Cuyabeno Wildlife Reserve,
Amazon Rainforest
Ecuador
No one likes an overnight bus ride, especially on a winding road that prevents any amount of sleep. After what felt like an eternity we disembarked at Puente Cuyabeno, ready to commence our Amazon adventure through Cuyabeno Wildlife Reserve.
Nine of us, plus our guide Rom, jumped in a very rustic, low-sitting canoe for the 3-hour trip down the river. Rom told us we were travelling through the white water section, where the water is clean enough to drink (compared to the black water section - you don’t want to consume that). Peering over the side of the canoe, the river looked as brown as mud. You couldn't have paid me to drink it.
Over the first hour all we saw were a handful of birds (mostly herons and kingfishers), butterflies and termite nests. Rom produced various whistling sounds, which I guess were supposed to attract more animals. He frequently pointed out the 600-year-old ceiba trees, the tallest in the park, but our eyes were peeled for animal encounters. The water seemed to be at a good level now, he relayed to us. When it's higher, you can take shortcuts through the river. When it's lower, everyone has to pile out of the boat and help carry it to the next section of river. Glad we weren’t here during the dry season.
Eventually we stumbled upon a family of squirrel monkeys, the smallest species of monkey in the region. They continuously bounded from one tree to the next, making it almost impossible to photograph them. Not long later Rom spotted a baby anaconda, coiled up behind some leaves. We had no idea how anyone could have seen it, being hidden so well.
Two hours into our journey the rain began to pour, which was par for the course for our holiday. We did our best to cover up on the open-air boat but we were pounded for the next half hour. Clearly there was no animal spotting during this time. Once we emerged from underneath our jackets (which had done nothing), Rom excitedly pointed out a pair of freshwater pink dolphins, their fins emerging intermittently above the water’s surface. He told us that not every group is fortunate enough to see them. As all I saw were the very tips of their fan-shaped fins, I didn’t really feel like I had seen them either. The last of our animal encounters (other than the assortment of birds) was a difficult to distinguish sloth, high up in the trees.
Finally we arrived at Nicky Lodge, where we removed our soggy clothing and sat down to a hearty lunch. Afterwards, we were given time to chill out, listening to the birds and monkeys in the surrounding trees while lying in hammocks. As far as relaxation goes, it couldn’t get much better than this.
At 4.30 p.m. our afternoon boat tour commenced, when naturally it started raining again. Light showers fell on and off as we sped along the waterways. After a while we arrived at an expansive flooded plain called Laguna Grande, which was infinitely wider than the narrow rivers we had traversed so far. In dry season, Rom explained, he could play soccer out here. Now it was covered with water as far as the eye could see. Other than a sloth, birds and yet more termite nests, there weren't many animal sightings, but the golden yellow sunset made the trip worthwhile. A couple of guys in our group jumped in the lake for a swim, but Danny and I weren't game, not being sure what was lurking beneath the surface. Once darkness fell, we came across a nesting site of caimans (although I could only see their reflective eyes) and an Amazon tree boa sitting way above us in the trees. Dozens of bats swarmed overhead in an ominous, horror movie-like fashion, and flew menacingly beside the boat all the way back to the lodge.
It was dark and dreary for our early morning jungle walk, but at least the rain held off. We only covered about 200 metres in an hour, plodding through deep mud that tried its best to suction off our rubber boots. The highlights were the squirrel and capuchin monkeys scrambling through the trees, making their familiar high-pitched screeches. Fire ants ran up and down tree trunks, an angry millipede crawled away from our approach, and a small lizard with a pulsing red gland sticking out of its neck rounded out our animal encounters. Rom was an encyclopaedia of knowledge about the local flora. He showed us weeds that smelled like coriander, leaves that gave off a lemon aroma, mushrooms like we had never seen before, phallic-shaped fruits that brought about a fit of giggles from everyone, and bark that tasted like garlic (and left us all with garlic breath). I was happy to see lulo in its natural form, a fruit often found in ice creams and juices. There were also walking trees, ceiba trees and far too much talk about larvae.
Today’s main excursion was a visit to a local village, where about 50 people from the Siona tribe lived. We paddled ourselves downstream, passing toucans, kingfishers, kites, swallows, gigantic butterflies and a couple of sunbathing lizards. Miraculously, the sun was out and there were brief patches of blue sky. It was an unfamiliar sight.
In the village we sat on the second level of an open-sided hut with a thatched roof, where we were taught a few lines of the native language. Once we could competently introduce ourselves, we were presented with a huge spread for morning tea. Most of it was fruits and vegetables, both fresh and cooked, taken straight from the trees around us. Taking centre stage, though, was a bowl full of squirming, live beetle larvae. A couple of members of our group were brave enough to chew on one, and reported back that it tasted like coconut. The uneaten grubs were skewered and grilled on the barbecue, which was more appetising for some (not us).
