Puerto Maldonado, late December 2018

[cranefly]

2018-12-29: Part 1
At 7 am Mohsin takes us for a morning walk.  It's not a hard trek, but we're immediately drenched.  Any activity here makes you sweat, and water bottles are a necessity.  We see various butterflies, including some glasswings (you can see through them), and some pretty fuchsia-colored butterflies ever flitting along the trail.  We come upon some macaws, then see peccary tracks.  There are strange mounds edging the trail.  Mohsin asks if we can guess what they are.  I suggest nascent volcanoes, but they're cicada mounds.


The cicada larvae undergo their transformation at the bottom of these structures.  It's very odd, because in the States the larvae burrow underground to undergo metamorphosis.

At one point I hear a strange buzzing and go off-trail while the others continue.  It comes from the base of a tree.  I see a big hollow there.  Then above it I see a bee land and enter a small cleft.  Another enters, another departs.  LC and Mohsin come back to see what I've found.  We can feel the vibrations coming from the tree.  There's a hive of small honeybees inside.  Mohsin doesn't know what kind, but mentions that African killer bees have invaded the area.  We listen for a while, resolve to check it in more detail later, then move on.

"You really do like bugs," Mohsin says, seeing how I take an interest in every insect we come across.  I sense he deals with a lot of people only interested in birds, or monkeys, or snakes.  But I'm interested in all wildlife.

We come to a marshy area where our shoes and socks get wet.  Mohsin points out a huge Kapok tree.  He tells us that he got married under this tree.  It's a favorite meditative place for him, and we sit down on impressive buttress roots to relax and chat.  Eventually Mohsin looks down and says, "Bullet ant."  There's a few of them along the top of the buttress root.  He tells us we better not linger, but takes the time to explain how to identify them.  "A lot of people say they've seen bullet ants when they haven't."  He points out the large size, the big mandibles, and--most telling--the yellow coloration on the antennae and front legs.  Also, though there may be several hundred in their nest, you  typically only see a small number (2 to 7) traveling together.  Mohsin relates having one fall down his shirt, where it bit him in the chest and stung him time and again.

We return to the ecolodge to eat breakfast and relax, but not for long.  As Mohsin puts it, we need to take advantage of every clear day, as once the rains come, it will limit our options.

---

2018-12-29: Part 2
Even with hearing aids, I often misunderstand what we're about to do; but on this occasion a lot of people seem to think we're taking a short stroll to a waterfall for a dip.  So I don't bother with socks, just shoes, a bad idea for a long jungle trek, which this turns out to be.  It includes traversals of ravines carved out by streams, many of them dry despite the rainy season, treacherous to climb down into and up out of.  Some include plank bridges maybe 8 inches wide that test one's balance.  As we proceed, I grow concerned that my sockless feet might get chafed or blistered by my fairly new shoes.

Along the way, JJ pauses to machete open a large nut.  He digs out a couple grubs, eats one, offers the other to us.  I take it, eat it, and earn a fist-bump from JJ.  It's creamy, nutty.

After a very long walk, we come to a high bank on the river and follow it to a waterfall.

The waterfall is just a stream spilling 20 feet into the river.  You can't really stand in it; LC and I are a bit disappointed.  Mohsin tells us there's a bigger waterfall further along.  One can follow the high bank to it, or wade a nearby stream that leads to it.  LC, Paula and I decide to wade the stream.  Mohsin leads.  As always, we carefully shuffle our feet to scare off any stingrays.  It's a beautiful stretch of stream


that leads to the second waterfall.  This one has a greater vertical drop to the river, maybe thirty feet.  We linger there a while.  Stewart starts goofing off very close to the waterfall.  Mohsin tries to talk some sense into him, but he seems amused that people think he's in danger.  Finally he comes away from the edge.  There is talk of returning to these waterfalls at a later date by boat and going for a swim below them.

JJ leads the way back, taking a different route.  We traverse a couple ravines on board bridges, then come to a particularly big ravine holding fast flowing water.  JJ halts our column at the top of the ravine to study the board bridge below.  It's long and doesn't look in very good condition.  It's a bad place to stop, as there are tiny ants that swarm our shoes and are very bitey.  We're all brushing at our ankles.  Like me, JJ only wears shoes, no socks, and a lot of ants get in our shoes, biting our feet.  They're very annoying.  JJ then goes down the muddy embankment to the start of the bridge.  Still brushing at his ankles, he makes adjustments to the board so it lies flatter.  After testing it, he walks across.  LC goes down and carefully crosses next.  I go down next and start across.

