Rubber Boots in the Rainforest (Day 2)

The sky was still gray and dreary when we awoke at 5:30. I slipped on my pants and shirt and pulled on my shoes. It was a short walk across the lawn to the bathroom. 

As soon as it was light enough to see we gathered with David and walked around the lodge. He pointed out various plants and tees growing in the vicinity such as a cinnamon tree and a lemongrass bush. He plucked off a pod from what he called a lipstick plant. The little seeds inside, when broken, created a red paint and could be used cosmetically. 

There was a cocoa tree, the kind you use to make chocolate; and a coca tree, the kind you use to make cocaine. He gave us a brief rundown on the latter. 

Walking around the lodge, learning of the various plants.

Lemongrass plant.

Rubber boots on the bed.

We ate breakfast at the lodge where we were joined by a green parrot who flew onto the table to steal a chunk of bread. He refused to talk with us, probably upset we didn't feed him. 

We packed our belongings and brought them to the van. Little did we know that there were other families living in the jungle near the lodge . . . and we would be giving their kids a ride to school. 

Leonel sat next to us. He was about five years old. His sibling sat behind wearing a Spider-Man shirt. Their school was a forty minute drive on a dirt road. I don't know if they bum rides off tour vans everyday or not. But it was certainly a chore to get the kids to school. We saw two other vehicles packed with 8 or 9 kids. 

This green parakeet wanted to join us for breakfast.

Leonel on his way to school.

We were also told that this area has true native tribes who have nearly no contact with the outside world. Perhaps an anthropologist may live with them, but tourists are strictly forbidden to go anywhere near. They told the story of a white person getting killed with an arrow a few years ago when they got too close. 

We drove through the jungle, mostly on flatland now, but also down small hills as we were still declining in elevation. We caught our first good glimpse of the river, the Madre de Dios. These would be the waters upon which we would ride. 

The Madre de Dios River.

The village of Atalaya wasn't much. The school was right across the so-called street from the boat dock. We all had to wait. The school kids were early and had to wait for their teacher. We had to wait for the boat driver. 

It was a good time to sit down and watch. The school kids were fake-fighting one with another. A dog wandered past. A rooster stood in the street and crowed. The rest of us lounged around, waiting for the boat. For ten minutes the heavens opened and rain poured down. 

Just down the hill from the street was the river—wide, yet deep enough to navigate a boat. At the opposite side stood rolling hills partially shrouded in clouds and totally covered in jungle. 

Boat on the river.

Village of Atalaya. Schoolboy waiting for the teacher to arrive.

A wandering rooster.

Waiting for the boatman to come.

The boat was long with a canopy covering the seats. Cesar, a local villager, sat toward the stern running the motor. The six of us climbed in and Cesar fired up the engine. 

The Madre de Dios River is part of the Amazon Basin and flows from the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Peru into Bolivia and to the border of Brazil where it becomes one with the Madeira River. These same waters then travel another 800 miles before they merge with the mighty Amazon River. 

As our vessel was set in motion we soon passed a waterfall that tumbled into the water. A house perched on a rock overlooking the bend, commanding a great view. We traveled down-stream and I wondered if there were any indigenous tribes living in these hills. 

This was our small, beloved group.

Waterfall pouring into the river.

In one place we passed through a section of whitewater, causing the barge to be tossed upon the surface. With all our luggage and other gear, I sure didn't want to capsize. We had to trust the driver. 

At another spot we pulled over at the bank. We removed our shoes and replaced them with rubber boots. We stepped out of the boat and began a walk through the jungle. 

Walking through the jungle into a banana grove.

This was a true jungle. The pathway was so narrow it was dark, having groves of bamboo trees and vines dangling down. We stepped in puddles of water and sections of mud, proving the necessity of the boots. At one point we passed through a miniature banana grove. 

Our destination: a hot springs. I will admit that when we arrived I was a bit disappointed. The warm water was now contained in a rectangular cement box three-feet deep and the size of a miniature swimming pool. There was a small bamboo changing room that didn't feel too private because while inside you could see people on the outside perfectly well! 

I changed into my swimming suit and spent twenty minutes in the water with the Czech couple, while the Aussie and the Russian sat near the edge on a stool and talked with us. By the time we got out, dried off and changed, the rain began to pour. And it didn't stop. 

The humble hot springs.

Rain in the rain forest should feel perfectly natural, but it was taking us to the next level of adventure. Rocks became more slippery, mud deeper, clothes wetter. David, our guide, pulled off banana leaves for each of us and we used them as umbrellas. 

By the time we returned to the river, it was now a muddy brown. The entire surface seemed to be rolling in whitewater. I don't know if it was just my imagination, but it appeared wider. 

Using a banana leaf for an umbrella.

