A refuge in the rainforest
When the founders of the Kapawi Eco-lodge were searching the Amazon for somewhere to set up their operation, the story goes, a pod of pink dolphins surrounded their canoe and ‘led’ them to the ideal spot. It’s fitting, then, that before I’ve even reached it, I’m treated to a similar display.
The sight of freshwater dolphins leaping from the muddied waters is clearly significant to our Achuar guide, who seems amazed by their antics. ‘They are usually very shy,’ he explains. ‘Someone in the group must have very good energy.’
Only accessible via a tiny airstrip – more a small bald patch in the jungle than a runway – and some 320 kilometres of unbroken forest canopy from the nearest settlement, Kapawi lies in one of the remotest and best-preserved corners of the Ecuadorian Amazon. It’s a region blessed with biodiversity, home to some 600 species of bird and 20,000 species of plant, and who knows how many species still unknown to science.
But what sets Kapawi apart from your average eco-lodge is that it’s entirely owned and run by the local indigenous people, the charismatic Achuar tribe, who have inhabited these forests for thousands of years.
Jungle idyll
Arriving by canoe at the lodge, you could be mistaken for thinking that you’re visiting an Achuar village. Conical thatched cabins, built in the traditional way and connected by wooden boardwalks, sit on stilts over a placid lagoon. The arrangement provides a sense of both privacy and community. Each cabin has its own veranda complete with hammock, perfect for viewing the wildlife that seem to be flitting perpetually past the fluttering net curtains.
Out in the lagoon, a white egret elegantly stalks among lush elephant-ear-shaped leaves while chirpy yellow social flycatchers hop from perch to perch. The eerie calls of a troop of howler monkeys rise with the afternoon mist and a large jewelled beetle sways, as though it has overindulged at lunch, across the balustrade. And all of this can be enjoyed without being harassed by a single mosquito – surely the greatest tropical luxury ever provided – thanks to the planting of an Amazonian grass that hinders their breeding.
A pre-dinner canoe trip offers an enticing preview of wildlife to come. Woodpeckers, hoatzins, parrots and monkeys appear utterly unperturbed by our slowly drifting presence, nor by the sudden violent downpour that instigates a clattering of lens caps as we retreat under some plastic sheeting, silently watching as the force of the rain turns the water milky.
Kapawi was the brainchild of Carlos Perez, a Galápagos-cruise millionaire, and Daniel Koupermann, an environmentalist and honorary Achuar, who dreamt of establishing a sustainable-tourism project in symbiosis with the communities of Amazonian people. Their intention was to set up a lodge and then gradually work over a 15-year period towards an official handover. However, their plan was foiled by Perez’s death in 2004. His family, reluctant to continue pumping money into the scheme, handed it over five years ahead of schedule.
Environmental and indigenous-rights activist Zoë Tryon of the Pachamama Foundation, an NGO dedicated to assisting indigenous peoples in Amazonia, has lived with the Achuar for several years, working closely with them on the project. ‘The withdrawal [of funding] presented the Achuar with their biggest challenge to date,’ she explains. ‘The transfer period hasn’t been a bed of roses. Fortunately, with support from organisations such as the Pachamama Foundation, Kapawi became a successful, financially independent operation.’
All profits from Kapawi are split between local communities and the Nacionalidad Achuar de Ecuador (NAE), which governs a population of about 6,000 individuals living in 64 communities in a territory of 6,800 square kilometres. The NAE runs a range of projects from basic healthcare and education (including anti-malarial programmes) to forest conservation and mapping. It has an airline, an air ambulance, and even its own radio station, which the Achuar use to communicate with family members in other communities.
Currently, its most critical endeavour is acquiring legal title to the Achuar lands from the Ecuadorian government, a groundbreaking move that would have profound implications for its protection. ‘Kapawi is the largest community-based project ever developed in Ecuador,’ Tryon says. ‘Its importance can’t be overstated, as it gives the Achuar an income that isn’t dependent on extraction industries such as gas or timber.
