Hairy-toed pink tarantulas, dragon’s blood and bullet ants. In Peru, Carolyn Fry steps carefully into a tract of rainforest as yet barely touched by mankind .
Turning your torch off at night in a rainforest is a good way to test your other senses. The darkness is so complete you cannot see your hand when it is in front of your face. Blinded, you tune in to the surround-sound jungle symphony.
Frogs and crickets chirp intermittently, seed pods crack as they burst open, an owl issues a low trill as it sweeps past, and gusts of wind stir the tree-tops 60m above. Suddenly, a stiff palm frond falls through the undergrowth with a percussive crash. As you stand stock still, breathing in the sharp scent of rotting fruit, your brain asks: ‘What made that fall, and where is it now? Did a gang of monkeys break it off? Did it just fall? Or could it have been a jaguar?’ Then, in the humid blackness, your sixth sense kicks in. It tells you that you are the one being watched by a thousand unseen creatures.
Thanks to limited road access and the protection offered by several large national reserves, the southeastern Peruvian rainforest remains one of the most biodiverse places on the planet.
Scientists have counted more than 60 amphibian, 366 bird, 300 butterfly and 136 mammal species at Inkaterra Reserva Amazonica, the latter including 42 bat, 22 rodent and eight carnivore species. There are also 442 species of spider. During two brief night-time sorties into the rainforest we spotted young white caiman searching for their supper along the muddy banks of the river; an aggressive and highly poisonous scorpion spider, with its 5cm body and 12cm legs; a mottled green plica plica lizard; and a hairy pink-toed tarantula, sitting motionless on a tree trunk at the entrance to its woven nest.
Set up in 1975 as an environmental research station, Reserva Amazonica today hosts guests in 30 simple, palm-roofed cabañas on a protected area beside the Madre de Dios (Mother of God) river. The lodge offers a variety of excursions through which trained guides share their knowledge of the plants, animals and people that call the rainforest their home. These range from short, night-time motor-boat trips and walks to see the nocturnal life of the ecosystem, to combined day-long hikes and canoe-paddling jaunts on the opposite side of the river in the Tambopata National Reserve. As well as exploring the jungle at ground level, it is even possible to get a monkey’s eye view from the reserve’s tree-top canopy walkway.
By dawn our surrounds have taken on a whole new character. The nighttime chirrups of insects and amphibians have been replaced by the exuberant whistles, shrieks and cackles of many bird species: green parrots, speckled chachalacas and black-and-yellow oropendulas.
The shadowy grey foliage is now a lush green, dotted with red and gold heliconias. And with the caiman sated, an agouti – a rodent – hops fearlessly around on the riverbank. We meet our guide, César Alfredo Vasquez Sedano, at the lodge’s boat mooring at 6am for the short ride to the walkway. It is the rainy season and heavy overnight downpours have raised the level of the river by several feet since our arrival the previous lunchtime. The current sweeps past at a rate of knots, carrying broken palm fronds, bobbing fruit and, in places, whole trees. ‘If the logs flow on the left as you face away from Bolivia, that means it’s been raining in Puno,’ he says. ‘If they’re on the right, the water’s coming from Cusco.’
In the information centre at the foot of the walkway we learn that the rainforest has four distinct layers: the forest floor, understorey, canopy and emergent layer. Of these, the canopy is where most life is concentrated. We climb sturdy wooden steps to a platform some 30m off the ground to look out over a tangle of fanned palm leaves, strangler figs and ferns. All around us, branches are heavy with fruit, while above us, towering breadnut and yanchama trees reach for the sun. We begin to make our way across the seven walkways. Essentially slatted bridges suspended on thick steel cables from the tallest trees, they are slippery and bounce up and down with every step. Avoiding the temptation to look down at my feet, I stop in the middle of the second bridge and see a small, furry saddle-back tamarin monkey eyeing me curiously through the foliage.
