What stays with you long after you’ve left the Amazon aren’t the sights, but the sounds — that enchanting, ever changing symphony that is with you from the moment light enters your eyes right up until you disappear deep into the best sleep of your life.
Our visit to the jungle took us to Puerto Maldonado, a rather unattractive city near the Bolivian border. After crossing over the Andes, our plane slowly descended over a seemingly endless flat green carpet, punctured only by a rich brown river that twisted and snaked its way through the Peruvian jungle. That river was the Madre de Dios and, after nearly an hour upstream on a long boat, its shores would be our home for the next three days and nights.
Those days would be filled with excursions — hikes, canoe trips, canopy walks — through an ecosystem unlike any other. We were struck by the size of it all. You know how they say everything’s bigger in Texas? Well, if Texans ever waltzed down to the jungle, they’d head home with their tail between their legs. We were also overwhelmed by the sheer diversity of plant life, a seemingly endless array of trees and plants intertwined with one another.
But mostly it was the sounds… if I close my eyes I can still hear the jungle surrounding me.
The view — and the sounds — from our cabana