A third of the way across, I stop.  My left foot has started to skate to the left.  My right foot follows.  I'm going in.  I go in.

I hit the water vertically, which is waist deep and luckily without underwater logs or limbs.  I'm okay, and Pauline later tells me I did it very well.  Rather than fight to stay on the board, I just bent my knees to lower my center of gravity and stayed vertical as I skidded off.  I wade across, feeling a bit embarrassed, and accept JJ's helping hand onto the embankment.  More adjustments are made to bridge, which had tilted on me, and the others cross.  I do hear another splash, which LC later tells me was Mohsin jumping in from the bridge.  He's always doing stuff like that, absolutely loving the jungle.

We return to the ecolodge for dinner and a rest.  But not for long.

[Drunk Monk]

The cfs are setting the DOOM travel bar pretty feckin high for 2019...

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

No kidding!

[cranefly]

2018-12-29: Part 3
Back at the ecolodge, I carefully inspect my feet.  Amazingly, they seem to be okay, despite that long sockless trek.  Though at this point I should mention how fatiguing these walks are.  The trails are challenging enough when flat, what with all the tricky footwork and obstacles to get through or around.  But there's a great deal of up and down as well, far more than I could ever have imagined; and while I still handle upslopes with reasonable competence, my hips make any kind of descent a real challenge.  Even stairs are high-risk for me, and I need a hand-rail.  In the jungle, I must make substantial adjustments, lots of them.  Even climbing over a log is a challenge.  While others negotiate it by straddling it one leg at a time, I have to sit backwards and swing both legs over together.  Also, because there's no cartilage in my hips, I use extra muscle tension in my walking to prevent bone-on-bone scraping.  All of which is to say that I'm burning a lot of energy.

Then there's the water.  LC bought two 32-ounce bottles for us.  I felt they were way too large and cumbersome.  What a fool I am.  We go through those quickly on a trek, and Paula, the professional athlete of the group, later tells us we should be carrying twice that.  Anyway, all this is to introduce you to the idea that we are getting worn down and developing dehydration issues.

We eat dinner, and after some leisure time Mohsin takes us for a night walk on a new path.  He splits us into two groups.  One will go first, looking for birds and mammals, as this requires stealth; the second will follow, looking for snakes, which doesn't require as much stealth, just a keen eye.  LC and I fall into the second group.  None of us see much, maybe a tiny frog and a small lizard.  There's been no rain since we got here, which is odd, since it's the rainy season.  The rain will bring out the small wildlife, and the predators will emerge to hunt them.  In one spot, as I shine my headlamp high up into a break in the foliage, two big glowing orbs light up.  They're like headlights, only closer together.  At first I think it's something in the sky.  But there are no aircraft in this area.  No jets ever fly over.  Something is in the top of a tree maybe 75 yards off the trail.  The eyes are large, unblinking, perfectly round.  Magnus joins me and looks at them as well.  After a couple minutes the eyes turn downward, and I see an arched back descending from sight.  When I later describe it to Mohsin, he thinks it was likely a kinkajou.  We get back to the ecolodge about midnight, not having seen more than a couple frogs and a lizard, and call it a day.

---

2018-12-30: Part 1

In the morning, JJ leads us on a walk.  He stops here and there, chops at something, has us smell it, and identities it.  Sometimes he chops the bark of a tree, and some substance emerges, which is medicinal, or once time it was a rubber tree.  He also identifies bird or monkey calls, and can mimic many of them with great accuracy.  There comes a disturbance in the brush, which we at first think is a peccary.  As it moves about in the underbrush, JJ recognizes it as a brocket deer.  It wanders in and out of sight.  Afterwards, we learn that there are several species of deer in the area, including -- of all things -- whitetail deer.

JJ introduces us to a round-trunked tree, barkless, very shiny and smooth.  It is full of water and cool to the touch.  There is a legend about the tree which, unfortunately, I don't fully recall.  Locals who come on it show it reverence, and give it a hug to savor its coolness.  JJ gives it a hug.  We do too.  It is very cool, refreshing, except for all the ants.  We return to the ecolodge.

