Peru Adventure, Part 3

At 4:00 am we rise to head out to the clay lick. The macaws of the Tambopata Reserve were featured in a National Geographic article in 1994. It highlighted one of the largest clay licks in the jungle, less than three hundred meters from our lodge. It attracts up to fifteen species of parrots and macaws, hundreds of birds at a time. They lick the clay in order to add something, probably salt, to their diets. But they do not come when it rains. It is dark and I am sleepy. I hear the rain. We are not going.

When it lets up, we go out for a later hike and see lots of monkeys. We add three more species to our list: Red Howler, Squirrel, Brown Capuchin. We also see a Blue-throated Piping Guan and a Razor-billed Curassow, turkey-like birds from the same family. These birds are a sentimental favorite of mine and they delight me. The sound of a nearby herd of peccaries captures our attention. We track them and then wait. Suddenly our guide grabs my shoulders and points me toward them, so that I can get a better look. I practically climb backward over the top of him to peek out from behind his shoulder instead. They come close enough to make eye contact. The Ficus trees are huge and magnificent, also Ironwood and Kapok.

The next morning it is still drizzly but we head to the clay lick anyway. Quite a few birds arrive despite the less than ideal conditions. We see a large White Cayman carrying a fresh caught catfish the size of its own head and climbing out of the river on the bank across from us. It holds the fish steady for a long while before heading back into the river. They disappear into the brown water.

It is fun to be a part of this group I am with at last, and our next hike, in the late afternoon, turns into a night walk. Near the equator, the dark falls quickly; there is no twilight to speak of. The jungle at night holds even more secrets than in the daylight and we hear lots of eerie noises. We follow a loud plaintive sound and find the poison arrow frog responsible. We lure a tarantula from its den for a photo op.

It is Friday now and we head out for our final visit to the clay lick. It is a clear morning and we set up to wait for the dawn and the birds. They do not disappoint. We see at least ten species of parrots and macaws. Hundreds of them. Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, Red-bellied Macaw, Scarlet Macaw, Chestnut-fronted Macaw, Blue-headed Macaw, Orange-cheeked Parrot, Blue-headed Parrot, Yellow-crowned Parrot, Mealy Parrot. 

The cacophony of their squawking overtakes the quiet of the dawn. We notice that they arrive in a particular order, the same order as they did the day before. The rain has kept their numbers down for the last two mornings, so maybe they are excited to be back. Their flocking behavior and loud calls are also protection from predators. We see a Roadside Hawk perched in a tree nearby and so do they.

The time has passed quickly here and by late morning we are stepping onto the motorized canoes for the trip downriver. It takes two days to get back to Puerto Maldonado so we will stop over at Refugio Amazonas. Along the way we watch a capybara family along the bank of the river. Our spotter thinks he sees a jaguar and we drift toward the river’s edge to get a look. Long gone.

We arrive in time to get to the canopy tower before sunset. From our vantage point above the jungle we see patches of crazy bright blue and identify Paradise Tanagers in the branches below. Our guide laughs as he tells us about the Americans he brought here who saw those birds and used the word “ridiculous” to describe them. And so they are, in such gaudy adornment, seven distinct bright colors in all. We see a Purple-throated Fruitcrow perched at the top of another tree. This is not actually a crow, but a member of the Cotinga family, a large group of fruit-eating birds. Looking over the top of the jungle's canopy we watch as the sky turns pink and the sun reflects golden light below us. It is our final twilight in this magnificent setting.

Our last morning comes and my hammock gently sways as I look out the open deck of our lodging. The air is thick but not as hot at this hour. The Pono Palm trees give me a sense of where I am and the sound of the Screaming Piha has become familiar. He is another cotinga, and after glimpsing him in the dense woods yesterday I can picture him advertising himself to the females in the area. There are so many remarkable sounds in the jungle and I wish I could hold on to them. Before long we motor down the Tambopata River to head out. As I watch the river go by, I already feel homesick for this awe-inspiring place I am leaving.