‘This land is incredibly vulnerable,’ she continues. ‘There is oil under the territory, and any number of foreign multinationals would love to get their hands on it.’
Just across the border, the Peruvian Achuar have been devastated by the dumping of toxic waste from oil extraction and the pernicious spread of commercial logging. ‘Kapawi is essentially helping to keep almost 8,000 square kilometres of primary rainforest safe from damaging exploitation,’ Tryon says.
Indigenous staff
My Achuar maid points to a magnificent Amazonian kingfisher sitting in the vegetation a few metres from my balcony. She tells me that she loves Kapawi, but misses her family when she’s here.
The lodge staff come from all over the territory, some travelling for days by canoe or on foot to get to work. Training has presented some interesting challenges. ‘The management of Eurodisney found it difficult enough teaching the French how to work in the service sector; imagine what it’s like training people who’ve grown up in the jungle in huts without walls,’ says Tryon. ‘You have to explain that pillows can’t be mouldy, that knives and forks have to be in a particular order. And then, once they learn to do something “our way”, they adhere to it come hell or high water. They find it difficult to be spontaneous in unfamiliar situations.’
There are a total of 37 staff at Kapawi, 23 of whom are Achuar. They have training sessions every month, and two years ago, the Achuar assembly nominated five young men to take part in an accelerated training programme in tourism management in Quito. They now have key roles in Kapawi’s management.
‘I felt scared when I was nominated for the training programme,’ says Angel Etsaa, Kapawi’s head of operations. ‘I was only 20 years old, the youngest one, and sad to be leaving my family.’ (Angel already has a wife and two children.) ‘Yet at the same time, it’s very exciting to be studying. I am determined to succeed and learn all that I can, so that I can help Kapawi achieve its goals.’
As you might expect, environmental responsibilities are taken just as seriously as cultural ones. Not a single nail went into the construction of Kapawi, and all of the materials were sourced locally. Energy comes from solar panels, water is purified from the lagoon, and sewage is recycled. Guests use biodegradable toiletries, so wastewater is free of toxins, and they’re requested to take any non-biodegradable refuse home with them.
Even light pollution is minimised. Lamps in the rooms provide enough light to read by but keep overall levels low. The external boardwalks are unlit at night so that nocturnal animals are undisturbed. In return, visitors are rewarded with some truly spectacular night skies – skies that have clearly played a big part in the lives of the Achuar, who have developed extremely accurate astronomical systems for predicting annual cycles.
And it’s the Achuar that make the difference between Kapawi and other jungle lodges. I’ve been in rainforests all over the world. I’ve trekked through jungles, sometimes for hours, assaulted by undergrowth and fire ants, and emerged with nothing to show for my efforts but a rash of mosquito bites and leeches dripping from my calves. Here, in the hands of the Achuar, with their innate hunting skills at our disposal, every jungle foray reveals something extraordinary: a huge flower; a tree that can ‘walk’; a river of leaf-carrying ants; a flock of parrots feasting on clay.
The Achuar’s intimate knowledge of flora and fauna – a rich mixture of pragmatism and ancient wisdom – makes them expert jungle guides. The forest is their larder and their hardware store. There’s the pambil palm, its roots festooned with brittle thorns that make it the perfect natural vegetable grater. Our guides split open dead wood in search of grubs to eat. One brave visitor downs one, but fortunately, there aren’t enough to go around.
To the Achuar, the jungle is also home to spirits. There are trees with bad energy near which the Achuar children won’t play. Then there’s the enormous, mystical kapok tree, its giant curving roots rising from the ground as if from a fantasy film. These roots form part of the Achuar’s ancient rites: a lone individual sleeps among them until dawn, during which time he must face his innermost fears and invite Aratum, the nature spirit, to descend through the tree to commune with him.
