Living in Peru : your everyday companion

Written by Bill Grimes

Late in the afternoon on February 13th we tied up at the confluence of the Pacaya and Amazon Rivers. Dave and Dottie Bonnett already had the acoustical equipment ready. Pink and Gray Dolphins were nearly always breaching. Within minutes of turning the engines off Dave had the hydrophone in the water experimenting with depth, calling out instructions to Dottie to log into the records. Dave put on the headphones, turned the digital recorder on and excitedly called out, “We have communication! Ohh, the clicks,... The chirps,... What was that? It sounded like a fog horn. Did one just blow? Dottie write that down. Get the time. That was no catfish! Shirley, did you see it? Pink or Gray? Dottie write that down. Now it sounds like popcorn popping…”

That recording was exciting, the equipment worked, the technique was good, the boat was quiet, but what we wanted we could find only far inside Pacaya Samiria National Reserve. Strange as it may sound for a scientist wanting to study Pink River Dolphin communication, there were too many dolphins at this location. Dave wanted only Pink River Dolphins (Inia geffrensis), with no Gray River Dolphins mixed in. He wanted no background motor noises or even the sound of paddling a canoe. Here, subsistence fishermen worked with the dolphins to net their family’s supper. Still, it was our first recording, and we were happy.

Early the next morning we officially entered the reserve to begin our scientific study. This was a hawk day. Some days are sloth days. This was a hawk day. We were amazed at the number of species of birds of prey. One expedition through this same area in late May and early June we saw over 50 sloths. I only saw one sloth this entire trip. If we had come to study sloths we would have gone home with no data.

(Written by Virginia Velasco)

Noise, traffic, too much work? Unable to rest?

Would you like to wake up to sounds of birds chirping or watch the rain pouring down while you rest in your hammock? Well… Iquitos and the rainforest are waiting for you, very close in time, though more than 1000 km away from Lima.

Iquitos is the largest city in the Peruvian Rainforest, it has the charm of a laid-back city, which experienced its “golden age” at the end of the XIX century thanks to the rubber export. The old steel buildings and the glazed tiles of the façades give a glimpse of how beautiful the city must have been at the time. Iquitos’ treasure is the Amazon River and its tributaries Nanay and Itaya, all three rivers flow around the city. The Amazon River is the largest river in the world by volume, to experience sunset or dawn sailing on the magic Amazon River is an unforgettable souvenir.

Just around Iquitos is one of the world´s treasures: The Amazon Rainforest. You have plenty of lodges to choose from, often scattered in the surroundings. This time we visited the Amazon Rainforest Lodge.

We arrived to the lodge at night, after we sailed almost 45 minutes with our guide Antonio. We were welcomed by a friendly bartender with lemonade and later we had home made local food which was very tasty and healthy. That night we could hardly see our surroundings, but we could listen to many strange noises. In the morning we enjoyed the lodge’ view from the wooden lodge which used palm tree leaves as its roof – much like the traditional houses of the area. Different animals live there and walk freely in their “home”, Rigoberto the tapir, Aldo the toucan, turkeys, and others who were in cages such as parrots and the world´s largest rodent, the “ronsoco” or capybara.

Having the lodge as your base, it is possible to go on several tours, even for families with small children. There are small villages spread throughout the area. We visited Gen Gen, a village next to the lodge supported both by the owner of the lodge Peter Schneider and the Rotary Sunrise Club. People live primarily from agriculture, fishing, tourism and their handcrafts production; there was a small school and a health care center, using solar power panels to run electricity and water, these are the sole services the people have access to. There are shortages of doctors and teachers in the entire region. Despite the simplicity of their lives, people seem to be happy with the small amount of things they have.

(LIP-jl) -- Aiming to save the paiche, the biggest freshwater fish in the world, a small group of local fishermen from Loreto decided to work for their conservation. The result was a successful example of how resource management is beginning to bear fruit.

If Brazil has the Pantanal and Botswana the Okavango Delta, then Peru should feel proud to count Pacaya-Samiria among its protected natural areas.

More than two million hectares of lakes, swamps and wetlands form this corner of the Amazon forest, creating a true magnet for wildlife.

It is, without doubt, the kingdom of aquatic species, among which the gigantic paiche stands out. Weighing in at up to 300 kilos and measuring some 3 meters, it is the biggest freshwater fish in the world.

In the heart of Pacaya-Samiria lies El Dorado Lake, a remote place of incomparable beauty. Here, among the ancient forests and rivers that resemble mirrors, nature seems to have been protected since the beginning of time.

But it wasn’t always like this. Even out here, many days from Iquitos, the hand of man was about to end the existence of one of the forest’s most valuable resources.

Attracted by the abundance of different species, fishermen came to El Dorado in even greater numbers. The fishing was good, and the boats returned with full cargos to the markets of Iquitos and Belén.

The bonanza lasted for a few years, and then the paiche became scarcer. Each time the fishermen went out they had to go further into the network of rivers and lakes to find fish of a reasonable size.

The forest fell silent. The loud cries of the giant of the jungle were no longer heard. The paiche was on the verge of extinction.

(Written by Doug Norvell)

Want to go for a jungle adventure, but, well... not quite ready for rainforest camping? Try, like I did an albergue, or jungle lodge near Iquitos on the big river Amazon.

The albergue I visited is called Heliconia, for the jungle flower.

Instead of a flower, Heliconia should have been named for a jewel, a kind of emerald that a hiker might kick up in the rainforest covered with the kinds of ferns and vines that consume everything with their color.

Helconia is a paradise, except for the mosquitoes. But what's a rain forest without mosquitoes?

A journey along the Amazon is the perfect excuse to immerse our senses in the natural world of this remote region of Peru. Walter H. Wust, a tireless traveller and a frequent contributor to Rumbos, shares with us an extract from the journal of his voyage along this great river.

Day 1

Iquitos, seven thirty in the morning. My eyes fall first on intense shades of yellow and green, followed by the purples and reds of the heaps of fresh fruit that Doña Luisa sells from the sidewalk on Pebas street, a few meters from the entrance to our hotel.

I wander through streets busy with motorcycle taxis and filled with the aroma of damp earth, guided only by the images of this tropical dawn as they crowd in upon me.

The sky-blue Portugese ceramic tiles of the big houses along the Tarapacá promenade come next, followed by the brown palm-thatched roofs of the floating houses on the Itaya river, the blazing greens of trees along Sargento Lores Avenue, and the blues and yellows of the old San José college, from whose windows the faces of a dozen curious students appear.

We are on a bus with wooden sides and seats like church pews, on our way to the local dock. There the vessel which is to be our home for the next nine days is waiting for us.

Marcelita is the name with which the boat’s owner, Renzo Fontanella, christened her. Born in Spain, Fontanella has been living in the Loretan jungle for the last fifteen years, ever since a providential bout of typhoid changed his life.

The Marcelita comprises forty-five tons of steel and cedar gracefully distributed along its forty-nine meter length. Two powerful Perkins engines propel us along smoothly while the sun falls like lead on the chocolate-colored waters of the Amazon.

We are sailing towards the frontier, lulled by a breeze from the south. Round clouds hang above us in a blue sky.

The immense brown of the river and the green edge of the forest mark the limits of our field of vision. We might be the Spanish explorer Francisco de Orellana or the Frenchman Charles-Marie de la Condamine, indigenous forest dwellers heading to the market in Belén, or even timber merchants.

Everything which ventures deep into the forest along this great river is converted, for a time, into something smaller and somehow less significant.

Our first day on the Amazon draws to a close. Now the moon emerges to rule until dawn, reverberating in the waves that flow from the bow and lulling us with her magic.