En la selva - Part 2 The Lost Lake

Day two started with a varied, help-yourself breakfast, but not one that could compare with the Mario´s special offerings on the Salkantay Trek.

We were all encouraged to take snacks to ward off the possibility of starvation before lunch time, and the lodge provided handy plastic bags to facilitate this. Bananas and oranges were available at every meal for dessert or snacks, and the breakfast buffet added popcorn and banana chips to the help-yourself menu.

Unlike the banana chips available in a NZ supermarket, these were really banana chippies or crisps, made by frying very thinly sliced pieces of banana. They were tasty and very more-ish. It would have been easy to over indulge.

This morning Victor was going to take us to visit the Lost Lake. Just who lost it and how it was rediscovered was never explained. What was explained was that it was a 5 km trek to get there. Mary let us all know she was suffering from an injured knee and, assured of sympathy, decided to come with us.

We started with a short canoe trip downstream from the lodge and scrambled up the bank to the start of the track.

It was pleasantly warm. Not at all oppressively hot as we had feared. Victor carried a machete, and occasionally hacked at some sapling or branch that he decided was an impediment to progress. From time to time he stopped and described a tree to us, giving names in various languages and the uses to which the local people put this particular species.

Victor explaining the benefit of supporting roots to a tree growing in the shallow jungle soil.

We did not go at a great pace. We had come to see the jungle and, for once, I was not the only or the greatest delinquent when there were insects, flowers or fungi to distract the wanderer in the woods. And really the jungle is simply woodland. It was not impenetrable at all, not by a country mile.

But many creatures did live there. Most of them are small and inoffensive, though we did take care not to step on a column of army ants. I had previously been told that there are huge, solitary ants in the Peruvian jungle, and I am delighted to confirm that the tale was true. The poor beast must have been quite exhausted by the time I stopped pursuing it in a futile attempt to get a photo.

Victor located this leaf-shaped frog with deceptive ease. Maybe he had put it there in readiness for the discovery. It looks very dead leaf-ish even on this contrasting green leaf.

Not only is it very hard to see on a log or dead leaf, if it is discovered by a potential predator it puffs itself up and displayes these remarkable false eyes, hoping the bird or whatever will decide it is too big to eat.

The demonstration did not appear to hurt it. Victor put it carefully back in the undergrowth, where it wriggled once and then resumed its imitation of dried foliage.

These stems are bearing the colourful seeds of a palm tree.

There are many types of fungi in the jungle. These bracket fugi were particularly conspicuous.

Because mushrooms and toadstools do not run away I took several pictures but will save your sensibilit¡es (for now).

In this picture Victor is gently poking a thin stick into a hole in the ground. He promised us that it was a tarantula´s nest. He was eventually proved correct whe first a baby and then the mother emerged.

Fully grown tarantulas are BIG and HAIRY spiders and their appearance did not please everybody. Victor reassured us that a tarantula bite is not fatal, but the symptoms did not sound very pleasant so no-one tried to pick her up.

The final 700m to the lake were over a rather rickety boardwalk. At one point we had to stand still on one side while another group made their cautious way past.

At the lake we boarded a boat which Victor paddled very quietly round. Long, thin boats don´t turn easily, so Victor several times had to switch ends. He did this by walking confidently along the gunwhale in his gumboots. I wouldn´t care to try it myself.

The lake supported a very healthy plant population. Small turtles had hauled themselves out here and there to sun themselves and small caiman lurked with only the tops of their heads above water. There´s one in this photo just to the right of the centre of the picture.

When the river rises in the rainy season the lake becomes connected to the main river. It thus becomes accessible to fish, turtles, caiman and other water dwellers. Victor promised us that we were seeing the baby caiman and that their mother was also a resident of the lake. He proved it, too, finally locating the mother´s head in the shadows under some waterlogged roots. If the youngster in the photo is going on one-and-a-half metres to the tip of his submerged tail the mother must have easily been four metres. Anyone want a swim?

In one of his books Gerald Durrell observed that the most common animal life seen by the jungle pedestrian is the butterflies that flutter and dance across the path. My impression is exactly the same.

Most of them settle too briefly to be photographed but this specimen, sadly one of the less colourful ones, decided to alight on my hand. There he worked his proboscis vigorously. I don´t know what nourishment or treasure he was hoping to find.

Our paddle round the lake completed, we retraced our steps over the 700m boardwalk. Near the end was a lookout, carefully constructed by the lodge as a spiral staircase round one of the big, forest canopy trees.

We were only allowed to ascend four at a time. Those left on the ground took the opportunity to have a reat and eat their banana crisp snacks.

I had to use this time to summon up some courage. The steps were wooden and, although they looked strong enough, they didn´t inspire me with confidence. There was also a rope that snaked round the trunk of the tree and a carefully constructed rope ´bannister´ on the outside.

As you can see, when my turn came I made it to the top. I didn´t enjoy the climb but in truth it wasn´t so bad.

Looking out over the top of the forest was a very pleasant alternative view. There were many trees to admire of various types but they contained remarkably little animal life. There was an occasional butterfly and, briefly, a swallow. I had just decided to go down when a large, chestnut-brown bird landed in a neighbouring tree.

It has a enormous tail and seemed unsure wether it was a bird or a monkey because it mainly ran along branches or leaped between them. Only occasionally would it actually fly. I wondered if it were a hoatzin, beause I knew they are weak flyers. However, I was pretty sure a hoatzin had a crest, which this bird lacked.

Back on the ground Victor couldn´t identify the bird from my vague description, but promised I would see hoatzins at another lake. Back at the lodge I quickly identified it from one of my field guides. It was a squirrel cuckoo. Tick.

Our return to the lodge was by a different route. This took us to a different waterway and another boat. This one was equipped with several paddles, not just one. Victor pointed out that we didn´t have to paddle, but if we didn´t it would be a very long journey and a very late lunch.

The crew was arranged carefully. Jaimy, as the sole representative of the young, male class was positioned in the bow with a paddle. Victor took the stern with another paddle. The rest of us were ranged along the canoe with three paddles to share. I was right at the back, just in front of Victor.

Fruiting palm beside the ´ditch´.

I must say it was very pleasant to be paddled along what was wssentially a 3 km long ditch. There were tiny fish in the water, little brown birds in the undergrowth and countless butterflies on either side. There was something about this waterway that the butterflies could not resist. It was truly no exaggeration to talk of clouds of them. Unfortunately my attemps to photograph them were a disappointment.

I remember my cousin Michael describing a canoe trip in Canada where at one point he was lying back while all the motive power was provided by two bikini-clad young women. This was almost as good. Jaimy and Victor sweated as they paddled continuously. The ladies of the group passed the other paddles around to add their energy to the cause, but the paddles never came my way.

I did remind Sandra that I was willing to take a turn, but she passed sideways to a Japanese girl with all the upper body strength of wet blotting paper. Finally chivalry won out and I almost dragged a paddle back to my bench so that I could do my bit over the last 10 minutes or so.

After disembarking we only had a short walk to the river bank and our motorised canoe back to the lodge.