Tuesday, November 21, 2017:
This was the day we would see David! After 5 months — the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing one of my kids — my mom hormones were raging.
I got up early and, after a quick breakfast, went to the Plaza de Armas to do some speed- shopping, as I had a feeling that the pickings would be slim in the jungle. I made one shopkeeper’s day by dropping a boatload of Peruvian Soles before it was even 8:30 am…a shawl, a blanket, a funny hat/scarf thing for David, a couple of sweaters…I was quite enamored of all the alpaca. I could have done more damage but we had a taxi coming at 8:40 to take us to the airport. One last look at the Plaza on this sparkling morning high in the Andes:
The flight from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado is only 30 minutes, but this is not like New York to DC or LA to Las Vegas. During this 30 minute flight you travel from serious altitude (11,000 feet) and brisk cool weather to barely above sea level and stifling heat and humidity. The shift from mountain to jungle is quite dramatic.
I was relieved that when we landed there really was someone from the hotel waiting for us at the airport. This was the piece of planning that had me the most stressed out in the weeks leading up to the trip. I had booked through the Tambopata Ecolodge’s website in September, after a number of chatty emails with the sales rep. But once I paid in full there was radio silence. The name that came through for the Visa payee was sketchy (translating to “Maldonado Investments”) and I never received a confirmation from the hotel. After sending multiple further emails, I got a vague acknowledgment, but I was by no means certain that it wasn’t a big scam. I was sure the hotel existed; I just wasn’t sure I had actually reserved at and paid the real hotel.
Our son had been in Puerto the day and night before, so I had asked him to go check out the “Operations Office” listed on the website to make sure all was well. It took him a few tries to find it in a really creepy neighborhood, but he had reported via WhatsApp that it did exist and that the hotel was expecting us. We would be transported to the Operations Office from the airport, so he would meet us there.
As it turned out, a whole bunch of people were going to Tambopata Ecolodge, which made me feel better. The bus transported us through some terrible parts of town to the Operations Office. And yes, David was actually there! Joyous hugs. Did he get even taller? The purpose of the stop at the Operations Office was to have everyone transfer their belongings out of structured suitcases into duffel bags, to fit more easily onto the boat that would take us to the lodge. We left a whole suitcase full of stuff there, figuring that we no longer needed our warmer clothes. While I was sorting and transferring our clothes, David disappeared. I asked Dave where he was, and Dave nonchalantly said, “Oh, he left something at the hostel where he stayed last night, so he had to leave.” What?? The bus was departing momentarily to travel to a town ten miles away, where we would get on the boat for a several hour trip to the ecolodge. How was he going to meet us? I’d only seen him for five minutes, and now he had gone missing? Dave said, “He made some sort of plan with the bus driver.”
It turned out that he had suddenly realized that his binoculars were still at the hostel, so he had jumped into a motor taxi, zipped across the city to the hostel, and was now supposed to meet the bus at the corner of Tambopata Boulevard and Madre de Dios Avenue. Naturally this did not go smoothly, and the bus had to go back and forth on Tambopata Boulevard a few times before we spotted him. The rest of the passengers didn’t know what was going on and were baffled. My anxiety level was rather high until he was inside the bus. I was reminded of what one of his best friends said to me the night before David’s college graduation 5 months ago: “It can’t be easy to be the parent of Nature Dave.” That’s an understatement. I made sure not to lose sight of him for the rest of the trip.
In the little town of Inferno (which gives you an idea of the temperature), we got onto the boat. Peruvian riverboats are long, slim motorboats, often with a rooftop. We spent a lot of time on them over the next few days, and it was quite enjoyable. For one thing, you get a break from the heat when the boat is moving. On this first trip, we spied a family of capybara, each with its own bird on its back (a symbiotic relationship). The capybara is a giant rodent:
Because we were meandering a bit, the boat ride took a couple of hours. We got to the lodge by mid-afternoon and had a few hours to settle in before dinner. This was our little hut, with a nice front porch:
The Tambopata Ecolodge is not luxurious, but it was fine. There was electricity in the main lodge (where the dining room and bar were), and you could charge your devices there during set times. In our hut there were a few dim lights that were only turned on for a few hours each night. We quickly realized that we had not packed something critical: headlamps. David of course had his, because he has lived in the jungle for five months, but Dave and I were forced to use our iPhones as flashlights, which was just lame. They’re reasonably bright, but one feels awfully silly holding up a phone to light one’s way in the jungle. We got to test the concept that first night, because after dinner our guide Julio took our group (the three of us, two young women from England, and two traveling companions from Philadelphia) on a night walk. We saw some cool bugs and some odd mushrooms:
At one point we all stood in a circle together and turned off our lights to experience the deep darkness. Then we did it alone: Julio walked each of us to a spot along the trail where we stood in total darkness. It was only five minutes, but it was a long five minutes. I was afraid to move even an inch because I knew I was close to a ledge near a stream and didn’t want to topple in.
In the jungle you go to bed early and get up early. The lights went out promptly at 10, and we were not far behind.