Into the Wild - Five Days in the Pacaya-Samiria Natural Reserve

The majority of contemporary society has disconnected itself from nature to the point that those who choose to seek for virtually untouched nature can only find it in remote and isolated places. Humans tend to forget that we are also part of nature – and we build our modern world detached from it. Worse still, we destroy nature in the name of ‘progress’, forgetting that nature is life. The wonderful inventions of man may make our lives somewhat more comfortable and last a bit longer, but without nature there would be no life in the first place. One of the main sources of life on Planet Earth is this amazing part of the world called the Amazon Basin, which stretches over eight countries and is home to an immense amount of different species of plants, animals and fish. Several human indigenous populations also live throughout this vast natural expanse of the world, many of whom are in contact with the modern world and others who aren’t.

The Aguarico River near Lago Agrio in Ecuador

Despite having lived in the Amazon for almost two years, I lived in a town - and a town is a town even if it is built in the middle of the jungle. Therefore, every chance I’ve had to spend time in the jungle itself, away from the town, has been a chance to get in touch with the real Amazon. I’ve always referred to these moments as going into the ‘deep jungle’, where one hears only the sounds of nature and leaves behind the petty problems of modern day life (and in my case, the stress of working with victims of atrocities). Due to deforestation for wood and agriculture, as well as the exploitation of petrol and mining, it isn’t easy to find large stretches of accessible jungle which are more or less intact. To get to such parts of the jungle, you must either make your way into extremely remote areas only reachable by canoe and sometimes by little planes, or you can visit a natural reserve. A natural reserve is not a man-made park but is simply a designated area where humans are only allowed to interact with nature in very limited and controlled ways. In such a manner, the natural area is protected from being destroyed by human intervention whilst hunting and fishing is either prohibited or controlled.

The Samiria River flowing through the natural reserve

Trees cut for their wood and sent to Iquitos

 

Pacaya-Samiria is the second largest natural reserve in the Amazon jungle. It takes about 22 to 26 days to row across it all by canoe and, even then, you would have only seen the areas around one of the rivers. With five days at hand, we weren’t going to go very deep into the jungle since we had to row two days in one direction and then three other days to return (the return journey is harder and slower since one must row against the current). This area was not always a natural reserve and, in the past, a few families lived here scattered around in a few pockets of the jungle. Rubber was extracted from the trees growing in the area (as happened in several areas around the Amazon) during the rubber boom, mainly between 1879 to 1912 - but rubber extraction from the Amazon continued until the 1940s. More recently, petrol was extracted from the area but this damaging activity for the environment was thankfully stopped. The Pacaya-Samiria was declared a natural reserve in 1982, meaning that the families who previously lived here had to relocate to nearby areas outside from the reserve.

Thick vegetation in the jungle

On the morning of our journey into the wild, we got up early to gather the basic necessities we were going take with us for the next five days and left our backpacks in the wooden house of our host in the riverside town of Lagunas. Our guide, Adolfo (a local man in his thirties), and his very quiet partner came to pick us up on a moto-taxi to take us to the little river that leads into the natural reserve. Xavi and I each had a small bag with some clothes, mosquito repellent, toiletries (and toilet paper), towels, torches and our cameras. It must have been an approximately twenty minute ride on an unpaved road into the jungle to the entrance of the natural reserve, where visitors must register themselves with the authorities in charge of protecting the area. There were very few people around, though for the first time in ages we did see a small number of other foreigners who were also heading in the same direction. Groups going into the reserve are kept small since it is only accessible by canoes without motorized engines. Basically, you must row to get anywhere – which is easier when entering the reserve since the river flows inwards, whilst you must row against the current on your return (unless you have the time and energy to row across the whole reserve).

Adolfo rows through the narrow river

Xavi and I helped our guides to load the little canoe with the few things we were taking with us into the jungle. Apart from our small bags, Adolfo brought along some bread, rice and eggs, a couple of pans, mineral water, rubber boots and a two-pronged harpoon for fishing. Once all was set, Adolfo and his partner started to row and the canoe glided gently along the narrow river. Every stroke of the oar took us further into the unspoilt territory of the natural reserve. At one point, this little river joined another larger one, the Samiria River – one of the two rivers which give the area its name. In this part of the reserve, the rivers are still very narrow, making you feel really close to the nature around you along the banks of the river.

