids followed Carter around and women unfailingly pointed out his blond curls. Days later upon our return at this same place, a group of teen girls hanging around the dock laughed and one, as Carter left, called out "Chau, mi amor!"
Eventually our boat turned off the Amazon onto a small tributary called the Yanayacu. It was hard for me to keep my bearings or get a sense of the terrain...there is just so much water and overgrown vegetation. There is a big lake out there, but to my eyes it was difficult to see the difference between lake and river. There is a maze of channels and shortcuts through swamps and consider also that the idea of "shore" is almost meaningless as the water level rises a good 15ft (?) from "dry" season to wet season. Trails become waterways, stairways become docks, etc. The locals see it differently than I, of course, and in time I could at least see some of the variation: river, lake, prickle palm swamp, water lily area, low flood-plain jungle, slightly-raised jungle.
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We arrived at Muyuna Lodge about halfway into wet season, so the cabins were still on terra firma. The cabins and the communal area were nicely netted against mosquitoes, while at night the walkways were lit by smudge pots and each room given 3 oil lamps in lieu of electricity. The shower and toilets were murky river water, but much appreciated. Below I go into a little detail, including some of the challenges, but in no way as criticism...I put it here to underline how fabulous the trip was. We wanted to be out in the jungle far enough to see it's true wild nature. It's only natural that pampering was not part of the itinerary.
The lodge is simple and comfortable, no mojitos served poolside, or a buffet with 20 options, or even air-conditioning. They serve a small buffet usually featuring at least one unadventurous item to go along with some of the interesting local fare. Since this place is carved into the riverbank, there wasn't a ton for Carter to do. There was foosball, ping-pong and some board games, and the people there made a point of finding some crayons...but luckily Carter has started to really enjoy reading to himself. It is so hot and skeetery that no one goes outside playing frisbee. For our one trail hike, the lodge sent along a second person knowing that Carter would tire...this allowed he and I to be led back to the lodge without stopping the hike for everyone else. It is HOT out there. I packed 3-tshirts per day and ran out. The mosquitos away from the water are intense. We overdid it perhaps, with Deet, mosquito-net suits, even some heavier clothing. So we were super-hot on the hike, but I only have about 6 bites now as I type. I was able to cool off on the various boat trips.
Muyuna is a part of the community out there...not just an eco-lodge. They hire several locals. We waved at the boatman's kids up in their house. On an early-morning boat outing, we didn't eat all of the breakfast that was packed in the boat. On our way back, the guides stopped dugouts and people on shore to hand out the extras like fresh yogurt and bread (even pouring the extra juice into a family's bailing bucket). Seeing all this made our netted lodge with hammocks and lunch seem pretty darn luxurious in comparison.
So yes it's hot and there are mosquitos...two things I hate. And yet I can't tell you how much fun I had.
THE WILDLIFE
In general, we would go out on the boat, puttering through channels or chugging through vast expanses of reeds or floating river cabbage. Farnaz is a birder, so the lodge had hired a local bird expert to be our guide. Edson took us around, sometimes laughing because birds we remarked on were so common, other times he matched Farnaz in excitement. We saw enough white
egrets artfully posing on green swaths of vegetation that they became literally unremarkable. Clusters of
parakeets would cross overhead, or the square heads of noisy
parrots, and birds-of-prey of all sorts were numerous. Farnaz added well over 100 new birds to her life list. Fish would jump at the sound of the boats motor, a
barracuda even slapping Ingrid the Dutch girl in the chest. A very small village was near the lodge, so we would see them at their chores or building a new canoe.
Even around the lodge we were surrounded by wildlife...Amazon
vultures hanging around, very "common"
hawks , etc. There was always a background symphony, like a crazy, poly-rhythmic experimental jazz band made up entirely of birds and frogs. The arrangement was always in flux, though, and locals can set their watches by some of the sounds...and lord knows the birds could wake you up in the morning.
On our one hike, we saw a couple of
pygmy monkeys, as small as your hand. After Carter and I had left, Jennifer availed herself of the local natural mosquito repellant as demonstrated by the guides: she placed her hand on one of the large termite nests until the
termites ran out and angrily covered her hand, then she crushed them and rubbed the citronella-smelling results on her hands.
Our day excursions by boat were rich in feathered wildlife:
toucan, sharply black & yellow birds that make long pendulous nests in the trees, big goose-like birds called donkey-birds, and more small colorful guys than I can remember. But we also saw a handful of
sloth, a couple of
water snakes, about 10
bats looking upside down at us from the bark where they were roosting,
iguanas sunning themselves on branches, and held in our hands a little
treefrog. The various ecosystems are really interesting...there's the Yanayacu River itself, of course, but other environments to which the flora and fauna have adapted specifically. On the big beds of floating river cabbage is a bird with extraordinarily long feet (allowing it to walk on the plants without sinking, "walking on water"). The giant lily pads we saw, each almost 6ft across, apparently have a specific moth to pollinate them. One area was the prickle-palm swamp, forcing us to keep our arms inside the boat in order to avoid the spines (this is where we saw a prehistoric looking bird with a mohawk called the
hoatzin).
