“Happy the traveler, with whom the study of Nature has not been merely the cold research of her understanding, in the explanation of her properties, or the solution of her problems! Who, while he has interpreted her laws, has adored her sublimity, and followed her steps with passionate enthusiasm, amidst that solemn and stupendous scenery, those melancholy and sacred solitudes, where she speaks in a voice so well understood by the mysterious sympathy of the feeling heart. With what soothing emotions, what eager delight, do we follow the traveller, who leads us from the cares, the sorrows, the joys of ordinary life, to wander in another hemisphere! To mark unknown forms of luxuriant beauty, and unknown objects of majestic greatness - to view a new earth, and even new skies! From which the stars known from childhood, the stars of home, have disappeared, and are succeeded by a foreign firmament.” - Helen Maria Williams, 1814
Recently, I was fortunate enough to satisfy a lifelong dream of visiting the Amazon rainforest. I spent nearly two weeks immersed in the jungles of northeastern Peru, experiencing not just the overwhelming biological splendor but also the rich culture of the Loreto region (and the accelerating encroachment of technology to an otherwise primitive lifestyle).
While there, I split my time mainly between two biological research stations. However, my first leg of the trip was spent in Iquitos and the surrounding area (this chapter will cover this introduction to Peru). I traveled with a scrappy group of men - organizers Matt Cage, Mike Pingleton, and Christoph Meyer, as well as mere mortals Matt & Alan Ignoffo, Peter Mooney, Shawn LaRochelle, Sylvere Corre, Chris Meachum, Simon Miller, David Myers, and Mark Mazur. In addition, a number of locals helped immensely, whether by spotting animals at night, operating the boats, or providing delicious meals.
In the beginning, most of us smelled reasonably good. But by the end of the trip, our clothing was reduced to steaming heaps of sweat- and decaying eucalyptus-scented rags (more on that later, unfortunately).
Getting to Iquitos - our launching point in Peru - is no easy task. Three flights were required, including one from Atlanta to Lima, only to jet back up north to Iquitos. Iquitos is the largest city in the world inaccessible by automobile, so a plane is required. I’m not going to go into detail about the headaches most of us went through just to get to Iquitos on time because frankly it didn’t matter the moment we stepped off of the airplane that may or may not have been acceptable by FAA standards. But there were some grumbles and confusion along the way.
We stayed in a relatively posh hotel along a street cluttered by dilapidated buildings and hundreds of loud mototaxis. A gutted skyscraper adorned with trees and other vegetation stood sad and exposed nearby. Stray dogs trotted about freely, occasionally stopping to lie down in the street. Diesel fumes dominated the olfactory senses. The environment appeared chaotic, but for a large city in an undeveloped nation, most of it seemed unusually orderly and safe.
A small group of us split off from the rest to experience the notorious Belen Market. This outdoor market is located along a poverty-stricken urban corridor and can be a bit rough around the edges. Vendors hawk everything from local fruits, vegetables and spices to bushmeat. I identified several species of iconic Amazon fish including arapaima, pacu, and various catfishes. Sprawled across one table were the eviscerated remains of several yellow-footed tortoises (Chelonoidis denticulatus), which may or may or may not have been legally sourced. Chris and I simultaneously drew our iphones for pictures to the dismay of the vendor. She immediately assumed the defensive position, knife in hand, and in broken English, sternly ordered us not to take photos. I complied; Chris had already pulled the trigger, and the evidence was in hand. While I do respect most foreign cultural norms, admittedly it was disappointing to know that these (and countless other) tortoises meet a premature end to their otherwise long lives for a few measly bites of meat.
Back at the hotel, the group coalesced and jumped aboard a small bus that would ultimately take us along the Nauta Road to its southernmost terminus at Nauta. The idea was that by the time we reached Nauta, the sun would set and then we could road-cruise snakes while heading back to Iquitos in a bus. Well, that would be a first for me!
On the way to Nauta, the bus stopped at the Amazon Research Center for Ornamental Fishes/Acuario Del Amazonas. We spent about a half hour at this new-ish facility, where our host graciously took the time to educate us about the fishes native to the region (in Spanish). As a long-time tropical fish keeper and overall ichthyophile, I found the facility to be a fascinating diversion from our herpetological exploits.
But reptiles and amphibians were the targets, so we left our finned friends in the dust in pursuit of dart frogs. A short drive led us to a protected patch of rainforest teeming with them. About as quickly as we stepped out of the bus and into the forest, the little frogs, hopping about like animated jewels on the moist forest floor, came into view. Aside from a few ameivas and the obligatory hotel house geckos, these were the first herps of the trip. Seeing these was a bright beginning of what would become a fantastic trip.
Ranitomeya reticulata
We arrived in Nauta in time for dinner, and then reversed course back toward Iquitos in the black night, somewhat slower this time and with eyes on the road. We lucked out on our first snake, a dazzling young boa constrictor (Boa constrictor). Before we were able to stop the bus, we noticed an oncoming car swerve to narrowly miss the snake, which was pleasantly surprising. In the rain, we all gathered along the side of the road, passing the snake around and then taking some photos. There was a palpable buzz at the scene, so much in fact that it attracted our driver. He came out to see what we were all looking at, but unfortunately he had forgotten to put the bus into park. Within seconds, we heard Matt Cage shout, “Where’s the driver??” I looked up to see Matt literally holding the bus in place using only his body. “Driver, please return to the bus!!”. The driver complied and all was well, so at that point we all had a good laugh and took turns sharing our thoughts on how we might have gotten back to Iquitos in the rain sans bus.
Up the road a bit more, we stopped once more for a beautiful adult Oxyrhopus melanogenys. One of the many colorful members of the family Dipsadidae, this snake’s ruby eyes nearly took my breath away. We were hoping for more snakes, but we were also pretty exhausted and were looking forward to the next day.
The following morning, we were on our way to Madre Selva via the Amazon River. The commute took about four hours, not including a stop at a diminutive rum distillery operated by a family on the muddy banks of the river. We were provided with a demonstration of the primitive methods by which these people transformed sugar cane into liquor. Some accepted samples and imbibed; I was more than happy to poke around the property looking for herps.
To get from the distillery to Madre Selva, we needed to utilize a number of smaller tributaries. Since the Amazon is not designed to accommodate humans nor gives a damn about people in any way, shape, or form, this proved to be a bit of a challenge. The confluence of two streams in particular had been blocked by a large accumulation of debris such as trees and other vegetation. Our boat captains somehow managed to push and squeeze through, much to our amazement. It’s like they’d done this before a thousand times. After that, it was a matter of minutes before we were at the bank of the beautiful Madre Selva Research Station. The dulcet tones of calling parakeets, oropendolas, gray-fronted doves, thrush-like wrens, and other exotic birds set a tone that would continue throughout the next ten days.
