Welcome to the Jungle: Pink Dolphins, Mischievous Monkeys, and Almost Losing a Finger to a Piranha
A Photographer’s Journey into the Amazon
By Brice Weaver
You know a place is remote when even Google Maps just shrugs and says, “Good luck.” That’s Iquitos, Peru—a jungle town so deep in the Amazon rainforest that your options to reach it are either a multi-day boat ride or one of the few daily flights from Lima. My trip was planned tighter than my mosquito netting: land in Iquitos, meet my guide, and immediately set off downriver to a jungle lodge two hours away. No room for error, lost luggage, or delayed flights.
Miraculously, everything actually went according to plan. I stepped off the plane, found my bags waiting for me (a minor travel miracle), and spotted my guide immediately. He stood there holding a sign with my name, making me feel ridiculously important—like a jungle-bound movie star rather than someone desperately needing a vacation.
My guide was an older gentleman, calm and confident, with that quiet reassurance you get from someone who’s probably wrestled an anaconda or two. After a quick stop at the tour office to handle paperwork (because apparently, even jungle adventures involve liability forms), another traveler joined our group last-minute—a cheerful German woman with muscles suggesting she could probably paddle our boat single-handedly if needed. Our entire group ended up being just the two of us travelers and our guide—essentially a private tour without the added cost. Not bad at all.
Nanay Market: Sensory Overload, Amazon Edition
Before escaping civilization entirely, we stopped at Nanay Market, a bustling riverside hub filled with fish, meats, and at least a hundred smells fighting for dominance. Tables overflowed with fish species I’d never seen before—some delicious-looking, others downright terrifying. Nearby, meats were stacked: cooked, uncooked, identifiable, and completely unidentifiable, silently daring us to guess their origin.
Even more striking were the homes lining the riverbank: ramshackle wooden houses perched high above muddy waters on giant stilts, connected by thin planks serving as sidewalks. Kids raced fearlessly across them, while I pictured myself face-down in the Amazon after about three cautious steps.
At the river’s edge, our ride awaited—a wooden boat powered by a charmingly loud motor that clacked rhythmically, connected to a long adjustable drive shaft sticking out like a tail, perfect for navigating shallow waters or hidden logs. As we pulled away from town, the wide brown Amazon River stretched endlessly ahead, deceptively calm-looking but moving swiftly beneath us. Our guide shared stories of river life, humorously reminding us just how far we were from the nearest Starbucks.
Jungle Lodge Life and Local Legends
Two hours later, we reached the lodge: cozy wooden bungalows raised high above the jungle floor, interconnected by elevated walkways. Our guide casually mentioned that during the rainy season, water could rise all the way up to these planks. Skeptically glancing downward, I decided not to doubt a guy who’d spent his life here.
Lunch awaited: fresh river fish, veggies, and rice. Simple and delicious. After settling into our private bungalows—complete with bathrooms, showers, and mosquito-netted beds—we immediately set off again, eager for our first sighting of the elusive pink dolphins.
The dolphins didn’t disappoint. Soon, we saw pink dolphins gracefully surfacing around our boat. Seizing the moment, our guide shared local lore: these dolphins, known as boto, are believed to be shapeshifters who transform at night into handsome, sharply dressed men (el encantado), charming unsuspecting locals in nearby villages.
“But whatever you do,” he said dramatically, breaking into a grin, “never look directly into their eyes—unless you want nightmares every night for the rest of your life.” Laughing nervously, I quickly avoided eye contact.
Kids, Piranhas, and a Shamanic Horror Story
Returning to the lodge that evening, we watched local village kids enthusiastically jumping from muddy banks into the river, prompting my immediate thought: “Aren’t there piranhas in there?” Clearly, they weren’t worried at all.
Dinner was a relaxed, communal experience in an open-air dining area with just a roof and screened walls, allowing the jungle’s nighttime chorus to serenade us. Other travelers shared stories, including one young woman enthusiastically describing her recent Ayahuasca ceremony—complete with vivid visions, vomiting, and emotional purging. Quietly grateful I hadn’t planned to partake, I happily stuck to the fish.
As gentle rain tapped softly on the tin roof, I turned in early, drifting off easily to the jungle’s comforting lullaby.
The Art of Dolphin Photography and Cast-Net Luck
The next morning, we headed back out in search of dolphins. Determined to get at least one decent photo despite their unpredictable appearances, I began studying their behavior carefully. Eventually, I noticed small fish leaping from the water just moments before the dolphins surfaced.