Cultural immersion
Some hours in a canoe upstream from the lodge lies the village of Sharamentsa. Here I spend time with Santa and Elviera tending their jungle allotments or chakras. Elviera shows me how to place a stick in the ground without offending Nunqui, the chakra goddess. ‘You must respect her and all Earth,’ she says. ‘If you do, she will provide you with bounty and you will grow strong.’
It’s a woman’s responsibility to develop a good relationship with Nunqui so that her chakra will flourish and she will be able to feed her family. She does this by singing secret sacred songs known as anents while she tends the land.
It’s this sort of cultural immersion that makes Kapawi so special, according to Tyron. ‘Everyone who comes here becomes an ambassador for the Achuar and they have become quite famous for that reason,’ she says. ‘All of this helps to assert their identity, but the biggest problem facing them now is, quite simply, the global recession. Hotels are going bankrupt all over Ecuador.’
Staying at Kapawi isn’t cheap; flying in passengers and creature comforts is an expensive business. ‘It’s the price you pay for engaging with the world economy,’ says Tryon. ‘And better this way than through oil drilling.’
When to go
The average temperature in the Ecuadorian Amazon is about 25°C throughout the year, albeit slightly cooler during the rainy season (February–May), and relative humidity is close to 90 per cent. Outside the rainy season, during the dry, warm months of December, January and August, water levels in the rivers and lagoons drop, making this the perfect time to see wildlife as it visits these
water bodies to drink.
Getting there
Iberia (www.iberia.com) flies from London to Ecuador’s capital, Quito, daily, with prices from £680. To get to the lodge, visitors must travel to the hill town of Shell, near Puyo, which takes four and a half hours by bus (US$60 return) – optional charter flights are subject to availability. From Shell, there is a one-hour internal flight to Kapawi (US$274 return, plus taxes) – the departure time is at the mercy of the weather – and a 30-minute canoe trip to the lodge.
Further information
Stays at Kapawi Eco-lodge cost from US$799 per person for three nights (based on two people sharing). Visitors can book through Nature and Kind (www.natureandkind.com). See www.kapawi.com for more information about the lodge.
April 2010
The sight of freshwater dolphins leaping from the muddied waters is clearly significant to our Achuar guide, who seems amazed by their antics. ‘They are usually very shy,’ he explains. ‘Someone in the group must have very good energy.’
Only accessible via a tiny airstrip – more a small bald patch in the jungle than a runway – and some 320 kilometres of unbroken forest canopy from the nearest settlement, Kapawi lies in one of the remotest and best-preserved corners of the Ecuadorian Amazon. It’s a region blessed with biodiversity, home to some 600 species of bird and 20,000 species of plant, and who knows how many species still unknown to science.
But what sets Kapawi apart from your average eco-lodge is that it’s entirely owned and run by the local indigenous people, the charismatic Achuar tribe, who have inhabited these forests for thousands of years.
Jungle idyll
Arriving by canoe at the lodge, you could be mistaken for thinking that you’re visiting an Achuar village. Conical thatched cabins, built in the traditional way and connected by wooden boardwalks, sit on stilts over a placid lagoon. The arrangement provides a sense of both privacy and community. Each cabin has its own veranda complete with hammock, perfect for viewing the wildlife that seem to be flitting perpetually past the fluttering net curtains.
Out in the lagoon, a white egret elegantly stalks among lush elephant-ear-shaped leaves while chirpy yellow social flycatchers hop from perch to perch. The eerie calls of a troop of howler monkeys rise with the afternoon mist and a large jewelled beetle sways, as though it has overindulged at lunch, across the balustrade. And all of this can be enjoyed without being harassed by a single mosquito – surely the greatest tropical luxury ever provided – thanks to the planting of an Amazonian grass that hinders their breeding.