---

2018-12-30: Character Study -- The Snakers
By this point in our excursions, there's a split in the group -- not due to any conflict, as we all continue to get along well (which Mohsin confides in me is a pleasant surprise), but a matter of priorities.  The snakers -- Swedes Magnus and Olaf and the young couple Ian and Mina -- often opt to go off by themselves to hunt snakes.  (I'm actually an unofficial snaker, as I never saw a snake on our 2006 trip and intend to right that wrong on this trip.)  The snakers are an interesting bunch deserving a further commentary.


Magnus (L) and Olaf ® are the same age.  At age 7 they went to the same school but were in different classes and didn't know each other.  But Olaf kept hearing about this kid in the other class who had chickens.  So one day Magnus is confronted by this kid from the other class who says, "I hear you got chickens."  To which Magnus says, "Yup," which was the start of a life-long friendship.  At age 11 they came up with detailed plans to start a small zoo (mostly snakes), using Olaf's parents' basement for the cages and animals and Magnus' parents' place for raising mice and other food.  Shortly thereafter, they petitioned their city to create a zoo, arguing it would be good for tourism, but it fell on deaf ears.  Later, as an adult, when Magnus lost his job, he decided not to look for another but instead pursue his dream of founding a zoo.  He discussed the undertaking with Olaf, who was pursuing a medical degree, and it was decided that Olaf should continue with his schooling.  Magnus successfully established a zoo and has run it ever since, while Olaf is now a surgeon specializing in facial reconstruction, especially of the lower jaw.

Then there's Ian, 20, and Mina, 18, who have been together a couple years.  Ian is a bodybuilder/adventurer.  He has a serpentine snake tattoo on his forearm.  There's a story behind it.  A couple years ago in the Costa Rican jungle he lifted a piece of bark and surprised a fer de lance.  It struck at him.  One fang hit his fingernail.  The other grazed a finger.  There are differing accounts of the consequences, from little damage to a swollen purplish hand, but he knows how lucky he was, and he now (but not always, as I was to witness) uses a stick to turn things over.

Mina has a hammerhead shark tattoo on her forearm, which attests to her interest in the ocean.  She has all kinds of diving certifications and is pursuing more.  Despite this focus on the ocean, she shares Ian's fascination for reptiles.  I don't know where their funds come from, but both seem to go from one exotic adventure to the next without pause.

[Drunk Monk]

Cool squad.  Sounds like a horror/action film in the making.  Surviving a fer de lance strike is pretty badass.

I thought they were called 'bullet' ants because they were big as bullets.

[cranefly]

I thought they were called 'bullet' ants because they were big as bullets.

Well, they're big, up to 1.2 inches, but there's other ants just as big but harmless, or much less painful.

The naturalist who named them did so after conducting tests with volunteers, blindfolding them and then simultaneously shooting them in one arm with a 38 caliber pistol and stinging them with a bullet ant in the other arm.  The volunteers could not distinguish them with any degree of accuracy.

Okay, I made that up about the tests, but they are so named for being painful as a bullet strike, though it's a hard analogy for most people to relate to.

[Drunk Monk]

Yes, I stand corrected.  I think one of my Costa Rican guides told me that.  But the interwebz supports your assertion.  

Carry on.

[cranefly]

2018-12-30: Part 2
After breakfast, the snakers go off on their own while the rest of us boat upriver and then drift back down with a low-speed motor.  We see lots of scarlet macaws congregating in some trees, and in one spot we go ashore to explore a sandbar (actually more a clay bar).  There are capybara tracks all over it, including fresh ones down to river's edge.  The boatman and I follow this up to where it enters the jungle.  He tells me "cinco minutos," they were here five minutes ago.  I ask about a bunch of marble-sized pellets, which as I suspect are capybara poop.

When we get back to the ecolodge, we check with the snakers, who have struck out yet again.  The lack of rain grows ever more disturbing.

