Our final day in Cusco proved more eventful than we planned. I will spare you the gruesome details, but an upset stomach that developed on day three of the Salkantay hike had progressed to other, more unpleasant symptoms, and did not appear to be resolving. As we were about to, once again, venture into the remote wilderness, I decided I better seek medical attention to find out the cause. Turns out I have good ol’ beaver fever (try not to snigger at that one). More commonly known outside the Americas as giardiasis, it’s a parasitic infection from contaminated water. I’m not special, as apparently up to 30% of the developing world has it with me. Which is actually pretty devastating, when I consider it. South America has definitely reminded Jerry and I to be grateful for our easy access to clean potable water back home.
What that meant was I got to spend an afternoon in a swanky hospital room, get a bunch of tests, and ultimately I gained an anti-parasitic medicine to take alongside the anti-malarial I was already taking for our upcoming jungle visit. Lucky me!
After that, we boarded a flight (blessedly not a bus this time) to Iquitos. Iquitos is the largest city in the world that is not accessible by road. Your only options are a cargo ship, or a flight. We’ve met people on the road who took the cargo ship, but the accommodations sound rudimentary, to put it lightly. Since we weren’t feeling up to a five day trip sleeping on hammocks on the deck and eating chicken gruel for every meal, a flight was our only route in.
As we later found out, a cargo ship was not even a guaranteed entry, anyway. The Amazon water levels have been the lowest recorded since 1902 in some areas, leading to cargo ships running aground, and a state of emergency for some areas where the Amazonian tributaries provide the main source of transportation and food.
As we stepped off the plane and walked through the open-air airport at Iquitos, we were enveloped by the sweltering humid heat and the hum of 30,000 tuk tuks. All in all, it gave off a distinct Southeast Asian vibe. Usually, I would complain about 35-degree heat, but I have been cold for weeks, so the clinging heat was a welcome change.
Iquitos was a bustling city, The Belen market was packed with spices, fresh fruit and vegetables, and a combination of meat and live animals. They appear to have slightly reined in the live animal sale, which we were grateful for, but as always, we had to wonder about how the fresh meat was doing as it sat out in the heat.
We appreciated a recommendation from the travellers we met in Bolivia who recommended Dawn on the Amazon, a cafe on the waterfront with a wide array of smoothies and juices. There, we could watch the world go by and cool off with a chilled drink.
While Iquitos lies on the banks of the Amazon, the true wonders are further into the jungle, which meant it was time for us to board a boat to take us deeper. We were met by our guide, Flavio. Flavio grew up in a village in the Amazon, a few hours north of Iquitos. He was our personal guide for the next three days.
The Amazon river was vast, its murky waters stretching wide from one bank to the other. We chatted with Flavio while waiting for our boat to arrive, and he shared about how low the waters were this time of year, particularly this year thanks to drought and reduced rains in the previous rainy season. Erosion along the banks was clear to see, and we were essentially standing on the riverbed. It was hard to imagine how vast the river is during the high water season (which is Jan-Mar). Casually as we chatted, Flavio looked over our shoulders and said, “oh look, there’s a dolphin”. Sure enough, frolicking in the shallows was a pink dolphin. Native to the Amazon river, pink dolphins are, as the name suggests, pink. They lack the signature dorsal fin of other dolphins, and are also chunky, so typically don’t breach high above the water. Luckily for us, this dolphin was essentially rolling around in the muddy shallows, so we got great views.
Buoyed by our first wildlife encounter, we clambered into the boat and set off. Curassow Lodge, where we were heading, lies a few hours south, so we spent about an hour on the Amazon river itself, then took off down a tributary called the “Yanayacu river”. Yanayacu means black water in the Quechua language. This is because the waters are exceptionally dark during high water season. However, the tributary leading to Curassow was similarly impacted by the low waters, and in the larger boat, laden with supplies, we sat low in the water. We made it within 50 metres of the entrance to the lodge, before the water became too shallow. We chugged painfully on the final stretch, mud and plant life choking the engine.
