I had been at one of the prime sources of the river earlier in the year, in northern Peru, the Marañon River valley. Its turbid, silt-laden waters were boiling down out of the Andes, headed far, far to the east, to mix with a dozen other major rivers, ultimately becoming the Amazon. Now at last I was to see where those silt-laden waters traveled on. Technically, the “Amazon” name only pertains to the river downstream of the starting point for my trip, Manaus. Until the waters reach that point, approximately where the Rio Negro flows in, the great river is known as the Rio Solimoes.

Manaus, today a city of nearly 2 million, lies about 1,000 miles from the mouth of the river, on the north bank of the Rio Negro. At 3 degrees south of the equator, it is constantly hot and humid, conditions which are only fleetingly relieved by violent thunderstorms during the dry season (June to Nov.). Interestingly, the area gets about the same amount of annual rainfall as the Highlands Plateau, 2 meters. The city’s colorful history includes rubber traders and bankers, palaces and slaves, but today its focus is light manufacturing, international port facilities, and tourism.

Arriving at Camp 41 (sleeping area on right)

Hammocks & luggage

We headed into the Biological Diversity of Forest Fragments Project (BDFFP) camp the following day, everyone wondering how we would fare with sleeping in hammocks for 3 nights. The road in, approximately 40 km (26 mi.), is very rough in spots and requires a long, dusty ride in 4WD vehicles. We had walked and birded the first few miles the previous day, but now we headed straight on, to the trail head leading to Camp 41, our home for the next 3 nights. A 10-15 min. walk brought us to the white sand clearing and we soon picked our hammocks, had a brief tour of the camp, and headed out to explore the beautiful forest all around us. I was already in love with the whole experience! With a building containing 2 cold water showers (a bit bracing initially but most welcome) and another with 2 flush toilets, we would be fine in terms of creature comforts, and the dining area and kitchen looked promising too. There was a clear forest stream running below the camp, where we might swim and do a bit of laundry, and a generator to provide lighting during dinner and pre-dawn breakfasts.

Needless to say, the birds were abundant in the huge forest areas surrounding us, as well as mammals, such as Monk Saki and Brown Capuchin Monkeys. A Giant Anteater was spied pushing through the dense forest undergrowth - no chance for a photo, but my first sight of this surprisingly large, long animal was quite exciting. They do occur in the rainforest, but are far more commonly seen in the open savannahs. The most exciting mammal, however, was yet to come.

Guinan Toucanet (fem.)

It had already been a fine afternoon of birding the gorgeous rain forest surrounding Camp 41 at the Biological Diversity of Forest Fragments Project. We had enjoyed super views of several birds including Black-tailed Leaf-tosser, White-fronted Manakin (which alone can cause shortness of breath), and Lined Forest Falcon. It was nearing 5PM and about time for heading back to camp, so most paused by the side of the dirt track as they emerged from the trail. Thinking to myself that dusk is often a fine time to see cats walking forest tracks and trails, I stepped out a bit further to look down the road, and spotted a Jaguar strolling along about 50 yards away. I had hoped to avoid too much commotion which might scare the big cat into bolting, so I said to Bret and Marcello, “There’s a mammal in the road”. Despite my efforts at a low-key statement, they detected the thrill in my voice and immediately checked it out, calling everyone over to share this oh-so-rare viewing. Needless to say, it finished the day with a bang for all of us! “Good spotting”, Bret said... well, he has been known to offer a pun or two!” Rather than take a photo, I just enjoyed watching this gorgeous animal as it disappeared into the rainforest, a mental image that beats any effort I might have made, even with my trusty new camera.

As to the perils of sleeping in a hammock, Bret provided a thorough and hilarious lesson in how to get in, get comfy, and get out on our first evening. He wisely waited until after dinner and the consumption of a few caipirinhas for all, and then demonstrated his abilities as a stand-up (or was it lie-down?) comic - it seems that as long as you control the edges of your universe (i.e., the hammock), you’ll be just fine! And so it was, as I found my hammock totally comfortable and got a fine night’s sleep, once I inserted earplugs vs. the snoring of others in our group. Temperatures cooled nicely during the night, and I even wore my fleece at times. Mosquito netting was not really necessary, as there were few biting bugs. There were, however, a few million army ants that swarmed over the white sands of our camp one evening, following a hard downpour. Fortunately they did not breach the lip of our concrete-padded sleeping area! It made getting to the shower a bit difficult, but by the next morning, they were gone.