We stopped in one area to fish for
piranha. It's a simple as lowering a baited hook in the water, splashing a bit, and when you feel a tug...yanking with the hope that the hook catches on the fish. Our boat was relatively unlucky, but most of us caught one and Carter was proud to have caught the biggest in the boat. Later, after our dinner that included fried piranha, the guides cleaned and dried the teeth for Carter to keep. He wants me to make a necklace out of it.
Carter and Jen decided to skip the long early-morning outing to go swim with
pink dolphins. I was never swimming closer than 10 yards to them, but they surfaced frequently. Bobbing quietly in the Amazon while the "piff...piff" of pink dolphins coming up for air is something I will never forget. The water is murky, so it was especially great when one would come up out of the water far enough to really show its face or fin. It was returning from this outing that Edson and Raphael were giving out our breakfast leftovers. At one family's riverside house, the young girls were hailing us by proudly holding their day's catch up high. Their dugout was full of fish and Edson translated that the family was very happy with their bounty...plus they got a bottle of yogurt. Another family we stopped at were, he told us, farmers. Their land is not good for hunting, and they don't live near the lake with the bounty of fish out near where the lodge is. It seems that territorial politics can play out, family by family, in the jungle.
On a night excursion, we took the boat out into the reeds and thick river cabbage, looking for
caiman. There was a magical moment in one area as we realized that the dark waters were punctuated by green, glowing lights...like fireflies, but
glow-worms on the river plants. After sliding back into the vegetation in the dark, flashlights went on and the Dutch girl screamed...there was a
pink-toed tarantula on the reed right at her shoulder! But perhaps more intense was just the sheer quantity of nocturnal bug life crowding the vegetation over the water. Katydids, spiders, ants, all living out a nightly drama out there. We saw a small yellow tree anaconda hanging out over the river. But we sighted no large caiman, though Edson and the other guide, Raphael, did catch a
baby caiman for us to see. The kept making baby caiman sounds saying, "The mother must be around here someplace."
All in all, it was an amazing experience. There are things we saw that will be etched on our memories for a very long time.
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PS: Farnaz and Paul had an epic all their own after we left and they stayed on a couple days. Her blog will go into detail, I don't doubt, but in the course of tracking down an elusive sighting of the rare wattled currasow bird, they were up to their armpits in water known to be inhabited by the venomous fer-de-lance snake, which can kill you if untreated for half a day. Also, they did not see a giant anaconda, but stumbled upon a dead juvenile caiman, all squishy in the midsection from having been squeezed by one. But her sighting of the currasow was remarkable and, she says, it seemed to be really special for Edson too.
The terrain is beautiful. The high, snowy peaks poke up behind a wall of rock that makes up the range and clouds push and spill around them. Glacier-cut canyons hide small lakes, and water melts, trickles, then flows icily down through the valleys. This time of year, wet summer, the ravine floor is springy with turf and dotted by "alpine" flowers. The hillsides angling down from the rock are breezy with sharp sunlight or sharp rain, and weather can change in an hour. Locals bring their livestock up to graze or tend to small plots of potatoes, etc., nestled against the slopes. These deep-cut canyons are called "quebradas" and each is used by a collective of locals who take turns guarding the mouth against rustlers. Diana, our hostess at the Lazy Dog Inn, could tell me the number of families using each of the quebradas. Farther downhill, houses begin to appear, then villages, until eventually you drop all the way down to Huaraz with its obligatory Plaza de Armas and central church. Of course, north of town, one can get a less idyllic view of a big strip mine up in the Cordillera Negra.
To get to Huaraz from Lima, we took a "super-cama" bus, an overnight ride with seats that recline to 180-degrees. The Lima bus station at 11pm seems like some kind of off-world spaceport, but soon enough we were horizontal in our seats and arrived at 6am in Huaraz. The altitude there is significant, though it affects people differently: Jen almost unaffected, me just an occasional headache hardly worth mentioning, Carter sometimes uncomfortable, Paul not happy with it, Farnaz literally puked one day (running out to the grass from the sauna in nothing but a skimpy towel). The Lazy Dog Inn is 2000ft above Huaraz, putting it at 12,000ft, while our elevation when visiting the Llaca Glacier topped out at 15,000ft. That's the highest I've ever been. One day, Jen tried an uphill run from the local pueblo ("Marian") up to the Inn…a couple of times locals hollered out to her "Where you going?" and "Good luck!"
