I'm sitting on the porch of our lodge at Uakari, named after a rare monkey found only in this area. Uakari is the only spot that tourists can stay in all of Mamiraua (mom-EER-a-WAH), which was established in 1996 as the first sustainable development reserve in Brazil. Uakari sits on the curve of a U-bend on the Mamiraua Channel just before the junction of the Solimões and the Japura Rivers, tributaries to the Amazon.
We are in the middle of the world's largest floodplain, an area the size of England. Between the dry season and flood season the water level varies by 12 meters, and we are currently at high water. In fact, the lodge, five huts, and walkways between them are all floating. We are floating at the canopy level, and the only way to get around is by boat.
There are a dozen of us staying here, and we have breakfast at 6:30, then a morning activity (this morning we visited a local community), lunch and rest to avoid the heat until 3 or 3:30, and then we head out again, today by canoe into the canopy. Most nights there is a boat ride or talk with researchers after dinner.
Right now I can hear the disconcerting howl of the red howler monkey. I don't know how to describe it except that it sounds like an enormous, ominous monster (the croak of a giant frog?) straight out of Lord of the Rings. It seems far in the distance, there's an echo quality to it. One person thought it was the howling of a ferocious wind, but he realized the air was still when he walked outside his hut. When the howler monkeys quiet down, there are so many layers of bird and insect noises.
To get to Mamiraua you fly to Manaus, the big city of 2 million on the Amazon, then take a one-hour flight to Tefe, which has two flights in and out most days, and then take a speed boat another hour-and-a-half upriver. The lodge is designed for minimum impact, using solar power for lighting and water heating, rainwater collection, and a sewage filtration system. We're in the depths of the Amazon, and yet inside the lodge midday are half a dozen cell phones and cameras charging off the solar electricity, and here I am with wifi--I skyped with my dad today to show him around. :)
We're at the red star.
There is no light pollution, and there has been no moonlight, so inside the hut it is pitch black, and outside stars produce the only light. In addition to the various creature sounds at night, the sound of the strong current weaves underneath the hut. Last night I was in a deep sleep in the dark night when a "tempest" came down upon us. I woke with a terrible panic with the storm. I gasped and clawed around under my mosquito net trying to bring myself back to reality, but between the current below and the deluge everywhere else, it was hard to find a center to escape to. The flashes of lightning just made me feel like a small ship in a giant storm. But my hut was still secure come sunrise, and apparently I was not alone in my dead-of-night reaction to the storm. We all now feel a bit seasoned and maybe ready for the next dead-of-night tempest.
A gray dolphin is now surfacing out in front of us on the porch. One of my companions has been teasing that I should easily be able to swim to the canopy across from the lodge. We're not allowed to swim mostly because of piranhas and caimans, but Dieter claims that fleeing a crocodile will improve my swim times. I think I might not only swim faster but possibly even manage human flight should I face a caiman at eye level.
A few neighbors to the back
Last night was the smallest sliver of a new moon. I didn't know this, but I'm told a new moon is good for a wish.
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