The Peruvian Amazon, Andean Cloud Forests and Machu Picchu: September/October 2014

[Game Warden]

@@Alexander33 Will do, stand by...

[Tania]

Enjoying the report, thank you for posting!

[xelas]

The scarlet macaws, they are so beautiful, but the voice they produce ... just awful. While the howler monkeys are loud they do sound a bit more acceptable (just not at 4:30 am outside of the cabin .

 

@Alexander33: for much of the similar rain forest wildlife, you should visit Costa Rica (if not been there already).

[Alexander33]

@ Tania

 

Thank you for following the report. I've been out of town, but more to follow this weekend.

 

@ xelas

 

So true about the squawk of the macaws. It seems that in many cases there is an inverse between the beauty of the bird and its vocal call. The macaws are gorgeous and personable, but what a grating sound they make. On the other hand, some of the most beautiful bird songs I've ever heard have come from what I call "LBBs" -- little brown birds, totally nondescript.

 

Yes on Costa Rica. We just made reservations for a week at Bosque del Cabo on the Osa Peninsula for next January. Time to relax and take time soaking everything in. Have you heard about the volcanic activity in Costa Rica this week? Volcanic ash shut down the San Jose airport for a period. (They have 10 months to work this problem out!)

Edited March 17, 2015 by Alexander33

[xelas]

@Alexander33: I must have read your travel plans . A week at BdC, what a treat! I have stayed only 4 nights, but I do appreciate everything that BdC is representing, and offering. About Turrialba, of course I am current with the situation. As a DE on TA CR forum, it is my duty ! If you need any additional info about Costa Rica send me a message. In case you have missed it, there is my TR report a few posts below yours: Safari in the land of Pura Vida - Costa Rica 2013 .

[Alexander33]

Aside from that first night at Tambopata, our night walks prove to be some of our most unique and memorable experiences, something we certainly did not have the opportunity to do in South Africa. Most groups leave for the evening walk around 3:00 or 3:30 P.M., but we follow Yuri’s recommendation to wait until 4:00 P.M. Like us, the wildlife bunkers down in the oppressive heat of the day, and leaving earlier only to see little and suffer the heat more greatly doesn’t strike us as a good tradeoff.

The upside is that although we leave later, we stay out later, generally continuing for an hour to an hour and a half after sunset, with us walking through the forest in the pitch dark – we are always the last back to camp. We don headlamps and sometimes also use flashlights, all brought from home. Yuri is especially adept at finding small tree frogs (some of which are only an inch or two long). These become some of my favorite photography subjects, full of individual personality and, unlike so many of the other species of wildlife we encounter, the frogs are extremely cooperative.

Phyllomedusa camba (No, I'm not a frog expert. Yuri helped us with the identities back at camp. [Have to love that name, though -- Phyllomedusa.])

Hyla fasciata

Leptodactylus sp. (simply called "leopard frog")

Cane toad

Yuri moonlighting as a hand model to show how large the cane toad is.

Unidentified tree frog

 

 

Perhaps my favorite, if only because, to me, it exemplifies the storied exoticness of the Amazonian jungle, is the Three-striped Poison Dart Frog (Ameerega trivittata or Epipedobates trivittatus, depending on which resource you consult [doesn't matter to me -- I just call it "that poison dart frog]). Poison dart frogs secrete toxins through their skins and are so-named because indigenous tribes used these toxins to poison the tips of their blowdarts. The most famous example is the Golden Poison Dart Frog (Phyllobates terribilis), which is endemic to the Pacific coast rainforests of Colombia. The Golden Poison Dart Frog, alleged to be the most toxic animal on earth, is reputed to carry one milligram of poison, on average, within its 2-inch (55-millimeter) long body, which is said to be sufficient to kill 10,000 mice, or 10-20 human beings, or 2 African bull elephants. (The natural skeptic in me didn’t believe this, but National Geographic says the part about 10-20 human beings is true. I suppose no one has ever figured out the feasibility of actually putting it to the test, so feel free to make up your own mind).

The Three-striped Poison Dart Frog is about the same size as the Golden, but not as toxic: it only causes severe cramping, local paralysis and seizures (think I’ll still pass on giving it a lick). Most poison dart frogs are aposematic, which means that they carry bright coloration and patterns to publicize to potential predators that they might want to think twice about that. The Three-striped Poison Dart Frog certainly fits the bill: it is a luminous black with neon green stripes and turquoise spots on it belly. This one is a male who didn’t let my camera and flash get in the way of his mating call broadcasts.

