Prime for the Amazon

Friday, December 19th

In Summary: Ellen gets to put down another finger in Never Have I Ever, should any of the following things be mentioned: canoe through the Amazon, play with a family of Amazonian river otters, and sludge through knee deep Amazonian mud.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

*Crack!* We awaken to the sharp crackling of lightning cutting through the whistling wind, thunder murmuring in the distance, its voice overwhelmed by the marching hoards of rain drops dancing like lead-legged leprechauns on the tin roof above us. 

So much for a peaceful morning awakening.

But what does it matter? It's hardly like JA and I are on a honeymoon-style beach resort vacation (eww cooties). We're in the freakin' Amazon! During rainy season I might add. Quietly thanking our non-Wicked Witch of the West heritage, John Alex and I dig out and don our best rain gear, which at this point consists primarily of water-resistant jacket shells and tacky tourist ponchos.

(To be? Or not to be (tacky)? That is the question.)

Our guide for the day, Eric, arrives shortly after breakfast, takes one look at us, and with a subtly suppressed smile, shakes his head, and immediately sends us to the back to grab new gear. Namely, boots. Knee high, unisex, solid rubber rain boots. It's like I never left the farm. Newly attired, Eric, JA and I, as well as two more companions, a Canadian and a Wisconsian (so, a pseudo-Canadian) get ready to depart on our epic adventure:

(I went for the natural color look, hoping the blue-butted macaws might mistake me for one of their own.)

Sloshing and Slodging

Like last night's elusive lover, as soon as day breaks, the rain vanishes, leaving naught but fading memories and a few wet stains in its stead. Heartened, we trek down to the river and begin our journey on a long narrow boat.

(Got my nautical-themed pashmina afghan)

To give a brief rundown of our jungle day: we boated for an hour down the river to the national park entrance.

We then proceeded to hike (or more accurately: slodge) 3 km through the jungle, artfully dodging the giant mud pits dotting the trail with the finesse of a hypochondriac elephant. At the end of the trail, an empty canoe sits bobbing in a small riverbed, and then the true adventure begins.

(And off in the distance, a pair of banjos begin to play...)

Los Animales 

I've gotta say. In terms of what we got to see today, we got pretty damn lucky. Eric attributed it to our "positive energy." I rolled my eyes.

Red-bellied macaws, yellow-bellied parrots, a black caiman AND the more rare speckled caiman, just a few feet from our boat. A mama monkey with her baby hitchhiking a ride. A small snake (I'm almost positive it was a baby anaconda. Eric politely disagreed). Small furry bats. Army ants. Leaf cutter ants. And lots of birds. Too many birds. 

(I've got my eye on you.)

The highlight of the trip was without a doubt stumbling across a family of five or so giant river otters, which were fishing and playing directly alongside our boat. We followed them for a good half hour or so, so cool.

(Much empathy for the Loch Ness photographers. I *swear* they were right next to us)

A few things of note from our trip.

Note #1: Not all the animals are cute or nice. 

And it's not the usual suspects. This is very pointedly aimed at a certain dodo-esque black bird, who kept leap frogging around us for the entire journey, and ending his tagalong journey with a long, graceless elimination of its bowels directly in our path. "It's coincidence," you say, "all birds poop in the woods."

No. This one was mocking us. I can sense it.

Note #2: Ellen's nature photography sucks

In terms of both quality and quantity, using an iPhone's camera to document your rainy adventure into the jungle is a bit like bringing your hammer to help mass produce microprocessors. This, for instance, is my picture of a tree coated in at least fifteen red-bellied macaws:

(Pulitzer winning work, right there.)

It also doesn't help that your guide very strictly adheres to the Pirate Code: any man that falls behind...is left behind.

(And no, these are not "guidelines" so much as guide rules.)

Note #3: At some point you just have to accept the fact you're going to eat bugs.

At some point the sweat and exhaustion set in, and you stare forlornly into your glass, mentally debating whether it's worth the effort to fish out your newest stowaways. You briefly attempt to sip around them, but eff it, you're thirsty...and it's protein, right?

Your guide is also watching you discretely to see if you're gunna be a girl about it, so you man up and DRINK IT ALL.

---

All in all, though, about as best of an experience as you could hope for on only a day-long trek. Eric did offer to let us go swimming, as well, but after seeing this posted photo of the fishing expeditions in the same area, you can count me in for a big ole pile of NOPE.

(Just keep swimming...just keep swimming)

That's all for today, folks. Tune in tomorrow to hear how Avianca evidently isn't the only Airline of Death being run in Peru and apparently plans *can* still fly while fishtailing mid-flight.