Puerto Maldonado, late December 2018

[cranefly]

1/2/2019: Part 4 -- The Brazil Nut Trail -- Return Leg
When I last left off, we were at the terminus of the Brazil Nut trail, the farthest we'd been from the research station.  Not that the trail actually ends there, but we were past the Brazil Nut trees and edging into what Mohsin called the Labyrinth, a confusing mess of trails notorious for getting people lost.  Anyway, this was deemed a good turnaround point.

In recent posts I may have come across as overly preoccupied with my health.  The thing is, I don't want to be the weakest link.  I don't want to slow the group down.  At age 67, I'm by far the oldest, with bad hips to boot.  If I'm going to participate in these excursions, I have a responsibility to keep up.

Which hasn't been a problem so far.  I'm tired right now, but not hurting.  Still, there's been warning signs I might be overdoing it: a spell of blindness in the left eye the day before, frequent urination throughout the night, and now swelling of the hands.  So I'm monitoring myself very closely.

I have a new concern, one I should have considered before now.  I have an old knee injury suffered as a teenager trying to run on a plowed field (don't ask).  It almost never affects me, but the repetitive motion of very long walks in excess of about six miles can aggravate it.  The joint becomes inflamed, and I simply cannot walk.  There's nothing to do about it then but sit down and let it rest for an hour or two.  Here's the kicker.  There's little forewarning.  When I first notice it becoming a problem, I'm only good for another 100 yards.

Certainly we've gone over six miles.

So I'm a bit apprehensive, but trying not to let it affect my gait, because that can just aggravate the knee faster.

As we start back, Mohsin pauses where some gunny sacks are laid out next to the trail.  He grabs one, and as we come to piles of brazil nuts gathered earlier, we put them in the sack.  He is ever urging us along, leery of the brazil nut trees, not wanting us to linger beneath them for long.  We sort of overdid it piling nuts along the trail, and we only need to gather some of them before the sack is full.  It's heavy, and before long Mohsin is asking if someone else wants to take a turn lugging it.  I head back to volunteer, but Ian beats me to it -- which is a good thing, in hindsight.  As far as I know, Ian carries it all the way back, declining offers by others to take a turn.

A word about these Brazil nuts.  Mohsin and JJ's organization has conservatorship over this region, but with a Brazil nut concession.  Essentially, they must permit the harvesting of these Brazil nuts -- by whom, I'm not sure.  We are gathering some because Ray, our cook, intends to use some in one of our meals (LCF and I don't think he ever got around to it).  Anyway, Brazil nut trees cannot be domesticated.  You cannot make a plantation or orchard of them.  They need to stay in the rainforest, and will die if any of that surrounding forest is damaged.

At about this time LCF takes photos of something that still puzzles me.  It was taken about 30 minutes after the caterpillar photos.


That there is a bird of paradise plant.  No big mystery about that ... except that the bird of paradise is native to South Africa.  Also, it's not pollinated by insects but by a sunbird, and sunbirds don't exist in South America.  So there's a possibility we discovered a secret passage to Africa and spent a few moments treading there, before coming back to the Amazon rain forest.

[Okay, I just now did some more digging, and it turns out my basic assumption is wrong.  It's not a bird of paradise plant (genus Strelitzia).  It's a Heliconia (genus Heliconia), which can closely resemble the bird of paradise plant.  Soooo, never mind.]

Mohsin falls back to check on something, and I settle in with Paula in the lead.  She's still in her running shoes and not happy about it.  They're not suited for walking, and as an elite athlete she needs to use the right shoes for the right activity -- or risk injury.  She's desperate to find that missing hiking shoe and keeps a close eye on the edges of the trail.
She tells me other problems she's having -- how hard the meals are on her out here.  They're four hours apart on average, and she can't go that long without eating.  She's munching on some bar right now, but it's a poor stopgap.  As a tri-athlete, she has almost no body-fat, and her metabolism is very high.  In conversation she gets a bit loopy, and I think it's because her brain is a bit nutrient- or oxygen-deprived.

My hands are now swollen beyond making a fist.  I ask her if she knows what that might indicate.  She says the same thing happens to her on long walks, though she never has that problem when she runs.  Anyway, no, she doesn't know why that happens.

Then, there it is, the hiking shoe.  It's in plain sight at the edge of the trail.  She's relieved and quickly changes into them.  The others overtake us.  Mohsin and LCF have been walking together, and now Mohsin takes me aside and tells me of a plan.  Up ahead is a turnoff, and while the others will be continuing on the main trail back to the research station, Mohsin will be splitting off with LCF and I.  We will be going back to the mammal colpa.  LCF has decided that that's where she wants to scatter the rest of Kevin's ashes.  It's a great idea that I fully approve of, but I tell Mohsin I need to make sure she wants me along.  I've never known for sure how private she wants to make this little ceremony.  In planning this Peru trip, she didn't even tell me this was part of it.  Mohsin thinks that's considerate of me.