2018-12-30: Overlooked Outing -- Bird Copa
I've lost track of the day and time we observe the bird copa (clay lick), but it is prior to now.  Let me fill that in, as it introduces something to follow.  We boat across the river, dock on a clay bank, and walk up and aside through jungle and back down to an overlook of the river.  A couple rotting planks serve as bleachers.  We sit and watch a reddish clay cliff on the far bank.  Scarlet macaws come swooping in to land in the trees around it.  Some perch high up and to the sides, serving as lookouts.  All are very loud, communication more important than stealth.  Eventually one swoops down to land in a shallow recess on the cliff.  Others slowly join it.  They pick away at the clay.  Some mouth a chunk and fly up into a tree, where they use a talon to hold it while picking away at it.  There's 50-plus macaws, and they take turns on the copa, with occasional loud disputes over a landing spot.  It is believed that the macaws eat the clay for its toxin-neutralizing properties (like humans eating charcoal to neutralize poison), because their diet includes toxic or caustic substances.  Bird copas are very rare, as it takes a very special kind of clay.  Also, they're hard to protect from poachers.  This is one of the biggest bird copas around.

Occasionally a sentinel gives an alarm, and some macaws take flight, eventually to circle back.  Finally they all take flight, becoming a big flock that heads off, though soon they will break apart, each to go its separate way.

[Drunk Monk]

Along the way, JJ pauses to machete open a large nut.  He digs out a couple grubs, eats one, offers the other to us.  I take it, eat it, and earn a fist-bump from JJ.  It's creamy, nutty.

What are you eating?  I mean aside from grubs.  Kudos on that, btw.  I imagine you are the first DOOM grub muncher.  That's gotta be worth some kinda DOOMerit badge, right?  

Oh hold the phone...was that grub alive?

[cranefly]

2018-12-30: Part 3 -- Snake Safari Denied
After lunch and a swim down by the boat with LC, JJ, Paula, and others, Mohsin approaches me to discuss a sensitive matter.  Three rangers working for Jungle Keepers (they patrol the area for illegal loggers and poachers) are temporarily staying with us.  They very much want to lead a snake hunt to a promising locale.  Of course, that's not their job.  Still, Mohsin will allow it with the understanding that the rangers stay on task while the snakers just conveniently follow them into the area.  The problem is, this should stay a small group to be most effective.  Mohsin knows I want to see snakes, but asks if it would be okay if I was excluded.  I've been anticipating something like this, due to my age.  Back in Puerto Maldonaldo while JJ was driving LC and me around, I heard him speaking Spanish on the phone and caught the phrase, "...sesenta y siete...," 67, my age when applying (though since turning 68), and suspected my age was under discussion as a concern.  Alas, I yield -- though I really want to see snakes.

2018-12-30: Part 4 -- Devil's Garden and Mammal Copa
So the snakers follow the rangers off into the jungle while the rest of us embark on a long excursion to the mammal equivalent of the bird copa.  Enroute, we stop to cautiously explore an area called the Devil's Garden.  It's a sparse area of smaller, stunted trees, all of a kind.  Mohsin instructs us not to touch any part of the trees, whose limbs are riddled with goiters.  It turns out the trees are full of tiny ants with a very nasty bite, and they will swarm out of the goiters and other egresses and attack en masse.  These ants systematically poison all plants in the area with injections of formic acid so this special tree can prevail.  The trees have hollow limbs, ideal for colonization.  Mohsin tells us that this patch of jungle soil has an unusual PH, which is the only place this tree species can thrive, and the ants thrive in these trees.  We carefully make our way out of the Devil's Garden and onward on the trail.

Eventually we reach the mammal copa.  It's not visually arresting and is hard to fully appreciate.  Essentially, in a secluded depression, almost a cave, underground water seeps out to form an irregular pool with clay banks, and mammals come here at special times to drink and eat the clay -- again for its toxin-neutralizing benefits.  We don't see any animals, maybe because it isn't the right time, or more likely because we are way too noisy.  As Mohsin describes the nature of this copa, Stewart in his bright white shirt starts to trudge into the copa proper for a better camera shot, and Mohsin has to snap at him to stop.  The copa is under study by a research team and shouldn't be disturbed.  As I mentioned, the copa is a hard place to appreciate, despite its importance to the ecosystem, and Mohsin seems to realize this and asks for our feedback.  I'm not certain we ever tell him much.

