So close, so far

Five steps was all it took for the outside world to disappear.

I’ve heard it before, told again and again by both tourist operators and locals: the Amazon rainforest is a living creature, and if you let it, it can swallow you whole.

We’d travelled three days already, and slowly asphalt roads had given way to winding one-way dirt roads. Cell reception had been the first to go. All communication was now carried out through the two way radios the cars operated. Warm showers were gone too-not that we missed them- and we had all embraced the habit of wearing our socks over our pants.

Travel went by slowly, so much that you could no longer stick your head out of the window to get a respite from the heat. We were miles away from the nearest town, plunged deep into low-lying jungle and deep red mud. It was a pit stop in our journey and we’d parked on the middle of the road, waiting for the rest of the group to join us. I slipped out of the passenger seat, plunging my thick rubber boots into the clay soil. It had rained that morning, making the air thick with moisture and the warm sweet smell of the forest.

Five steps and the rumbling of the river disappeared.

I froze.

Disorientation set in. Which way did I come from? I turned on the spot, careful to avoid touching any of the trees around me. Sounds filled my ears like an orchestra, the calls of the birds and bugs competing against each other. I knew I was close, but trying to search for movement proved pointless. Everything was moving. Deep in the entrails of the Yanachaga Chemillen National Park, barely any sunlight seeped from the canopy, but the forest was very much alive.

“What are you doing?” Someone called out to me. I followed the sound of the voice, and I spotted a figure close by. The spell broke. The path revealed itself, like it had been there all along, and the figures of my family waiting for me at the edge became crystal clear.

“Nothing” I answered, sheepishly, as I made my way back to the road. The car had the engine running, and I jumped back in, glancing at my watch as I tried to scrape away the mud sticking to my boots.

I’d been away for less than five minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime.

Five steps away from the road, less than 300 miles from the city, but by far the furthest I’ve ever felt from home.