If things got slow, Yuri would pluck a small branch from a bush or tree, strip it of all but one or two leaves at the top, and insert it into what to our untrained eyes simply looked like a non-descript hole in the ground. In a few moments, out would emerge one very pissed-off tarantula!

Edited March 22, 2015 by Alexander33

[Alexander33]

One evening, Yuri stops in his tracks as we hear three sets of loud, but short, piping noises from the dense understory. He signals for us to crouch down. Somehow in the shadows of the growing dusk we can discern a large gray bird silently walking through the brush. It is a great tinamou. Also called a mountain hen, they live on the forest floor in a well-camouflaged suit of grays and drab greens that make them inconspicuous despite their size. Only their calls in the evenings gives them away. Later, in the darkening light, Yuri shows us a tinamou nest on the ground at the base of a giant buttress-rooted tree with two eggs that are the size of chicken eggs and colored an especially lovely Robin’s egg blue. These beautiful, showy eggs belie the

drabness of this secretive bird.

Trees with shallow buttress roots, like this one that sheltered the tinamou nest, are common in the Amazon, where the soil nutrients are poor. This feature allows the tree to spread out across more soil in order to take in more nutrients while also giving it greater sturdiness.

It would have been interesting to focus solely on creatures specializing in camouflage or mimicry:

The great potoo is the largest member of the nightjar family. They typically are found resting during the day at the top of stumps and branches, looking like an extension of their resting place.

The walking stick bug looks like a twig and part of the plant on which it is usually found.

Katydid doing its best to look like a leaf.

Unidentified lizard.

Our guide referred to this butterfly as the "owl eye," after the eyespots on its wings when closed. This disguise provides camouflage while resting against birds and other predators. The tops of its wings were actually an iridescent blue, which although showy to us, actually confuses predators: the contrasting bright blue on top and the dull brown on the bottom flash in flight, making the butterfly appear and then disappear in the dappled light of the jungle.

Another butterfly, this one showing us its brilliant blue-colored wings.

Our excursions are all private, except those to the clay lick, in which we are joined by several other groups in the boat that takes us there. However, meals are served at four communal tables. We always eat with our guide, but are joined by several other guides and their guests (mainly American and European), and we always seem to be sitting at the most raucous table (in a good way). A a proper British couple is always careful to maintain their distance -- their loss, I say (although I found them fascinating in a way, especially the wife, who wore flower print dresses and pantyhose at dinner. Given the pervasive heat and humidity of the place, she has my undying respect for her fortitude).

One morning at breakfast, another guest, who, unlike me, has been checking in on the real world every day, approaches us. Knowing we are from Dallas, she shares news that the first Ebola case in the United States has just been confirmed – in Dallas. This initial case will lead to the first Ebola death in our country – a Liberian man traveling to visit his sister – but two nurses at the hospital that treated him will also become infected.

As always, prior to our departure, our family members expressed a multitude of concerns about our travel plans. They can’t understand why we don’t just go to “normal” places for vacation, like everyone else. As macabre as it may sound, the idea of our calling them in a frantic state and insisting that they leave immediately to join us in the jungles of Peru – where it’s safe – brings a smile to my face.

Edited March 22, 2015 by Alexander33

[xelas]

@Alexander33: your photography skills has improved by each day! Those tiny frogs are so difficult to photograph, with shiny eyes reflecting the light, but you have done a great job. And butterflies ... those in the wild always makes me crazy with their unpredictable flying paths. Having a good guide is priceless; where mere mortals are seeing deep shadows she/he is seeing multitude of wildlife.

[Alexander33]

On our last full day in Tambopata, we say goodbye to the other guests at the Research Center as they climb into the boat bound for the clay lick. We will spend the morning in kayaks going back downriver, reentering the Cultural Zone en route to the Posada Amazonas lodge, where we will spend the night. A boat carrying our luggage (and lunch!) follows discretely behind us. Cloud cover betrays the threat of rain, but provides merciful coolness throughout our paddle. It’s just us and Yuri, almost silently gliding on the river. We maneuver into otherwise unnavigable bends of the river in hopes of finding wildlife that would ordinarily flee at the sound of an engine motor. Two weeks prior, Yuri spotted a jaguar sitting in the open on a cliff above the river on one of these stretches. However, aside from capybara, we do not come across any mammals. We do see impressive numbers of birds, such as greater ani and cobalt-winged parakeets. Amazon and green kingfishers perch on twigs above the water. We watch as a pair of chestnut-eared aracaris try to raid the nest of a yellow-fronted woodpecker. The landscape is peaceful and serene and pristine and timeless.