A pre-dinner canoe trip offers an enticing preview of wildlife to come. Woodpeckers, hoatzins, parrots and monkeys appear utterly unperturbed by our slowly drifting presence, nor by the sudden violent downpour that instigates a clattering of lens caps as we retreat under some plastic sheeting, silently watching as the force of the rain turns the water milky.
Kapawi was the brainchild of Carlos Perez, a Galápagos-cruise millionaire, and Daniel Koupermann, an environmentalist and honorary Achuar, who dreamt of establishing a sustainable-tourism project in symbiosis with the communities of Amazonian people. Their intention was to set up a lodge and then gradually work over a 15-year period towards an official handover. However, their plan was foiled by Perez’s death in 2004. His family, reluctant to continue pumping money into the scheme, handed it over five years ahead of schedule.
Environmental and indigenous-rights activist Zoë Tryon of the Pachamama Foundation, an NGO dedicated to assisting indigenous peoples in Amazonia, has lived with the Achuar for several years, working closely with them on the project. ‘The withdrawal [of funding] presented the Achuar with their biggest challenge to date,’ she explains. ‘The transfer period hasn’t been a bed of roses. Fortunately, with support from organisations such as the Pachamama Foundation, Kapawi became a successful, financially independent operation.’
All profits from Kapawi are split between local communities and the Nacionalidad Achuar de Ecuador (NAE), which governs a population of about 6,000 individuals living in 64 communities in a territory of 6,800 square kilometres. The NAE runs a range of projects from basic healthcare and education (including anti-malarial programmes) to forest conservation and mapping. It has an airline, an air ambulance, and even its own radio station, which the Achuar use to communicate with family members in other communities.
Currently, its most critical endeavour is acquiring legal title to the Achuar lands from the Ecuadorian government, a groundbreaking move that would have profound implications for its protection. ‘Kapawi is the largest community-based project ever developed in Ecuador,’ Tryon says. ‘Its importance can’t be overstated, as it gives the Achuar an income that isn’t dependent on extraction industries such as gas or timber.
‘This land is incredibly vulnerable,’ she continues. ‘There is oil under the territory, and any number of foreign multinationals would love to get their hands on it.’
Just across the border, the Peruvian Achuar have been devastated by the dumping of toxic waste from oil extraction and the pernicious spread of commercial logging. ‘Kapawi is essentially helping to keep almost 8,000 square kilometres of primary rainforest safe from damaging exploitation,’ Tryon says.
Indigenous staff
My Achuar maid points to a magnificent Amazonian kingfisher sitting in the vegetation a few metres from my balcony. She tells me that she loves Kapawi, but misses her family when she’s here.
The lodge staff come from all over the territory, some travelling for days by canoe or on foot to get to work. Training has presented some interesting challenges. ‘The management of Eurodisney found it difficult enough teaching the French how to work in the service sector; imagine what it’s like training people who’ve grown up in the jungle in huts without walls,’ says Tryon. ‘You have to explain that pillows can’t be mouldy, that knives and forks have to be in a particular order. And then, once they learn to do something “our way”, they adhere to it come hell or high water. They find it difficult to be spontaneous in unfamiliar situations.’
There are a total of 37 staff at Kapawi, 23 of whom are Achuar. They have training sessions every month, and two years ago, the Achuar assembly nominated five young men to take part in an accelerated training programme in tourism management in Quito. They now have key roles in Kapawi’s management.
‘I felt scared when I was nominated for the training programme,’ says Angel Etsaa, Kapawi’s head of operations. ‘I was only 20 years old, the youngest one, and sad to be leaving my family.’ (Angel already has a wife and two children.) ‘Yet at the same time, it’s very exciting to be studying. I am determined to succeed and learn all that I can, so that I can help Kapawi achieve its goals.’
As you might expect, environmental responsibilities are taken just as seriously as cultural ones. Not a single nail went into the construction of Kapawi, and all of the materials were sourced locally. Energy comes from solar panels, water is purified from the lagoon, and sewage is recycled. Guests use biodegradable toiletries, so wastewater is free of toxins, and they’re requested to take any non-biodegradable refuse home with them.
