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.