Rio Napo, Ecuador

July 31, 2000

Rio Napo Ecuador

We departed on a plane from Quito to Coca Ecuador at 9:00 AM this morning. Coca is a dive of a town fueled only by its ties to the oil industry and the dubious honor of being the last stop on the road to La Selva... the jungle. Thankfully, we spent very little time on Coca's mud and trash covered streets, before we were hustled to a waiting canoe pointed downriver.

Climbing into that canoe, I noticed the air is heavy, rich with moisture like the dark fertile soil on the banks of the Rio Napo. These truly are the lungs of the earth; the big brown river girdled by this black fertile soil combine giving life to the vegetation that creates the lion's share of the oxygen we breathe. This is life... right here in the Amazon is where it all begins.

And as the twin 175 horsepower Johnson outboards, lashed to the rear of our longboat, roar to life shooting us into the heart of this magnificent river, I could feel its pulse in the hull of the boat drumming at the planks separating water from men. Scanning the banks and horizon on the 5 hour journey to the mouth of a small tributary that marks the end of the Yuturi river, I was overwhelmed with the grand majesty of it all... of the jungle.

Everywhere I look is life. Flocks of birds lit from the trees to circle above us surveying the jungle below. The canopy of trees is teeming with as much activity as the jungle floor. Insects, reptiles, fish and mammals of all sorts give life to this enormous organism that surrounds me, growing in life and death, it writhes... calling out from every corner, unable to hide in its enormity. I had never been witness to so much wildlife congregated in a relatively small area before in my life. Most of the animals were secluded by the jungle’s veil of green, but there were many that were as curious to see us, as we were to see them.

We arrived after hours of deft maneuvering by our pilot, through some amazingly tight waterways choked with fallen trees and floating organic debris, to the Yuturi Lodge late in the afternoon. The lodge is set on the shores of a lagoon rimmed by the trees and plant life of the jungle. Several rows of huts sit opposite the kitchen and dining room separated by a lush strip of grass. Ours was to be the second from the water accessorized with a hammock and not much more.

After stowing our gear, we were summoned to the dining room for a brief introduction. Our English-speaking guide, Ruben, told us that there were many amazing new things we would see and experience on our trip to Yuturi... Ruben was right. After a short dinner, we were off to explore the undergrowth in the dark. We filed through the trees and plants just outside the lodge, on our bug safari, looking for some of the exotic insect life that inhabits the night. One thing that I learned on our short stay in Yuturi... there is no shortage of bugs! We saw everything, from delicate butterflies to armor plated centipedes, crawling about in the night. They make their way through the undergrowth foraging by the light of an odd variety of luminescent fungus that covers almost anything that has died. We spent almost an hour and a half picking our way through the enormous spider webs and troops of Congo ants to follow the low droning of the generator back to camp. Exhausted from the day's events, we all slipped under the protective mesh of the mosquito nets for a good night's rest.

We rose with the sun the following morning to paddle through the network of lagoons and rivers surrounding the lodge. Teofilo, our native guide, pointed out the many birds that were roosting in the trees, naming them off like old friends at a reunion. Ruben had the job of translating Tiofilo's Quechuan observations into an understandable form for his boatload of tourists.

The pair worked well together, keeping our minds just as engaged as our eyes while we explored. They, without a doubt, made the experience as educational as it was exciting. Tiofilo would call out to the group, gathering us around as he explained the next new plant or animal's significance in the life of the jungle. We had learned of the medical significance of many of the jungle's growth and even had a few practical applications as Rebecca and I tried a bitter jungle remedy for sore throats or drank water from a vine that lay on the jungle floor.

We tromped through the muddy undergrowth learning the ways of these jungle people. From the giant sable trees that they use as a crude form of communication by hammering on the long flat roots, to the bamboo and palm of which they make their ropes and homes, their ingenuity never ceased to amaze me. These people took full advantage of every plant or animal the jungle gave them. The harmony with which these people live their lives, inextricably connected to their surroundings, is unbelievable. From their gardens filled with plants and fruit trees that don't grow wild to the tools they use to tame the land, everything is handmade and tended with care.

As Ruben had said, we had many amazing new experiences in Yuturi. We fished for and swam with the piranha in the lagoon and climbed high into the jungle canopy on a 500-year-old tree to look out over the vast diversity of life that stretched out as far as the eye could see. I lay on the grass looking up into a new moon sky filled with unfamiliar stars listening to the chorus of the jungle and I had the chance to experience a different way of life with a people as far removed from civilization as you may ever get.

Perhaps the most enlightening experience of all was asking the people I had met on the trip, "What is your dream?" From a group of people as diverse as the jungle plants themselves... I got the same answers. Every person that I queried responded with a desire for happiness. From Vivianna, the simple wife and inhabitant of the Rio Napo's banks, to Anders, a Swedish university graduate, they all seem to desire a seemingly elusive state of mind. If happiness dwells not in the jungle with everything else that lives and is alive... where might it be?

Where indeed. The search for happiness is a journey of self-revelation. The more I look on the outside for my happiness the less of it I seem to find. I have found on this trip that happiness is not a destination but a realization. The realization that I, and only I, make the choice to be happy in any situation, and the only limitations I have are the ones that I create.