When we get to the turnoff, Mohsin directs the others to continue down the main trail, giving some instructions on where to turn at a T.  I now ask LCF if she wants me along for this, and she says of course.  But she's drenched, looks very tired, and while I still have a quarter of my water, her water bottle is empty.  That concerns me.  The Brazil nut trail has been long and exhausting, and this mammal colpa trek is the one that nearly did me in 3 days ago.  I voice my concern at the water situation.  After some discussion, I opt to give LCF my water bottle, take her empty one, and head back.

Before I set off, Mohsin reminds me to turn right at the T if I haven't caught up with the others yet, and then it's a straight shot back to the research station.  I can't possibly get lost.  Those tend to be famous last words for me.  I have no sense of direction, and if there's a way to misinterpret something, I will.  I say goodbye to LCF as they head off, and then I head after the others down the main trail.  They're just faint voices in the distance now, and I'll have to hurry if I want to catch up.  But I'm tired, without water.  Striding out will stress my hips and could aggravate my knee.  I make the sudden decision to slow way down, to walk back alone.  The voices fade away in the distance, and soon it's just me and the rainforest.

I stroll along by myself, communing with my surroundings.  This is such a beautiful place.  I realize I've been wanting to spend time alone in this rainforest, and it surprises me it took me this long to act on it.  I do feel a bit guilty for not accompanying LCF to the mammal colpa.  Did I overreact to the water situation?  Maybe I was just concerned my knee might give out and mess things up.  It feels fine right now, but it always does until it doesn't.

I walk along, savoring the sights and sounds.  The canopy is dense above me, but in a couple of spots I glimpse bits of sky.  Dark clouds are moving in.  Maybe we'll finally get a rain.  And then I hear it, a patter of raindrops hitting leaves high above.

I come to a marshy section of trail where the canopy is spotty.  A few raindrops get through, hitting me.  At the same time, the sun breaks through to hit me.  It's an odd juxtaposition of sensations, walking through dense rainforest yet getting hit by rain and sunlight together.  I savor this magical moment, listening to tropical birds and watching butterflies dart about.  It only lasts about 30 seconds.  Then the rain, never more than a few droplets, ceases.  The unseasonable drought persists.

Just beyond the marshy area, I spy something on the ground.  It's like a big ant, but oddly colored, and with a gigantic head.  I've never seen anything like it.  I'm tempted to catch it, put it in my eyeglass case, and take it back to the research station to find out what it is; but it seems wrong to displace anything from this pristine wilderness.  I also wonder if it's some sort of queen, and don't want to disrupt a whole colony.  I try to memorize its appearance and then move on.

I come upon a water bottle on the trail.  Someone from our group must have dropped it.  I pick it up and take it with me.

I come to a vague fork in the trail, and wonder if this is the T where I'm supposed to go right.  After a while I come to another vague fork.  Was this where I was supposed to go right?  I thought there was only one decision to make.  I go right again.  I grow increasingly uncertain of the trail, and recall Mohsin's tales of people getting lost and how it takes a whole day to find them.  I don't want to become another one of his anecdotes.

But then the trail starts to look more trodden, and I see trees and vegetation that strike me as familiar.  Before long I hear voices, and then I see the barest hint of structure through the vegetation.  The research station.  I estimate it's about 3:30 pm.

At the deck, I take off my shoes and socks and join the others in the public area.  I hold up the water bottle I found.  Mina tells Ian I found his water bottle.  As I'm giving it to him, he asks where I found it.  "Under a water bottle tree," I say.  There is not even a waver in his expression.  I walk off, feeling like a smartass.  But then he calls after me, "Thanks!"  Ian is a good guy, even if he doesn't appreciate my sense of humor.

I clean up a bit and join the others, and we hang out and recuperate.  An hour or so later Mohsin and LCF return.  I check with LCF.  She's tired and dehydrated (obviously), but doing okay.  She says she found a good spot at the mammal colpa and Mohsin wandered off to give her some time alone.  At the time that she scattered Kevin's ashes, a hummingbird buzzed up close to her face and hung there a while before zipping off.  That seemed a good sign.

She took a photo of the spot.



I still regret not going along with her for this, and still wonder if I overreacted about the shortage of water.

Oh.  Here's a frog pic LCF took on the way to the mammal colpa:


Also, after researching that ant or termite I saw with the gigantic head, I think it was a big-headed ant in the genus Pheidole.  Here's a photo I got from the web of Pheidole pilifera (note that they have two kinds of workers -- one with a normal head, one with a big head):

[NOT MY PHOTO]


There were plans to go swimming at the waterfalls in late afternoon.  But the Brazil nut trail took a lot out of people, and it's getting a bit late, what with Mohsin and LCF's late return.  The rainforest is starting to take a toll on us.  There's been some upset stomachs, bee and ant stings, odd rashes, and other odd ailments.  People aren't thinking very straight.  They're doing stupid things.  That's my impression at least.

Anyway, it's decided to postpone the waterfall swim until another day.  I'm last to learn this; LCF notifies me as I'm getting ready in our room.  But she says that some people went down by the boat to soak in the shallows.  So I decide to do that.  But when I get down there, it's really just JJ and Mohsin and a couple other locals, and I feel awkward, like I'm intruding.  Still, I climb in and wallow about for a while.