 

We pull up to a rocky beach. Disregarding everything I have learned about kayaking, I step out into the water with one leg and stand up. The kayak (and my other leg) promptly begins to drift back out into the river. This isn’t going to end well. Within seconds, I am fully submerged in the river, coming back up to gales of laughter, my own the very loudest. At least I wasn’t foolish enough to bring my camera with me in the kayak: it (and the precious memory cards) sits safely in its case on the boat. (I did, however, have a spare battery for the Nikon Coolpix in my shirt pocket, and I can report that it functioned perfectly even after its bath).

 

We check into Posada Amazonas Lodge and spend that afternoon on a lovely, blissfully quiet oxbow lake surrounded by tropical foliage. An oxbow lake is a body of water that forms when the main stem of a river changes course, leaving a free-standing lake where the river once flowed. Here, we find hoatzin, a fascinating, almost prehistoric-looking bird that I think looks beautiful, but that does, I am told, possess the unsavory trait of using bacterial fermentation to break down the vegetation they consume, which gives them what some have described as a “manure-like” odor, hence their other common name, “stinkbird.”

 

 

Hoatzin roosted in the bushes alongside the lake.

 

 

 

 

 

The lake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Greater ani.

 

 

 

Juvenile rufescent tiger-heron.

 

 

 

We take time out to fish for piranha. Pedro, the resident manager for this part of the Reserve, has joined us to steer our makeshift catamaran, and he keeps a few of the fish, which Yuri says he will pan fry whole and eat with rice and potatoes for dinner.

 

 

 

 

But what we really are here for is the chance to see giant river otters. After about 30 minutes of fishing, I grow impatient.

 

“So, Yuri, about those otters….”

 

“Well, they are very elusive…..”

 

“Yeah,” I reply. “Especially when we’re not looking for them.”

 

I say this mirthfully and with a good-natured smile, but he gets the message. Fishing pole stowed away, Yuri scans the lake and, late in the afternoon, he spies some movement on the other side. We cross the lake to see what is causing the commotion.

 

As we approach the shoreline, we hear a frantic rustling in the brush and, then, a loud splash. It’s otters – a family of 5. Finally! Growing to almost 6 feet (1.8 meters) in length, the giant river otter is a highly endangered apex predator that consumes piranha and catfish with the longest, sharpest teeth I have ever seen in an otter.

 

Two of the otters swim out to inspect our boat from a distance, periscoping us, while three others (evidently juveniles) stay closer to the shore. Unfortunately, the crepuscular light of the ensuing dusk, and the natural skittishness of the otters (not to mention my own ineptitude), keeps us from obtaining any quality photographs. Nevertheless, their appearance in this beautiful, primeval setting, with no one present but just the two of us and our two guides, is the perfect cap to our first (but, I hope, not our last) foray into Amazonia.

 

In a trip filled with bad photos, these were some of the absolute worst. But at least I have proof! (Cropping didn't do much to help, so only the third example below is enlarged).

 

 

 

 

(I am not above mentioning my envy of @ Atravelynn for the opportunity she had at the Manu Reserve around the same time to observe a family of giant river otters playing in the water and sunning themselves on a log. Her wonderful photographs of them in the trip report she posted earlier this year are worth a look).

 

 

At noon the next day, we find ourselves on a tarmac in Cusco, 11,100 feet above sea level in an arid, but picturesque landscape that seems worlds away from Puerto Maldonado. It’s a jarring juxtaposition. That morning, after a short walk through the jungle, we took a boat and retraced our path down the Tambopata River to the landing at Infierno, gathered our belongings at the Rainforest Expeditions headquarters, and, outside the Puerto Maldonado airport, bid a reluctant farewell to our wonderful guide, Yuri, reminding us once again that a quality guide can really make the difference between a mediocre trip and an unforgettable one.

 

Any concern we have had about the altitude at Cusco disintegrates as we embrace the brisk mountain air: such a refreshing change from the heat and humidity of the Tambopata! Evidently, the Acetazolomide or the coca tea, or both, have worked their magic, and fortunately we will feel no ill effects from the high altitude during the remainder of our trip.

 

Having traveled from the Amazon to the Andes in 45 minutes, the second half of our vacation begins: Machu Picchu and the lush surrounding cloud forests.

