7-9 Sept 2024
Clouds, heat, humidity 90%, slight breeze occasionally
I am ecstatic to be departing Manaus, convinced being on the water, temperatures cannot possibly be worse.
The Amazon represents a wilderness about the size of continental USA. Its Amazon River flows massive, discharging more water into its ecosystem than any river in the world.
The Amazon, and its supporters, claim it to be the longest river system in the world, something the fanboys of the Nile River hotly dispute. Weaving and meandering from the Pacific to the Atlantic, over a distance of 2,330 miles, its drainage system is unsurpassed, providing water, flora and fauna to nine countries.
Realizing the impossibility of drinking enough tonic, I arm myself with Malarone, bug spray and a hope for more breezes once on water. Alex, my guide, picks me up exactly on time and we motor south of the city to the private Marina Taua on the Tarumã Açu River.
Boarding Motor Yacht Tucano, we move up to the Rio Negro before turning west as the river widens and shores recede. A quick stop in my beautiful cabin, I am excited to have it to myself. Then, top deck, I drift and motor northwest, slowly and peacefully.
Am I cruising up or down the Amazon?
Evidently, even these waters had a period of indecision as recent geological studies suggest that for millions of years the river flowed east to west. Attributed to the Andes Mountains blocking its flow to the Pacific, the river did an about-face and now marches its way west to its mouth at the Atlantic Ocean.
Whichever, I eagerly anticipate exploring the waterways, animal life and residents of the Amazon. Not named for Greece’s women warriors? My guide says the name comes from the indigenous Tupi peoples’ word amassona, meaning “boat destroyer.” Hopefully, not this week.
This is travel I have wanted to do for a long time (I dislike “bucket list” as I don’t carry a bucket.) I’ve sailed the Nile, Yangtze, Irawaddy, Ganges, Mississippi, Danube, and Rhine. The Amazon is one of the greatest rivers in the world; its waters are something I should see. The Amazon Rainforest and River are one of the Seven New Natural Wonders of the Modern World.
M/Y Tucano
No-one may arrive at the port on their own. Ports and private marinas are numerous and spread along the riverside. There are scores of ships representing a wide range of sizes from large riverboats to small expedition vessels. To access more remote areas, the smaller the ship the better. Mine hosts 18 passengers. For this cruise we number 10, about the same number as the crew.
Almost immediately upon leaving port we loose all cellular service. Communication with the outside world disappears. However, as long as there is electricity and hot water, no problem.
So, what is it like? The Tucano is a small boutique boat and eco-friendly (solar-electric and solar-thermal systems power as much as possible). Even the excursion vessels are solar-powered. The Tucano also features a unique system using solar heated water.
The ship features spacious lounge areas and its 9 wood-paneled cabins provide large windows and air-conditioning. There is a large observation deck, a salon and balcony mid-ship.
The beauty of the Tucano can be attributed to its small size and shallow draft allowing it to sail into small tributaries off the beaten tourist route. I was told I might not see other boats for a few days.
“The Tucano is the only vessel to explore the deepest parts of the Central Amazon Conservation Complex. The UNESCO World Heritage Site measures in at 15 million acres of uninhabited wilderness. This is one of the most diverse ecosystems globally and the best place to spot many monkey species.”
Day 1 – On the Rio Negro
From the observation deck we watch noisy civilization recede in the distance as we sail Upstream on the dark and calm Rio Negro.
We cruise through the world’s largest river island system, the Anavilhanas Archipelago. Nothing but a dense tangle of vegetation borders the water’s edge.
Civilization recedes; dense rainforest crowds the river. I am not what I refer to as “a birder.” However, the forest promises a plethora of them, including macaws, toucans, herons, and kingfishers. Dense foliage provides cover but photo shoots are numerous. I quickly learn to watch the tops of trees for spotting birds. They too like the views.
Here, the river flows wide and calm; trees dominate the small mid-stream islands. The water is dark; skies are smokey blue with puffy white clouds to our west. My adventure begins when I board a launch to hunt for wildlife. A large variety of colorful, feathered friends are spotted. Cameras, some weighing more than my luggage, click away.
