A photographer's paradise: Peru's Manu rainforest

For years my mind was teased and taunted by the allure of a lush, tropical rain forest. I searched far and wide in videos, television programs, the internet, and pictures before I stumbled upon my ideal emerald green jungle.

Photo by Eric Plante Lake Otorongo is one of many oxbow (U-shaped) lakes in Manu. The lake houses many exotic animals, including giant otters, monkeys, birds, and caimen.

Does this place really exist? I thought to myself. Am I seeing it as it really is, or is this cinematographer trickery and editorial magic?

I would soon find out. I was headed for Peru's hidden jewel, the Manu Rain Forest.

Situated 10,800 feet above sea level on the heels of the Andes Mountains, Cusco is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the Americas, and the gateway to Manu. I checked into the Hotel Oblitas, which offered just enough and not one amenity more. A bed, nightstand with lamp, private bath and shower, and clean surroundings suited my needs just fine. The sink spewed only cold water, but I flicked a switch and warm water flowed from the shower head. There was plenty of daylight left so, so I went out to explore.

I browsed the countless shops that line the narrow streets. As I walked I could feel my lungs working a little harder to suck in the thin air. The chaos of cars zipping by, no lanes, no turn signals, no order whatsoever, was entertaining. By now the sun had started to set and I needed a good night's sleep.

Photo by Eric Plante The friendly, semi-aquatic capybara is native to Central and South America. It is the largest rodent species in the world, growing up to 4 feet long and 2 feet tall.

The next morning the caravan driver plucked me from my room and I took the last remaining seat with the diverse bunch who were to be my nine companions for the next seven days. A 30-minute drive took us to a lot where we boarded a 22-passenger Russian bus and met our guide, Darwin. Immediately I knew we were in good hands. He's the classic wilderness type: shoulder-length hair, just the right amount of wear and wrinkles on his face, faded jeans torn at the knee, and a plain black T-shirt.

The giant red bus rumbled and rocked down the dirt road, passing several small villages. Village residents smiled and waved to us as we made our way up the steady incline on the eastern slope of the Andes. At the highest point of the drive, we had a beautiful view of 20,000-foot peaks rising to meet the clouds. We began the descent on an increasingly bumpy road that eventually meandered its way into Manu's sister forest, the Manu Cloud Forest. The Cloud Forest's name reflects its higher elevation, cooler temperatures, and increased moisture. Lush greenery adorns every slope, hilltop, tree, and shrub. We spent our first night there, on communal cots atop a roofed platform, lulled to sleep by a vigorously flowing cloud forest river.

The early morning breakfast ended with the grumbling engine of the giant red Russian bus. We climbed aboard and embarked on the final leg of our road trip. Along the way we made the obligatory stop to glimpse the cock-of-the-rock. Yep, that's the name of the flamboyant bird that draws visitors from around the globe to witness its ostentatious mating dance. 'Watch what the males do to get some love,' Darwin said. As if on cue, one of the bright red-orange-chested males began to bob side to side, wings flickering, in an attempt to attract an equally-beautiful mate.

After the dazzling display of avian courting ritual, we continued our descent to the road's end. We boarded a 16-foot motorized canoe and glided up the Alto Madre de Dios River. Soon, the Manu Rain Forest was surrounding us, its beauty and ambiance pure magic. The river is flanked by richly colored trees and many more of Manu's 15,000 plant species. This tropical treasure also boasts 1,000 species of birds and 200 mammal species. Tucked away in Peru's southeast corner, Manu's 7,200 square miles is said to be the most biologically diverse ecosystem on earth. And it is this biodiversity that prompted the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization to declare Manu a World Heritage Site in 1987.

It soon became clear that we were traveling through Manu's cultural zone, a large slice of rain forest set aside for human settlement. The locals interrupted their daily chores to catch glimpses of passing tourists. Hours later, we reached our tented campsite deep in the rain forest's reserved zone. This uninhabited pristine swath of forest is a non-hunting zone where the wildlife are unafraid of humans. We took only enough time to choose our sleeping quarters. A comfortable bed encased in fine mesh is a welcome site. A pathway led to communal flush toilets, showers, and sinks with mirrors.

Photo by Eric Plante The caiman is a crocodilian species that dwells in the warm, still waters of oxbow lakes and lower rivers. Four species of caiman are native to Peru, the largest of which can grow up to 20 feet long.

The remainder of the day was reserved for a walk through the jungle to Lake Salvador. Darwin stopped the group midway: 'See the fallen trees here? Trees in the rain forest live only about 100 years, so most likely this big tree knocked the smaller trees down when it fell, leaving a gap in the canopy. The sun can now reach the forest floor and new trees and plants will grow,' he said.

Lake Salvador is a gorgeous oxbow lake, home to the sleek and powerful giant otter, monkeys, and a wide array of bird species. We quietly floated on a large catamaran while the otters constantly parascoped to investigate the gawking two-legged creatures. They approached and sometimes circled the wooden raft, chirping, squealing, and barking. The 70-pound streamlined mammals were every bit as playful and curious as dolphins.

What we had not yet seen-and indeed we never did-were Manu's most reclusive residents. The Yora, Kogapacori, and Mashco Piro tribes live a sheltered life in the national park; some have never had any contact with the outside world. These resourceful survivalists subsist on the rich bounty of natural resources.

On our third day we cruised up the Manu River and came across an inspiring site. Our boat driver spotted the object of my desire, the real reason I had come to Manu. A handsomely marked jaguar was resting atop a high river bank. The exquisite cat eyed us briefly, looked away, eyed us again, and looked away once more. There was utter silence in the canoe, eventually broken by the sound of camera shutters.

Five minutes later we were off, and once again the cool breeze from the moving boat fended off the sultry air. Birds of various size, color and temperament flickered about, dove toward the water, and soared overhead. A flock of brilliantly colored macaws in their natural habitat is a truly a sight to see.

Red howler monkeys, with hair thicker and more lustrous than a cover girl's, make their presence known with raspy roars as they greeted the dawn. Caimans basked on sun-drenched beaches, while capybaras did their best to avoid those reptilian jaws.

In only five-and-a-half days, this emerald oasis rewarded me with sightings of three jaguars, countless macaws and other birds, large and small monkeys, otters, caiman, capybara, and sloths. And as the 20-passenger aircraft hoisted me up into the humid air and headed back to Cusco, I closed my eyes to daydream. I thought of all I had seen and where I had been. I thought of the two nights spent in a tent on a beach in one of the most remote places on the planet. And I thought of how nature must sometimes remind us that our own survival depends on preserving her wellbeing.

> Eric Plante conducts photography workshops throughout the year.