 

[Alexander33]

We are met at the Cusco airport by our guide, Maria Cavazos, and driver Percy, and immediately head toward the Sacred Valley, stopping at the famous market in Pisac for a mid-afternoon snack of empañadas and chicha morada, a traditional non-alchoholic Peruvian beverage made from purple corn, which is boiled with pineapple, cinnamon, clove and sugar and is said to have originated prior to the Inca empire. Along the way, Maria narrates, telling us about the Inca culture, its influence on contemporary Peruvian peoples, and pointing out archeological and historical sites as we pass them.

 

Chica morada. (Perhaps the altitude did get to me a little, after all. It looks like everything on the table is about to slide off).

 

 

Market scene. This one actually is at Aguas Calientes, not Pisac.

 

 

The Sacred Valley.

 

 

Our day ends at the Sonesta Posadas del Inca in Yucay, an 87-room lodge situated on the grounds of an 18th Century monastery where we will spend the night, but only after first enjoying glasses of wine in the picturesque gardens, watching the sun set behind the mountains and the red tiles of the roofs on a crisp early spring evening. Dinner is included in our rate, and I try lomo saltado, a traditional Peruvian dish consisting of marinated strips of sirloin, onions and tomatoes, stir fried together and served with fried potato slices and rice. It is delicious. My partner J. orders a filet of alpaca. Although it presents beautifully, it has an aftertaste of liver that we don’t particularly care for. From now on, we both agree that we’ll stick to alpaca wool products and leave the animal itself to live to a ripe, old age.

 

The Sonesta Posadas del Inca and its gardens, located in Yucay, in the Sacred Valley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are up early the next morning for a short drive to the historic city of Ollantaytambo, where we board the Peru Rail Vista Dome train to Aguas Calientes, the small town at the base of Machu Picchu.

 

On the way to Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu.

 

 

The train station at Aguas Calientes.

 

 

 

From there, we take a bus to the entrance of Machu Picchu and spend a full afternoon there, guided by Maria.

 

I will not delve into the history of Machu Picchu or any of the hypotheses about its origin or abandonment, but there are many books on the subject. One of the most recent and popular was the New York Times bestseller Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time by Mark Adams (2011), but I must confess that I didn’t gel with this book. Much better, in my opinion, is The White Rock: An Exploration of the Inca Heartland by Hugh Thompson (2003), which, to me, is more effective at orienting the reader, both historically and geographically.

 

(While we are on the subject of books, shortly before we commenced our vacation, I was able to obtain a copy and finish reading Mother of God: An Extraordinary Journey into the Uncharted Tributaries of the Western Amazon by Paul Rosolie (2014), a young man who first went to the Madre de Dios region of Peru, where the Tambopata National Reserve is also located, at the age of 18. Now at the ripe old age of 26, he works in ecotourism in the region. This book was an unexpected delight, and I am not aware of any other books about this particular area).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Orchids, bromeliads and other native plants grow amongst the ruins.

 

 

 

Llamas wander throughout the site.

 

 

 

 

 

Chinchillas live amongst the rocks. In good weather, they will sun themselves amidst the ruins. Maria said they are supposed to bring good luck. (How exactly, I have no idea. I suppose it is all a matter of one's perspective).

 

 

 

 

The next morning, we return to Machu Picchu, where we have tickets admitting us to the trail leading up to Machu Picchu Mountain. Most people who want bragging rights at Machu Picchu elect to climb Huayna Picchu, the mountain behind the ruins that you see in all the panoramic photographs of the place. The thing that makes Huayna Picchu such a harrowing (and, thus, popular) hike is not the height of the mountain (from the grounds at Machu Picchu, Machu Picchu Mountain is almost twice as high as Huayna Picchu), but the steep trail that, at points, is only 12 inches wide, with solid rock on one side and a sheer drop-off on the other. Although the ascent of Huayna Picchu technically is not that difficult, it is not recommended for those with vertigo, and a number of careless tourists have fallen to their deaths while attempting to reach the summit.

 

Back in August, we looked at a number of You Tube videos of people hiking the Huayna Picchu trail to determine whether it was something we wanted to try. It didn’t take me long to decide: “Oh, hell no.” I am okay with heights so long as there is a railing or other barrier that gives me a sense of protection. But without that, forget it. I can’t even stand on the roof of my garage without freaking out. Go figure what I’d be like at Huayna Picchu. So Machu Picchu Mountain it is.

