Into the Amazon

Editor's Pick Award

Our Editors awarded this travel blog entry for providing relevant information that may be useful and inspiring for other travelers.

Today we are flying from Salvador to Manaus - our stopping off point before we head to the Amazon. But flying from Salvador to Manaus is not as simple as it sounds- it's actually Salvador to Recife, change planes, Recife to Fortaleze, Fortaleze to Belem, Belem to Manaus, with plenty of time on the tarmac in 40 degree temperatures.
The airport in Recife (say "hey-siff-ay") is beautiful. Live music and entertainment, shopping and lots of food service, which was a good thing because all they seem to serve on Varig flights is a boxed sandwich with some creamy mystery sauce in it. We got one on each leg of our flight.  I think we are through with sandwiches.  But those flight attendants are wicked to watch- they can serve and clear a whole plane full of people in a matter of minutes. I am surprised that they don't just hand you the sandwich on your way in, or better yet, chuck them at you from the front of the plane.  At least that would be entertaining.  The service on Varig has been really sketchy, which may explain why Brazilian passengers are so rude.
The sunset flight into Fortaleze was spectacular. We flew past an amazing cloud formation, tinted pink and gold and orange and lit from within by lightning storms-- well worth the price of the flight.
Finally in Manaus at about 11pm, (almost 13 hours later) exhausted and hungry, we stayed the night at the once-elegant Taj Mahal hotel, a Holiday Inn property that had seen better days. But the sixties decor and central room control unit were good for a laugh, and the room service and mini-bar prices seemed to have been stuck in the sixties as well. Still, the toilet and shower and air conditioning all worked, so we drank beer from the mini bar and watched X-Men in English on TV until we fell asleep.
Manaus is in the commercial capitol of the Amazon region, a tax-free zone to encourage industry and supply jobs to the locals. This was the birthplace of the rubber industry 400 years ago, and it is an ugly city. The claim to fame is the opera house which was built by European rubber barons who exploited the land and the indigenous people for centuries. We explored the city a bit in the morning, but the heat and humidity were oppressive, so we were tired and drenched by the time our transport showed up at noon.

Our driver, George was fun and informative, and spent most of the trip practicing his English while JY practiced his Portuguese, which seemed to leave little time for watching the road. We buckled up and held on as the van took us from the city and into the Amazon.

The road to the Amazon takes you through farmland, with the same familiar smells as farmland in Canada, and eventually, the trees get thicker and thicker, until you feel like you are driving through the jungle. 2 hours later we pulled up to the big wooden gates of the Amazoat lodge, all of us apprehensive as we hadn’t really read much about the lodge. We are here during the rainy season (there are only two seasons, wet and dry) – we drove through a couple of showers on the way—short, torrential bursts that obscured the road and lowered the temperature a few degrees, if only briefly. For all we knew, we might be spending three days indoors, trying to stay dry.  The area receives between 2 and 4 meters per year, all within about 6 months.

The lodge turned out to be a pleasant surprise. We were greeted by Bernice, a stylish Dutch woman with Excellent English who had fresh fruit juices waiting for us and the keys to our cabins, all named after local birds to make the accounting and bar-tabs easy to figure. The water in the rooms is safe to drink and there is a small lagoon at the bottom of the property that is spring-fed and safe for swimming. We also spotted a glorious looking blue swimming pool on the pathway to our cabins. I was very very much looking forward to a cool dip. Bernice told us that the locals did not believe in malaria medicine, so if we were feeling the side-effects, we would probably be safe to stop taking it. The side effects can be brutal, particularly in this oppressive humidity and heat.

The porters brought our baggage to our rooms, and all six of us made our way down the white sand path to the lagoon. Our cameras were clicking madly at the rich foliage and one particularly beautiful dead tree along the way.