You can touch the trees as you pass under them

 As the hours passed peacefully, floating through endless bends in the river with only the gentle sound of the oars hitting the water, the songs of birds in the trees above and the infrequent screech of a monkey in the distance, we noticed the jungle coming to life. Here, the wildlife does not need to live in hiding from the humans who represent death for their species. The fact that motorised engines are not used gives the animals and birds even less reason to be scared. Nevertheless, in the jungle, the animals and birds do not come close to humans as they would in urbanised areas or zoos, where a dependence of animals on humans has been created. One could describe the animals in the wild as being very shy and they generally flee when they see humans approaching. You will often hear the sounds of animals in the distance that you will never see with your own eyes. I much prefer this far more natural interaction with wildlife than that false – and rather sad – interaction with caged animals in a zoo, where animals are seen from much closer but doing nothing more than eat and feel miserable. It is glorious to see free monkeys at a distance, flying from branch to branch as they cross the river, or the various types of birds that soar above the trees over a sea of never-ending green. It is that magnificent sense of freedom.

Flying monkeys, jumping across the river from branch to branch

A bird perched on a tree

That night, we stopped in a little wooden cabin and slept in beds with mosquito nets. The supper consisted of eggs and rice, cooked over a fire. A few other foreigners also stopped here for the night, but too few for anyone to be intrusive to the other. We met a group of four middle-aged Spanish persons and I chatted with a fifty-something year old man who was once an engineer but decided to move to a small village and become a carpenter. It was his first time in the jungle – proof that you’re never too old to try something new if you really want to. Most people heading into the jungle for three days stop here, spend the day in the area and then row back on the third day. We had five days, giving us time to head further down the river. Wooden structures for sleeping are much more basic beyond this point. As the food was cooking on the fire, we all chatted and Adolfo treated us with a series of politically incorrect jokes – so obviously and innocently unaware of the existence of political correctness that actually made him endearing. Fireflies gave a magical show in the darkness – brightly glowing green specks flying gently around the trees and bushes. The sound of crickets provided the soundtrack. The following morning, we got up early and set off down the river. From here onwards, we hardly met anyone else. Alongside our little wooden canoe was another with a local guide and a French traveller who was heading into the reserve for twelve days.

Basic wooden and straw huts for sleeping

A firefly keeps us company on the table

The strength of flowing water is impressive as it eats its way into the riverbanks, creating new paths for the river to flow though and dropping huge trees in the process. Many of these tumbled trees create obstacles for the canoes as they float down the river. At times, the canoes knock into them or get stuck as they try to pass over a half-sunken tree trunk. Breaks from rowing are needed at around midday, as the oppressive jungle heat is at its worst. At this time of the day, there is nothing better than jumping into the cool river for a swim. There are piranhas in the river but they don’t eat people as happens in the movies. At most, they may take a bite at you if you have an open wound. Moreover, most wildlife is asleep at midday, giving very little reason to be rowing along the river at this time. Indeed, life in the jungle is at its peak around sunrise and sunset, when animals, birds and fish wake up and feed, or look for a resting place for the night. Despite the darkness, the jungle is also very much alive at night, as nocturnal animals come out to hunt.

A bird on a fallen tree in the river

 

At night, we went out on the canoe in the darkness – with a torch each to find our way around. The idea was to catch fish for our meals and also spot a type of alligator called caimans, who spend the daytime buried in mud by the riverside and then wake up at night. They are easily spotted due to the little red glimmer in their eyes when a light is shone upon them. Adolfo managed to grab a small white caiman (the black ones are apparently far more aggressive) and let me hold it but the alligator proved to be rather strong and let himself free, jumping back into the river (which is where we wanted to leave him anyway after a brief acquaintance). Less lucky were the fish, since we wanted to eat them. There are several types of freshwater fish in the river, the largest being the huge ‘paiches’, which can grow as much as over two metres in length but are protected from being fished in the wild. Fishing of other species of fish is allowed in this natural reserve but within certain limits. Given that Adolfo’s chosen tool for fishing is a two-pronged harpoon, there was little chance for us to go over any limits despite the fact that Adolfo proved to be very precise with the harpoon.

A caiman swimming in the river at night

It's in his eyes

Harpooned - fish for supper

I had a good dose of beginner’s luck as I harpooned a poor fish at my first attempt. I proceeded to catch three other fish (two of which literally flew out of the water and into my arms – actually, one onto my head), confirming my motto: if I can kill it, I will eat it. I don’t eat animal or bird meat since I could never kill those creatures but I somehow never had a problem with fish. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I grew up on an island. I certainly had to problem in putting a harpoon into a poor fish, though I did feel somewhat bad for my catch (apparently not bad enough to prevent me from doing it). Xavi had no luck and only managed to harpoon one of the fish that had already been caught and was on our boat. Despite his weak attempt to claim the fish as his own catch, I eventually convinced him to the contrary and told him that he’d have to eat eggs and rice again the next day.