 

Although higher – and thus a longer hike – than Huayna Picchu, Machu Picchu Mountain’s trail is easier to navigate and not so treacherous. A good thing, too, because unlike yesterday, with its blue skies interrupted only periodically by cumulus clouds, today is overcast and spitting with occasional drops of rain. The famous vistas of Machu Picchu are cloaked in blankets of fog. Up we go. Five minutes later, we stop. Huffing and puffing, sweating already, I look at J. and he looks at me, and I sense that we both are thinking the same thing: “We’re actually paying to do this?”

 

But we’re going to the top, even if it kills us. We make our way by establishing tiny incremental goals. Just up those steps to that landing, and we can take a rest. Up to where that tree is, and we’ll take a swig of water. In this way, not only do we pace ourselves, but we also take more notice of the spectacular scenery. Although we are in the mountains, the vegetation is lush. Wild orchids bloom from moss in the rocks and bromeliads grow straight out of tree limbs hovering over the path. With the swirling fog that lifts every now and then to reveal stunning vistas beneath us, we can fully appreciate the term “cloud forest.”

 

On the trail to the summit of Machu Picchu Mountain.

 

 

 

 

 

The vistas down to Machu Picchu were stunning.

 

 

 

 

 

As we ascended, the trail took us through microclimates, where the flowers and plants were different anything we had seen below.

 

 

 

In spite of a banana peel we find in the middle of the trail at a point where there is a steep drop-off on one side (just carelessness or someone with a truly devious sense of humor?), we make it to the top. We spend some time there, because I am convinced that the fog will clear and we will be afforded a stunning panoramic view of Machu Picchu and the surrounding Urubamba River valley. Instead, the gods start laughing at me, and the rain starts in earnest. We pull our rainproof ponchos out of our day packs, and begin the descent. It doesn’t take long for us to realize that going down is going to be a lot tougher than coming up. A large part of the trail consists of steep steps made of the local granite, and, with the rain, things are slippery. “Slow” is the watchword of the day. But by noon, we are done and on our way back to our hotel in Aguas Calientes, exhausted but safe and sound (perhaps due to the good luck of the chinchillas from yesterday?)

 

 

Edited April 6, 2015 by Alexander33

[Alexander33]

And for some reason (operator error, I'm sure), those last two shots above are totally random. Not sure how they got there, but just for good measure, there's the Sacred Valley one more time and then one of my legs walking up the trail of Machu Picchu Mountain, just so you don't forget.

[Alexander33]

I am almost as excited by our hotel as I am by Machu Picchu. In a major splurge, we have elected to stay at the Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo, a Relais & Châteaux property on over 12 acres of both lushly landscaped grounds and cloud forest left in its natural state. Rooms are located in small casitas scattered over, perhaps, 3 of those acres. The rest of the property contains, in addition to natural forest, orchards, groves of tea and coffee plants, and a small farm where many of the vegetables are grown and guinea pigs are raised for the hotel’s two restaurants (although as dedicated pet lovers, the “cuy” was a dish we elected to forgo). The hotel also has an eco center, where guests can schedule a variety of excursions led by guides employed by the hotel.

 

 

 

 

After the rigors of Machu Picchu Mountain, we are ready to take a more leisurely exploration of the hotel's acreage and the river trails leading into the surrounding countryside. The plants and flowers are beautiful, the birdlife is reported to be spectacular, and there is talk of bears in the forests -- but not in the way you might imagine......

 

[graceland]

Ah, @@Alexander33 you got me at "Sacred Valley", one of my all time favorites - in SA. I wanted to find a house and live there!

 

Thank you for coming back and posting the remainder of you SA tour. We too loved MP, and the llamas that live on the land. The Inkaterra is the best place to stay imo and your photos of its' inhabitants superb.

 

There is a mystical beauty in your capture of MP and the Inkattera property.. A lovely way for me to revisit. Full of life, magnetism - butterflies , birds and tea. But here was a man there who wanted me to enter his tent....never figured that one out. Smoke came out; I did not go in Part of the property, but I never quite got it.

Maybe he wanted to ward off evil spirits, OR my constant desire to return to Africa, even when in South america. Aren't the people glorious!

 

Looking forward to more. We were on this very trip, 2008.

[Treepol]

@@Alexander33 thanks for the detailed report on Tambopata, it bought back memories.

 

Yuri was certainly an excellent guide - how smart to leave later for the evening walk and see the smaller critters. I like your frog photos, the Great Tinamou and its eggs.

 

Congrats for making it all the way up Machu Picchu Mountain.