Back at ground level, Sedano points out some of the characteristics of the trees we have just seen from above. In this, one of the world’s oldest ecosystems, everything has its niche. The manchinga tree has ‘buttress’ type roots that snake off along the surface, helping to support it and suck up nutrients. The walking palm has a multitude of stilt-like roots that enable it to move towards the nearest patch of sunlight. Some plants, such as the tangarana, have even built up mutually beneficial relationships with animals.
We stop beside one that stands alone in a small clearing and Sedano points to a number of largish amber ants that are scurrying up the trunk. ‘The tree provides a home for the ants and the ants protect the tree,’ he says. ‘There is enough poison in 20 of these ants to kill a human and if anything comes near they will jump off and attack. They are known as Aztec ants because the Aztecs used to punish women who committed adultery by standing them next to a tangarana tree. It was said that ninety per cent of people punished in this way died from the poison.’
At Concepción, a former plantation located across the river from Reserva Amazonica, scientists have set up a botanical garden to showcase some of the plants that Peru’s indigenous people used (and use) for more beneficial purposes.
At its edge, we encounter another of the rainforest’s highly toxic inhabitants, the isula ant, whose nickname of ‘bullet ant’ refers to the power of its poisonous sting.
Once at the garden, Sedano shows us some of the most important medicinal plants. Taking three leaves from a scraggy shrub with red berries, he kisses them, throws them over his shoulder and, having silently made three wishes says: ‘Let me introduce you to the sacred plant of Peru.’ This is coca, from which cocaine derives. A staple of any Peruvian’s larder, the leaves give a stimulant effect when chewed and are also used to relieve the effects of altitude sickness.
Sedano then plucks a few leaves from what he calls the Sangipana shrub and rolls them around in his hands with a splash of water. After a couple of minutes, his hands have turned a rich brown; after a few more they are blood red; finally they turn a deep purple. ‘Natives use this to mask their scent when they go hunting, and also for painting their faces,’ he says.
One tree has a mottled beige, grey and white trunk that seeps a red, blood-like liquid when cut. This is ‘dragons’ blood’, which is used as a salve to repel mosquitoes.
Moving on, Sedano breaks a shoot off a shrub and offers me a 5mm-long piece, instructing me to chew, but not swallow it. Within 30 seconds of doing so, my mouth is tingling and my lips feel like they are on fire. When the effect subsides after a few minutes, my gums and throat feel numb. ‘This is what the indigenous people use for an anaesthetic if they have something wrong with their teeth,’ Sedano says.
The original plantation house at Concepción was once the home of Dr Arturo Gonzáles del Rio, a local doctor who bought a steamship from the Bolivian Navy in the 1930s and used it as a place to treat local people. Today it is an environmental research centre, which we visit on our way back from the garden.
Inside, we learn of the threats facing the rainforest including logging, oil prospecting and climate change. The latter is already showing its influence in Tambopata by affecting the gender balance of caiman. Meanwhile, a planned road connecting the Atlantic and Amazonia with the Pacific is likely to go through the Madre de Dios state, damaging pristine rainforest.
Back in my cabaña for one more night, I listen to the rain falling and try to identify which animals are contributing to tonight’s orchestral show. While the rainforest may seem like an alien place to the uninitiated, it seems its inhabitants have much more to fear from humans then we do from them.
Carolyn Fry is the author of The Impact of Climate Change: The World’s
Greatest Challenge in the 21st Century, published by New Holland
How to get there
Sunvil Latin America offers a 10-night itinerary in Peru including accommodation at Inkaterra’s Reserva Amazonica. It costs around $5,500 per person, based on two sharing.
www.sunvil.co.uk
Carbon policy
Inkaterra claims to be a 100 per cent carbon-neutral company. According to its own calculations, its conservation programmes directly protect 12,000 hectares of private reserve, fixing 7,200 tons of CO2 per hectare per year.
It also indirectly fixes more than 12,600 tons of CO2 per hectare per year by supporting various external conservation programmes.
Sustainable solution
Additional emissions made by the company are offset through Sustainable Travel International (STI). STI’s carbon-offsetting portfolio features myclimate™ Verified Emission Reductions and Certified Emission Reductions plus Bonneville Environmental Foundation (BEF) Green Tags.
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