Catcher of dead fish (Xavi pretends he caught this fish himself)

Over the following days, our main meals consisted of freshly caught fish. It is a great feeling to cultivate or catch your own food. It makes you feel less dependent on money and the suffocating capitalist system. This is how many indigenous tribes still live in the Amazon. The jungle provides all they need – water, food, medicines and material to build shelter. The basic structures where we slept at night were made of wood and used woven palm tree leaves as a roof, providing protection from the rain and keeping the structure cool even when the sun is at its hottest.

Fresh fish roasted on a fire with plantain

We got to know the French traveller, Estefan, and discovered that he works as a guide during the winter months in the Norwegian Arctic region, taking people for rides in the snow with sledges pulled by huskies and catching fish from holes cut into the ice of frozen lakes. He told us that such excursions are extremely expensive nowadays, being affordable only by rich older persons who barely appreciate the experience. He would be happier to interact with persons with more love for nature and the Artic wilderness. I had once gone on such an expedition for a couple of days in the north of Sweden but it surely mustn’t have been that expensive since I was a penniless student at the time. Speaking to Estefan made me remember my time living in Sweden and travelling through Scandinavia about 15 years previously. Strange to have such memories in such an extremely different environment and climate.

Estefan eventually headed deeper into the reserve, where he hoped to spot larger creatures such as manatees and dolphins as the river became wider. With some luck, he could also spot a jaguar (always a rare sighting) drinking from the river during the early morning. Arriving at the reserve in September (the dry season), the rivers are much lower than in the wet season so such large animals do not come to this part of the reserve until the river rises again from October onwards. Nevertheless, we did get lucky in coming across a group of what looked like river seals (but were probabely large river rats called nutrias) as we headed back up the river.

A river rat (nutria) swims in the river

With the dry season coming to an end, we were treated to a ferocious thunderstorm one afternoon. The ominous grey clouds approached very quickly, and one could tell that it would soon rain heavily when a chilly wind started to blow. Birds flew towards trees for protection from the wind and impending rain. The gush of wind indicated that it was also best for us to run for cover since, a few instances later, a huge downpour started and lasted for about half an hour. Xavi decided to take a shower under the downpour – shampoo and all. The storm was all over soon enough, but the air was much cooler afterwards and the mosquitos came out in swarms to bite once the rain had stopped. Thankfully, a number of large frogs also made an appearance to eat the mosquitos. Such is the climate in the jungle – suffocating heat and bursts of intense rain. During the wet or rainy season, the periods of rain are much longer and much more frequent, with river levels capable of increasing by as much as ten or fifteen metres in some areas – turning what is currently dry land into a flooded forest with trees sticking out of the water. During the dry season, you can walk around the areas by the riverside, admiring gigantic trees and discovering their amazing properties. Rubber trees start oozing white rubbery liquid when scraped, as human flesh bleeds when cut.

After the storm, frogs come out to look for food

Tall Xavi dwarfed by the trees in the jungle

 

We spent the last two days rowing against the flow of the river to get back to Lagunas. Xavi and I took it in turns to help Adolfo and his partner in this physical struggle. Adolfo showed incredible physical strength, constantly rowing with clockwork rhythm and continuity. Whilst we unfortunately never got to know much about Adolfo’s quiet partner, he did tell us much about himself. He told us stories of his time in the army, posted in the jungle close to Ecuador. One memorable story was of an army colleague of his who got lost in the jungle for a week and was almost dead by the time he was luckily found. Adolfo also talked about his unhappy experience living in the big city of Lima and his decision to return to the healthier life in the jungle. He recently did himself honour by remaining to work as a guide for the same agency even after the owner died and his young daughter took over. Adolfo said he did this out of respect for the deceased man and his family. Despite telling jokes of a dubious nature, Adolfo proved to be a good man when it mattered most.

Adolfo about to cut wood for a little fire

As we headed back towards that part of the world connected by technology, we wondered what had happened in the rest of the world as we lived for days in glorious natural isolation - rowing a canoe, catching fish, swimming in rivers and admiring the countless stars in the clear skies without light pollution. As we slowly won the struggle against the strong currents of the river and headed back to where we had started, I already started feeling a strong nostalgia for the natural world I was leaving behind – wishing with all my heart that I would return to spend more time in another place like this in the not-too-faraway-future. The first news we received upon returning to Lagunas was that the people of Scotland had voted in a referendum to remain part Great Britain. We also faced an exuberant local political campaign in full swing, with much flag-waving and false promises – all in the midst of a little jungle town. It’s a strange world we live in.

Starry night without light polution