Rain coming down on the river.

We quickly got beneath the canopy of the boat and drove down-river for twenty minutes and pulled over again. This time we pulled out all our luggage and walked up another trail, this one covered in roots and more mud. The rain still came down. 

At the top of our ten-minute walk was a lodge. Our lodge. No other access other than boat. We were elated at the prospect of lying down on a soft bed. 

Our lodge was only accessible by boat.

Our rooms were very nice. Each bed sat on a wooden floor with a mosquito net tied above. On three sides were glassless windows, and on the fourth a private bathroom. The vaulted ceiling ran between the rooms and was open in the sense that you could throw a tennis ball over the wall and have it land in the neighbor's room. In front was a covered porch with two wooden chairs. I laid on the soft bed, felt the wind blow through the screen window, and listened to the constant rain beating outside. 

We ate in the comedor, which was in another building just up the hill. We walked there in our rubber boots. Dora made us guiso de lisa, a Peruvian stew made from the yellow lisa potato. Once again our meal was filled with interesting topics, including the nuisance of kangaroos in Australia. 

Guiso de lisa with rice.

We had one more excursion for the day, but the constant rain put a question mark on that activity. After some delay, we decided to go for it. 

Once again we marched down the hill. By now, some of the standing water came nearly to the top of our boots. We wore ponchos, but with the wind we were still getting wet. 

The boat now moved on a swollen river that grew by the minute. Our destination was only a couple miles away and this time we docked on the opposite side. 

We walked up another narrow trail. David took the lead, using a machete to clear any devious vines. A stone path built from smooth riverbed rocks raised us above the mud, but their hard round shape caused us to often walk on the ground instead. 

A swampy area filled with a variety of birds.

At a swamp we found two rafts made of balsam wood. We boarded them, using long sticks to push our way along. 

This was a sanctuary for birds. There were many of them, even in the rain. Flying low in the bushes were the flycatchers, their bellies black and bodies small. Perched stoically on the branches of the trees were what locals call stinkbirds. Their official name is hoatzin. They are noted for the spiky plumage on their crest. There was another larger bird that looked a lot like a wild turkey and it sat on ground in the grass. 

Stinkbirds, or officially known at hoatzin.

We used these balsam rafts to push across the swamp.

We pushed across the swamp on our balsam rafts to the other side where we climbed a ladder to the top of a lookout tower. Luckily for us it had a roof, giving a temporary reprieve from the down-pouring water. We used binoculars to look down upon these feathered creatures, all of them unfazed to have us there. 

After half an hour of bird-watching it was time to turn back. It would be getting dark soon and with no lights on the boat it would be dangerous to navigate at night. We climbed down the tower and pushed back across the swamp. As we waked on the trail the rain continued to fall and standing water became deeper. 

Standing on a tower watching birds.

Then, David had us stop. He heard something. 

David has a natural ability, with ears like a dog. He also knows how to whistle and call in an animal. We watched him do his thing . . . and waited. 

Suddenly a branch moved. Then another. In a flash a small animal the size of a ball jumped from one tree to the next. A squirrel monkey! 

Soon there were several. Moving around high in the trees, they were the size of giant rats, which made good pictures nearly impossible. But the moment we will never forget. 

The squirrel monkey is one of the smallest monkeys in the world, but unique to the Amazon. We sat in the pattering rain staring into the canopy of trees above us, straining our eyes to catch a glimpse of them jumping with great dexterity from one branch to the next. Due to the dimness of the sky, these cute little animals appeared mostly as silhouettes. Occasionally we could make out detail and detect their short light-brown fur and long tails. At times they let out a squeal or chirp that reminded me of our squirrels back home. 

By the time we returned to the boat and docked back at the lodge we were using the last possible sunlight. Walking up the trail to the lodge we used flashlights. 

Skies turning dim on a rainy day.

Inside our rooms we removed every article of clothing and hung them wherever possible. I took a shower using water no warmer than that of the river. Even though we were in the Amazon, we were all very cold. 

At dinner we enjoyed another delicious homemade meal. This time Cesar joined us, along with his son, Cesar Junior. It was discovered that we at that table were fluent in seven languages: English, Spanish, Russian, Czech, Quechua, and Matsigenka (a local Amazonian language). 

Junior told us how he loves to swim in the river and his five-year old son is already swimming there. This slice of the Amazon is their life and has become a part of them. The rest of us in the group have traveled all over the world. But the locals here have hardly left the area. Yet they live here, in the Amazon. This is their home. They are happy.

It is now late as I finish this journal entry. There are many more details, but time doesn't allow. The rain has stopped. Wind continues to blow through our screen windows. The frogs are in a massive choir from the muddy bogs of the jungle. 

 

View from our lodge.