Dolphins, including the gray and the pink river dolphin, are a common sight and several are spotted as they quickly break the surface. Catfish are numerous and there is a piranha or two, or three or…. Mostly unseen but for brief disturbances of the water.
Piranhas get a “bad rap”
Movies and legend portray them as vicious, ravenous, devouring, bone-cleaning fish. They have garnered a reputation for their sharp teeth and carnivorous diet, but there’s more to these fish than this reputation suggests.
Piranhas are freshwater fish native to South American rivers, particularly the Amazon. They prefer warm, slow-moving waters with plenty of vegetation and thrive in the diverse and nutrient-rich waters of the Amazon Basin. Typically, the fish ranges from 5 to 14 inches in length. Piranhas are often a silvery color with a reddish or orange belly. They do have razor-sharp, triangular teeth that interlock for a powerful bite, designed for tearing flesh.
However, Piranhas are omnivorous (vegan and meats), surviving on a diet mainly of fish, insects, crustaceans, and plant matter. They scavenge on carrion and occasionally consume larger animals or birds that fall into the water. My guide assured me he had not heard of any recent consumption of humans.
Piranhas are known for their feeding frenzies; a group can quickly strip the flesh from prey. However, such frenzies are usually triggered by the smell of blood or a disturbance in the water. They often hunt in schools, which can range from a few individuals to hundreds. This schooling behavior provides protection from predators and enhances their hunting efficiency. Piranha fishing is a popular activity. Their meat is edible and considered and quite tasty.
Rio Negro Excursions
After lunch, we have the hot afternoon to relax and watch the river and forested riverbanks slide by. The river current moves at a strong pace and what looks to be a smooth flat surface can be dangerously deceptive. We motor in a northerly direction and soon find ourselves alone on the waters of the Rio Negro.
At 4 o’clock we board launches, long narrow boats with outboard engines called pecky-peckies, to travel for about two hours along the river’s edge, spotting birds and hoping to see other wildlife. It’s very hot and humid with a slight breeze, more comfortable than Manaus. And, no mosquitoes!
At 6:30 we meet on the top deck and toast our beginning adventure with good Chilean wine. A delicious dinner is served.
Betty Davis eyes
At 8:30, we once again board a launch and using spotlights we search for Amazon nightlife. Several birds were seen. We spot the eyes of Caiman, which shyly dip below the water. We float up to a small Caiman, approximately 18 inches, with a fat belly and inquisitive, bright shining eyes.
We also spot a solitary three-toed sloth snoozing in a tree. She didn’t seem to be bothered by our spotlight, but then they don’t tend to move very fast regardless.
There is just a sliver of moon and the skies are dark. While there are sparse clouds, the Milky Way of the Southern Hemisphere is shining brightly. I hope to see ISS or the Hubble in this part of the sky; we are about 2° south of the equator so perhaps they will be too low on the horizon.
Describing the Amazon
Probably the best description I could find of the Amazon comes from David Grann in his The Lost City of Z:
“It begins as barely a rivulet, this, the mightiest river in the world, mightier than the Nile and the Ganges, mightier than the Mississippi and all the rivers in China. Over 18,000 feet high in the Andes, amid snow and clouds, it emerges through a rocky seam – a trickle of crystal water. Here it is indistinguishable from so many other streams coursing through the Andes, some cascading down the western face toward the Pacific, 60 miles away, others, like this one, rolling down the eastern façade on the seemingly impossible journey toward the Atlantic ocean – a distance farther than New York City to Paris. At this altitude, the air is too cold for jungle or many predators. And yet it is in this place that the Amazon is born, nourished by melting, snow and rain, and pulled by gravity over cliffs.
From its source, the river descends sharply. As it gathers speed, it is joined by hundreds of other rivulets, most of them so small they remain nameless. 7000 feet down, the water enters a valley with the first glimmer of green. Soon larger streams converge upon it. Churning toward the plains below, the river has 3000 more miles to go to reach the ocean. It is unstoppable. So, too, is the jungle, which, owing to its equatorial heat and heavy rainfalls, gradually engulfs the riverbanks. Spreading toward the horizon, this wilderness contains the greatest variety of species in the world. And, for the first time, the river becomes recognizable – it is the Amazon.