Lodge stays in the Amazon tend to be packaged as accommodation, food, transportation, and excursions. This meant our stay was the most expensive single purchase of the year. What we didn’t realise was that we would have our own personal guide, as well as a secondary local guide, and the pair would take us for all our excursions. Our local guide had an easy name to remember - Jeremias. Jeremias lived in the village closest to the lodge, and his role was to drive the boats, carry supplies, and wield the machete when we went into the jungle. (“For protection,” Flavio said offhandedly when Jerry asked why Jeremias needed a machete. Hah.). Jeremias was cheerful, fearless, and cute - it must come with the name! He casually walked in the jungle wearing jandals, despite regularly spotting wandering spiders on the ground, which are the most venomous spider in the Amazon, and one of the deadliest in the world.
CURASSOW LODGE
Curassow also had an onsite chef, Ricardo. We were introduced to his artistry immediately on arrival, when we were served lunch: fresh fish caught that morning. Ricardo continued as he began, and we were served fresh, locally sourced food, alongside freshly made tropical juices for every meal. We learned about some new tropical fruits, including camu camu, a sour berry, and the cocona, which seems to be a blend between a lemon and a tomato.
After lunch, it was time for our first excursion, a jungle walk. Flavio briefed us on what to expect. We donned our gumboots, essential protection against the aforementioned wandering spiders (unless you’re Jeremias), and headed out. As it turns out, the lodge has a set path for the jungle walk, however Flavio did not seem to think it was necessary to follow. Instead, he would turn to us and whisper, “can you hear that? There’s a troupe of monkeys somewhere near!” before leading us off the path. Flavio’s ears were much more attuned to the sounds of the jungle than ours. Sure enough, when we knelt down, a troupe of more than twenty squirrel monkeys jumped and swung overhead. As they clambered over a particularly sparse patch, several looked down suspiciously at us, staring wide-eyed below.
Buoyed by our early spotting, we continued further in. After a few more standard stops to discuss plantlife and insects, we established that Jerry is not only bad at hearing wildlife, he is also bad at spotting it. Flavio was endlessly patient, even when he had to tell Jerry that he could not get any closer to the frog without physically touching it with his outstretched index finger. We were interrupted by an echoing sound. This was a sound that even our ears could pick up clearly. I can only describe it as demonic. It was like a pack of dogs barking, but deeper and more guttural. Howler monkeys. Notoriously difficult to spot, howler monkeys can be heard from up to 3 miles (5 kilometres) away. Much to our guides’ surprise, these ones were close. What did this mean for us? A mad dash off the path, in the direction of the call. We experienced the difficult but exhilarating experience of trying to creep through the jungle, but also run in gumboots at the same time. We were rewarded by the opportunity to watch two howler monkeys swing through the trees above us. Even Flavio and Jeremias were excited to get back and share with the other guides what we had seen.
After our unexpected dash through the humid jungle, we returned to the lodge absolutely dripping in sweat. The shower in our room was cold, which was perfect to combat the heat. The second I turned off the water, I immediately wanted to turn it back on. We made do by lounging in our hammocks, listening to the sounds of the jungle nearby.
After dinner, we went on a night excursion in the boat. The darkness didn’t bother Jeremias or Flavio, so while we used Flavio’s high beam headtorch for spotting animals, we often cruised down the tributaries in complete darkness. The sound of the insects was deafening - there is no silence in the jungle. We were looking for capybaras, and we were lucky enough to spot an entire family, with two adults and two juvenile capybaras. Flavio even yoinked a small caiman out of the water, and held it out for me to hold. I have never held a tiny crocodilian before, so it felt shocking enough to me. For Flavio, he was most disappointed that it was only a little caiman to show us, rather than a large caiman to wrestle. I was quite relieved by that fact.
