Between returning to Cusco from Machu Picchu and departing for the jungle I spent a day on such chores as my laundry, sqeezed in a visit to a museum (Museo Inka) and went on a day trip to the Sacred Valley. I was hoping for a tour of the Inca sites but it turned out to be mostly a tour of souvenir stalls, so I do not count it a successful day. Some of the souvenirs I didn´t buy.
Departure day for the jungle started badly. Some of the stitching on my day pack ripped and the right shoulder strap was hanging on by a single stitch. There was no time to do anything about it. I just had to go.
This was my final farewell to the family that had hosted me during my Spanish lessons days. Luz and Alcides (pictured) had made me very welcome and treated me more as a friend than a paying guest.
Check-in time was 2 hours before take off. This seems absurd for a domestic flight, but my Spanish isn´t up to arguing with airline officials so I meekly obeyed.
Having checked in, two more setbacks arose. I had planned to use the waiting time to update my blog but there was no Internet access at the airport. Not even at absurd, inflated, airport prices. Then the security check discovered my penknife. It had a blade less than 2cm long; ideal for peeling an orange and useless, I would have thought, for aerial terrorism. However, I can´t claim that I didn´t know the rules. I had carefully put the knife in my checked luggage for the flights from NZ to Peru. So my penknife joined other non-weapons in the security check bin.
The 50-minute flight to Puerto Maldonado allowed wondeful views of snow-capped peaks and then of the mud-brown Madre de Dios river winding through the tropical greenery.
This was my final farewell to the family that had hosted me during my Spanish lessons days. Luz and Alcides (pictured) had made me very welcome and treated me more as a friend than a paying guest.Check-in time was 2 hours before take off. This seems absurd for a domestic flight, but my Spanish isn´t up to arguing with airline officials so I meekly obeyed.
Having checked in, two more setbacks arose. I had planned to use the waiting time to update my blog but there was no Internet access at the airport. Not even at absurd, inflated, airport prices. Then the security check discovered my penknife. It had a blade less than 2cm long; ideal for peeling an orange and useless, I would have thought, for aerial terrorism. However, I can´t claim that I didn´t know the rules. I had carefully put the knife in my checked luggage for the flights from NZ to Peru. So my penknife joined other non-weapons in the security check bin.
The 50-minute flight to Puerto Maldonado allowed wondeful views of snow-capped peaks and then of the mud-brown Madre de Dios river winding through the tropical greenery. Some Andean peaks.
Madre re Dios River.Eco Amazonia efficiently managed the pick-up at the airport. We had 20 minutes to explore Puerto Maldonado before the boat left. It reminded me of other towns in hot, humid places. Commerce is very small scale, varying from tiny permanent shops to market stalls to barrows. Butcheries tried to shade their produce, and I only saw a few flies testing the quality of the meat.
Transport to the lodge was in a long, narrow boat powered by a large Evinrude outboard. Long and narrow is the locally popular design, and allowed great speed though the water. I estimated 20 knots. The helmsman preferred the centre of the river to gain maximum help from the current. Even so it was an hour and 20 minutes journey. Photo taken from our boat. The sister vessel, as you can see, was for the luggage.
Being 100mfrom the nearer bank severely limited bird-watching, but I did manage to identify snowy egrets. Tick. More eye-catching were the tall trees, whose name I have forgotten, with pink blossoms that punctuated the green of the forest.
One large sandbank was being busily dredged for gold. Minerals are still a major source of income in the province, despite the falling returns, as mesured in grams of gold per day.
We arrived at Eco Amazonia Lodge in time for a late lunch, beautifully wrapped in banana leaves. This is a special touch only for the welcoming lunch, though the quality of the food was uniformly high.
I was allocated accommodation with Jaimy, an outgoing Dutchman and hockey player, so the conversation was animated until our first expedition into the jungle.
Monkey Island
Long ago, the river carved a new channel that created a large island. A population of monkeys was isolated by this event. We learned later that nature put three species on the island and the lodge added two more.
To get to the island we were split into small groups, each with a guide and each herded into a canoe. This vessel had the long, thin design of all the river craft. Propulsion was provided by an unbranded two-stroke motor atached to a propellor by an enormously long shaft. This was encased in a sturdy metal tube, with guards to protect the propellor from the many floating logs and other hazards. This robust design allowed the tube to be used as a lever if necessary, and it was pivoted so that the propellor could be swung to the side for turning or even directed forward to give reverse thrust.
Normally nature watching demands quiet, if not actual stealth. Instead, our guide, Victor, marched along the trail hollering, "Platanos. Platanos, monos." (Bananas. Bananas, mokeys.) They are wild animals in the sense that they are uncaged, but they are used to late afternoon banana hand-outs. Nevertheless, it was quite a while before a single black spider monkey swung cautiously down through the branches.
He obligingly came low enough for everyone to attempt photography in the undestorey gloom, and then retreated with his booty, giving a wondeful demostration of his prehensile tail. We marched on, and in a few minutes were able to see two brown capuchin monkeys. These were a lot slower to come within banana-grabbing distance. Then a troupe of white-fronted capuchins appeared. These were much bolder. Then, all of a sudden, the trees were alive with monkeys. A whole troupe of the black spider monkeys joined the white-fronted capuchins, dangling from their tails in classic spider monkey style.
