Living far from where you grew up—and having lived in different states and countries—means some of your favorite people don’t live anywhere near you. Granted, catching up often involves a lot of phone tag and occasionally, “Let’s meet up in Ecuador,” because we can’t just go grab coffee.
I digress. During our catch-up, Lacey asked, “What’s some of the sketchiest stuff you’ve done?” I had options. She knows that because she’s been part of some of them. But one came to mind immediately: swimming in the Amazon. I still think about it and wonder what the hell I was thinking.
To even get to the ecolodge, we took an overnight bus from Quito toward Cuyabeno. The ride included what felt like a one-lane mountain road, a 2 a.m. passport and luggage check, and eventually being dropped at the Lago Agrio bus terminal in the dark.
We tracked down a taxi and handed the driver an address. He took us to what looked like a random house in an unlit neighborhood and motioned for us to get out. I used my limited Spanish to make it very clear that we were not getting out there. He insisted it was the right place and offered to wait while we knocked.
A sleepy but energetic kid, maybe 17, answered and told us we could wait on the rooftop terrace for our tour. There were hammocks and bananas laid out for breakfast. So we looked at each other, laughed, grabbed a banana and a hammock, and took a nap, hoping daylight would bring a little more clarity.
Oh, I haven’t even gotten to the sketchy part.
Around sunrise, another couple arrived and we headed to the boat. There were four guests, our driver, and the guide packed into a little jon boat. We sped through the channels, stopping to spot wildlife, including an anaconda—which I could have done without—and flying monkeys, which were magical.
The next day, we spent a lot of time in that boat scouting animals from pink river dolphins, more snake varieties than I would have preferred, caiman, and several different monkey species. Then, the magic happened. A few boats gathered in one of the wider openings of the lake though in the rainy season I’m not sure how you can tell what’s lake, what’s river, and what’s just flooding. Our guide said it was time to swim. Lacey and I looked at each other and before we could talk ourselves out of it said YOLO and jumped in.
The water was refreshing even if the color was murky and I tried not to think about what lurked underneath. We treaded water for about ten minutes and the light began to fade. Then, over the horizon, a full moon began to peek above the trees and reflect across the perfectly still, glass-like water. It was magnificent. It was magnificent. Everyone fell quiet. Even the animals seemed to. It’s a moment I’ll remember forever—the sheer beauty and mysticism of it. I felt immense gratitude to be a tiny part of the scene.
Before I knew it, I was swimming in the Amazon lit by nothing but the moon. The moment I realized, the spell was broken and I made a mad dash back to the boat.
Would I swim in the Amazon again? I’m not sure. But I’m so grateful I did it once—and also very grateful I wasn’t eaten by a caiman or wrapped up by an anaconda.
