We woke up once again at the Wyndham Costa del Sol, grabbed breakfast, and started to see who would be joining us on our next adventure—deep into the Amazon. Our Natural Habitat handler was already there with our LATAM tickets to Iquitos, and we were happy to find ourselves seated in the LATAM equivalent of Comfort Plus. After a short hangout in the terminal, a bus ride across the tarmac, and a walk up the stairs, we were finally on the plane. It was a bright, sunny day, with great views of the Peruvian countryside unfolding beneath us.
Back in Lima, we’d noticed that the group heading to the Amazon skewed a bit older than the crowd from our Machu Picchu trip. Thankfully, there were also more Natural Habitat staff joining us, including our head guides, Renzo and Guillermo. Compared to our arrival in Cusco—where finding bags and guides took a bit of effort—this arrival was completely hands-off. We were greeted with welcome signs and immediately shepherded along.
That was a good thing, because not long after we entered the terminal in Iquitos, the rain started coming down hard. Of course—it was the Amazon, and it was the wet season. We loaded ourselves and our gear onto a coach bus and set off for Nauta. The hour-long drive was bumpy and fascinating: dirt roads, random construction zones, local swimming holes, and plenty of “only in the Amazon” sights along the way. Renzo spent much of the drive setting the scene for our upcoming Amazon cruise, while we munched on the ever-reliable Nat Hab snack bag.
Eventually, we reached the river and our home for the next seven days: the Delphin II. A welcoming riverside hut awaited us while the crew prepared the ship and organized our luggage. The Delphin was moored a couple hundred feet offshore, so all boarding was done by longboat—something we’d become very familiar with over the coming days.
The Delphin II was fantastic. Everything was wood-grained, spotless, and air-conditioned—which earned immediate bonus points from Amy, since it meant no bugs. The dining room, cabins, and game room were all enclosed, while the second floor opened up into a spacious deck with couches, tables, and a bar. Our bartender, Isaac, greeted us with welcome champagne. As we settled in and went through the safety briefing, the sun dipped low and we began cruising the Marañón River—one of the two primary tributaries of the Amazon—just a mile from its confluence.
Dinner aboard the Delphin felt effortlessly upscale—white tablecloths, offered wine, and a staff that was unfailingly polite and attentive. Charlie’s eyes lit up when she smelled the warm bread, which set the tone for the evening. The mix of larger and smaller tables made it easy to drift between conversations and start forming connections with our fellow travelers.
After dinner, it was back up on deck for another pisco sour. For the night, the captain had grounded the bow on an island in the middle of the river. With the floodlights on, you could see clouds of bugs and mosquitoes swirling in the distance—though thankfully, the dim lighting around the bar kept them at bay. The girls turned in early, and before long I followed suit. One last sip, then off to sleep in my riverboat bed, ready for whatever the Amazon had in store.