[Alexander33]

@ graceland

 

I agree. The Peruvian people uniformly were extraordinarily kind, generous, and welcoming. The Sacred Valley definitely appealed. Unfortunately, our schedule afforded us only the one night there. As to your having taken almost the exact same trip in 2008, I can only say that I will consider myself a lucky man if I am able to follow in all your footsteps from that point forward! Thanks for your interest and for following along.

 

@ Treepol

 

Indeed, we were sort of proud to make it up and back from Machu Picchu Mountain. Once was enough, though, although I would happily return to Machu Picchu itself. Your own epic trip report is inspiring. I hope to replicate the remainder of your itinerary in some fashion, albeit in smaller, multiple snippets. Thanks for your supportive words.

[michael-ibk]

Mysterious bears? I´m all ears.

 

Very enjoyable new entries, you are definitely moving this area up my bucket list. Kudos to the hike, can´t have been easy - and even more difficult on the way down I´d expect. Very much like the pics of Macchu Picchu hanging in the clouds, they have an almost eerie quality - in a good way! And great seeing the Hoatzin and theOtters! Looking forward to more.

[Atravelynn]

I have loved returning to Peru with you. You describe the oppressive October heat so well. Dripping wet from sweat, I remember so vividly. I showered with my clothes on to wash them and to me cool off and stay cool. It appears you used the kayak approach for your dip.

 

You are so right about the photography challenges of the jungle but you did a great job on a variety of monkeys. Not easy. They're up high, moving swiftly, backlit, and in shade. All tough conditions. The savannas of Africa kind of spoil you for other more difficult photo settings.

 

That's great you saw both red & green plus blue & yellow macaws at the clay licks. Seeing the blue & yellow is more unusual at the clay licks, I believe. You picked the right place for the scarlet macaws.

 

I can relate to the worry of a rainstorm ruining the clay lick outing. What a relief it must have been when you had clear skies on your departure day.

 

I may have seen more giant river otters, but you had far superior night walks. Really great frog shots and the elusive tinamou, now that's a rarity, not to mention the eggs!

 

Next up Machu Picchu.

[Atravelynn]

Chinchilla at Machu Picchu, what a find! It seemed like you could get close too, maybe they are accustomed to people like the llamas? It obviously brought good luck because you survived your huayna picchu climb, banana peel, wet conditions underfoot, and all. I did not do that route, but I wondered what it would be like if it were wet. Do you think it became more slippery and/or dangerous?

 

Back to the jungle, I could feel your eagerness to halt the fishing and start looking for wildlife. I recall the same thing when our Amazon cruise group went for an afternoon of piranha fishing and boat safari.

 

That last red flower is the national flower of Peru--Kantuta. I was just sharing my Peru pics yesterday and double checked. I recognize your llamas. What a nice life they have.

 

Great report on two of the country's highlights!

Edited April 12, 2015 by Atravelynn

[graceland]

BTW. our clay lick outing was a bust. June. Great time for Sacred Valley and MP...not so for Amazon. But we were happy to see BATs

 

(@@Atravelynn, I remember a trip of yours I believe to see bats in Africa; so I saw them In the jungles of the amazon....wonder if related?

 

Pics here are stunning; I love returning via your report @@Alexander33

 

Thank you.

And @@Atravelynn for topping the thread back this weekend. I needed the lift!

[Alexander33]

You know what they say about best intentions. I had hoped to wrap this report up by now, but my schedule this past week got the best of me. Thanks for following along and for your patience.

 

@@Atravelynn

 

You describe the oppressive October heat so well. Dripping wet from sweat, I remember so vividly. I showered with my clothes on to wash them and to me cool off and stay cool.

 

Just turning on the shower with my clothes on. Now why didn't I think of that? (I guess my subconscious went into overdrive on the kayak trip).

 

 

I may have seen more giant river otters, but you had far superior night walks. Really great frog shots and the elusive tinamou, now that's a rarity, not to mention the eggs!

 

Trade you a frog for an otter!

 

 

Chinchilla at Machu Picchu, what a find! It seemed like you could get close too, maybe they are accustomed to people like the llamas? It obviously brought good luck because you survived your huayna picchu climb, banana peel, wet conditions underfoot, and all.

 

Actually (as you will see if I ever finish this report!), I think the chinchillas remained good luck talismans through our last night in Cusco. It was actually Machu Picchu Mountain that we elected to climb, rather than Huayna Picchu, but it did feel good to make it up and back again without a scratch.

 

I did not do that route, but I wondered what it would be like if it were wet. Do you think it became more slippery and/or dangerous?

