How Nature Nurtures In the Amazon

After nearly two years restricted to bed, enduring surgeries, and an unanticipated dependency on pain medication, I felt like a shell of the person I once was. Weaning off too quickly had been a harsh battle, and even as I physically recovered, the weight of my own body became foreign to me. Sleep, once a sanctuary, became elusive. A few hours a night—if I was lucky—was all I could manage. The world outside my room seemed distant, like a place to which I no longer belonged.

It wasn’t until I packed my bags and left my mundane space of recovery that I could finally breathe again. Setting out for the Peruvian Amazon felt like a last-ditch effort to reconnect with the version of myself I feared I had lost. The trip wasn’t just about travel or going back to work as a journalist. It was about seeking connection, rediscovering my purpose, and hoping that in one of the world’s wildest places, I might finally find rest.

A few days later, I was transported as the tour group I journeyed with traversed the Tambopata River in a slender, long, covered canoe towards the ecolodge, Posada Amazonas, only accessible by boat. It was overcast, but the lush greenery contrasted sharply with the dull brown river, an artery of the Amazon. The air was thick with humidity and light, persistent rain and the dense jungle, teeming with life and warmth, embraced me like an old friend.

As we cruised, guide Rodolfo Pesha provided a snack of cocona juice, Brazil nuts, and plantain chips. He outlined an adventure-filled itinerary with cultural experiences, citizen science, and wildlife spotting. Found within the Ese Eja Native Community of Infierno and boasting 9,500-plus hectares of rainforest, the lodge is managed in partnership between the community’s Indigenous elders and Rainforest Expeditions.

We disembarked and climbed a steep set of stairs leading to a narrow hexagonal stone path. Filing like ants towards the lodge I felt like I was failing a sobriety test, distracted by a feast of new sights and sounds. Pesha identified a cacophony of frogs — some croaking like goats and others sounding like car alarms. Mushrooms resembling tiny umbrellas sprouted from massive primary trees shading the pathway. After about 10 minutes, we reached the beautiful wooden open-air lodge deep in the forest. I took a deep breath and felt strangely at home.

Quick immersion into the forest ensued with guide Oscar Mishaja along a short hike to a 120-foot canopy tower with sweeping views. As we ambled along the soft, terracotta-colored forest floor thriving with fungi and moss, I learned about the area’s rich biodiversity and how agouti play a vital role in nut dispersal of the Brazil nut trees’ lifecycle. Pausing to observe a massive iron tree, I felt the distinct buzz of a hummingbird flitting past me.

We reached the tower top as sunset arrived and marveled at treetops drenched in golden light, where macaws, toucans, and squirrel monkeys frolicked among the shifting shades of emerald canopies resembling crowns of velvet broccoli.

Equally invigorated and exhausted, I retreated to my charming room with a mosquito net-covered bed and an open-air wall. Fragrances of the forest filled the space as I settled in listening to the choruses of frogs and night-stirring insects.

Morning came fast, and as I strolled through the lodge, an adorable agouti skedaddled across the grounds, and howler monkeys roared in the distance. I spotted Pesha wearing a harpy eagle T-shirt that I immediately coveted. A guide for 23 years, he was again at the helm as we headed to Tres Chimbadas, an oxbow lake where spotting raptors was a possibility.

“Kianamene peanaje kuana. Welcome to the rainforest,” said Pesha, who is one of the guardian elders who help to protect the pristine territory. We arrived at a concession filled with fig trees as he offered the greeting. Home to the Indigenous community, the land was gifted by the Peru government to the Ese Eja to manage. “This is a checkpoint that must be passed in order to protect the Amazon from unsustainable opportunities.”

The lake was still and serene, surrounded by verdant marsh flooded with birdsong. I couldn’t have been more at peace. I spotted several new-to-me birds, but it was the squirrel and brown capuchin monkeys that stole the show with playful antics. Leaping between trees and nearing the lake’s edge, they checked us out and flushed out more birds for my life list, including an Ani and colorful Hoatzins.

“This is also anaconda habitat,” Pesha shared. “They live on the water and prefer the lakes to feed on. They could eat anything, from capybaras to agouti.” He captured my full attention as he also described the Amazon’s other major predators: giant river otters, black caimans, jaguars, and those harpy eagles with claws the size of human fingers.

We stopped the catamaran to fish for piranha using little bits of meat tied on a rudimentary stick with a tiny hook. A toothy yellow fish immediately snapped up the bait and guide Luis Maytahuari held it up for us to get a surreal and close-up look at its jaggedly sharp teeth.

Back at the bow, I scoured the lake for the family of otters that call it home but instead saw more birds — no surprise, given there are around 610 species in the area. Elated, I snapped pictures of branch-hopping Hoatzins, cormorants drying their wings, and a soaring osprey. Pesha’s bird calls brought sightings of a Donacobius, a swallow-tailed kite, and an endemic red-throated caracara.

The area is packed with surrounding palms that provide habitat for blue-and-yellow macaws and red-bellied scarlet macaws, but Pesha advised how they will eventually overtake the marsh. The struggle to grow, adapt and reinvent isn’t lost on me.

Though we missed the otters, on the way back we saw a camouflaged black caiman lurking in the water at the base of a tree and an emerald tree boa that appeared like a bunch of bananas in the forest canopy. I quickly deduced that everywhere I looked, there were likely eyes staring back.

After returning to the lodge, I refueled with a local Peruvian margarita made with agave de los Andes and empacado, a traditional chicken dish that is bundled in bijao leaves, stuffed into bamboo, and cooked over an open fire.

Further introduction into culture, food, and flora, continued with a medicinal walk as we followed Pesha through the communities’ botanical gardens. The Ese Eja still practice traditional medicine led by three shamans, including Mishaja’s father.