Even light pollution is minimised. Lamps in the rooms provide enough light to read by but keep overall levels low. The external boardwalks are unlit at night so that nocturnal animals are undisturbed. In return, visitors are rewarded with some truly spectacular night skies – skies that have clearly played a big part in the lives of the Achuar, who have developed extremely accurate astronomical systems for predicting annual cycles.
And it’s the Achuar that make the difference between Kapawi and other jungle lodges. I’ve been in rainforests all over the world. I’ve trekked through jungles, sometimes for hours, assaulted by undergrowth and fire ants, and emerged with nothing to show for my efforts but a rash of mosquito bites and leeches dripping from my calves. Here, in the hands of the Achuar, with their innate hunting skills at our disposal, every jungle foray reveals something extraordinary: a huge flower; a tree that can ‘walk’; a river of leaf-carrying ants; a flock of parrots feasting on clay.
The Achuar’s intimate knowledge of flora and fauna – a rich mixture of pragmatism and ancient wisdom – makes them expert jungle guides. The forest is their larder and their hardware store. There’s the pambil palm, its roots festooned with brittle thorns that make it the perfect natural vegetable grater. Our guides split open dead wood in search of grubs to eat. One brave visitor downs one, but fortunately, there aren’t enough to go around.
To the Achuar, the jungle is also home to spirits. There are trees with bad energy near which the Achuar children won’t play. Then there’s the enormous, mystical kapok tree, its giant curving roots rising from the ground as if from a fantasy film. These roots form part of the Achuar’s ancient rites: a lone individual sleeps among them until dawn, during which time he must face his innermost fears and invite Aratum, the nature spirit, to descend through the tree to commune with him.
Cultural immersion
Some hours in a canoe upstream from the lodge lies the village of Sharamentsa. Here I spend time with Santa and Elviera tending their jungle allotments or chakras. Elviera shows me how to place a stick in the ground without offending Nunqui, the chakra goddess. ‘You must respect her and all Earth,’ she says. ‘If you do, she will provide you with bounty and you will grow strong.’
It’s a woman’s responsibility to develop a good relationship with Nunqui so that her chakra will flourish and she will be able to feed her family. She does this by singing secret sacred songs known as anents while she tends the land.
It’s this sort of cultural immersion that makes Kapawi so special, according to Tyron. ‘Everyone who comes here becomes an ambassador for the Achuar and they have become quite famous for that reason,’ she says. ‘All of this helps to assert their identity, but the biggest problem facing them now is, quite simply, the global recession. Hotels are going bankrupt all over Ecuador.’
Staying at Kapawi isn’t cheap; flying in passengers and creature comforts is an expensive business. ‘It’s the price you pay for engaging with the world economy,’ says Tryon. ‘And better this way than through oil drilling.’
When to go
The average temperature in the Ecuadorian Amazon is about 25°C throughout the year, albeit slightly cooler during the rainy season (February–May), and relative humidity is close to 90 per cent. Outside the rainy season, during the dry, warm months of December, January and August, water levels in the rivers and lagoons drop, making this the perfect time to see wildlife as it visits these
water bodies to drink.
Getting there
Iberia (www.iberia.com) flies from London to Ecuador’s capital, Quito, daily, with prices from £680. To get to the lodge, visitors must travel to the hill town of Shell, near Puyo, which takes four and a half hours by bus (US$60 return) – optional charter flights are subject to availability. From Shell, there is a one-hour internal flight to Kapawi (US$274 return, plus taxes) – the departure time is at the mercy of the weather – and a 30-minute canoe trip to the lodge.
Further information
Stays at Kapawi Eco-lodge cost from US$799 per person for three nights (based on two people sharing). Visitors can book through Nature and Kind (www.natureandkind.com). See www.kapawi.com for more information about the lodge.
April 2010
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