- Written By Karen Souther for and Published in the Peru Review Newspaper

Iquitos’ warm, moist breeze welcomed us on the jet ramp with a loving embrace and eased away some of my anxiety of the mysteries of the jungle, as the unknown slowly began to reveal itself. This Amazonian town was the port where my son lived when he wasn’t at his jungle lodge 300 km up river. I had flown alone from San Francisco to join him in Lima, Peru, to meditate at the sacred sites of Cusco, and to see the lodge he built on the banks of the Aucayacu River while apprenticing with an ayahuasquero shaman. We had been in contact through the internet, but now I was actually going to experience the primordial life he had chosen while learning the secrets of the Amazon rain forest.

From Iquitos we traveled by overnight ferry, lulled to sleep by the vibrations of the diesel engines, to the town of Jenero Herrera, perched high on the banks of the Ucayali River, a tributary of the Amazon. The narrower rivers of the Amazon basin require smaller boats and we switched to a dugout canoe with a peque-peque motor. Loaded with our provisions for seven days, the rim of the canoe cleared the surface by four inches and smoothly carved through the calm surface, carrying us on a waterway that according to legend is filled with hungry piranha and dangerous anaconda.

The water level at the junction of the Supai River had dropped and rapids warned of shallow waters. We had to walk along the muddy banks as the boatman directed the canoe, carefully choosing a safe course. We continued upriver deeper into the bowels of the jungle, marveling at the abundance of colorful birds, and verdant canopy. The energy and heavy presence of the jungle enveloped us with its primitive power. Insects buzzed by, and the blue morph flitted its iridescent wings following our canoe and entertaining us with its magic. Dragonflies joined the parade and we smoothly glided forward surrounded by colorful, circling butterflies. These vibrant escorts, denizens of the forest, are also the eyes and ears of the jungle force, monitoring and reporting our every move and presence, conveying that a safe and successful journey is at its discretion. The underlying feeling is clear: your permission to pass could be revoked at any moment.

Following the meandering river for three hours, I wondered how much further we had to go. A few houses were interspersed along the route, but we were a long way from civilization.
“We’re almost there,” my son announced, as we neared the section of the Aucayacu River my son calls home.
Our bodies, stiff and sore from sitting on the hard wooden boards of the canoe, welcomed the sight of the distant staircase, marking the entrance to the trail to the house. The steeply pitched roof loomed ahead as we continued up the winding path. The three building compound was in view. The main house was built in the typical Amazonian jungle manner on stilts with a thatch roof. Half-walls of bamboo siding with screens encasing the area from ground to ceiling, provided uninterrupted views of the trees and shrubs, while preventing mosquitoes from entering. One end of the house contained running water for the toilet, shower, and sink rooms. The kitchen was in a separate building behind the larger main house, where the chickens clean the dirt floor of insects and crumbs. The third house provides protection for the guardian. An area adjacent to the larger house had been cleared for the future site of the ceremonial building.

The design of the interior followed an open plan, with slender tree trunks spanning the walls and providing support for the roof timbers. The woven thatch is evenly spaced and creates a geometric pattern. House spiders, the size of the palm of my hand, sit motionlessly on the cross members and occupy the same location day after day, leaving at night to hunt. At first I walked cautiously under these timbers, thinking the spiders might drop, but soon I realized they were very adept at clinging to vertical surfaces.

The furnishings consisted of two long tables, benches, a wooden bar, a kerosene refrigerator, several patio chairs for lounging, and a few low tables. The hammocks were strung up between the cross poles and resembled cocoons with the white netting providing a safe haven. The size of the lodge had been calculated to comfortably house the tourists who were interested in a jungle experience. My son had formed a partnership with a jungle guide, and together they were providing accommodations for the tourists who wanted to use the lodge as a base camp to explore the jungle on foot.

My son showed me the encampment, proud of his efforts in organization, planning, and executing, the construction of the lodge he used during his apprenticeship.

He put his arm around my shoulders, gave an affectionate hug and said, “Mom, now that we have unpacked the canoe and set up the hammocks, let’s go to the river and bathe.”