Next, we were all involved in making a staple food, yuca bread. We assisted with almost every step, including harvesting the yuca from the soil, peeling the skins, grating it (quite the workout), draining the liquid using an ingenious bark contraption (and saving the liquid to later make a chilli sauce), turning it into a flour through a bark sieve, then pouring it onto a hot clay pan on the barbecue and watching it magically turn into something resembling a thin pizza base. 100% yuca, no other ingredients. It was extremely dry and desperately needed a condiment, but it made a good accompaniment for our rice and bean lunch. Banana pancakes, made with just banana and leftover yuca liquid, made a simple but sweet dessert.
After the effort of paddling our canoe back upstream to the lodge, we had a couple of hours’ rest before our twilight walk. This ended up being a test of who could survive the mud. Our boots continuously sank into the sludge and several times I needed to use both hands to pull them out when they became stuck. There weren't a whole lot of animal sightings other than many different species of ants and a tiny frog. Birds and insects flooded the night sky with their sounds but they remained out of sight. Fresh agouti footprints gave us hope, however they didn't amount to anything. Many types of mushrooms were pointed out to us, and we were able to witness a cloud of spores being emitted from one when Rom shone his torch on it.
Incredibly, it didn't rain all day until we sat down for dinner. I couldn't imagine undertaking the forest walk through the mud with the added pressure of being pummelled by the rain. Thankful for small miracles.
An early morning wake-up call saw us on the boat down to 'terra firma', where the ground was slightly higher and more solid (i.e. less muddy) than where we were staying. It was a short walk to a viewing tower, where all we could see was a thick layer of mist over the trees. It wasn't exactly awe-inspiring, but given that it rained almost the entire night, I was just relieved that we were granted a dry spell for the trip.
After breakfast it was back to the jungle, but this time walking through the wet, muddy stuff around our camp. Rom gave us more facts about the medicinal and hazardous properties of certain plants, and we stood transfixed as he ground up light green shoots in his palm that slowly turned vibrant blue-green (used as a dye by the locals). We patted an armour-covered millipede, watched one brave tourist eat lemon-flavoured ants, marvelled at a spiderweb the colour of gold, and tasted the sticky sap of the Sandy tree. It was quite chalky but sells for huge amounts of money as a treatment for gastritis. Ants featured heavily again today (they were becoming a running joke in our group), but the size of the bullet ants was impressive. Apparently their bite is unbelievably painful, and we were told that the occasional tourist believes they can brave the agony. They usually can’t. No one in our group was stupid enough to try. The most exciting sighting was the black-mantled tamarin monkeys, so tiny they looked like small kittens jumping between the trees. Positioned high up and moving at lightning speed, it was almost impossible to get a decent shot of them, but they were fun to watch for a while.
In the afternoon we headed back out to Laguna Grande again, passing by herons, toucans, woolly monkeys ('Amazon gorillas') and a sloth with a baby. All were sitting at the tops of the trees or far in the distance, nowhere near the focal point of my camera. At the lagoon we searched for creatures around leafless trees sticking out of the water, with no luck. Once it became dark, we went on the hunt for caimans again. Rom spotted a couple but they disappeared as soon as we neared. The only other animal was a kinkaju, similar to a raccoon, running up and down the highest branches of a tall tree.
The weather was infinitely better for our early morning cruise on our final day, and I wished we had visited the viewing tower today. If it weren't for the towering trees lining the river, we would have witnessed a fantastic sunrise. A whole array of birds flew overhead, while a few capuchins scoured for food. At that moment it felt like there weren't many better feelings in the world than driving slowly down the river at the break of day, the air neither too hot nor too cold, and a soft breeze gently brushing past. Then add to that finding a remote section of the river, turning off the motor and hearing only the birds and insects around you. The tranquillity was second to none.
On our journey back to civilisation, we sped past most of the animal sightings. Birds, birds and more birds, some posing beautifully for photos we couldn't take. The only brief stops we made were for monkeys: a sole woolly monkey, a family of red howler monkeys, and a series of squirrel monkeys, the latter of which were jumping from the lofty trees on one side of the river to the shorter trees on the other, flying down like parachuters. It was a lovely, sunny day, perfect for exploring the jungle, but time restraints meant it was more about getting from point A to B than enjoying a sightseeing expedition.
The cloudless skies stayed with us for the entire boat trip. It was the most perfect weather we had seen in almost 6 weeks of travel, and we were going to spend the next 10 hours of it on a bus, travelling back to Quito.
