The Slow Boat to Iquitos

 

Throughout an around-the-world trip, it's natural to strike up conversations with other travelers about some of their favorite experiences and recommendations. It was through one such conversation that I first heard about a multi-day boat trip down the Amazon. Often referred to as "taking the slow boat to Iquitos", it sounds more like a euphonism for someone of low intelligence, but is, in fact, a cargo ship whose main design is to bring supplies into the remote jungle towns of Northern Peru. Iquitos itself is a city that can only be accessed via boat or plane as there are no roads leading that far North into the Amazon basin.  From what I could gather from the smattering of backpacker blogs I could find online, it is not for the casual tourist, nor the type of experience can be booked with a travel agent, however if you could, it would come with a waiver stating that you must be okay with insects, bathing in dirty river water, and a very unreliable timetable of departure and arrival. Even with that in mind, it was something that I was very interested in checking out, in part because of my love of all things boat/water related and because it sounded like quite the adventure. It was with this goal in mind that we hopped our way through Northern Peru to the port city of Yurimaguas in pursuit of what would be the last escapade of our almost 20 months on the road together. 

Through the scant information you can find online, I knew that there is no way to really "book" your trip, but rather you find your boat of choice by going to the port itself and asking ship by ship when they're leaving and if they have space. Since I speak enough Spanish to ask these questions and, to be fair, it was my agenda I was pushing, I set off the morning after we arrived in Yurimaguas to find our boat. Entering the somewhat chaotic port, I was greeted with a scene that did not match my many port experiences of the past. Cargo ships that look more rust than metal are pulled up directly onto a steep muddy slope, connected by a wooden plank that requires you to cross over a chasm of at least 2 meters in order to board. There is not a lick of cement, dock, or machinery in sight, rather, the entirety of the ship's cargo is loaded by men carrying incredible backloads of just about anything you can imagine. I saw pallets of spaghetti, sports drink, chickens, PVC piping, water barrels, and laundry soap unloaded off semi trucks that were backed up to the water as far as they dared on the muddy slope. 

As I was taking this all in, one of the infamous salespersons I had read about online appeared and offered to take me around to speak to the Captains... for a tip of course. This was a Friday and my flight out of Iquitos wasn't until the following Saturday, giving us lots of flexibility on our departure date, and therefore our choice of boats. Another reoccurring point I had read online described the occasional theft that happens onboard so, although most passengers only rent space to hang their hammock and keep all their possessions with them on deck in a little nest of sorts, I was specifically looking for one with a cabin that would allow us to lock up all our valuables and relieve the worry of constantly having to keep an eye on everything. There were three ships in port headed to Iquitos, one leaving the following day with no cabins, one leaving Sunday with a small bunk cabin currently occupied by crew that they would evict on our behalf, or a ship departing on Monday with a double cabin including a private bath. It was a luxury beyond my expectations and I decided that we would wait until Monday so that we could travel with some additional comfort and security. I paid the fare and in exchange, the captain handed me a hefty padlock with two keys and let me know that cabin was now mine, even though the ship was not scheduled to leave for three more days.

The port town of Yurimaguas is not exactly the type of town where it's easy to kill a few days. After much searching, Johnny finally found a passable cafe that had both espresso and Wi-Fi, but it was a bit of a drag to pass the time waiting for the boat in a relatively unremarkable place. I chose to hangout on my hammock on the unmoving boat a couple of those days and entertained myself watching them load the cargo. Another interesting feature of the port was that ships seemed to come in without any plan other than to just ram themselves into the small crevices between ships, forcing open a space with sheer force and with notable damage to all vessels involved. 

With our extra time, I was able to shop for the necessary supplies, including our hammocks and mosquito net, Tupperware to receive our meals, as well as plenty of water and extra food for me knowing that my celiac disease would prevent me from being able to partake in all of the included meals. I set up our bed with fresh sheets and mosquito net, hung our hammocks in a preferred spot, and spent some time chatting with the crew as at this point we were the only passengers booked on. Little by little over the course of the day, I saw the ship fill with cargo and passengers and the number of hammocks began to grow. A young German couple joined the mix, ensuring that we wouldn't be the only gringos onboard. 

