Mosquitoes in Iquitos or Bienvenidos al Selva

As you shuffle off the plane and on to the tarmac in Iquitos you are greeted by the open arms of unlimited humidity, it hugs you from above, beneath, between and behind. While one hand is busy pulling cloying clothing away from your skin the other is pursuing quickening beads of sweat. A race ensues between water, gravity and motor skills. There is little doubt that you have arrived in the tropics. To add to the banana republic-like atmosphere, the carcasses of a few Boeing 737’s lay rotting and windowless in waist high grass in the distance. Planes which probably last left the ground in the late 70’s. For me it was a made to order welcome.

The taxis in Iquitos of which there appear to be more of than people are a variation of the S.E. Asian Tuk Tuk. A 125cc Honda motorcycle with a two-person carriage harnessed to the back of the bike. Except for the collectivos (buses) the city gets around on two wheels and the yellow lines in the middle of the road are discretionary at best. The streets are teeming with taxis, collectivos, women on motorcycles (is there nothing sexier?) and guys ferrying women with both legs draped over the left side of the bike so as not to burn their legs on the tail pipe. Almost buckling under the weight of the cargo the taxis rarely leave second gear. A winding out of small engines under stress permeates the air. The bikes actually sound like mosquitoes.

Shortly after dark I checked into my hotel a few blocks from the Plaza de Armas. There were no rooms left save for the Honeymoon Suite, which would be given to me for the price of a single room. I am not sure exactly who honey moons up here but the Berber carpeted room had an exposed step up bathroom whith Jacuzzi, a terry cloth robe that wouldn’t look out of place on the racks of your local Salvation Army, push button electric heated water, a half dozen vases filled with plastic flowers, air conditioner with remote control, Raton furniture, a California King size bed and a headboard with an engraving of mating alligators. Jungle kitsch at its’ finest.

Iquitos was once a prosperous place, playing host to the World War I rubber boom. There is a testament to its’ once upwardly mobile past in buildings that are plated with beautiful terra cotta tiles imported from Portugal. On the South West corner of the Plaza de Armas sits a two story building designed by Gustav Eiffel of Eiffel Tower fame. Today it resembles little more than a stamped tin ceiling in a decrepit Brooklyn bar - spray painted with rattle can silver. Anyway the bottom fell out of the Iquitos economy when some smarty pants Brit. smuggled rubber tree seeds back to Kew Gardens, London and there was no longer a need to harvest rubber from the backwaters of the jungles surrounding Iquitos.

After a quick dinner I made the rounds to some agencies that specialized in “Amazon Expeditions.” Somewhere around the third agency I started to recognize both the alligator in the brochues and the picture of the woman from Pensacola, Florida trying out the blow dart gun with the “native.” This was clearly a bust and I headed back to my hotel to take advantage of the 5th floor terrace, which promised “sweeping views.” The only view I found was inky blackness interrupted by the blinking of communication towers. A few minutes later the street below was whipped up into frenzy. Four pick up tricks filled with police screeched to a halt a half a block away. Being ever curious I rushed down to the street below. I was sure or at least hoping that a major drug lord was soon to be hauled off. The matter proved uneventful though, the police or overabundance of them were simply looking into a kiosko that was maybe running an illicit bar and selling drinks after hours. Across the street from the tienda was a group of people sitting on the sidewalk talking rather loudly. With the failed promise of excitement I hesitated to head back to my hotel and instead wondered over, introduced myself and sat down. They were locals, a group of painters who lived in the lofts in back. Within a few minutes we were getting along like a house on fire. It turns out that two of the artists Mauro and Moises also did tours of the Amazon around Iquitos. They inquired about what it was that I wanted to see. I mentioned the tired looking alligator in all the brochures and the woman from Florida with the blow darts and they laughed. They assured me there was no Disneyland parade on their river trip. They specialized in one place called the Pacaya Samiria Reserva. Soon after Moises produced some pictures of trips past. To be honest it looked like a bit of “roughing it” but quite beautiful nonetheless. Shortly after it was agreed upon, they would wake my sleepy self up the next morning and a four-day three-night excursion would commence. Admittedly this was a rather unorthodox way of organizing a trip but sometimes you have to just rely on instinct and general judge of character. Aside from that I had just finished reading “Endurance” the Ernest Shackleton Arctic nightmare and “Over the Edge of the World” the Magellan circumnavigation story and I was up for a bit of the unknown. The plastic flowers at the Dorado Inn would still be there when I got back.

Wednesday Morning:

Moises, Mauro and myself headed by car two hours upriver of Iquitos to the town of Nauta with two tents, two hammocks, three sleeping bags and three pair of thick rubber boots. Here we were to stock up on provisions, meet Nestor our navigator and set off for Pacaya Samira. After almost two hours at the market we obtained the following:

10 packs of batteries, 6 fishing hooks and line, 20 gallons of water, 2 chickens, 8 cucumbers, a stalk of bananas, 2 pounds of rice, 3 dozen eggs, 2 water melons, 6 mangoes, 2 bags of pasta, 2 stalks of palm, salt, sugar, 1 case of large bottles of beer, a bag of ice, a large jar of instant coffee, 8 cans of condensed milk, toilet paper, 16 gallons of gasoline, 2 lighters and 4 tall candles.

With provisions in hand we headed down to the slip to meet Nestor and load our boat. The boat was rickety wooden affair – 20 feet long by 4 feet wide, with a 14 horsepower outboard motor. Due to the fact that this was low season an outboard motor of this size was required as running aground was a real concern with the water level up in Pacaya Samira. There were also requirements about what size engine you could enter the National Reserve with for environmental impact reasons. So with three pulls of the cord we were off on the Marañón River to God knows where but everything was "Pitre Mitre" as the Peruvians say.

To be continued …

Some of the Pics are high-res and so might take a bit of time, I am of course the poser anyway they are available Here