 

It definitely was hazardous in the rain. Those stone steps were quite slippery. It was important to go down slowly.

 

 

That last red flower is the national flower of Peru--Kantuta. I was just sharing my Peru pics yesterday and double checked.

 

Really? I had no idea! Thanks so much for that information. It makes the photo so much more special.

[Alexander33]

@ graceland

 

Thank you for your kind words. This report has turned out to be an enjoyable way to take the trip all over again.

 

BTW. our clay lick outing was a bust. June.

 

At least at the clay licks around the Tambopata Research Center, the number of parrots, and specifically the Scarlet Macaws, fluctuates, depending on the season. Food supplies, such as flowers and fruits, are evidently at their lowest from April until July. During this time period, the researchers have found that the birds leave the area for richer feeding grounds elsewhere. Parrot numbers begin increasing sometime in August as food sources there become more readily available.

 

Also, the timing of a particular species' breeding factors into their presence at the licks, as well. The researchers at Tambopata found that Scarlet Macaws feed their chicks large amounts of clay, especially when the chicks are young. The Macaws begin breeding in October, which is right about the time we were there.

 

Perhaps this explains why your experience in June was a bit different? I'm glad there were other aspects of your trip that you still cherish, though. You were very helpful when I was soliciting advice for this trip last summer on the Trip Planning thread.

[Alexander33]

At 6:00 A.M. the next morning, we meet a guide I encountered the previous evening at the eco center, William Polo, who will take us on a 1/2 day birding and nature tour. Our legs have stopped protesting the abuse we leveled on them in yesterday’s climb, and we are ready to soak it all in. Just steps from the door of the eco center we stand by a small, sloping area shaded by trees and bromeliads before descending into the river behind. There we watch mixed flocks, striking blue-necked tanagers (with heads and necks of powder blue and black wings banded with bright orange), saffron-crowned tanagers (with bright yellow heads, azure blue chests and green backs) and blue-gray tanagers as they quickly hop from branch to branch.

 

But what Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo is really famous for are its hummingbirds – a reported 18 different species. I think I could devote an entire trip – or at least a good chunk of one – to just pursuing hummers. These tiny flashes of colorful iridescence are the only birds that can rotate their wings in a circle, allowing them to fly both forwards and backwards, up or down, sideways, or hover in one spot, as they flit from flower to flower consuming up to half their body weight each day in nectar, which they extract from flowers with fringed, forked tongues concealed in their long beaks.

 

Hummingbirds are also highly territorial. We watched in amusement as one chestnut-breasted coronet chased off other birds many times its size from his precious perch near a patch of orchids.

 

 

 

 

 

The Green and White Hummingbird is a near-endemic, found on only a few eastern slopes of the Andes. Unfortunately, i could only capture one at a feeder on the property.

 

 

 

Speckled Hummingbird

 

 

 

Walking out of dense forest into a clearing, I was thrilled to come across a Gould's Collared Inca in a natural setting, no feeders around. This subspecies of the Collared Inca (which has a white breast band) is found only in a small area of southeastern Peru and northern Bolivia. I was excited to capture this series of the Gould's Collared Inca as he acrobatically flitted from flower to flower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somehow, I was able to freeze, or at least almost freeze, the hummingbird's wings in some situations. I have to confess I am not sure how I managed this. In researching the art of hummingbird photography, multiple off-camera flash units are usually necessary to achieve a high-enough shutter speed to freeze the wings. But I used no flash. The only thing I can think of is that my ISO was set very high because we had been in dense forest, and I forgot to adjust it down once we came into bright sunlight. Many professional photographs that you see are the result of elaborate set-ups: feeders to attract the birds, flowers in pots brought in for color, five or more flash stations, and sometimes even fake backdrops. That's not what I'm about, so I suppose these will just have to suffice, even if they do have more digital noise than I'd prefer.

 

[Tom Kellie]

 

Somehow, I was able to freeze, or at least almost freeze, the hummingbird's wings in some situations. I have to confess I am not sure how I managed this. In researching the art of hummingbird photography, multiple off-camera flash units are usually necessary to achieve a high-enough shutter speed to freeze the wings. But I used no flash. The only thing I can think of is that my ISO was set very high because we had been in dense forest, and I forgot to adjust it down once we came into bright sunlight. Many professional photographs that you see are the result of elaborate set-ups: feeders to attract the birds, flowers in pots brought in for color, five or more flash stations, and sometimes even fake backdrops. That's not what I'm about, so I suppose these will just have to suffice, even if they do have more digital noise than I'd prefer.