With the information that we would be leaving first thing Monday morning, I coerced Johnny into staying on the ship Sunday night so that we wouldn't get left behind, but when we awoke late Monday and saw there was still cargo being loaded, it was clear we were not leaving on schedule. 8am became noon, became 2pm, became 6pm. At one point we left the ship to go into town for a decent meal and a gym workout, returning by 7pm to be sure to not miss the boat. Before turning in for a second night sleeping on a docked boat we were again assured that first thing Tuesday morning we'd be out. The second morning went much as the first, however around 1pm we saw promising signs of empty semi-trucks and planks being removed. By 1:30pm we were finally pulling out of port. I was so excited to finally be underway and I stood on deck with the other 6 "gringos" with a buzz of energy that our adventure was about to start. That energy was quickly zapped when only 20 minutes later we stopped at the very official-looking industrial port just around the river bend to pick up more cargo. 

A far cry from the mud and boat ramming of where we boarded, this was a privately owned slick modern setup complete with cranes and safety procedures. We were the third boat in line and so we sat for another couple hours, the port we just left almost still in view around the corner. Once we finally loaded up, we traveled only another hour before it was decided that this part of the river was too shallow to navigate at night. With that, we pulled up along a muddy bank and tied a rope around a tree. I don't know how many hundreds of tons we were loaded up, but I have a sneaking suspicion that that tree wouldn't have done much if the ship decided otherwise. So with a scheduled departure time of early Monday, it was really Wednesday morning that we set off on the journey in earnest. Knowing it took the boat 3 days, I did have a small ball of nerves that I was cutting it a bit close for my Saturday flight, but with nothing to do about it at this point, we spent the day swinging in our hammocks, watching the jungle and small villages go by and looking for the famed pink river dolphins, of which we were lucky enough to get a few good showings. 

With so much time to sit out on deck, I began to take in my surroundings in more detail. The rusty railings that had completely disconnected in some places, the beds made of cardboard for the small children to nap on, the other passengers taking time to clear the lice out of each other's hair. My Spanish came in useful as I chatted with the family next to us and the time went by surprisingly fast with Johnny dedicating most of his time to hammock naps. Perhaps one of the most disconcerting observations was how trash was managed on board which is to say, that it wasn't. Everything went overboard into the river including copious amounts of plastic. Ironicly there were trashcans onboard, but each morning the contents were just emptied directly overboard. Absolutely heartbreaking, but as the minority and a visitor in the country there was not much to be done other than wince with each fluttering of a plastic bag.

The first full day out on the water (Wednesday) passed pretty uneventful, the time marked by the chef banging a metal spoon on the wall of the galley to let us know it was time to eat. Rice, a boiled plantain, and some scoop out of the meat pot characterized most of the lunches, while dinner was a bowl of chicken soup. The portion you received was directly related to the size of the Tupperware you presented, which means I was usually left with a mountain of rice that I was unable to finish. The extra food I packed came in handy on pasta day, although the Captain was a little disappointed to see me pass on the food offered as he assured me that the gringos always got the most excited about the pasta meal, a mound of plain spaghetti piled on top of another mountain of rice. Peruvians seem to love to double up the carbs whenever possible. 

We were watching the sunset out on deck with most of the other passengers when a couple of the kids built up the nerves to ask me a question. Once they realized I could understand and respond to the queries, and that I seemed amenable to conversing with them, the crowd grew to about 7 or 8 children between the ages of 5 to 12, all eagerly posing their questions about life outside of Peru. At some point, I was leading a tour from gringo to gringo with all the kids in tow, translating as they asked their questions about the countries each was from, how old they were, and if they had a boyfriend or girlfriend. At some point I told them I was ready for bed and we could chat more tomorrow, but by then I had cemented myself as the onboard entertainment for all the kids. There was one little girl in particular who was absolutely fascinated by our cabin and kept sneaking away from her mom to stand outside our door and, in her tiny voice, repeat "Señora? Señora? Señora?" in hopes that I would open the door so she could play on our bed. Once the kids finally dispersed I had a restless night's sleep as the ship continued to travel throughout the night, making stops at all hours to unload cargo in the dark at small villages as we passed. I awoke in the morning to find our door had been decorated with rainbow and heart stickers from my new fan club.  

The following day (Thursday) we would have our first stop where passengers could quickly disembark to grab a cold drink or snacks from a small shop while cargo was unloaded. I was distracted by a pink dolphin for the first few minutes of the stop, but when I made my way to the front I asked if there was still time for me to grab something and I was assured that there was. Johnny and I hurried into the shop and I decided to grab a rum and lime-type concoction before we heard the crew members start to shout while we quickly paid. As we were hustling back, I saw the plank removed and the ship starting to pull away. Moving as fast as I could down the muddy slope, with everyone onboard watching to see if the gringos would be left behind in a small village in the middle of the Amazon, I of course slipped and landed hard in the mud. With no time to register what had happened, I was back on my feet as quick as I could, being pulled back on board as the ship moved, my glass bottle of rum drink somehow appearing back in my hand covered in mud, miraculously saved in the fall somehow.