Somehow, all the groups of visitors had converged, and the monkeys were being offered bananas from all sides. A few steps away from the main action the shyer brown capuchins stayed aloft, but well within range of a thrown banana. In their tree a saddleback tamarin appeared level with my head. Tamarins are the smallest of the primates but this one trotted through the branches with great confidence.
Being 100mfrom the nearer bank severely limited bird-watching, but I did manage to identify snowy egrets. Tick. More eye-catching were the tall trees, whose name I have forgotten, with pink blossoms that punctuated the green of the forest.
One large sandbank was being busily dredged for gold. Minerals are still a major source of income in the province, despite the falling returns, as mesured in grams of gold per day.
We arrived at Eco Amazonia Lodge in time for a late lunch, beautifully wrapped in banana leaves. This is a special touch only for the welcoming lunch, though the quality of the food was uniformly high.
I was allocated accommodation with Jaimy, an outgoing Dutchman and hockey player, so the conversation was animated until our first expedition into the jungle.
Monkey Island
Long ago, the river carved a new channel that created a large island. A population of monkeys was isolated by this event. We learned later that nature put three species on the island and the lodge added two more.
To get to the island we were split into small groups, each with a guide and each herded into a canoe. This vessel had the long, thin design of all the river craft. Propulsion was provided by an unbranded two-stroke motor atached to a propellor by an enormously long shaft. This was encased in a sturdy metal tube, with guards to protect the propellor from the many floating logs and other hazards. This robust design allowed the tube to be used as a lever if necessary, and it was pivoted so that the propellor could be swung to the side for turning or even directed forward to give reverse thrust.
Normally nature watching demands quiet, if not actual stealth. Instead, our guide, Victor, marched along the trail hollering, "Platanos. Platanos, monos." (Bananas. Bananas, mokeys.) They are wild animals in the sense that they are uncaged, but they are used to late afternoon banana hand-outs. Nevertheless, it was quite a while before a single black spider monkey swung cautiously down through the branches.
He obligingly came low enough for everyone to attempt photography in the undestorey gloom, and then retreated with his booty, giving a wondeful demostration of his prehensile tail. We marched on, and in a few minutes were able to see two brown capuchin monkeys. These were a lot slower to come within banana-grabbing distance. Then a troupe of white-fronted capuchins appeared. These were much bolder. Then, all of a sudden, the trees were alive with monkeys. A whole troupe of the black spider monkeys joined the white-fronted capuchins, dangling from their tails in classic spider monkey style.
Somehow, all the groups of visitors had converged, and the monkeys were being offered bananas from all sides. A few steps away from the main action the shyer brown capuchins stayed aloft, but well within range of a thrown banana. In their tree a saddleback tamarin appeared level with my head. Tamarins are the smallest of the primates but this one trotted through the branches with great confidence.This picture of a saddleback tamarin is the only half-decent photo I got on Monkey Island.
So in the end the outing was a great success for tourists and monkeys alike.
The way back to the canoe was enhanced by a colourful sunset, and flights of birds on their way to their night-time roosts. These included my first wild macaws. One bird was moved by the occasion to sing and display in a tree-top. Victor identified it for me as a crested oropendula. "Not the same species as at the lodge."
Vicor had been guiding for over 14 years. His English was more than good enough, and he knew both the English and scientific names for very many of the plants and birds that we saw. He also knew that the pattern of marks in the muddy sand was the trail of a female turtle, left after she laid her eggs.
Caiman Spotting
The manager of the lodge was very strict. We had to dine in our groups. Luckily our group was a sociable one that was happy to comply. There was Mary from Washington state with her 19-year old daughter, Sandra. We quickly established that Sandra would rather have been with her sister and their boyfriends. There was Gabriella from Switzerland. She was probably the oldest in the group, the only smoker and much the most colourful character. She was accompanied by her niece, Antoinette (I think), who did all their organising and coped with her aunt´s impulsive nature with great good humour. Then there was Venka from Norway with a beauty chorus of two daugters and two nieces in tow.
Excursions left on time. I came to call the manager "the colonel" because of his insistence on military-style rigidity and timing.
So down to the dock we went at the appointed hour and hopped nimbly into our canoe. Victor was carrying a car battery and a powerful light. The idea was that the light would reflect red when it lit on a caiman´s eye. I did see a red reflection once, but Victor semed able to spot a caiman without this identifier.
When he spotted a head on the surface he would signal to the boatman and the motor would quieten as we nosed carefully in for a closer look. Eventually we would get too close and the mud-brown head would duck below the surface with a soft plip.
We saw three in the water and one on the bank. The 10cm head (these were all quite small as caiman go) was attached to a body and tail that together measured about a metre and a half. Unfortunately the only one we saw entire like this quickly took fright and dived into the river.
We had been heading upstream in our search. To get back the boatman headed away from the bank and then cut the motor so that we could drift back to the lodge listening to the sounds of the jungle at night.
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