 

 

~ @Alexander33:

 

What a GREAT image !!!!!!!!!!!!

Your trip report is outstanding.

These hummingbird images are so technically difficult.

My hat's off to you for such fine photography.

Thank you for sharing these photos on Safaritalk.

Tom K.

[Alexander33]

Our guide was very happy to find the Chestnut-capped Brush-Finch. In a country of secretive birds that lurk in dark forests, this one is especially secretive and likes the darkest corners of dark forests!

 

 

 

 

 

This Golden-Olive Woodpecker was an exception to the rule. He was very gregarious and couldn't have cared less about our presence.

 

 

 

 

 

Interesting plants and flowers, as always.

 

 

 

At the end of the property lies the farm. It is almost a storybook setting. The farm is situated between the river on one side and high, tree-covered mountains on the other. A farmhouse and several outbuildings are constructed of whitewashed stone and thatched roofs, similar to those used by the Incas 500 years ago. Rows of lettuces grow in richly tilled soil, in beds surrounded by bamboo supports for string beans and clumps of colorful nasturtiums. Tomato trees – I have never heard of these before – about 8 feet in height support dark purplish-red tomatoes the size and shape of plum tomatoes. The farm is managed by a husband-and-wife team. He is rinsing freshly picked lettuce, and she is in one auxiliary building making candles. William greets them, and J. and I sit down in the sun and cool breeze for a snack and drink of water while William chats with the husband up near the house.

 

The farmer washing lettuce grown on site.

 

 

 

Suddenly, the farmer’s wife hurriedly walks up to us, beaming, and exclaims with great enthusiasm, “Gallina! Gallina!” (Pronounced “gaieena,” I’ve seen the word on menus around town. It’s Spanish for “hen”). She motions us to come with her. “Gallina!” she says, smiling broadly. She wants to show us her hens. J. and I look at one another, dutifully following her, although hens at a farm are not exactly what we were after on this birdwatching tour.

 

The señora starts climbing the hill behind the farm. We pause. She turns around and, smiling, says, ““Cuatro gallinas!” she says, holding up 4 fingers and pointing to the trees. Hens in trees? Now I am confused. In the trees, with my binoculars I can make out a rufous or dark orange color. And then red. The Cock-of-the-Rock! Peru’s national bird is an iconic species that I have wanted very much to see. Naturally, we have left our cameras down near the house, as we certainly didn’t think we would need them to see some hens in a farmyard. (At least I had the foresight to bring my binoculars.) Surprising, fickle Peru strikes once more! (While you are perusing @ Atravelynn’s trip report on Manu for those otters I mentioned earlier, check out her great photos of the Cock-of-the-Rock from, appropriately, the Cock-of-the-Rock Lodge, where they are a major draw and which I have added to my must-visit list).

[Alexander33]

William has told us to look across the Urubamba River while we are on the tour. The Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu is much more than ruins. It also includes a large protected area of cloud forests, which are adjacent to a portion of the Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo property, separated only by the river. Within this reserve, if one is very lucky, one can find the spectacled bear, a critically endangered species and the only species of bear native to South America. Habitat loss is the main threat to this beautiful animal, although native populations also shoot them because they think the bears are a threat to their livestock (even though the bears are 95% vegetarian). They are sometimes found as they come to the river for a drink or while foraging in fresh plants along the water. Unsurprisingly, we are not one of the lucky ones.

 

However, just as we are about to leave the farm, William hurriedly directs our attention to a wire fence. Behind it, resting peacefully, is a spectacled bear.

 

Yes, I know, the fence.....

 

 

 

 

At first, I am disturbed by the sight of this bear in a fenced enclosure. William explains that the hotel is a partner in a project with Peru’s National Institute of Natural Resources (INRENA) that rescues these bears from captivity and slowly introduces them back into the wild. The bear we are looking at was rescued from a circus in Arequipa. Initially, the bears are kept in a rather small enclosure, where they are slowly introduced to a diet that is oriented to their native plants so that they can learn to not depend on food generated by human beings. Later, the bears are moved into a larger area in a natural state where they must forage for their own food. Here, they are monitored to ensure that they will survive their planned release into the wild. The ultimate goal is release back into the wilderness of the 32,000 hectare Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu. While my knowledge of this program is solely confined to William’s explanation and information on Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo’s website, I do have to say that, from the information I have, I feel this bear’s situation is a vast improvement over the circus. (Yes, that's the bear I was alluding to at the end of my post a while back -- had to keep your interest. Sorry!)