Before we leave, Mohsin points out another part of the depression that we can go down into.  He says that on the mud banks are some stones.  This is highly unusual, because this jungle does not have stones or rocks.  Anything we've seen that looked like stone or rock is in fact compacted clay.  Somehow this underground water source has deposited a few stones.  Mohsin invites LC and Paula to go into the area and collect a few stones.  When they come back with their spoils, he points to several in their palms and says he thinks they're clay.  They look like stones, but sure enough, with some pressure and tapping these "stones" come apart.  Still LC and Paula have a couple legit stones.

As we prepare to head back, Mohsin tests us.  Do any of us know the way?  Not me; I have no sense of direction.  I'm sure LC knows, but Paula is better positioned, figures it out and takes point.  Her pace is brisk, without pause.

At some point I realize Mohsin and LC have fallen well behind.  I turn back and eventually spot them stopped on the trail, looking at something.  By the time I get there, Mohsin is holding two vine snakes.  He had pointed them out to LC in the foliage, which took her a bit to spot, then he nabbed them.  He wants to bring them back to the ecolodge for now, though ultimately he'll return them to this spot for release, but we don't have a snake sack.  So I volunteer my near-empty backpack.

Mohsin stuffs the vine snakes in my bag while I try to zip it shut.  But they're lively, coils erupting again and again or sometimes a head.  I keep pushing them back in.  Vine snakes are venomous, by the way, but rear-fanged, which means that they mouth their prey without fangs, then work it to the back of the mouth to fang it and chew in venom.  That's very difficult to do to a human.

Finally Mohsin peels off his shirt, tosses it to someone to tie into a makeshift bag, stuffs the vine snakes in it, and clenches it closed.  We're ready to move on.  Paula resumes leading the way, and while she can be very talkative at times, she is now silent, her pace brisk, never pausing.  I'm at the rear, keeping up, but struggling; and this is a good time to tell more about Paula.

[cranefly]

Oh hold the phone...was that grub alive?

Yes, but it didn't scream.  So it's okay, right?

At the ecolodge we have a chef, very accomplished, renowned in the area, and he even received an award from the government while we were there.  So we're getting some top-notch meals.

Oh, I forgot to post a photo of Paula (not a very good one):

---

2018-12-30: Character Study -- Paula
Paula is 59, maybe 60.  I've called her a professional athlete.  Actually, she's a fitness trainer these days.  But in her prime she could run the mile in 5:15, and that wasn't really her event. She competed in Iron Man and Triathlon and was once ranked 5th in the world.  Just looking her, you know there's something going on.  Her arms are incredibly veiny.  She remains competitive in her age group, and was worried she wouldn't be able to train for an upcoming event while on this trip.  But there's a 200-yard stretch from the ecolodge to the first steps going down to the boat, and she's taken to running back and forth on that every morning for conditioning.  There's also a horizontal branch wedged into a corner above the ecolodge deck that works well for pull-ups and stretching.

Early on, she mentioned to me how sometimes she gets into a zone where her only thought is to complete some activity.

On the way back from the mammal copa, she fell into that zone.

[Drunk Monk]

Oh hold the phone...was that grub alive?

Yes, but it didn't scream.  So it's okay, right?

[cranefly]

Here's a photo (taken later) of one of the vines snakes.



2018-12-30: Part 5 -- My Shoes: So Close, Yet So Far Away
We get back to the ecolodge in late afternoon.  I'm last, and hurting.  Paula's pace isn't so fast that we can't keep up, but it's been unrelenting, never a pause to look around or time to drink water -- and it's hard to drink while walking a trail.  Yesterday's long sockless trek had taken its toll; I'd worn my flat-souled cushionless shoes for that, meant for Tai Chi workouts, not long walks, and they are hard on my hips.  And all of today they've been rebelling, sensitive to the least jar.  At the ecolodge, the others climb the steps to the staging area of the deck, sit down on benches and remove their shoes.  I settle on the steps themselves to work off my shoes, after which I crab delicately up onto the deck and onto a bench.  Too late I realize my shoes are two steps below and out of reach.  This may sound preposterous, but I can't wrap my mind around how to retrieve them, not in a dignified way, not in my current state.  I'm beyond stepping down a step, let alone bending over.  I wait for Mohsin, LC, Paula and Stewart to leave the staging area so I can retrieve them in my own pathetic way, but they are in a chatty mood.