We hiked a pathway marked with medicinal plants used for shamanic remedies. First up was ayahuasca, used for spiritual and therapeutic purposes. Pesha next explained how Chuchuhausi bark is ground into powder and marinated with wild honey to treat arthritis. We learned about Sanipanga, a purple dye and wound healer, Una de Gato (or cat’s claw), known for its ulcer prevention, and Para Para, humorously touted as nature’s Viagra.

MORE SOUTH AMERICA: An Ayahuasca Journey

I had met Aracely Yarasca the first night when the young biologist-turned-insect expert hosted a presentation on the collection of tiger moths. In one of the Wired Amazon citizen science programs led by Rainforest Expeditions, guests are invited to work as citizen scientists, contributing to conservation and protection of the rainforest. The “Discovering New Species” rewards those who find a novel form of tiger moth with the naming rights upon the successful collection of the lepidopteran. So far, the program has identified 22 new species over six years.

Following Yarasca down the pitch-dark forest trail dimly lit by our headlights, I repeated a mantra: “Keep breathing. Remember they don’t sting. They are just evening butterflies.” As someone wary of stinging insects, the myriad Amazon bugs intimidated me.

“If you see something blinking, it’s a spider,” she said. Immediately, my eyes adjusted to the unsettling reality of seeing the ground lit up with endless eight-legged night stars. I stopped and called out, so we inspected the closest one. It was a wolf spider. Although unnerved, I continued. The trail was alive with other species, including hundreds of leaf-cutter ants marching underfoot and a tiny golden frog balanced atop a leaf.

Soon after, we approached a large white sheet illuminated by a light box, completely covered with insects — mostly moths, which swarmed my head. Yarasca noted that the insects were less active with the full moon but instructed me to remove my headlamp to avoid attracting more moths.

Panicky, I began to sweat with the sensation of bugs landing on me. It seemed that, along with my long-sleeve white shirt, my skin attracted the flying creatures. However, these delicate beings were beautiful with wings featuring tiny masterpieces, painted in dazzling symmetry, each line and dot as thoughtful as an artist’s brushstroke. I stayed calm selecting eight or so tiger moths and plucked a few off of me, dropping them into a collection jar. My fingers were crossed.

On the way back, we saw a large Neotropical spider devouring a moth. I couldn’t help but feel for it as mere minutes earlier, I’d been appreciating moth’s individual magnificence. Yarasca detailed how it was mummifying its prey by wrapping it in silk and then extracting nutrients — a process that leads back to more silk production. Ah, the circle of life.

Yarasca explained that of all the species on the planet, it’s insects we know the least about and how the Amazon is a perfect place for discovery, as its land mass is home to the most undiscovered species, with the Tambopata jungle being one of the best places in the world to find them.

The next morning, I was offered a chance to return to the oxbow lake with guide Fernando Coa with hopes of spotting the otters. Coa, who shared that his favorite bird is the ornate hawk eagle, boasts an extensive background in tourism, including a career in wildlife guiding that began in 2006.

At the lake, he got to work identifying bird sounds with enthusiasm. “That horned screamer sounds like a donkey,” he said with a grin. “Do you hear that caw on the right-hand side, Jenn? It’s a white-throated toucan; it sounds like a puppy barking.” As an avid birder, I was in heaven listening, seeing, learning.

Squirrel monkeys reappeared, feasting on gaga beans and insects. At 2 o’clock from our boat’s bow, Coa spotted a catamaran following the otters. We waited as they made their way closer, and Coa pointed out a cattle egret to the left and horned screamers perched on a canopy to the right.

“It’s getting closer. It’s getting closer. Jenn, here it comes,” Coa said excitedly. My eyes scanned the waves, and suddenly the otters emerged, heads bobbing as they approached the hull. They were so close that my zoomed-out camera lens failed me.

A dominant female led her family, showing off her prize — a mouthful of fish. We witnessed a playful game of follow the leader, and soon barks, cries, and pleas grew in intensity as each otter vied for a bite — a scene reminiscent of siblings fighting over the largest slice of birthday cake.

Ecstatic, we exchanged smiles and high-fives. The day was made. On the way home, I learned how otters have distinctive throat patterns and are endangered in Peru, with only about 400 remaining and only five in the area where I visited.

With toucans croaking and howlers screaming, I soaked in the bliss of the moment and place, feeling especially grateful to be in the heart of the Amazon, with the gift of learning from the Ese Eja through meaningful and immersive cultural experiences. “It was a good day,” Coa said. “It was special for me, too. You don’t often see them up close eating.”

The greatest gift that the trip gave me, however, was the ability to sleep. In the quiet of the rainforest, lulled by the sounds of distant howler monkeys and the chirping of tree frogs, I found peace. For the first time in years, I slept. Deeply. Fully. And when I woke, I felt rested and whole, knowing I had found my way back to myself. The sleeplessness and physical pain that had plagued me for years steadily gave way to a newfound sense of alertness, presence and relief, as the Amazon worked its quiet, healing magic on my body despite my initial doubts.

I couldn’t help but note the irony. Here I was in the Amazon, a place that needs our help to preserve and save it. However, it was the Amazon and its forests, wildlife, and people who healed me, and it was there where I learned to sleep again.

It turns out, nature really is the best medicine.

MORE ABOUT VISITING THE PERUVIAN AMAZON

Getting There: Located in southeastern Peru in the region of Madre de Dios, guests travel from Lima to Puerto Maldonado for a 1.5-hour road trip and a 1-hour boat ride along the Tambopata River to Posada Amazonas.

Get Involved: Conservation meets adventure with Rainforest Adventures. Each night, Wired Amazon researchers host guest lectures. Participants can also take part as citizen scientists with projects such as helping install a trail cam, trying aerobotany, assisting with jaguar identification, or discovering new species.