Patiently, I positioned myself on the bow of the boat, camera focused steadily on the river’s surface, eye glued to the viewfinder, finger poised over the shutter button. After what felt like forever—but was probably just a few minutes—I saw tiny fish scatter above the surface. Immediately I held my breath, and as the dolphin broke through the water, I pressed the shutter. Success—capturing the elusive pink dolphin perfectly and earning impressed praise from our guide.
Shortly afterward, we passed two fishermen in a small canoe—one paddling casually from the back while the other expertly prepared his cast net at the front. I instantly knew the exact image I wanted: the net mid-air, beautifully spread out. Unfortunately, since our boat was traveling parallel to theirs, there was no good angle for the shot—frustratingly, the perfect photo opportunity slipped by.
But luck was on my side. Later, after turning down a side tributary and eventually looping back around, the fishermen reappeared, now approaching us head-on. Quickly positioning myself again at the front of our boat, I watched closely as the fisherman at the bow grasped the net in his teeth, adjusted his stance, and tossed it outward. Just as the net flew wide open in mid-air, I clicked the shutter, capturing exactly the Amazon moment I had hoped for.
Piranha Fishing: How (Not) to Lose a Finger
Later, we stopped at a floating café where locals casually fished while sipping coffee. We bought raw chicken (a supposed piranha delicacy) as bait and decided to try our luck. Instantly, our guide and the German traveler caught piranhas, while mine repeatedly outsmarted me, stealing my bait. Determined, I finally caught one with careful teasing.
Extracting the hook while the tiny predator furiously snapped its jaws was nerve-wracking, prompting our guide to jokingly ask, “You want to eat it?” Considering its modest size and fierce temperament, I politely declined.
Monkey Island: Primate Pandemonium
After lunch, we visited Monkey Island (La Isla de los Monos), a sanctuary dedicated to rescuing monkeys from illegal trafficking. Staff sternly warned us to lock away loose items—monkeys would definitely steal them.
Within seconds outside, a monkey jumped onto the German woman’s head, proudly stealing her hair clip. Another hopped onto my camera, slapped the LCD screen upon seeing its reflection, then climbed onto my shoulder, thoroughly puzzled by my bald head and beard. Monkey business indeed.
Nighttime Jungle Creepy-Crawlies
That evening, we joined a guided night hike. The jungle after dark transformed dramatically. Armies of leaf-cutter ants marched in military precision, giant armored millipedes scuttled like tiny tanks, and tarantulas cautiously emerged from burrows. Our guide somehow spotted a tiny frog hiding in dense foliage. Every creature had spikes, fangs, or attitude—and I loved it.
Village Visits and Tribal Dancing
On our final morning, we walked through the jungle to a hidden riverside village. Children ran joyfully, men relaxed outside a tiny shack selling sodas and candy, one softly strumming a guitar. Life was beautifully simple and happy.
Later, we visited the Yaguas tribe, warmly welcomed by smiling villagers dressed traditionally—the men and women wearing grass skirts, the women bare-chested, exactly like something from National Geographic. After watching their dances, we soon found ourselves laughingly joining their circle. The chief seemed particularly intrigued by my beard, chatting animatedly with our guide while gesturing toward me—I’m hoping the comments were complimentary.
They demonstrated their hunting skills using a blowgun, and we each gave it a try. Let’s just say the local wildlife remained perfectly safe.
Final Adventures and a Wild Ride Back
Returning upriver toward Iquitos, dark storm clouds rolled in, releasing torrential rain the moment we docked. Our transport back to the office? A makeshift motorcycle-rickshaw with a flimsy plastic windshield. Visibility was near zero, the streets flooding as we bounced through an unforgettable ride.
Safely back, I checked into my small, family-run hotel near the center of town—comfortable, welcoming, and ideally located. After the rain stopped, I explored Iquitos’ lively streets filled with laughter, live music, and even a surprise parade.
The next morning, after breakfast and coffee, the hotel’s owner kindly drove me personally to the airport—a warm and memorable farewell to an unforgettable journey.
Through My Lens, For Now
If this one pulled you in — if it made you laugh, wince, or wonder what it’s like to have your head examined by a monkey — share it. Or better yet, head somewhere off-map and come back with your own story.
I’ll be here next Tuesday with another glimpse through the lens — new horizon, same search for the unexpected.
– Brice
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