10-11 Sept 2024
Day 4 – Sunrise over the Rio Jaueperi
I awake to a beautiful sunrise over Rio Jaueperi, the beginning of a new day. This is as far northwest as we venture, about 150 miles from Manaus. Sounds begin to reverberate across the river as the jungle awakens to another day of struggle and survival. Seems a perfect moment to spread some ashes, to watch them shimmer and drift with the river current forever a part of the Amazon.
We depart at 6 in our motor launches. This morning, we are on a mission. Our task is to fish for lunch. And not just any fish but the snappy, frisky piranha. We quickly locate a good “fishing hole” and bait our hooks. Today, we use goat heart. Our poles seem to be thin, flimsy bamboo. Within a minute I have caught a small piranha. The guide removes the fish, I place some more bait and drop the hook.
For added temptation, as if fresh goat heart isn’t enough, we beat the water with our poles. Like a dinner bell, the piranha is attracted to my hook.
They are almost too easy to catch, but are good fighters once on the hook, which they tended to swallow in their greed. The razor, sharp teeth should instill fear in anyone with common sense. My second, third and fifth fish are each about 10-12 inches. They bend the pole, fight the hook, snap their jaws. However, their greedy frenzy dooms them, the pole holds.
This remote area is habitat for several indigenous peoples, all closely tied to the river. Few ships come here, thus giving me a true sense of the Amazon Rainforest. I can imagine indigenous tribes deep in this forest who have little if any contact with the “outside world.” I do spot an “Propiedade Particular” incongruiously tacked to a tree above our fishing hole. Private property, fear of trespassing here? There were fishermen spotted and also a group of locals collecting latex from rubber trees. No sign of much else.
In Search of the elusive Howler Monkey
The Tucano turns back downstream toward the Rio Negro. We anchor to launch the pecky-peckies destined for a quiet cove, climbing out for a jungle hike. Forest sounds abound, Howlers do not. We did discover several large brown tarantulas. They were teased to leave their holes, induced by a thin pole with sweat on the end, of which we have more than enough. Poked into their hole and wiggled around, the tarantula speeds out of her burrow to catch the stick. Cameras click.
Other sightings included a small tortoise who has a long way to grow, an armadillo hole with no one home, and a giant ant colony. There is not a breath of breeze beneath the trees. Walking remains easy but with so much debris on the ground, one must step carefully. We wear our leather gators. Snakes! Nasty snakes!
We hear cicadas and a few birds, but the only primates in the forest are us. Not a Howler for miles. We navigate along the heavily forested shore and scout for wildlife. We spot a settler’s home in a small clearing and learn that builders deserted it as the region was overrun by ants.
River showers, no hot water needed
We return to the Tucano, eager for a shower, cool water pumped fresh out of the river. Literally, I struggle to peel wet clothing off my body. Every article is soaked with sweat. Thank you air-conditioning! The solar-heated water is tepid and perfect for cooling and washing off the sweat and Deet.
I haven’t met a mosquito while on the Rio Negro. I learn the pH levels are too low for mosquitoes. Rivers south and Amazon are much worse.
Lunch includes tasty piranha. The fish are whole and crispy fried. The meat is sweet but little can be scraped from their boney little bodies. I didn’t check if the teeth were intact. I did wonder where the bigger catch of the day went.
Afternoon excursion
We continue downstream until 4 o’clock – time for our next excursion. The river is wide, perhaps a half mile on either side of our ship. The sun is just above the canopy, temperatures are cooling, and breezes are much appreciated. The heat of the day seems to be exiting.
We board launches and lazily meander into the quiet and narrow tributaries. Trees are beautifully mirrored in the water and eyes continually scan the treetops for birds, mammals, and hopefully a Howler monkey.
Snags and trunks of trees lurk in what seems to be shallow waters. I take a deep breath. The air is fresh and fragrant and beginning to cool. Surrounded by heavily forested shores, it is hard to imagine an outside world that is so opposite to this environment.
Unfortunately for the trees, not all peoples venerate them as much as our guides and local communities. This is a unique ecosystem, important for the world’s survival.
While hard to imagine the loss of trees while here, this rainforest is disappearing at an alarming rate due to deforestation and other human activities. The rate of deforestation can vary year by year, but in 2022 over 5,000 square miles were lost; in 2023, another 4,200 square miles were lost. Totaled, that is about the area of the state of Maryland. Since the 1970s, the Amazon has lost around 20% of its original forest. This mostly arises from illegal logging, mining, cattle ranching, and of course climate change.
The plant life supported by the river draws huge quantities of carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, and pumps out oxygen. In short, we need these trees and ecosystem.
We stealthily move further into a tributary, circling an island of trees and rocks. During rainy season, the water will cover this land, and the trees will remain inundated for months, unharmed.
We scan the canopy for monkeys and birds. While we overhear much screeching and bird conversations, little is seen. Nothing hinders our launch as we rope tree branches and pulled them out of the way, or use the machete to chop through brush.
Swirls and eddies indicate changing currents. Lily pads act as perfect spots for hiding caiman, anacondas and heaven knows what. The occasional loud splash turns our heads, too late to see the source . The soaring forest canopy is a mixture of palms and deciduous trees intermixed with ghostly gray and barren tree trunks with branches long dead to any leaf. At least 100′ up, we scan the tree tops for feathered friends of the Amazon. Where are the monkeys?