Wikipedia photo - Paradise Tanager

Peru Adventure, Part 2

     Today it feels odd to be solo. Still, my sense of adventure is with me. The flight from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado takes about 35 minutes. We are transported by van to a location five minutes from the airport to pack and reorganize. Thirty minutes later we leave for a tour of the town, including a ride across the new suspension bridge over the Rio Madre de Dios. It looks like a smaller and out of context version of the Golden Gate. We are told that thanks to this bridge, which just opened, the highway now stretches from coast to coast, all the way to the other side of Brazil, some 4500 km (2800 miles).

     The van takes us back over the bridge and about an hour’s drive down a red dirt road to a small port on the Tambopata River. We embark on motorized canoes for the trip upriver to the Refugio Amazonas, our destination for tonight. I am traveling with three other solo tourists who met one another while trekking the Inca Trail and have been traveling together since. Thomas is from Ireland, Michelle from New Zealand, and Melissa from Australia. I first noticed them at the Cusco airport early this morning. Now they have included me in their number and I feel welcome. I am happy that we all speak English, though certainly different versions.

Photo credit to Rich Vial

     I see my first Capped Heron today and it is stunning. After some engine trouble on the way, a thunderstorm, and a couple of stops for wildlife viewing, we arrive at Refugio around 4:30. We hike about fifteen minutes to what truly feels like a refuge when it appears at the end of the trail.

     I relax in the open lounge area of the lodge and crack open my copy of Birds of Peru. I feel proud of Tom and Ted and the others who put this book into my hands after so many years of work. I am moved in my spirit to be here.

     The heat and humidity is summer in Louisiana on steroids. Furthermore, in the jungle, preventing bug bites is essential, and keeping skin covered is the best way to prevent bug bites. So I am getting used to long sleeves and pants and socks in weather that calls for shorts and flip flops back home. Later, I sleep under a mosquito net and am happy to peel off some layers to cool off a bit. My body is remembering how to sweat profusely.

     I am introduced at dinner to a new guide and to the two Americans I will travel with tomorrow the rest of the way to the research center. They are attorneys from San Diego and I realize later how fortunate it is that they booked the last room available there and planned to arrive on just the day I need a ride. Even though my traveling companions have spoken forms of English today, I feel glad to meet Americans. We are instantly comfortable.

     After dinner we are told we will rise at 5:30 for a hike to the oxbow lake nearby and some sunrise birding. I am glad to learn that I am not just hitching a ride, but will have a day of exploring along the way.

     At sunrise from a dug-out canoe, we see Joatzin, Blue-green Macaws, Mealy Parrots, White-winged Swallows, Yellow-headed Vulture, Smooth-billed Ani, and Black-capped Donacobius. There are long-nosed bats hanging like leaves on the underside of a tree trunk that leans over the water. On the hike back from the lake we see a Saddle-back Tamarin and a Squirrel Cuckoo.

     By late morning we are in another motorized canoe heading toward the research center. The Tambopata River is wide but shallow enough to require a spotter on the bow of the boat for navigation. It is the end of the dry season, the air is weighted with humidity, and thunderheads signal the coming rains. The peaks of the Cordillera range appear in the distance. The last two hours of the trip, there are no signs of human habitation. On one side of the river is National Reserve, on the other National Park. Nothing but jungle stretching from horizon to horizon.

     We disembark at the river’s edge and are greeted by a troop of Black Spider Monkeys. They are making their way on a highway of upper canopy over our heads. After watching them move on, we begin our hike into the jungle. When we reach the clearing and the lodge, Carol is right there, coming toward me as I climb the stairs. “My friend!!” I shout as I run to embrace her.

     “You’re here!” she says with jubilation. In an age of cell phones and instant connectivity, it feels strange that we have not been in contact for two days while I’ve made my way into the jungle wilderness of Peru to meet her. We are hungry for news from each other and we instantly sit for our stories. “What happened?” she asks, and we begin.