But the real thrill was the lagoon—surrounded by palm trees and dense jungle, with little grass huts lining the sandy beach on one side, we braved the brown waters and plunged in. The water was cool and refreshing, and just as we got in, we were treated to a little blast of Amazon rain. Surrounded by chirping birds and humming cicadas and a whole symphony of animal noises, we made no move to leave the water or to get out of the rain. It was truly a magnificent moment, as we all realized we are really here in the Amazon jungle!

We met our guide, Joseph, in the dining hut at 8pm to go on our spider-trek, which was not nearly as scary as it sounds, but still, trekking through the Amazon with your wee flashlight, your guide hacking his way in front of you, it’s quite a thrill.

 

I am laying on the couch in our cabin, “Canaria”, sipping maracuja (passionfruit juice) and cachaca (my favorite new liquor) and listening to the night-time symphony of frogs, cicadas, and who-knows-what else. The temperature today is the coolest it’s been since we arrived in Brazil--- we didn’t even break a sweat today! The cool temperatures were brought on by a half day of continuous torrential rains.

We started the day with a ride on the lodge’s van to a small riverside town consisting of no more than ten buildings, mostly serving as a hub between the river and the road.

Our guide, Joseph, took us on a full-day tour of the Amazon river and floodplains. This was a spectacular day. As soon as we stepped into the small, powered, eight-seat boat, the rains began to fall. We put on our dollar-store rain ponchos, which worked perfectly, and covered ourselves with a cheap umbrella. A smart move, since the rain kept up most of the day.

JY and I sat at the front, which gave us a great view and made for some excellent photos. We had given Joseph a bottle of maple syrup from Canada the night before, and he had promised to take us up the river to sample a “honey” made from sugar-cane. Our first stop on the river was a sugar-can plantation, family-run, that produced the sugar-cane honey by hand for commercial sale. We navigated the “river” for about 40 minutes before arriving at the farm, passing small cattle barges shifting the cattle from rapidly disappearing grazing lands to other, higher places.

We had to keep reminding ourselves that we were not actually on the river. During the wet season, the rivers flood their troughs and take over the land, so we were really deep in the jungle, floating through tree-tops. The water is about 2 meters deep right now, and will rise a little more than a meter more before it starts to recede.

I have to talk about the rain again, because only mentioning it does not tell you the real story. It is a non-stop barrage of water. No thunder, no lightning, just a constant and steady torrent from the sky. We huddled together under our ponchos and umbrella, and snuck the camera from it’s zip-lock bag and managed to stay surprisingly dry. The sound of the rain is wonderful, loud enough to drown out all of the remarkable sounds of the jungle. Even the drone of the engine was muffled by the rain.

When we arrived at the farm, the rain had not let up at all, but you learn quickly that life goes on regardless of the rain.

We could see a half-dozen young men working the sugar-can fields on a ridge under a huge palm tree, harvesting the cane as if it were a pleasant, sunny day. They were soaked to the bone, but clearly used to it. It turns out the workers were all part of the family that owns the farm, mostly young and all working hard. The grandfather greeted us in the cookhouse and offered us a sample of the molasses-like honey. He scooped big, dripping ladles into bob’s hand, much to his surprise.  We are bringing some home to share.

We wandered a bit on the farm and saw trees that smell like garlic and cinnamon, and another who’s berries are used to make paint and food colour and dozens of other fruits and herbs, all growing wild and naturally.

Back in the boat, we headed up stream to spot some grey and pink dolphins, passing more cattle-barges on the way. We spotted the dolphins immediately, but the thrill was short, as the pink’s don’t jump, and the greys only jump when they are mating.

Lunch at the dock was roasted chicken and rice with vegetables. Almost every meal seems to be the same here. The carrots are usually cooked, the cucumbers and cabbage are raw. Blah.

But the rain gave us a great show at lunch, coming down even harder than before. It seems like we could watch the water level rising while we ate. And clean-up was a breeze. Just throw your chicken bones and left-overs into the river. No problemo. You could see small fish nibbling away even as the current carried the bones away. Nothing goes to waste in the Amazon.

Part 2 coming soon…