And then the three rangers come into view down the path, followed by the snakers.  Once more they've been skunked.

Mohsin takes great pleasure in showing them the vine snakes.  There's irony in the fact that I was denied a spot in their group but ended up with the group that found snakes, but I only realize that now; at the time, I was intent on the conundrum of my shoes.

There's handling and photos of the vine snakes, with pointers by Mohsin.  He transfers them to a better sack, explains that the snakes will be fine like that for the night, as mentally they simply shut down.  Then people go off to get cleaned up.  Finally I can ease down to sit on the deck, scoot to the steps and down them, and retrieve my shoes, which I move to the deck proper, under a bench and out of the way.  With a lot of wobbling and dizziness I leverage myself to my feet, then go get cleaned up as well.

It isn't long before the snakers have gathered and are heading out for another walk.  There's a friendly competitiveness about it; they don't want to be outdone by us.  Surprisingly, it's a brief walk, as they're back within the hour and with a major find.  But in the interim there's a minor incident with Stewart.

2018-12-30: Character Study -- Stuart (Stewart)
[LC just notified me that he spells his name Stuart.  I don't have any photos of him.]

Stuart is a big soft guy weighing 230 pounds.  When he lurches about in a boat, the rest of us must shift to compensate for his whims.  A real estate developer, he seems out of place in the jungle.  He knows the South Bay, was peripherally involved in the Sunnyvale Town Center redevelopment effort, but not the guiding hand in that whole fiasco of bankruptcies.  He argues that the problem with congested areas isn't really too many people but not enough people, and the trick is to build upward, increasing the population density -- a strange viewpoint to hear at an ecolodge.

He's talkative, loud, irreverent.  He'll joke about going upriver to hand out beads and bibles to uncontacted tribes.  He can be very funny, and LC sees a lot of the class clown in him.  But he's also a know-it-all, very opinionated, often expressing contempt for some group.

On this particular occasion while the snakers are off on their walk, he is targeting the Southern poor, blaming them for their own problems.  They're in debt, on welfare, living in squalor, and yet if you take a close look, you'll see that they have big-screen TVs, the newest smart phones, new cars, etc.  Someone challenges him over whether he's even been down there and seen it firsthand.  He says he has.  He says they could climb out of their poverty if they really wanted to.  But they do not.  It's in their nature, their character; that's the problem.

I finally speak up (though hoarse from dehydration), telling him that "character" is a very nebulous concept, and it's more about educational deficiencies, not knowing how to escape their poverty.  Their parents can't teach them, not knowing how themselves, and the schools don't teach it.  (Of course, there's a lot more to it than that.)  I blather, I suppose, being very tired, about how commercials manipulate you, try to convince you you're defective and their product will fix you, and schools ought to teach how to recognize this, and how to manage money and prioritize.  Mohsin joins in, expanding on this with greater lucidity.

And then the snakers return from their jungle walk.  They were only gone an hour, but that's all they needed.

[Drunk Monk]

What a purdy snake!  Much more lovely than that mud cicada larvae dildo.

[cranefly]

2018-12-30: Part 6 -- Tree Boa
The snakers redeem themselves with an Amazon tree boa.  It's four feet long and quite aggressive (they don't make good pets).  Mohsin gives an impromptu lesson on handling it.  Holding it by the coils, he instructs Olaf to release its head.  Olaf does so cautiously.  The tree boa rears up as if to strike Mohsin, but Mohsin remains calm and it doesn't.  The trick is not to react to it, Mohsin says, to stay relaxed past that point when you think it will strike.  Also, you shouldn't breathe on it, as the snake will think you're about to eat it and strike.  The fact that Mohsin is talking puts him at some risk because of his breath.


Several people take turns holding it, following Mohsin's guidance.  He does warn that if it does strike, it's not going to let go.  Time and again the tree boa looks poised to strike.  But by staying relaxed and ignoring it, the tree boa never does.  I don't take a turn holding it, just as I didn't with the vine snakes, for a reason I'll explain later.

When it's Ian's turn, of course he takes it to the next level.


With dusk coming on, we have dinner, laze a bit in the hammocks and chairs, then call it a night.