Still, the river is not what it seems. Curling eastwood, it enters an enormous region shaped like a shallow bowl, and because the Amazon rests at the bottom of this basin, nearly 40% of the waters from South America from rivers as far as Columbia, Venezuela, Bolivia, and Ecuador – drain into it. And so the Amazon becomes even mightier. 300 feet deep in places, it no longer needs to rush, conquering at his own pace. It meanders past the Rio Negro and the Rio Maderia; past the Tapajós and the Xingu, two of the biggest southern tributaries; past Marajó, an island larger than Switzerland, until finally, after traversing 4000 miles and collecting water from a thousand tributaries, the Amazon reaches its 200-mile-wide mouth and gushes into the Atlantic ocean. What began as a trickle now expels 57,000 million gallons of water every second – discharge 60 times that of the Nile. The Amazon’s fresh waters push so far out to sea that, in 1500, Vicente Pinzón, a Spanish commander who had earlier accompanied Columbus, discovered the river while sailing miles off the coast of Brazil. He called it Mar Dulce, or Sweet Sea.
It is difficult to explore this region under any circumstances, but in November, the onset of the rain season renders it virtually impossible. Waves – including the 15–mile-an-hour monthly tidal board known as pororoca, or “big roar“ – crash against the shore. At Belém, the Amazon frequently rises 12 feet; at Iquitos, 20 feet; at Óbidos, 35 feet. The Madeira, the Amazon’s longest tributary, can swell even more, rising over 65 feet. After months of inundation, many of these and other rivers explode over their banks, cascading through the forest, uprooting plants and rocks, and transforming the southern basin almost into an inland sea, which it was million of years ago. Then the sun comes out and scorches the region. The ground cracks as if from an earthquake. Swamps evaporate, leaving piranhas stranded in desiccated pools, eating one another’s flesh. Bogs turn into meadows; islands become hills.”
Day 2 – Boating and walking in a free sauna
The knock on my door is at 5:30. Following a quick cup of coffee, we board our pecky-pecky to ply the tributaries in search of the early birds looking for their worms. This is a perfect time as the red sunrise is beautiful, the waters peaceful. Numerous birds appear and dolphins break the surface. With some, their pink coloration is noticeable.
We lazily meandered among trees mirrored in the water. Snags and tree trunks lurk in what seems to be shallow areas. I take a deep breath. The air is fresh, fragrant and cool. It’s early morning when everything begins again, working to survive one more day
We return to the Tucano for breakfast and at 9:30 once again board launches with opportunity to walk in the jungle. We strap on gators, not the snow-skiing kind, but shoe to knee, hard leather gators. Snakes!
I climb a riverbank to reach the forest floor. The non-existent path is deep in leaves, vines and fallen branches. Riverbanks are brown dirt and rock, indicating water levels in the rainy season. It is difficult to imagine how high the water will rise. The river is surprisingly swift.
We walk and slash our way for a little over an hour and a half observing the trees, discussing rubber trees, and spotting numerous indications of termites. Ozman, our guide, explains how indigenous peoples collect and use the richness of the forest for medicines, food, and fuel.
Returning just before lunch, my mind focuses on a cold beer and to wash the sweat off my body. The shower is the same river water we boat on. It’s a free sauna outside and the river water, though tepid, is the only counteraction to heat prostration.
At 4 o’clock, the pecky-pecky heads out to meet some settlers. The “settlement” is subsistence farming, chickens, a small concrete school and a very dilapidated Catholic Church. Live here long enough, develop housing, and eventually the state awards survivors the land. A doctor comes once a year. Bitten by a particularly deadly snake, you just die. Of course, the ubiquitous dog or two, skinny and mangy, roam among us.
A generator hums but no air conditioning for the school. I see a cellular tower and a public telephone that actually worked. And the inevitable crafts for sale, all spread out in the incredible heat.