Despite all the incredible wildlife we were spotting, the best was yet to come. As we cruised down the river, all the lights off, I was reflecting on the sounds and the gentle cooling breeze, when SPLAT. Something slimy and wet hit me in the face. Lights turned on and we identified that a small frog had jumped onto my face. How’s that for getting in touch with the wilderness? After quickly checking that it wasn’t the same toxic frog we had seen earlier in our jungle walk, I felt relatively okay about the frog’s sudden appearance, since it soon jumped onto the seat beside me. Jerry, meanwhile, completely lost the plot, so concerned that the frog would try to get cosy with him. I accidentally caught the interaction on video, which will always make me laugh.
Our second day began early, for a pre-breakfast bird watching excursion. I’ll be honest. Back home, neither Jerry nor I are the biggest bird fans, so generally, bird watching is not high on my desired activities. However, there is something about the scenery that makes it magical, plus it's a lot more fun when you're spotting toucans, horned screamers, mama viejas (old mamas).
We returned for breakfast, and then headed off for piranha fishing. The best spot for fishing is in the shallows, near the twisting tree roots and vegetation. We set out with our sticks and fishing line, and baited our hooks with chicken skin left over from the previous night's dinner. Both Jerry and I caught an oscar fish or two and several small red bellied piranhas, which we were served for lunch alongside the rest of our meal.
The afternoon was spent dolphin spotting on the Amazon river. You can choose to swim during this excursion, if you so wish. If you can overcome the terror of jumping into the opaque waters teeming with wildlife, I am sure it is quite the rush. Unfortunately, the doctor had informed me it is also quite easy to pick up a parasite in the water. I was not willing to risk adding another one into the mix, considering I was nearly finished treating the first one. For Jerry, the strong current and general lack of water visibility was enough of a deterrent regardless.
We didn’t feel hard done by, as the dolphins came to swim past our boat and play in the current created by our wake. We watched the mix of grey and pink dolphins swimming around, before heading back to camp along the Amazon river, watching the sun turn the banks red and pink.
After dinner, I tucked long pants into my socks, and tightened the hood of my raincoat around my face. It was time for our night jungle walk, and I was not risking any gaps to allow creepy crawlies into my clothes. We saw tarantulas and scorpions scuttling along tree trunks, but the highlight moment was definitely when we saw the sloth. We’d seen a sloth earlier in our visit, but it was far up in the tree, and hard to make out much detail. This evening, the sloth was near the base of the tree, so we had the opportunity to watch her climb up to the top, in almost cartoon-ish slow motion. Jerry asked Flavio if she could tap into turbo mode if she was threatened. Flavio looked confused - didn’t Jerry know, this sloth was moving fast?
On our final day, we ventured out early to beat the rising heat, and took the boat deep into the reserve. We brought along a packed breakfast, loaded into the boat, and enjoyed our breakfast while monkeys swung from the trees around us. Jerry and I had Flavio and Jeremias in stitches as we attempted to photograph through the binoculars lens, which is a two person job and truly tested our relationship.
Flavio cut into water vines, to give us the chance to taste the water inside, and showed us the stretchy gum from rubber trees, which once resulted in the rubber boom and colonisation of the Amazon in the late 19th and early 20th century. When we arrived back at the lodge late morning, we saw photos of a giant anaconda - one of the local fishermen had caught it in his net overnight.
Sadly, it was time for us to go. We chucked our backpacks in the boat and headed off back down the river towards Iquitos. It was such an incredible three days, and on reflection we easily would have loved to stay longer. We recommend Curassow lodge wholeheartedly to anyone who is considering visiting the jungle in Peru.
We spent our last few South American days in Lima, in a tiny studio apartment in Miraflores. I do mean tiny - the kitchen was on the balcony. We took our laundry to the laundromat, and washed every item of clothing, spare the very last clothes on our bodies. Other than some leisurely walking on the coast, and visiting a few of the ‘must eat’ destinations to try ceviche, a polleria, and pisco sours, we kept things easy in Lima. Before we knew it, it was time to head north - the United States awaits.
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