Staying at the Lazy Dog puts you within a couple of kilometers of the sheer walls of the range. I took a couple of walks up the road and, since this is low tourist season, we shared the terrain with just a handful of locals with their livestock or bags of harvest on their backs. The women mostly wear the traditional garb, including the hats specific to the Huaraz area. These hats have a folded fan of ornamental material on them and, apparently, the number of folds in the material reflects marital status and status as an elder. Many families may have a cow or a burro, their main wealth, but no grazing plot. Often the kids are tasked with taking the livestock uphill to the open grass. I came across a girl of roughly 9 years and her little brother; when they asked the typical question of gringo aliens "Tiene caramellos?" ("Do you have candy?") I had to say no. Up to that point, it had been hard for me to get pictures of the native dress in a comfortable way, so I asked if I could take her picture. "No," she said. But as I walked away she called after me, "But my brother doesn't mind." Nevertheless, she ran up to stand in the photo. Farnaz and Paul stayed for the whole week, and they had a couple of opportunities to be closer to the locals: first, they were invited along to a birthday party at a local woman's house (which had the typical cordoned-off area indoors to raise their guinea pigs), and second, they went to a little closing show at the preschool run by the proprietors of the Lazy Dog (just like a school show in the states, except here all the moms taking pictures with their cel phones are in tradition Andes attire).
The Lazy Dog is kind of a progressive hacienda, a compound with casitas and rooms for tourists, horses that will come munch on your houseplants if the barrier falls down, greenhouses and gardens, and the preschool. The couple in charge, Canadian expats, provide dinner and breakfast in the common room, great rooms with fireplaces and compost-toilets, and free advice on getting around the hills. There are not that many people, but still I became familiar with the other visitors, some of whom are volunteering at the preschool. Speaking of volunteers: we had the chance to go into Huaraz and have lunch with one of the local Peace Corps volunteers, J Lynne, who works on health programs there. Her apartment is just off the Plaza de Armas where a loud stage was set up, blasting music to a small crowd of people milling about. There are plenty of ladies in town wearing the local attire, but it felt very particular to turn a corner by the grandstand and come upon a 16yr-old in full traditional regalia, her "sunday-best", standing among the rowdies.
At the Inn on the first day, I discovered that I was already familiar with a family visiting there…they are affiliated with the embassy and were, in fact, the "welcome" family that invited Jen over for dinner her first week in the country. They are funny sorts, friendly enough, but one of their teenage daughters seems a taciturn, unhappy sort (perhaps because she was dragged to Peru and, soon, will be dragged to Equitorial Guinea, for the large part of her teenage years). This family went up to the Llaca Glacier on the same day Jen and Carter and I did; they even ended up hiking back with us. 
The hike to Llaca is not so far as the crow flies, but we opted to pay for a car to drive us up the abysmal road so we'd only have to hike the downhill. Since Carter was joining Jen and I, it seemed prudent. Even so, as it would turn out, it was asking too much of Carter. One note on all the SUVs driving around on smooth pavement in U.S. cities: up in this area they seem to handle their rocky roads and flash floods with nothing more than frontwheel drive Toyota station wagons. The taxi dropped us off at the end of the road from which we could see the base of the glacier. We decided we wanted to touch it and set out scrambling that way. The end of the glacier is a little spooky, the slate-blue ice melting and dripping and periodically rocks or gravel roll down it's face. It feels like something moving. 
But, of course, these days it is losing more than it is moving. Another visitor mentioned being there a year prior and that the glacier had lost an acre since then. By the time we were done with the glacier, we had expended 2 unintentional hours, so we started the hike back to the Inn. At first it was lovely, the green valley below the glacier being so pretty, with rock walls rising up on either side and a stream the same color as the glacier twisting through it. We even saw the andean squirrel-bunny (the Viscacha), a large rabbit with a squirrel-like tail. By the bottom of this section, before the steep downhill, two things happened. First, we met up with and joined the embassy family we knew and, second, it began to hail. So hail, then rain, then hiking in the middle of a cloud. It would have been adventurous, but by the last hour of the 4 hour hike, Carter was literally miserable with fatigue and altitude-discomfort. Jen and I swapped carrying him for probably the last 2 hours. 
The day after this, I took a hike with Paul up the other nearby quebrada, Cojup. But this time, just setting out from the Inn and turning back upon hitting the bridge at the canyon mouth. Jen went in the morning to see the preschool, Carter had a mellow morning letting Wayne, one of the proprietors, go through a very explicit introduction to horsemanship (leading, brushing, feeding, etc.). Farnaz happily donated time planting in the greenhouses and, later, Jen went on her uphill "run" from the pueblo. We hung out around the fireplace until it was time for Carter, Jen and I to go into Huaraz and catch the 11pm overnight bus back to Lima. Just before daylight, I was awoken on the bus by a car honking…and from the smell, I knew I was back in Lima. 