 

Standing at the front as the ship pulled away, I thought the panic was over and we had made it, that is, until Johnny turned to me and said with apprehension, "So....I accidentally left my key in the cabin when I locked the door".... In our hurry to make it ashore, he had closed the padlock to which we had the only keys and as soon as it clicked shut, realized his mistake. He also realized that telling me at the same moment we were rushing off the boat was probably not the best idea. Already thinking about how I would explain needing bolt cutters to the Captain, I fearfully reached into my purse that I had grabbed for our onshore purchases to find that, by some miracle, I had my copy of the key shoved at the bottom. I must have been a sight in that moment standing at the front of the ship, my backside covered in mud, holding a bottle of rum, bent over in relief and the adrenalin let down from the whole hectic few minutes that had just passed. 

After almost being left in the Amazon, the afternoon passed  calmly and to kill time I decided to watch a movie on Johnny's iPhone while relaxing in my hammock. About 20 minutes into the movie, I thought I heard laughing through my headphones in response to a funny scene. I turned around to find a small gathering of other ship passengers all watching the film over my shoulder so I took off my headphones, turned up the volume, and put on the Spanish subtitles to have ourselves a little group movie showing of Beverly Hills Cop II.

Knowing it was a final evening, we decided to host our own little sunset party with the other foreigners at the front of the ship. Everyone brought what was left in their bottle of whatever random alcohol they had and we chatted while gliding just over the top of the water, far from the sound of the engines and the busyiness of the passenger area.

That night we arrived at the town of Nauta, a significant stop for the cargo ships. There is a single road leading into and out of Nauta that connects directly to Iquitos and most of the passengers get off here to opt for the 1.5-hour bus to finish the trip and cut 8+ hours off of the remaining boat ride. Johnny and I decided to sleep another night on the boat as it was already pretty late at night and we didn't have accommodation set up, but figured we'd get off for a bit and get some food while we were in port. Not wanting a repeat of the morning, I asked the crew how long we'd be in port and they assured me about 3 hours. Plenty of time to get off for a snack. In an abundance of caution, Johnny and I decided to not both get off at the same time just in case (foreshadowing). After just 30 minutes off the boat, Johnny returned and it was my turn to get off to grab a quick bite and get back on, well within the 3-hour time frame. After less than 10 minutes ashore Johnny called as I was checking out to let me know the boat was, in fact, leaving that very moment. So for the second time that day, I was running for my life to not miss the boat. Significantly further this time, a crew member met me halfway down the main street to encourage my speed as the boat was once again started to pull away as I hurried down a muddy slope with crew yelling encouragement to not fall again. Luckily this time there were fewer people onboard to witness the debacle for a second time. 

That night would be our last onboard as we were scheduled to arrive the next morning and I think we were both ready to be done with our cabin, especially given the fact that in total we had spent 5 nights onboard when we were only expecting to spend 2, maybe 3 at the most. Although we did have a private bathroom, our shower flooded the whole floor when I tried it on night 3 so we ended up using the communal showers which, although was a perfectly fine shower, was just water pumped directly from the river. Most the other gringos had passed on the option to shower during the voyage, but Johnny and I had both partaken in the dirty river showers and I was looking forward to a proper bathroom. The night before I had also felt a cockroach crawling over my hand as I was falling asleep, which put me on edge of every little movement I felt in bed. Sufficient to say, as memorable as the experience was, we were ready for it to be done.

We awoke the next morning (Friday) as we were finally making our way into Iquitos and felt the relief of having made it in time for my flight and in one piece. Overall, it was the experience that I wanted and pretty close to what I expected in terms of physical comforts, but I think what will always make it special was it was a somewhat poetic way to end our 20 months of travel together. Pushing ourselves outside the typical travel adventure for 40ish-year-old Americans was rewarded with an authentic cultural experience that gave us a glimpse into a totally different part of the world. The hours I spent chatting with locals as we lazily swang in our hammocks, watching the Amazon river scenery go by is not something easily achieved or soon replicated. And so our journey down the Amazon was not only woven into the tapestry of all the incredible adventures we've shared since setting out on this trip, but was the final thread to complete this dream of an around-the-world voyage together and as such will always hold a special memory. 

Plus, I now and forever get to tell people that I almost got left behind while taking the slow boat to Iquitos and watch them try to puzzle that one out.