Madre de Dios River

By Kristen Manning

L. Jernigan

Meandering from the Andes to the Amazon, the Madre de Dios River snakes through the rainforest region known as the biodiversity capital of Peru. The variety of plant life in a single hectare of this wild jungle far exceeds what a coast-to-coast traveler might catalogue in the entire United States; one tree may be home to more insect species than in all of Great Britain.

While nearly half of Peru lies in the Amazon Basin, most guidebooks devote only a few pages to this territory. Without decent roads and with only a few towns of significant size, the area remains remote and relatively undiscovered by tourists. A mere trickle of travelers, no more than 50,000 a year, make it to Madre de Dios, compared to the nearly half a million who flood Machu Picchu. Nonetheless, the region is surprisingly accessible. Every day, flights from Lima and Cusco land at the jungle frontier town of Puerto Maldonado. From there, Reserva Amazónica, a rainforest lodge smack in the middle of a private ecological reserve, is an easy hour away by motorboat.

Inkaterra, the 30-year-old company that pioneered ecotourism in Peru, operates Reserva Amazónica and looks after the surrounding swath of jungle. Some forty huts surround a main pavilion that includes the dining room, as well as an upstairs loft with balconies for birdwatching and stargazing.

The huts are simple structures, built on raised platforms in the indigenous style. Crisp sheets on the beds are comfortable; hammocks on the front porch are heavenly. But be warned: this accommodation isn’t for everyone. Aside from generators that power the kitchen for a few hours every night, there is no electricity. Gas lanterns and torches light the way after dark; it’s lovely, but hot showers and hair dryers are out of the question.

Nature is all around and can sometimes be too close for comfort. Guests may find themselves sharing their room with a gecko on the ceiling, a frog by the toilet, or even a giant hairy-legged spider on their bath towel. Birdsong and raucous screeches pierce the thick air. But the monkeys and the macaws—along with all the other mammals, birds and reptiles that live in the rainforest—work at not being seen, so visitors to Reserva Amazónica are assigned a guide who knows what to do and where to look, vastly improving the odds of actually spotting wildlife. Speedy lizards startle as they dart across the forest floor. A sudden rustling calls attention to capuchin monkeys overhead. Take a long look, and notice the iridescent blue beetles living in a staggeringly tall kapok tree.

Even a single night’s stay provides a sense of the rainforest, but more adventuresome excursions are part of the package for people who wish to stay longer. Drink sweet milk from a coconut at a local farm, and learn first-hand why the jungle is better suited to small subsistence patches than large-scale agri-business. Cruise the river at sunset and search for the black caiman, an endangered Amazonian cousin of the crocodile.

Rise before the sun for a trip to Lake Sandoval, an isolated oxbow lake created over time in a place where the winding Madre de Dios gradually etched a straighter course. Part of a protected preserve, Sandoval is home to parrots, pirañas and wild pigs, as well as endangered giant otters regularly seen fishing there. Gliding across the water in a heavy canoe, you might see the red belly of a green kingfisher flying low over the glassy lake.

One of South America’s largest canopy bridges is the newest addition to Reserva Amazónica, making it possible to literally walk through the treetops for more than a quarter of a mile. Millions of species, many still undiscovered, spend their entire lives in this realm where, until recently, only scientists ventured. Inkaterra, backed by an alliance that includes National Geographic, believes projects like the canopy walk will attract more tourists. Their dollars may also slow the destruction of the rainforests by protecting them succumbing to large-scale agribusiness.