We have dinner and then reboard for a 9:30 launch. It’s a beautiful time and the stars are brilliant in a dark sky. Tonight, our guides, both raised in the jungles, spot animals no other person would see. Wrapped in a tree is a boa constrictor. Sitting on a branch, a large frog. A fish jumped into my lap, more startled to find himself in a boat than I was. Many night birds break the jungle’s stillness. A few smaller caiman are spotted. This is the best time of the day as sun sets by 6, temperatures drop a few degrees and a cool breeze blows. Again, no mosquitoes!
Cruising the waters in our pecky-pecky
The river remains expansive. Along the smaller tributaries a rocky shoreline, trees and foliage crowd the water’s edge. Skies continue bright and clear. A merciless sun reminds one to slather on the sunscreen. (I am amazed that I have not suffered from sunburn, the UV rating seems very low.) The river widens to probably a half mile on either side while the smaller tributaries lead into unknowns and dead ends. No other boats are seen. The water remains calm and black but warm and fast flowing.
The natural beauty and wildlife of the Amazon is unsurpassed. No beaches or big cities. No ambient lights. The river is surrounded by dense, lush vegetation, towering trees, and diverse plant life. The river system is immense, with numerous channels, lagoons, and flooded forests (varzea). The water can range from muddy brown to darker, clearer sections depending on the tributary.
Day 3 – Suffocating heat and humidity
5:30 am
Our day has become a routine. Knock on door at 5:30 am. Prep takes little time as I know it will be miserably hot and sauna humid. Get my hat, bottle of water and binoculars. Float by launch for 2 hours into a tributary. Width varies but all are lined with a thick forest of trees. Scan the top of the canopy looking for animal and bird life. This morning we spot a large group of squirrel and capuchin monkeys leaping branch to branch in the high canopy.
7-8 am
Breakfast 7-8. Lots of fruits, eggs, cheese, some unknowns and all delicious.
9:30 am
Pecky-peckies leave for a forest walk. While interesting, the walks are unimaginably hot and humid with no breeze once within the forest. One just sweats, drinks water, sweats some more. The suffocating heat tragically detracts from the beauty of the forest.
My obsession becomes a river shower after I peal my wet clothes from my body.
12:30 pm
Lunch. The timing of the dining and excursions are well planned. After, in the worst heat of the day, we can relax under the awning on top deck and sweat more or opt for an air-conditioned lounge or room. There is no way to escape the outside humidity except indoors.
We drop anchor in the Rio Jaueperi River in the State of Roraima, a lesser-known river of the region and a tributary of the Rio Branco, which is a major tributary of the Rio Negro. The Branco is muddy and comes down from near Guyana in the north. The Jaueperi is clear and dark, tracing its path out of the mountains far to the northeast.
A large expanse of water surrounds us. It is filled with gray and pink dolphins. No other ships are seen. The sun lowers to just above the canopy; heat releases its hold on the day.
4 pm
We launch for another two hour excursion. The heat is bearable, becoming more pleasant as the sun drops below the canopy. Not being a botanist, this mile of forest is pretty much like that mile of forest. I sit back and appreciate this amazing environment.
No griping about the heat – just give in to it.
Our solar-powered launches stealthily move through the waters. In this heat no one chooses the muscle-powered kayaks. Our naturalist guide is on the lookout for howler monkeys and toucans. Again, we hear much but dense foliage hinders photo shoots. It is peaceful floating our way around the narrow byways. A chorus of birds, frogs and monkeys reverberate around the forest but few are seen. The splash of fish and dolphins can be heard all around us.
7-8 pm
Dinner is served.
8:30 pm
We board for a wonderful 2-hour night excursion. This is the perfect time to quietly float the waters in search of adventure. Tonight we spot a huge rodent in a tree, a large iguana in a tree, a gray sloth, a brown sloth with baby, an Amazon boa constrictor – all in trees. Near the banks among tree limbs and swamp grasses is a large caiman. Birds are ever present. Snorts and bird calls echo in the night. Splashes of water echo across the river. Something more is out there.
Can’t be more perfect than this.
