Under the Pale Moon Light

I don't know how we completed the journey.

Our guide told us that the rivers in the Amazon basin are always changing and can move, year by year, as much as 10 kilometres. Rio Tambopata, along which our resort is situated, is fast-flowing, carrying along with it fallen trees and other debris.

So how was it that we were able to traverse it, upstream, with no light other than the moon, and survive?

Our group gathered at 4:30 and made our way to the waters edge, where a long boat with a pilot and two guides (one, in training) were waiting. We put on life vests and set out.

It took more than an hour, weaving along the snaking river, until we reached a checkpoint, where our jungle guide, Donald, had to register all of us for this protected part of the Tambopata. They want to make sure that whoever goes in is accounted for, so that they know everyone gets out.

In the past, people would go in and never come out.

It took about another half hour to reach our final destination, a section of the river that was covered in large, smooth stones. In the distance clay walls rose about 20 metres to lush jungle. We carried whatever gear we brought plus a stool that was supplied by the resort. 

The sun was just rising, lighting up the clay licks and turning them a deep orange. Just in time for the residents of this area to wake up.

Macaws. Parrots. Parakeets. Hawks. Terns. More.

There was an explosion of sounds as the birds took flight, dancing in the air before settling on branches or on the clay walls, from which they seek out the salt deposits.

We watched them for hours, though it seemed like minutes. Every time you looked, something new happened. The parrots would gather in one spot. Then the blue and yellow macaws.

A falcon sat, motionless, on a tree branch, biding its time, before swooping down and catching a parakeet in flight, making it his breakfast.

By 8:00, it was time for our own breakfast. The guides set up a table with hardboiled eggs, fruit, breads, coffee, and more in a shaded spot. We carried our stools and gear, and leisurely feasted.

We slowly made our way back, downstream, stopping to see a sloth, several capybara, cayman, and more birds.

Seeing the river in full daylight, I was in awe at how we were able to make the predawn journey without slamming into floating logs or rock outcrops. Because that river is ever-changing and we only had the light of the moon.