This is a beautiful undulating river, deceptively calm and quiet.
Before dinner, we have a short talk about the ant as a food group. Let’s say one needs to gather a lot of ants to feed a tribe.
No night excursion. Instead, we motor southeast, anchoring for the night.
Day 5 – Alone within the jungle
We return to our routine. The 5:30 wake up is no problem. I sleep well, awake early looking forward to morning outings when the sun is low and air is cool. Animals appreciate it, too. Early bird catches the worm kind of story.
Many forest creatures feed at night and now rest. Perhaps it’s the intensity of the sun as it rises and begins to heat the air and everything it touches. Any animal, feathered or other, seeks the deeper, darker interior in search of food and relief. There are breezes so I suspect the animals know just how many branches down they must go to reach optimum comfort.
We enter the smaller, eerily quiet waterways. I am amazed at the signs of flood levels. It is beyond my imagination that water levels can reach over the 15′ riverbanks, then another 20-30 feet over the entire island and its trees. The area, now a series of small islands and narrow channels, becomes one massive lake. Waterways disappear and canoes and pecky -perkies are able to float over the land and thru the forests.
It is impossible to determine the depth of the river or individual channels. While my compass says I am between 30-50’ above sea level, the river bottom continuously shifts, channels hide massive fallen trees, and water levels remain deceptive.
Death for the dumbest
The Amazonas represents a vast series of ruthless rivers. For the uninformed, exploration can mean a nasty death. Predators are the least of it. Lost is LOST. There is surprisingly little food in the forest and what is there takes a local to find. The river supports a bounty of fish if you have the bait, hook and patience. Potable water is nonexistent, as is outside communication. It appears to be the most inhospitable environment imaginable.
This morning, we spot the ubiquitous herons and kingfishers. Toucans are impossible to miss with their Jimmy Durante profiles. I would think they would have difficulty flying with that huge beak sticking out front.
One large tree was decorated with 5-6 Howler Monkeys, perched like Christmas ornaments among its branches. They bask in the morning sun, warming their bodies before moving down to lower, shadier branches. Each is a large brown lump of fur among the leaves.
Without very good binoculars, one sees little in the jungle. While many birds perch at the very top for the best views, hundreds more are among the branches and leaves, undetected without a guide. They recognize the sounds, smells and behavior others do not. And most sightings are anywhere from 200-300 feet away – small feathered dots blending into the scenery.
No escaping the heat – just accept it
The jungle is an environment of parasites. Found in the water, on the soil, among the leaves, and grasping and choking their host trees to death. Biting, stinging, sucking bugs and hitchhiking insects invade and conquer.
The surrounding waters of the Rio Negro are dark and tepid. Today, I eschewed the forest walk for the top deck where a pleasant breeze keeps insects at bay. A strong current and changeable southeastern breeze off the mainland slowly swings the Tucano about for a 180° view of the river system. The forested islands are quiet; the waters ripple unbroken but for an occasional leaping fish or dolphin.
After lunch, the Tucano sails to the west side of the Rio Negro in its continued efforts to spot wildlife along the shores. The river is wide and deceptively fast-moving.
The solar-powered motor very quietly moves us up the small tributaries in search of primates and birds. Canopy tops are favorite spots for birds of prey; over 100′ above the rivers, they scan the waters for miles.
Smaller mammals may be within branches, harder to spot, unless one is a native. It continues to amaze me what our guides, both raised in these forests, are able to spot within the dense foliage of the trees.
The monkeys seem to announce themselves with shaking tree branches as they jump from one spot to another. As I watch the foliage quiver and sway, I can’t help but think of the movies when such ominous movements fortold the approach of something BIG like King Kong or a Tyrannosaurus Rex emerging from the dark forests. Certainly Tarzan would’ve died of the heat here. Also, he’d need to learn a lot of bird calls instead of warbling for the elephants.
I never met a mosquito on the Rio Negro
As all Midwesterners know, it doesn’t have to be dark for mosquitos to swarm. Mosquitoes along the Amazon River can be quite irksome, day or night. The region’s warm, humid climate creates their ideal breeding ground. Thankfully, pH levels are too low in the Rio Negro and most evil biters are at their worst further south in the Amazon.
Survival of the fastest
Smaller boats take us deeper into the forests and narrow channels. The twisted complexity of these smaller waterways are challenging. I trust our guides will not get lost. Google Maps shows me where I am along the river but I doubt GPS will save the unwary, novice boater.
This evening, the Tucano anchored in a small river along the east bank. An excursion on the water follows dinner. Launches quietly float us deep amid the trees where nocturnal sounds abound. So do the insects. Creatures of the night abound. No expectations to see or hear a Jaguar or ocelot, tapir or wild boar. But the nightjars and herons fly past. The insects are active and I bless those species which feed on them. A good healthy, hungry bat can eat thousands of insects each night. Love the bats!
Those Eyes
Easier to spot are the glowing eyes of the caiman. This snappy, scaly charmer of the Amazon swamps sports a toothy grin and a killer instinct. He/She can grow to 12 feet. In the dark, our guide easily locates them with his lights. With two beady, red eyes poking up from the waters, they may not be as aggressive as a crocodile, but don’t be tempted to drag a hand on the water.
We mostly spot small offspring in the shallows along the muddy banks. Signs of mama can be discerned in the mud as she drags onshore.
All in these jungles are ready to feed on the unwary tourist.