By the time we left camp, I was ready for a bit of cooling breeze and a supply of clean clothes, but I was sorry to go too, as awakening in the heart of the forest had been a privileged experience, one I would treasure. To step out of “bed” and watch the dawn brighten with birds and monkeys stirring all around - this was a rare and special treat.

Bret rescuing the sloth

After a brief bit of regrouping at the Tropical (and a welcome chance to call Bill and share some of my excitement), we boarded the Victoria Amazonica, our home for the next week. The following photos will tell you much about this new phase of my trip, a whole week exploring the lower reaches of the Rio Negro and, eventually, its joining with the Solimoes and a taste of the Amazon’s river islands. Here is a passage from my journal:

We had boarded our ship, the Victoria Amazonica, the previous afternoon, in time for a delicious lunch as we got under way, headed up the Rio Negro. The hum of the ship’s engines lulled me to sleep in my comfy air-conditioned cabin - I had already realized this was to be a very special week. This morning, I awoke to my alarm at 5AM after a great night’s sleep and was just getting ready to step out of my cabin to head up to the top deck for a sunrise breakfast, when the joyous notes of Pavarotti & Co. singing Verdi’s “Libiamo, libiamo” greeted us from the bridge and set the tone for a heavenly day of birding in the Anavilhanas Archipelago. Yup, we truly are in paradise!”

Our days were filled with exploration of “varzea” (seasonally flooded forest islands) and terra firme, and our nights produced sightings of roosting herons, egrets and Sungrebes, as well as various critters. One night we had knock-out views of both Rufous and White-winged Potoos, both rarely seen but highly prized species.

Our final days were spent exploring some of the river islands of the Amazon. I was surprised by the distinctly pastoral, disturbed habitat of the riverbanks, having imagined “The Amazon” as flowing through jungle-clad shores. However, it is, after all, the I-85 of Brazil, and so people are naturally drawn to live along its banks, farming and fishing for their living, transporting goods to markets by canoe. Still, there are patches of forest and special birds found only on such islands and we were able to see all of our targets while gaining an appreciation for lives lived with the annual certainty of flooding. The adaptations, including auxiliary floating homes, boat landings and steps cut into steep, muddy banks, enable people to survive and farm the rich soils deposited there. Even at this point, long before the river’s mouth at Belem, the width of the Amazon is difficult to grasp. The complexity of islands at the mouth of the Rio Madeira, for instance, made it quite a puzzle to figure out where the actual banks of the Amazon might be! Photos just cannot capture the vastness.

It was a record flood this year

Back in Manaus, we had a night at the Tropical and another chance to call Bill before heading off to a new set of habitats and another great week of birding. This part of the trip required a flight to Belem, on the river delta at the mouth of the Amazon, with a morning of birding in nearby forest before a further flight to Carajás, 550 miles to the south.

Victoria reggia Water Lily
Anonymous

One BIG Tonka Toy!

The price for the mine’s operation is the protection of the surrounding forests, which lie below and rise up the sides of the plateau where the mine is situated. Memorable sightings included these Dark-winged Trumpeters, which responded to our tape by charging through the forest, stopping only at the roadside fringe to growl and flap their wings at us. Eventually, they dared to cross the dirt road, giving us some great views of their subtle shadings and iridescent blue/purple sheen.

Another type of habitat, “canga” is home to some unique species, with its stunted, shrubby forest growing on poor, ore-rich, rocky strata. These Jandaya Parakeets, for instance, flashed their vibrant yellow, green and blue plumage as the flock turned in early morning light. A perched Striped Cuckoo called nearby, as we searched for, and eventually found, a Pheasant Cuckoo (another elusive species), which gave us great, on-the-wing, close fly-bys. In fact, this leg of the trip proved to be a 7 cuckoo extravaganza - not counting me, which some, no doubt, would do!

Young Tapir

Though a great distance away, even through the scope, these two Cotinga species still show some of their gorgeous colors.

Once again, we traveled back to Manaus and the Tropical, saying goodbye to some of the group and gaining 3 new members for the final 5-night leg of our trip. We flew out the next day to Tefé, a small town on the Solimoes, lying half way between Manaus and the Colombia border, and just downstream from the confluence of the Rio Japurá.

My porch & hammock had a great view

Our search here was primarily for two seldom-seen species, the White Uakari Monkey, and the Wattled Currasow. The greatest threat to both of them is loss of habitat, though in the case of the currasow, it’s turkey-sized good eating has helped considerably to diminish its numbers. Both are most easily, if not exclusively, found in Mamirauá.

Find the Currasow in the tall tree (it's there, honest!)

As usual, just a few closing photos of flowers and critters: